recalling back

In case you were wondering, yes. After today, yes I do own the first season of Wonder Woman on DVD.

a Christmas moment

Two Decembers ago, I hung around after a dance event really late after it ended (practicing, I think). There were only a few people still there, and everyone was leaving. I sat on the floor changing my shoes and saying good-bye to people while my partner waited to walk me home. My friend Eric left the ballroom about fifty feet away from me, and suddenly he turned around and rolled a bell toward me across the floor. When I caught it, he said, "Shake it. Can you hear it?" Before I had a chance to answer, he gave me a smile and walked away.

I still have it.

who's there?

As many of you have probably guessed, I sort of have a phobia about answering my phone. I don't like to do it unless I'm by myself and/or I know why the person is calling. I prefer to listen to the message, have time to think about it, and then call them back. I almost never answer my phone when I'm not alone, partly because I feel rude and partly because I don't always know what the phone call will be about, whether it'll be a long one or a short one, etc., so I feel self-conscious.

Does anyone else do this?

This has been a message from Olympus, sponsored by her conscience.

my kid could paint that

A year ago, my dear friend was working with the Sundance Institute, doing viral marketing up through the film festival in January. She had tickets to a film called My Kid Could Paint That, about a 4-year-old New York girl named Marla Olmstead (she's six now, and adorable, I might add) whose modern art paintings are making waves - thousands of dollars worth of waves, actually - and we had talked casually about my coming up to Park City to see it with her. I wanted to but couldn't get a car, or something. Things became desperate - "I really think you need to borrow a car and get up here now," -- so I borrowed a car and jetted up to Park City, but not soon enough to make the screening.

A few days ago - nearly a year later - I found a screening in my hometown. Scrounging up people to go was the hardest part (everyone hears the word "documentary" and thinks "I'm not paying to see one of those when I can watch the History Channel for free, and leave in the middle if I want" - come on, folks), but after hours of trying, I finally got a small group together. (Of course, then I hear it's in the dollar theater in Provo. Naturally.)

We had the theater to ourselves, except for a security girl who came in and out periodically. (I think she was watching the movie with us.) The movie opened with the air of an examination of the validity of modern and abstract art. The Olmsteads knew a guy who ran a coffee shop, and they put one of Marla's paintings up there just for fun. Shortly thereafter, he contacted them saying, "We need a price on these. People are asking." Another friend of the family owned an art gallery. A "hyper-realist" in style, the gallery owner began to show Marla's pieces in part because he saw her talent, and in part to poke fun at the modern community, as if to say, "Look! What you do, so can a four-year-old." Then, she began to sell. By the end of the movie, Marla Olmsteads were going for a good chunk of change.

Things got hairy when the family agreed to do a piece with 60 Minutes. Honestly, I'm not sure what they were thinking -- all through my communications education, I've gotten the impression that saying yes to 60 Minutes is nearly always a Bad Idea (mostly everyone who goes on this show comes out looking bad after it's all over), but whatever. The piece raised a lot of questions to the effect of "who's actually doing these paintings? Is it really this little girl?" This aspect of the story is still unresolved. It obviously changed the feeling of the documentary significantly, and it was really interesting to see how all parties involved reacted to this new angle.

The doc was done really well, in my opinion. Very objective in a subjective way ... it didn't rely on only the facts, it gave every opportunity to both sides, and it showed the emotion that was relevant and particular to the story. The filmmaker even included several clips of interview subjects criticizing him as a filmmaker, or expressing doubts regarding his motives. Talk about honest, up-front presentation.

I think one of the most interesting points the movie made was the illustration of "observation theory," if that's the exact name ... like in quantum mechanics or any social study, the idea that observation of an object changes how it acts. (You know, like if you're on camera, it's harder to act naturally.) Truth is altered in its presentation. Every story has an angle. The media gets a lot of flack for this, and admittedly we could always be doing better - but the media studies and works very carefully to present balanced stories, and still the general public perceives a biased media most of the time. That's why we need more than one witness for most things. This film was a prime example, both directly with its subjects and, taking a step back, as a film itself. The story was filtered through the filmmaker's eyes, too. I guess that makes it all that much more important to know who you are and what you believe, huh? No one can understand clearly enough to make those decisions for you. Sure, listen to people and sources you trust, but in the end, it comes down to you to decide what you really ascribe to.

It's weird that this little girl is going to grow up largely without remembering all of this, and all these pieces plus the things people tell her are all she'll have to go on - not too much more than we have, except that the older she gets the more she'll remember, and the hype doesn't seem to be going away just yet. I wonder if there are thousands of dollars worth of masterpieces that I did when I was four, that I've simply forgotten? I hope so ...

social networking WINS.

I think it is so cool that the Republican debate tonight is taking questions from YouTube. Between that and my previous Lymabean entry, I started my family in on the term "social networking 2.0." I don't think they really cared, but such is the cost (perk?) of living with someone with a communications degree.

remember those magnets?

Of course you do. Those ones that were everywhere for awhile ... no one I knew ever even knew where they came from. Anyway, from what I can tell (I think it was a Newsnet article), the Lymabean of the magnet days used to be mostly a buying-and-selling site, but now they've morphed into something a bit more exciting.

Just so we're all in the clear, I have a friend who works for these guys, and he showed me around a bit so I could tell you about it. The nice thing for you is that I'm not getting anything out of this, so I can say whatever I want, good or bad! It's a risky job PR people have ...

That said, this is a pretty neat thing. Lymabean is something like Facebook, but instead of having a focus on networking (Facebook is still accomplishing its purpose of keeping you connected to people even if you're only logging in weekly or less), Lymabean is more of a "use me" site. From what I understand, it's also exclusively for college students, while Facebook is open to anyone now. I mean, Lymabean won't kick you out when you graduate, but the site is so inherently college-campus-based, you wouldn't really have a lot of use for it once you graduated anyway. Really, Lymabean users would probably use Facebook, too.

In short, it's an electric shades-of-green site that interconnects people, businesses, clubs and community activity, in a given geographical area (specifically, a college campus, at least right now. I could see expansion to other community groups, but this is what it is now). It uses a Flash-based interface, so everything is drag-and-drop - it's actually amazingly user-friendly. I'm not sure if that will create problems for older machines (I don't think my Linux could handle it), but Flash is getting a lot friendlier the more people use it, so I'm sure there's a pretty high compatibility there. It has places for alerts, Craigslist-like listings (or to see deals from local businesses), chats, subscriptions, etc., but also has a lot of personal interconnectivity like Facebook. For instance, it still has the news feed function. But green! The one thing I haven't liked as well is that you can't resize the windows. I like resizing windows ... but at some point they'll probably add that. Oh, and I sort of wish all these boxes would just be in one box so you don't have to click in and out of everything all the time(that's why I would want to resize the windows instead of having them overlap), but for all its functionality, I suppose that's a small price to pay.

My personal favorite thing about this site (besides that it's green) is the media manager. It has a section for your music and video, slideshows, etc. You upload your own stuff and other people can stream it, and you can stream theirs. It's all legal because Lymabean pays the ASCAP fee (the same fee they pay in a basketball arena or somewhere they play the music publicly ... it's a broadcasting license). That gives you license to play whatever you want, like an online radio station. Raaaad. I don't know if it would replace my Imeem! but cool.

What it looks like:




In other words, be on the lookout for this. It'll come to BYU sometime in January-February, it sounds like, so this is a bit early, but it's cool enough to tell you about so you can start paying attention. If you care, you can check out more about them at www.lymabean.com or www.behindthebean.com - you can become an Insider at behindthebean and get a free t-shirt as a student pre-user, and see the pre-launch stuff. Perhaps most importantly, you can give your own input on the site. Anyway, it's very cool. Check it out.

reality (but not on TV)

At the end of our canasta game today:

"It was my strategic decision to close out that pile just now that won the game for us!"-Mom
"You outwitted, outplayed and outlasted, Mom."-*Ann (my sister)
"Yeah!"-Mom
(Ann pats Mom on the back.) "You're The Biggest Loser!"
(laughter was had by all.)

They Might Be Sins

-Anna Egg Ng (the alcoholic kind)
-Alehouse in Your Soul
-Everything Right is Wrong Again
-Chess Piece Laced
-She's a Devil
-Keep Coming, Little Bottle
-Searing-Ade
-Someone Keeps Pulling My Hair
-Nuclear Bullets of Pure Hate
-The Infamous Poke-Ugh
-In Jail
-I Should Be Allowed to Drink
-How Can I Sing Like Alec Ounsworth?

Two pianos, two organs, a computer and an air hockey table greet visitors as they pass our front living room on their way through the main hall. That living room has been the home of more than 7,500 hours of piano practice alone (not to mention the organs).

Because I couldn't find one piece of music, I just organized all the music in that room out of boxes and benches and piles into two filing cabinet drawers, two Tupperware boxes and a bookcase. Tonight I opened that dang file cabinet drawer and sat down to play that piece - the last really good piece I learned before leaving for BYU - Chopin's Fantasie Impromptu.

I used to have it memorized, but apparently the last several years have left only a few lines intact. I was really surprised when it started differently from what I had remembered, but as I progressed through the pages, my fingers still remembered what to do most of the time.

In the last several years, I haven't had much opportunity to actually play the piano. Lots of accompanying and that sort of thing, but nothing classical. In fact, before pulling this Chopin out, I'd struggled a bit through some other, much easier music. Heck, I can't always play all the right notes in a hymn these days. I prefer to play around with the chords and do whatever I want, which works as long as I include the melody somewhere and am not trying to accompany a congregation. I'm not used to having to pay attention to detail anymore.

Fantasie Impromptu came out all right, though. Fantasie Impromptu is a much more difficult piece than any hymn. Just when my skill level appeared to be disappearing, I discovered I could still play this one?

I guess it has something to do with muscle memory and the fact that I spent so much time learning it (it took me about three months). Made me think about what a big deal it is to teach your kids good habits when they're young. My life is different from what it could be had I not learned good values as a kid - oh man - it's not too hard for me to see where I'd be without that, and I know I fall back on my family values a lot. Thanks to my parents, I have a way better life than I could otherwise. Same as how, thanks to my parents, piano teacher, and hours of practice, I can still play a really gorgeous song.

you know you need a job when...

...you read the instructions on the Hot Pocket ("let cool for two minutes before you enjoy your sandwich") and think, "They used that language so the consumer can take ownership of their product."

At least, when I mentioned it to my mom, "You need a job," is what she said.

Those two minutes are up, anyway. See ya.

when dreams come true

Last night I dreamed I bought seven really fantastic Halloween wigs for $2.16. I just realized it was a dream. Then I realized I dreamed about them because I saw them at WalMart a few days ago. Hooray!

another story

Tonight's was about a car.

--

Once upon a time, there was a farmer in a little town. He had a little car that was all rusted over and he only drove it once a week, to buy his groceries. One day, some people from out of town came in and talked to the city, and they decided to build a big new freeway through the town.

So they built the freeway. However, with the freeway came some new people into town. There was something a little suspicious about them. They had very fancy, fast cars. Pretty soon, before they opened up the new road, all these new people gathered at the road to race their cars on it before it was open. They went in the middle of the night so they wouldn't get caught.

Before they started racing, the farmer put-putted up the road and came up to the people. He got out of his little car and said, "What's going on?"

"We're going to have a big race," they said. "You should go on home so you don't get run over."

The man said, "Oh, okay. That's a good idea," and he started to drive away. The people got into their fancy cars and revved their engines, and as soon as the flag dropped, the farmer's car spun around and went up on the road. He started passing the fancy cars!

"What is happening?" they thought. "We're losing to this farmer with his little putting car!"

All of a sudden, the rust dropped and the car became a shiny little racing car. Rockets burst out of the back and the farmer won the race!

As soon as everyone finished, the farmer surprised them. He turned out to be a high and fancy policeman, and he gave them all tickets and threw them in jail.

--"He threw them in jail?"
--For losing.

And then he went back to being a farmer with his little rusty car. And that's the end for today.

------

And there was much laughter.

a little too early, a little too late

I would argue that Valentine's messages should be given at all times of the year, and we're sort of coming up on Christmas, which is a relatively romantic time.

Consider a world of options. As a preview, my favorites include:

VI. Emmatati kima diparum. Bishi tuppi libbiya.
You are hot like a torch. Be my Valentine.

X. Suhartum bantum suharu kalu, qadum yati irreshu.
Beautiful young woman all young men want you, including me.

XIV. Suhartum magal bantum atti. Yati kali u kati annashaq.
You are a very fine young woman. Restrain me or I will kiss you.

art to communicate

I finished My Name is Asher Lev tonight. My head is swimming, as per usual when I read this one. The book itself feels like a masterpiece of the same nature as its subject.

The book explores art, in the context of painting and drawing and the visual arts. I appreciate the continued use of the term “art,” as it opens the door to comparison of my own art, and that of every reader this book could have.

My art form is writing. Sometimes writing music. Sometimes writing with words. Sometimes both. Asher Lev's is painting. His father's is traveling. His mother's is selfless suffering for the preservation of her family. In all of them it is their Judaism – even in Asher Lev, although he isn’t devout in all the same ways as his community.

To write honestly, must one write everything? Naturally, no. One must not write that which does not add to the work. Still, one must include everything that is pertinent and essential. Which works are important? That which runs deepest? In the final pages, Asher expresses – maybe in wonder, in “quiet desperation” of what is – the power in his painting hand. The power in that hand to amuse, to cause pain, to channel what is regardless of what may fight to keep it inside. So that power lies in the fingers of one who writes.

To communicate. To take your gift and use it for the edification of those who experience it. I have learned that that which edifies is not always enjoyable. God does not always teach through happy lessons and painless moments. Edification is the enlargement of a soul to greater understanding of truth. Truth is not always happy, but its alternative is useless, and that which is useless does not lead one to the eventual fulfillment (and joy) that comes from the work one can do with truth.

So a gift, as Asher discovers through the conviction of his teacher Jacob Kahn and then through his own experience, must be used as a vehicle for truth – the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Which stories must be told? Those which edify. Those which are a truth that needs telling, and not one iota more or less. More creates embellishment; less creates a half-truth which in so becoming has no integrity, either.

--

“These are my memories, Papa. No, I'm not saying that these paintings represent the truth; they represent how I feel about things I remembered when I was in Paris. They're not the truth, Papa; but they're not lies, either.”(p. 359-360)

“Art is a lie which makes us realize the truth.” -- Picasso

from the weather channel tonight

"Tomorrow will be cool and crisp. Well - cool - 80 degrees."

a moment of complaint

I need a life. It's so frustrating to be out of the Provo world where making friends is as easy as walking next door or across the way. I suppose that's what you get when you go from a ward of 200 active members to one of roundabout 40. It's not that I don't like it; it's just that it's a lot harder to make friends here. The ones I know already are great, and I'm getting to know others, but either way I'm used to going out or at least chilling for awhile every night. People just don't do that here. You have to drive to get anywhere, and people just don't. Well, not like in a college town where you just have to walk ten feet. Obviously it will be different, but I've been here a month and it's starting to get tiring, that's all. It's just a lot more work to make friends here. I feel like a stalker for hanging out with people more than once a week. Or once a week, as opposed to less than that. It's ridiculous.

Sorry for the least eloquent post ever.

priorities

It's kind of a funny experience to be interested in someone for awhile, then check their Facebook profile and sort of change your mind based on their music and movie preferences.

a sunday drive

Today I coasted almost the entire length of my neighborhood (I swear it must be on a northward incline, I don't know if it would work the other direction - I stayed at a pretty level 12 mph) while listening to instrumental church music. I pretended I was driving a horse-and-buggy. It was awesome.

a case of mistaken identity (zero calories)

Today I got mistaken first for event staff and then for a model.

In all actuality I was just a temp worker.

"Treat a man as he is and he will remain as he is. Treat a man as he can and should be, and he will become as he can and should be." --Goethe

(heheh)

there will be snacks, there will

My dad often tells a bedtime story to all the kids in my house. He asks what the story should be about, and someone chooses something (usually an inanimate object or animal), and he makes up a story around that. On a rare occasion such as tonight, I got to choose the thing. I have this kelly green toy cabinet that I used to play with growing up, so that was the thing. Here was the story.

--
Once upon a time, there was a cupboard. It was made of very rare, very precious wood, but the wood wasn't very pretty, so it was painted green.

One day, the family that owned it was thinking about just getting rid of it, since it was old and kind of beat up, and as they were moving it around it got knocked down the stairs. "Oh, well," they thought, but then the cupboard did something very strange. It sort of bounced down, and when they went to look at it, there was not a scratch on it. Again as they were moving it around, something lit on fire near it, and it burned the paint a little, but not the wood. The burn just sort of wiped off.

The family decided to keep it. One of the kids in the family started to put a book in the cupboard - a book that was obviously too big for it - but surprise! it fit perfectly. Everyone wondered a little about the cupboard.

One day lots of things went wrong at once. The house started to flood, and as the water rose, the little boy went to hide in the cupboard. He fit right in! He called to the others and they all got in the cupboard and it began to float like a little boat. They were just about to float through the window when some lightning lit their house on fire, and all the trees around the house - well - the parts that weren't under water.

The little boy had an idea. "Why don't we just close the doors?" he said, and they did. They rode the little cupboard through the fire and didn't feel too hot inside, or too cold from the water, and there was a surprising amount of room inside to move around. And they had games, and toys. And snacks.

--"What kind of snacks?" asked my 15-year-old sister.
--"Pringles," I said.
--"Chips. And cake," said Dad.

Then, they landed on a desert island. I mean, a tropical island, with lots of tourists. They played and had a good time before ... uh, they had to go back and rebuild their house. And that's the end for tonight.

----

My favorite part is trying to guess which parts are just extended so my dad can figure out the next plot point, and watching where he changes the storyline so that the thing can last five minutes. My thought for tonight is that a desert island would have taken more work to make interesting and then get them off, so since it's a story, let's just make it a party island and then they leave ... hahahah.

Hooray for stories:)

live in the Present

You know, sadly enough one of the things I miss most about Provo is the movies. (Obviously the people are a big deal. Sue me. I also miss the movies.)

It's kind of a struggle. I got some good advice the other day, from a friend who didn't even know I was struggling (I don't think). It was pretty simple, really: "I know you miss the fun times here in Provo, but try not to think about it too much."

(Three posts in one hour! OK, come on, kids. Who feels blessed? Abused? Oblivious?)

internationalism

One thing, however. Friday was rather international for me. I pasted Albanian, Arabic and Bosnian translations of a driver's license tests into the system that would administer them, while listening to Gogol Bordello (and the Everything is Illuminated soundtrack), The Decemberists, the Arctic Monkies, Joanna Newsom, Eisley, Mika, The Fratelli's, Jack Savoretti, The Lovemakers and Regina Spektor.

The time I probably liked the best was inputting the Arabic translations while listening to Ukrainian folk music.

By the way, did you know that "Provo" means "where" in Albanian? Or, at least, that was my best guess ...

much to say

It seems these days as though I have more to say than other times, but I'm not around here often enough to write anything much down. I've got a new goal to learn how to write paper notes. haha. Whenever I actually sit down and have a minute, I have nothing profound to say.

best of

I was going through a lot of my old notes for past classes the other day, and like many people, I like to write down funny things the professor says. This post will amuse most anyone, I think, but particularly those who have ever taken a class from Professor John Talbot. Sunnysnows, Luma Solem -- I believe you two will take particular enjoyment from this post.

Also, the original post was a lot longer. I tried to trim.

---

"All kinds of people gave me all sorts of advice, most of which I thought was very stupid. I don't hate any of them - well, I hate two of them, but I hated them before."

"What about forest fires, that afflict forests every year? I'm talking about the ones started by lightning, not the ones started by Boy Scouts."

"I'm from Salt Lake."-*Sam
"Salt Lake ... City? ... Utah?"-Prof. Talbot
"It's a little town, about 45 minutes north of here. In Utah." -*Sam
"Don't play games with me, I know where Salt Lake is."-Prof. Talbot

"I know what it's like to feel like Achilles because I'm so right so much of the time."

"Just like another name for Salt Lake is 'slick,' and another name for Provo ... I guess there is no other name for Provo."

"I like to give instructions in negative form - they tell you not to, they want you to be uplifting and all that, but a negative implies a positive, does it not?"

"I'm always just sort of flouncing around the room."

"What I need to do is hang out with a BYU student for a day, because I have no idea what your lives are like."
(student begins to volunteer ... probably the aforementioned *Sam.)
"Not you."

(to a football player) "You've done that, haven't you? Hit someone so hard their helmet falls off? Well, I would encourage you to do so."

"Last night I was reading --"-a student
"I don't care what you've been reading, we're not here for learning."-Prof. Talbot

"Just think of all the ways your parents messed you up. And then think of all the ways you're preparing to mess up your kids."

"[The library auditorium] is like being in the womb of nature."

"The best way to get this poetry off your back is to entomb them in the formaldehyde of publication, especially a publication that no one reads."

"There are several Homeric references. You might catch them - I doubt it, you'll be sleeping."

"In fact, I encourage you to sleep. That is how I will recognize you. I'm not sure I know what you look like awake."

"He was very drama-ish. Kind of mincy and swooshing."

"Flowerings of art ... Michaelangelo, Rafael and various other Ninja Turtles."

"I always feel like we could sum up this philosophy stuff in a few minutes. Oyyy. Let's move on."

"Hey, *Sam. Interestingly enough, we're talking about time, debating its existence."-Prof. Talbot
"So I might not be late?"-*Sam
"Yes, I was going to say maybe you should capitalize on this to argue the relevance of your punctuality."-Prof. Talbot

"When in doubt, draw Italy. There's Rome ... despite its name, it tends to stay put."

"Naysayers like Nelson Dunford always say, always debunking and bringing down ideas, very cynical, a very black turtleneck sort of attitude."

"You managed to get born, *Scott. Not that I'm saying I regret that, not that I'm emphasizing that."

"I have an idea. Tonight, let's dress up like salmon and go up the down escalator."

"I would like to make a western [movie] ... 'Look out! Native Americans!'"

"I don't see how what he's saying is completely bad."-*Kara
"That's because you are a wicked person."-Prof. Talbot

"Just to keep up the high scriptural standard you've set - at the last scenes of The Sound of Music, she says ..."

*Names have been changed, for no apparent reason.

I live in a freaking rainforest.

And if you thought moving in Utah was bad, try moving in a rainforest.

an unsolicited blogpost; a.k.a., a PSA

I am not in the mood to take adverse reactions to this, thanks. Comments not welcomed on this post.

A Few Helpful Hints, a.k.a., Take This and Be Thankful
How to Most Painlessly and Effectively Avoid Research Calls

1. Put your name on the Do Not Call list. This is for telemarketers (people who sell you things via telephone), and does not apply to research.

2. Once you have done this, if you get a phone call from someone you don't know, unless something is wildly amiss, they are not telemarketers. Answer the phone; ignoring their calls will ensure they call back at least once a day either until their project is over or until you show some indication that you would prefer not to participate. If you don't mind that, do whatever you want. Assuming you answer, be polite to them and assume they have something relatively valid to say. For example, many institutions use independent research firms (who may show up as private callers or introduce themselves on the phone as from the research firm) to take complaints from customers who have shown in some way (i.e., through their activity with the company) that they may be unhappy. Their call may be directly pertinent to you.

3. Hear the intro out. Find out what they want. The intros are designed to be short and will take very little of your time. Do not hang up on them: they will usually call back. (Also, if you continue to ignore their calls, again - you have not given a verbal refusal, for all they know you're on vacation or in the shower, and they will call back.) If you are not interested in participating, refuse, and ask (politely, as so many do, you'd be surprised) to have your number taken off their call lists. (Research firms have their own do-not-call lists; as the Do Not Call laws exempt these firms - making any threats to sue a futile and laughable offense to all in the call center ["I'm getting sued again today! Who wants to be my lawyer this time?? Hooray!"], the firms have their own lists. If you make this request you will henceforth be removed from all call projects coming from this firm. Any form of "Please put me on your do not call list" is a magic phrase that will almost certainly quickly shut up any caller and cancel any further attempts to ask you to complete any studies in the future.


Thank you, and have a nice day.

I believe!

I have tried to watch so many meteor showers in my day. Really. I've had lots of shooting stars pointed out to me, and still had never actually seen anything. I finally declared watching meteor showers a futile endeavor, renounced my belief that they exist to the human eye and, well, gave it up for dead, so to speak.

However, I was convinced by more than one person (most of them relatively attractive, which never hurts) to go up to Vivian Park last Sunday night and watched the meteor shower, from about 11:30 p.m.-1:30 a.m. (I was going to get up at 3:30 to go, which I agreed to because of the pure adventurous nature of getting up at 3:30 a.m. to head up the canyon, but my phone [alarm] died; it was a good thing I'd gone up a little early.)

For the first time in my life, I saw - not even just one - but tens of shooting stars. Some followed by really strong trails of debris, even - long trails of white, undoubtedly astronomic Wendy's cups and used Kleenex being shaken off these meteors as they shot across the sky.

Anyway, yes, Virginia - shooting stars do exist!

"...You taught me the names of the stars overhead that I wrote down in my ledger
Though all I knew of the rote universe were those Pleiades loosed in December
I promised you I‘d set them to verse so I'd always remember

That the meteorite is a source of the light
And the meteor's just what we see
And the meteoroid is a stone that's devoid of the fire that propelled it to thee

And the meteorite's just what causes the light
And the meteor's how it's perceived
And the meteoroid's a bone thrown from the void that lies quiet in offering to thee ..." --"Emily," Joanna Newsom

just an announcement

I finished Harry Potter 7 today. (Yeah, I know I was slow - I started rereading #5 a week or two before #7 came out. I didn't remember much at all from #5-6, so I knew #7 would be better if I took care of that first.)

Man, that was good.

the State of the Union

I work in a call center now (we aren't telemarketers, just research).

When did it become okay, in America, to hang up on people, ever? What do these people's kids think when they see their parents hang up on us? What on earth does that teach?

I do confess, however, I did hang up on a guy once. I mean, in this job. He only got out half of his "g*d*" before I was gone. I hold that this was probable cause.

mmm?

Lately, food in any great quantity (read: a normally-sized meal, with a curious exception for restaurants or maybe just food I don't eat at home) often makes me sick. This annoys me, mostly because it renders me hungry all the time. IV, anyone?

I'm not posting this to stir any great worry, p.s. I'm just fed up with this (heh), and - come, now - isn't it fun to share annoyances with the world?

happy fourth of july

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Olympus. She was tight inside with indecision all over the place.

She liked boys who weren't good for her, boys who were, and boys who were in between; she just wasn't sure which were which. They weren't really any help in the decision, either. Sometimes she wished she could read minds so she could tell where she'd be wasting her time and where she wouldn't.

She wanted to get a (real) job, but didn't know where she wanted to be. She wanted to have a home, but couldn't until she got that real job. She didn't quite want to relinquish her freedom for a commitment like that just yet. She was willing to, but a little scared, too. She didn't want to become a power-suit woman, but she didn't want to hang out forever, either. It felt precarious to settle into somewhere she didn't know she'd get to keep (that went for boys, too).

She wanted direction in her life, but knew she should make her own decisions and then confirm them, too. That balance was hard sometimes.

Besides working and finding a job, she wanted to watch movies, read books and make friends. In her desire to put her whole self into each thing, she realized she'd have to make a few choices.

She wanted to walk, talk or blog about all this, but she wanted to go to sleep, too. Sleep hadn't gotten very high priority lately. Maybe that's why this post came about.

fireworks

Possible symbolic references:

Man's search for meaning
Francis Scott Key's view while writing The Star-Spangled Banner
Social networking usage

This was a post because I wanted to post, not because I had anything real to say. I was just playing this game tonight because I played it a lot in high school (the "try to find something symbolic and utterly useless in any object around you" game), and I thought it would be fun. Turns out it was fun, but was too easy ... nearly cliche - so much so that I didn't include almost any of what I thought of. "Colorful explosions" aren't exactly a rare descriptive tool.

Maybe I have stuff to say, too, but not right now. Suffice it to share this, and the fact that I bought The Fugitive and The Client today for six dollars each. Yay hooray.

my roommate lived kosher for a month, once

I shopped for/with her a lot of times ... and so, the Unilever brand gets me every time. Every time I see that little "U" on my shampoo, or like on that bar of soap I just opened, I think, "Hey, this is kosher. Good, good."

Russian national interest (which, incidentally, I know nothing about)

Well, folks, it's happened again! Apparently I am impossible to read. I seem to baffle the teeming masses with surprising consistency - what's so confusing? Maybe it's the fact that I feel myself an open book, but the things I keep in and let out for tact or the comfortability of others sometimes seem to be set at random. Eh. I'm convinced you can't take people on anything but experience with them, and I doubt I'm any harder than anyone else. I just seem to hear it a lot.

For now, we'll just rest comfortably in the words of my friend T (not Mr. or Grand Master - this is a different guy) who warped what I think is Winston Churchill's WWII quote about Russia to say: "Girls are a mystery, wrapped in an enigma, wrapped in *bacon (cuz I like bacon)."

Oh, yes. Tonight, I am that girl.

On an unrelated note (I assure you), my whole hall smells like beer.

*Not that kind of bacon. Geez.

welcome to another round of Jazz with Olympus

from my notes on a scrap piece of paper, at a jazz club

Holy cow. That first growl of the 1st trumpet sent of choke of excitement up my throat.
That sax looks like it was just unearthed, it's so caked-over-looking! Those seem to be the most throaty ones ... their lead sax just gave the cutoff! Haha ... and they just introduced their headliner sax soloist as "an interesting combination of saxophone and person." A Thad Jones piece next. Their bassist JUST USED A BOW. Their pianist is wearing a newsboy-Uffish hat. This band is so CHILL ... but with chops. The trumpets are playing way the heck in these upper registers, but quietly. By the way, I'm having catfish in a jazz club. Snap. This food is amazing, but I'm kinda annoyed by the distraction it provides, haha. Their pianist is RAD. "In a Sentimental Mood." Man! I love ballads. This sax - it's cliche - but it croons. But the cymbals with the tinkling - but actually not all that high - piano gives it the perfect background. I can't believe I'm here.

"Monkey Business" - Thelonius Monk - most of these are arranged by the same guy, who must have had some Kenton influences on his ballads - I know, everything comes back to Kenton with me. I told D I was most at home at this other thing we went to a couple weeks ago - a really thoughtful play - but that was until now.

The band is really warming up now. Um, my fries are cold. Dang this fabulous music. What the heck is this circus-sounding thing in the middle? Ha! Laughed out loud. They introduced the chart "Inside Out" by saying, "I'm not going to say anything, just gonna let it speak for itself." Lay off the freaking highest note on the keyboard, HA! I love it. Holy cow, man, work that slide, why don't you, mr. trombone soloist? Fastest, cleanest maneuvering I've ever seen. I love these bone mutes. D says they're probably straight mutes. And, there goes the first clarinet solo. I love anything Benny Goodman-esque. Next song, "Splankie," by Basie. I saw Basie's band in concert back in high school. mmm. This one is starting out with a really sparse sax solo (the throaty one) (tenor). It's really interesting, actually. Now, he's getting a lot busier and slowly climbing higher in pitch, too, while the band gets stronger. Ohh man.

Next song: "Remember This." The pianist can't find his music ... "why don't you just play it?"-band member "come on, just give him back his part."-lead sax. Um, he is, actually. Going to just play it. He's gonna do the whole thing by ear. I imagine they've played it enough times that if he can just get the key, he'll be all right. I wonder if he'll solo - my bet's yes. Their bone soloist right now looks kinda like a bigger version of a guy I used to work with. Also, I wonder if the two British guys at the table behind us came drunk? Um, yay for the piano, by the way. Check one for me - I was right - his solo was short and rad. Now the soprano and bari saxes are soloing together! We had dueling guitars in high school, but this!

Last song: "Battle Royale," by Ellington. This bari sax just pulled off the "obnoxious low blare." Sweet - that's talent. A lot of beginners attempt that because it's obnoxious, and therefore funny, but I guess once you've been around for more than a year or two it gets old and becomes the mark of an inexperienced soloist. However, somehow, this guy just did it, but with enough sensitivity, tact, and musicality - his choice of where to use it didn't sound like chance and because he was out of ideas, which is the reason most beginners use it - it was imposing, but only to the degree he wanted it to be. Way to be, man. That's really talent.

HOORAY for that clarinet! This throaty sax I LOVE - he just did this triple-tonguing thing on the same note - yay. And, the end.

Sorry for the disjointedness, there. When everything comes at you at once, what can you do? Man. I tell you what. Made me wish a little for the length of the Maynard Ferguson concert, even though it was so intensely long at the time. Tonight was quality stuff. Also, to be cheesy, let's dedicate this post to those who should have been there tonight.

-olympus

BBC headline today

'Aftershave drink' kills Russians

Russian men are risking death by drinking aftershave and cleaning agents, a study has suggested.

Player 2 has entered the game

Uffish: was it you that called to say you'd seen a zombie?

Olympus: Um, yes.Uffish: whaaaaaaaaaaaat?

Olympus: And, just to let you know, that's the best sentence anyone has spoken to me today.

Uffish: ha-HA!

I am the winner!

Olympus: Now, I will explain myself.

I saw a zombie. That is all.

Just kidding. but I was walking, and I passed this woman (this was before I passed the guy who was drinking out of a bag and singing The Temptations really loudly)

This really pale woman, I might add. I kind of smiled at her, and she just looked at me - woodenly, would be the best way to describe it - and her eyes were a little bloodshot, or so my memory thinksshe didn't smile back

she just sort of passed me.

So I called you to tell you about it.

And that is all.

modernizing

Yesterday on the subway, a group of us were singing "Kumbaya," and, being communications professionals, we decided it was time to modernize. Don't worry ...

Someone's blogging, Lord, kumbaya
Someone's blogging, Lord, kumbaya
Someone's blogging, Lord, kumbaya
Oh, Lord, kumbaya.

Yeah, that's copyrighted.

your movie

Has anyone heard the silly Mormon myth about "in the millennium, everyone will watch a movie of your life and all your sins will be made public"?

In the Times and Seasons blog, there's a post about this with some fantastic comments. One comment:

...Whenever I have the opportunity to teach the youth I try to stick to the factual important stuff.

I remember the whole movie thing and how it was repeated over and over and over again in seminary. I remember being asked how that made me want to live my life by a certain seminary teacher, and by then I had had enough of this silly idea and replied, "I’d want it to be so interesting that the people watching it would say , ‘Man, that guy is SO going to hell. But I wish I could’ve had his life.’” Needless to say the teacher was not pleased. --ronito, 6-4-2007, 4:50 p.m.

And, here he is. (Although, I imagine, not "ronito.")

shut UP.

Sometimes it annoys me that the human mind is so busy. Sometimes I think I'd work better as a single-function machine.

i dream of ... what?

In case anyone was wondering, my responsibility dreams are gone and have been replaced, finally, with real dreams. Last night: I was in a ballroom class. We were doing paso. For some reason I was there unexpectedly (on my part, at least, I just stumbled upon the class), so they fitted me for some shoes right there. (I hadn't brought them on my internship, so I couldn't even go home and get them.) I was still getting fitted when (apparently this was a seaside class) a storm came up and waves started tossing the fitting room around. Me and the guy who was fitting me were trying to get to where the rest of the class was. Then, hello alarm!

Maybe this came from the fact that I ran into some people just out of a ballroom class, who were practicing the footwork for some tango figures on the subway platform yesterday.

What is it about this place that gets to claim so much?

I'm baffled over it, really. Over and over, in church meetings and wherever, people stand up and say things like, "If you've come to this city with a fractured testimony, you're in a dangerous place." or "I know it's hard living here, and it's easy to forget what you're supposed to be doing and get caught up." And that doesn't happen in other places?

What's so special about a city, that it thinks it can claim people like this? It's just a place. Just a bunch of people smashed into a bunch of buildings on a bunch of streets - in many ways, just like anywhere else.

The arrogance astounds me, but the whole world seems to be agreed upon it.

bah hah hah

From the NYTimes:

Fred D. Thompson, in His Own Words:

Climate Change

"Some people think that our planet is suffering from a fever. ... NASA says the Martian South Pole's 'ice cap' has been shrinking for three summers in a row. Maybe Mars got its fever from Earth. If so, I guess Jupiter's caught the same cold because it's warming up too, like Pluto. This has led some people, not necessarily scientists, to wonder if Mars and Jupiter, nonsignatories to the Kyoto Treaty, are actually inhabited by alien S.U.V.-driving industrialists who run their air-conditioning at 60 degrees and refuse to recycle."

March 22, ABC Radio

other things I love here

-Hole-in-the-wall restaurants with menus like this:



-cheap Chinese food (where $6 gets you three meals!)
-music
-people in my office
-international students
-cathedrals
-a light breeze at dusk
-hymns
-ukeleles :P
-red doors
-blue doors
-green doors
-red trap doors
-racial diversity
-the fact that I don't really notice racial diversity anymore
-energy
-parks
-Late to Work (the game)
-my dear friends
-unexpected situations
-a new spiritual environment

I've reached the point where every day is just every day, now. I don't notice things as passionately anymore. I think this is okay. It was wearing me out. At the same time, my time is short, so I notice some things with more interest because I know the city well enough now to know what I want from it. For instance, part of my birthday present is a visit to a high-end jazz club. That's worth SO much to me. Oh:

-subway t-shirts
-availability of high-end jazz clubs
-two stores in particular
-an office that's okay if I get lost in the city on accident during my lunch break
-bottle vendors on the street

Also, the ballet was fabulous. Yeah, a long time ago. But I felt the need to update. Fabulous. Ended with some good conversation and a hot little dessert spot, with continually good music and great lighting. So pleased.

Bottle I bought for $12 for my bottle collection:

and she's back!

Man, I'm glad I put that disclaimer by my "promise." Hahhaa. Sorry I'm so lame.

Let's see, a good story.

I have adjusted. I have taken a break from noticing all the little things so I can obtain a big-picture view. I like the place much better that way, right now. There's such a thing as becoming too nitpicky of a thinker ... for me, that leads to self-absorption, and that makes for less happiness:)

More later. I'm going to a ballet tonight!

Oh, by the way. It was my birthday between now and when I posted last. This led to me bringing home flowers (mostly daisies ... mm, my favorite - my parents ordered them for me because it's - gasp - my first birthday away from home) today, so they don't die over the weekend in the office. They're nested happily in a glass bottle on a shelf in my room. (I collect glass bottles. Drink bottles. From non-alcoholic beverages.)

Mmmm. Daisies. Mmmm.

Beautiful lyrics of the day -- "Bridges and Balloons," by Joanna Newsom. (Sorry, Uffish - "Bridges and Balloons," not "Cassiopeia" like I said today.)

"I can recall our caravel - a little wicker beetle shell with four fine maste and lateen sails
Its bearings on Cair Paravel."

"Are you going to Narnia, [Olympus]? Or, daughter of Eve, are you already there?"-Castle in the Sky

Tuesday (sorry, chronologically out-of-order)

Field Below
-regina spektor-

I wish I'd see a field below
i wish I'd hear a rooster crow
But there are none who live downtown
And so the day starts out so slow
Again the sun was never called
And darkness spreads over the snow
Like ancient bruises
I'm awake and feel the ache
But I wish I'd see a field below
I wish I'd see a field below

I wish I'd see your face below
I wish I'd hear you whispering low
But you don't live downtown no more
And everything must come and go

Again the sun was never called
And darkness spreads over the snow
Like ancient bruises
I'm awake and feel the ache
I'm awake and feel the ache
But I wish I'd see a field below
But I wish I'd see a field below
I'm awake and feel the ache
But I wish I'd see a field below
I'm awake and feel the ache
But I wish I'd see a field below
I wish I'd see a field below
I wish I'd see a field below

--

Yesterday (Tuesday), this was how I was feeling. For instance, it affected me way more than I thought it would to see a big painting of the Nauvoo Temple on its peaceful hill, surrounded by grass and a little town and a big river.

Later, I walked by a pretzel stand. It smelled like a campfire, which for a split-second I thought would make me long for a good, big campground.

It didn't. I remembered that I love a good, big campground, but that I'm here right now, and I won't be able to get this back as easily as a good, big campground.

Things I love here include:

subways
opportunities
bookstores
libraries
walking
(jay)walking (way worse than Provo)
finding my own way
lamb gyros
other food
hearing more languages
seeing missionaries a lot, randomly
the temple
my job
the history
landmarks
high places with a good view
dollar store cereal
good photo-ops

--

I am excellent at loving and embracing new things, for about a week. Then, I get bored of being excited and long for the familiar.

I vote let's quit that and be like krebscout's mom, always looking forward.

I already feel like it's almost time to leave, so it's hard to want to try and settle in. Mom says six weeks is a long time to feel that way. I agree. I want to go out tonight, and take life "by the horns," as the expression goes, and disregard any uncomfortability. It always takes awhile of being uncomfortable before you settle in -- call it dues. My life in Provo was full of awkward moments inside of me at first, as I tried to learn everyone's inside jokes and work my way into the crowd, which I would later realize to be ridiculously accepting and nothing to worry about. Still, having to feel a little weird sometimes is okay. As I was told yesterday:

"I understand transitions -- when I went from [former career] to [current career] it just about killed me... But such experiences stretch us and make us better as we receive them meekly."

Here's to meekly. Time for some crazy fun.

monday

It will be nice not having to be someone's director straight off. I like being able to direct things, but it will be much nicer to take the backseat for a few years and just learn from people's already-quality institutions as I get into my field.

sunday

My second cousin is in my stake:)

saturday

I was in a group with a married girl, on our exhausting free-gelato day on Saturday, and as we were five or ten minutes away from Point A (on our way to Point B, after that, which is about four blocks south and six blocks east of Point A), her husband called to say he was leaving Provo for St. George.

We arrived at Point B. A few minutes later, the girl's husband called to say he'd arrived in St. George.

::shrugs:: We got library cards, free gelato, street vendor food, tablecloths, and dollar store cereal.

yeah, I know

I "promised." Not "I promised."

I'll catch up. Tomorrow. Let's just say that today was ridiculously lots of walking, but that I saw lots of fun things. Hooray for free samples of gelato, by the way.

r.a.d.

From the window of the plane on the way over:




Tonight I was telling Uffish about this picture, and she said, "YOU asked that question!" I didn't! But I did take these sweet photos.

Awe. Some. I've never seen that before, and I thought sunshine would be pleased to have them. (I can e-mail you high-res copies if you want them and this isn't good enough.)

Uh, sorry to everyone who's confused. You should probably read the Board on Monday.

cost-conscious Olympus adds up her day

boston cream pie i bought that i didn't really want = $2
dinner i ate (leftovers) = cents on the dollar (all I paid for was the bread and honey I had with it)
hot dog I didn't buy=$2
movie night=free

sleeping in a bed with a fitted sheet=priceless.

yesterday

I didn't like this place too well yesterday, so I didn't care enough to think about my day. (I think a lot of it had to do with my level of tiredness.) I didn't even go salsa tonight, like I was going to. Instead I started getting ready for bed at 9, talked on the phone awhile and was asleep by 11.

I walked home from work yesterday, looking at the people, the birds, the cars and the buildings thinking, "OK, I'm over this city. I'm done being excited and looking at all the new things, and I'm ready for a good old-fashioned something-I-know. Let's have a movie night.

So we're having a movie night:) Tonight. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. There are a lot of people here who haven't seen it - it wasn't even my idea, they just knew I had it edited and someone suggested. I am only too happy to provide:).

K, I'll try to post for real today, too.

existential thought of the day

There's no such thing as larger than life. Everything that we could ever see, observe or experience is part of life, and no one is exempt. Including the straight-faced woman on the train, who isn't a straight-faced woman on a train at all, but a mother wondering if her daughter got the rest of the kids home okay tonight, and thinking about how she forgot to buy the cake for her son's birthday in two days, and how she'll have to work that into her schedule tomorrow. Oh, and here's her stop. Excuse me, sir.

A city isn't a city, per se. It's a group of individuals, just like me. Paris isn't the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame. It's where he lives; where she works; where that man's business just failed; where that couple just got married; where that kid just got out of school.

new things

I am living in an unnamed big city for the next little while, doing an internship. It's pretty cool. This city will hereafter be known as Ogacihc.

This will be, as my blog title/subtitle indicate, a blog of snapshots - not a comprehensive experience-listing. I "promise" at least one per day.


Today I saw a really great sign, made by a man on the street. Talk about honest. He wasn't asking for money, food, a ride or a job. Way to tell it like it is, little man.





(I didn't give him one.)

oops

I have all these rules for myself concerning spitting. I only allow myself to spit in two environments besides the sink and the shower: the ocean, and while exercising outside in a fair amount of solitude. I have an unusual need to spit, I think - one of my current best friends didn't like me at first because I cleared my throat too much, and people can tell where both my dad and I are in a room just by listening for that throat-clearing. In any case, I have rules. One rule in particular.

I don't do it anywhere in proximity to BYU campus, because even if I weren't a BYU student, people would assume I was, and we're technically supposed to be an ambassadors of this religion and all that. Spitting probably isn't a great way to do that, so I don't. Even if there's no one around - how many times have you seen something against social norms because someone thought no one was watching? These apartment complexes have windows, you know.

Really, I usually don't do it in public at all, although I'm a little less stringent outside of Provo or in an environment where I'm conspicuously LDS. My grandpa always used to spit out the window in the car, and we never thought any less of him. Still, I guess I'm a girl. An unmarried one at that (no comments). Also, I'm cool when I'm in the ocean, because everybody spits in the ocean. I'm also cool when I'm exercising in a somewhat remote area, because a) sometimes it's too uncomfortable not to, and b) way less weird, I've seen that lots of times.

So why on earth did I just spit into the grass next to a three-way stop right next to campus, with at least two sets of headlights staring me down?? Dang me and my rules. Sheesh. It was going so well.

Dear Grandpa ...

Dear Gpa,

Today I had a chance to talk for a long time with your younger brother. He took me to dinner and it was great to just toss him question after question.

We talked about Dutch, and he explained to me some of the pronunciation rules and how with a few little tricks you could pronounce most names easily. He said Dutch just uses a lot of extra letters, but they're fairly standard and once you know where they go, it's not much harder than English. (For instance, Peter is spelled Pieter and pronounced the same way - not "pee-AY-ter" like it could look.) I told him the Dutch tonguetwister you taught us (Acht und acht kleine cocklechies ... sp?! ... "eighty-eight little stoves") - he laughed as soon as I started to say it and said that it was the phrase to say if you wanted a sore throat(because of all the gutterals). :) Since we were eating pie at that point, I told him about the other phrase you taught us, too, from your mission (in a Native American language) - "tadakuase" (tuh-DAHK-wah-say) - which means "more pie." (This is one of the most useful phrases I could ever think of, personally. Good choice of which to teach us.)

I love to listen to the Dutch names with someone who knows how to pronounce them. I've been thinking of naming one of my daughters Maaikje (pronounced "micah"). I feel like I can get away with that because there's a lady in the home ward named Maaike (no 'j'). Everyone pronounces it "mickey," for some reason, but she told me once how it's actually said and I fell in love with it. Maybe I'll leave the 'j' out, just to go easy on her grade school teachers, but I really love it in. It's more authentic that way, and it's not like she wouldn't really be Dutch. Hmm. I guess my husband will balance me out on whether this is cruel to do to an American child (even a Dutch-American one). I don't have to decide until then, anyway. Who knows. Maybe I'll have all boys and have to give that name to a pet or a plant.

He told me lots of stories, and some were about you. (He said I was making him think about things he hadn't thought about in years:D that was kinda fun. I really did ask lots of questions.) Speaking of your mission, he told me about you and your three best friends, and how you all wanted to go to Holland so you could serve together, and you all requested it. Hence, the first guy to get his call did go to Holland - and you went to the Eastern States, one went to Argentina, and one went to Australia. You couldn't have gotten farther away from each other:)

He told me about the Harley you used to drive, and how you'd take all the kids around the neighborhood on it. (I felt this the proper time to show him the exhaust pipe burn I got last week.) He said one day you really gunned it, so you could pop a wheelie, and it scared you so much you sold it the next day and bought a rumble seat car, instead. Awesome:) I wanted to show you my burn, too, but this is the best I can do - maybe you saw it, anyway. It's healing nicely, but there will probably be a scar. Even though I did the best I could think of to do for it - I ran it under cold water for twenty minutes, less than two minutes after I got the burn. I didn't have any burn cream, though, and I didn't think to use aloe vera until later. Oh, well.

He told me about how all four of you boys ended up not having to go to dangerous military places you should have gone. You were a helicopter mechanic, which I knew, but what I either didn't know or had forgotten was that the reason they didn't ship you out to Korea was that you were so good at what you did they made you a helicopter mechanic teacher instead, in the States, for all of your active service time. He was a clerk for a colonel and should have come home from his mission and gone into the service right then - they would have shipped him to Vietnam. Instead, he'd ended up finishing most of his two years of active service before his mission, which put him safely in clerk service in Korea as opposed to combat in Vietnam. I wonder if he was ever disappointed that he didn't fight. I know everyone around soldiers like that is happy that they stay out of harm's way, but I know sometimes the soldier himself has mixed feelings. I wonder what he thought of it all.

He was an elementary school teacher. He has, like, five minors - it took him eleven years to do his bachelor's for two reasons - he changed his major a million times, and he kept taking time off to work. (Although, during his last semester of coursework, he also worked 40 hours/week for the post office in Salt Lake - he said it about killed him!) I asked him what were his favorite type of students - the quiet ones, the ones who understood things easily, the ones who had to work hard to understand, etc. He said all of the above. His eyes were just happy when he talked about it - that was special to see. He still keeps in touch with some of his former students. That was fun:) I asked him to tell me about some of them and he mostly told me about the ones he still sees - he seemed to not be able to choose one or two to tell me about. But then, you probably know most of this! I didn't, though, so you get to hear it, too.

He talked about you so well. He said you were always there for people, and that you always went out of your way to be there, too. He said that besides his parents, you were the only one of his family who attended his BYU graduation. This might not have seemed so big had he not mentioned the fact that you (and Grandma? I can't remember) flew out from Virginia to be there! He said you were really a great man. I did already know that.

Anyway, Grandpa, thanks for hanging out with us tonight. It was much-needed and I learned lots of good things. We have a cool family. I miss you, I love you and I hope I'm still making you proud.

Love, Olympus

commemoration

There's a lot of that today.

Today's the 12-year anniversary of the Oklahoma City Bombing, and 14 years since Waco (which Timothy McVeigh claimed to be some of the inspiration for the OKC Bombing). Also, tomorrow it will have been eight years since Columbine. (A nod toward Steve.)

Not to mention the VA Tech shooting a couple days ago. Everyone is supposed to wear red for that today, and some students are trying to get a candlelight vigil organized for tomorrow (Friday) night at 8 p.m., by the flagpole outside the ASB.

In happier news (from Slate):

The Court's First Time
By Daniel Politi
Posted Thursday, April 19, 2007, at 5:59 AM ET

Everybody leads with yesterday's Supreme Court decision that upheld the federal Partial-Birth Abortion Ban Act passed by Congress in 2003. The 5-4 vote marked the first time the court has upheld a ban on a specific abortion procedure. It was also the first time an abortion law was upheld that did not include an exception for a pregnant woman's health, although it does allow the procedure to save her life. Justice Anthony Kennedy wrote the opinion for the majority and said Congress has the right "to show its profound respect for the life within the woman." Seven years ago, the court struck down a similar Nebraska law with a 5-4 vote, in which Justice Sandra Day O'Connor sided with the majority. This time around, her replacement, Justice Samuel Alito, voted to uphold the ban.

The New York Times notes up high that the decision means doctors who perform the banned procedure could face "criminal prosecution, fines, and up to two years in prison." USA Today makes clear "the decision is unlikely to reduce abortions." That's because the abortion method that was banned, which involves partly delivering the fetus, is not the only way to perform a late-term abortion. But, as the Los Angeles Times notes in the second sentence, the real significance is that the "decision clears the way for states to pass new laws designed to discourage women from having abortions." The Washington Post quotes the president of the Christian Coalition of America predicting, "It is just a matter of time before the infamous Roe v. Wade ... will also be struck down by the court." The Wall Street Journal notes that some see the decision as the first step "in chipping away at the landmark 1973 decision rather than attacking it head on," a strategy Alito proposed while he was an aide to Ronald Reagan.

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We have a lot to remember and a lot to be thankful for today, I think.

Windows ... blech

I can't believe how long it takes Windows to start up, as opposed to my Linux at home. The Linux is ready to go from the first second you can see the wallpaper art, whereas it's been like ten minutes since I logged on here at work, I'm just barely getting started, and it's moving slow, at that.


Also, Krebscout, it's okay that you didn't have a drum this morning. I'm not sure I was clear about that. I hold no negative feelings. I'll bet your canvas and frame were almost as visually stimulating. ;)

mmm

I don't really have anything profound to say, but a guy in the library by me is wearing a Virginia Tech hat. I like that.

Also, I am sore. Partly from dancing last night; partly from sitting in this library chair for a really long time. Partly because I'm hungry. (????) I'm not even hungry. I'd just like to taste something now. Maybe I have some gum.

Also, I don't want to write this paper. Even though it will be beneficial to my life, my future and my grades. I want to do the research, but only if no one cares that I did. Does it seem to anyone else that learning is much more fun if no one is checking to make sure you did it?

Guess this adheres to what my mom says is the theme of my life: "I'll do what I want, when I want."

I can be a stubborn little kid.

Also, this guy at the computer across from me keeps craning his neck in a weird way that tells me he has a sore neck. It looks a lot like he's trying to look at people past his computer without being noticed, though. Come on, guy. Just look at the people. Stop looking at all the corners of your screen. It's unnerving.

coke ad

make it the latest trend, then abandon it, and start a new one. make it something that turns heads. make it real. make it you. make it an overheated sewing machine at 3 a.m. make it transform a pile of scrap fabric into a next level handbag. make it new. make it sparkle. make it do the talking for you. make it something that everyone will call a statement, but you'll just call a random tuesday.

(taken from the back of a receipt, taken from my purse. taken from a framed page on the wall of the girls' restroom at the Malt Shoppe. my roommates thought I fell in.)
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my version:

coming soon.

a word of advice

Don't do other stuff while you're cooking.

being alive

"It does not interest me what a girl does for a living. I want to know what she aches for and if she would dare to dream to her heart's longing.

It does not interest me how old she is. I want to know if she will risk looking like a fool for love, for dreams, for the adventure of being alive.

It does not interest me what planet is squaring her moon. I want to know if she has touched the center of her own sorrow, if she has been opened by life's betrayals or become shriveled and closed from fear and further pain. I want to know if she can sit with pain, mine or her own, without moving to hide it, fade it or fix it. I want to know if she can be with JOY, mine or her own, if she can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill her to the tips of her fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.

I want to know if she can disappoint another to be true to herself; if she can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray her own soul. I want to know if she can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy.

I want to know if she can see beauty even when it is not pretty every day, and if she can source her life from God's presence. I want to know if you can live with failure, hers or mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "YES."

It does not interest me to know where she lives or how much money she has. I want to know if she can get up after a night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children.

It does not interest me who she is, how she came to be here. I want to know if she will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It does not interest me where or what or with whom she has studied. I want to know what sustains her from the inside when all else falls away. I want to know if she can be alone with herself and if she truly likes the company she keeps in quiet moments."

-Anonymous

**

I lifted this from somewhere online sometime within the last ten years. Haha. I think it was a blogger or something ... a long comment on something? In any case, I get something of a thrill every time I read it, and it kind of reminds me of an experience I had this week, so I decided to couple them up.

One night, I was sitting up pretty late, but I wasn't tired and I was feeling quite irresponsible. I realized I don't have forever to stick around this town, and having been ridiculously responsible fairly consistently over the previous few weeks, I decided to splurge on spontaneity for once.

I was talking to a friend of mine online, and I said, "Friend, we should go on a date. Right now." He replied, "You and me?" "Yep." "What did you have in mind?" Amazing. I want more friends who will take me seriously when I say that. Anyway, so here at 2 a.m., we dropped everything and ran up the canyon to make stupid/profound comments about the moon (which, incidentally, wasn't out because of cloud cover) and then come home.

I was brimming with happiness for three days and will have more comments about different aspects of this fabulous "future spouse list" at a later date.

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"I want to know if she can be with JOY, mine or her own, if she can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill her to the tips of her fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human."

most amazing protester ever

OK, so we aren't supposed to pay attention to the anti-LDS protesters outside the Conference Center at General Conference, and we certainly aren't supposed to protest to their protesting. However, one of them totally cracked me up today. (I might even be wrong. He might have been an actual protester. I was too busy trying not to pay attention to any of them to notice for sure. but we'll go with my current story.) It was bad. It was wrong. but it was OH so funny.

There were a couple of particularly loud protesters on one one corner, telling everyone we were going to hell (my ears actually hurt a little as we walked by), and as we passed, something must have caught my attention. I looked this other guy full in the face. As a result, he talked to me.

The man was dressed like the devil, complete with a red-tipped pitchfork. He smiled and introduced himself.

"Hello. I'm Satan, and [gesturing to the particularly obnoxious protesters] these are my missionaries."

I lost it. I laughed for half a block.

Bad. Wrong. Leave the poor protesters alone, fake Satan. They don't mean to be mean.

But half a block.

addendum; the promised Part 2

I found a fatal flaw in my previous post. In the two weeks since that entry, I've noticed the time frame wherein I wrote it, and it makes a difference.

I actually had just been quite put out by the whole independent industry for a few days, after having seen a movie I found particularly offensive and pointless (and I saw it edited, as is always the case). No one in the whole world, except my roommate, agrees with me on this point, and it really is a little irrelevant, so I'll leave it out; suffice it to say, although this movie was clean of language, anything graphic, etc., you can't edit a plot, and I didn't like the plot. Anyway, that night, I practically renounced everything I've been exposed to this entire semester; it was during this period that I wrote that entry. I was ready to walk away.

When I looked at my list of the interests I've fallen in and out with over time, I realized that I still enjoy all of them. I don't focus on them as much anymore, but I still get excited about them all and I still enjoy participating. I haven't removed myself completely from identifying with those who use ASL. I still enjoy explaining the Central Dogma of DNA (replication, etc.) Yes, I even still flirt. (Although I'm trying to kick the habit in its excess;])

Anyway, who says any of those things aren't my "schtick?" I think I said that mostly for two reasons:

1. I have a hard time imagining myself as just one thing. (This is nothing new; no one can compartmentalize themselves like they can people they don't know too well. No "band nerd" is just a "band nerd," to themselves.) I can't think of myself as "an artsy person." I can't think of myself as "a crocheter." (Oh. I used to crochet a lot. Elementary school.)

2. As a jack-of-all-trades (which is my schtick), and in my strivings to still be a master of them all, I tend to judge myself by the highest standards of the trade. For instance, when someone asks me if I'm a ballroom dancer, I rarely answer in the affirmative. Because, even though I danced for a couple years, I'm not Natalie Wakefield; neither am I, nor have I been, on any team. In short, I try not to offend the sensitivities of those who are, in my opinion, masters of the trade. Those to whom the schtick belongs.

I realize that this is probably ridiculous.

I've been told in no uncertain terms to develop new talents and learn new things. I realize I made a connection in my last post that might not have been entirely correct; just because my interests wax and wane doesn't mean I have to remove myself from the scene. Can't I just be everything? Because I said so? After all, you aren't defined by the activities you seek. I look back at the friends I've made during my participation in each of these activities, and I don't pigeonhole them any more than I pigeonhole myself. They're a lot more than just dancers, or independent art-enthusiasts. I still talk to them, I still value them, and I even still date some of them - and we don't have to be dancers together. We don't have to watch movies. We don't have to speak perfect English. (We can even end our sentences with prepositions, if we want. I recently read that was okay sometimes, anyway.) We just have to be people, with ins and outs and depth that reaches farther than just our Cuban action.

In conclusion, I'd like to say that tomorrow night, I'm going to Optimistic.'s to see a low-budget, independently-made, reportedly fantastic film tomorrow night. It sounds absolutely riveting, and I'm prepared to walk away a little changed, just like I usually do with independent film. (Also, I've researched this one.)

I'd also like to congratulate myself on using the word "schtick" four times in this entry. And, even as a non-Yiddish speaker, I won't be judged by any of you for it - not even those of you who are fluent.

this cannot be separated from the next post. which might take its time getting posted. ha. go figure.

::I wrote this two weeks ago.::

No matter what or when, I love Jack Johnson, Disney movies, a good jazz flute solo, my leather jacket, superhero hot dogs on my car's antenna, a good hot business suit, the Krishna temple in Spanish fork, photography, hot vases and high heels.

Lately I've been on an independent art kick, which is winding down. By lately, I mean the last year or so. I've seen tons of movies, listened to lots of music, made and organized fabulous Sundance trips, and when the mood struck, I've adopted the look.

In the back of my mind, I always knew all of this wasn't really my schtick. It's just a game I've been playing for awhile. My guess is, my closer friends knew it too; even the ones who inspired the game.

Where do these games come from, anyway? A couple years ago, it was me as a ballroom dancer. Before that, a sign language guru .... a bioinformatics major ...independent art ... a flirt ... a grammar officer ... the silent introvert (this one is just an acquaintance who stops by to catch up every few months).

Is it time for a new game? Is this all just part of the adventure of self-discovery?

Although my penchant for dress-up makes me look immature, I think I'll always be at least a little volatile like this. It makes life interesting, and it's not entirely a facade, because you can't help but get to know someone when you take adventures with them - even yourself.

This girl, Olympus. She loves to move, physically (dancing, ASL). She loves to express herself. She's drawn to conceptual science, but doesn't always have patience for it and never can apply it. She thrives on human interaction, but likes to be alone occasionally, too. She often prefers an empty apartment to a full one. She enjoys being meticulous ... sometimes and depending. She's a pretty meticulous teacher. Other times, she would rather throw caution to the wind. That's a phase thing, too. Some things you can't throw to the wind. She's learned to love variety and these days doesn't have much patience for sameness.

So those are some things I've learned about my friend Olympus, through our journeys together. Maybe I'll add to it later.

For the record, I still think the look is hot. That one isn't going anywhere soon. Call me a poser, but when the mood strikes, it'll come in full glory.

**

"Go in peace! I will not say, do not weep, for not all tears are an evil."--Gandalf

what do you think when there's nothing to think about? (thank you, Scripture Scouts)

Warning: This is not innovative. Rather, something you've all probably done. I just felt like doing it. And who knows; one day I might do it again. Deal.

Today I was in the testing center. Taking a test. As I was sitting there, I decided to try and remember the things I was thinking about that were unrelated to my test. Here's what I can remember (I was in there for about 45 minutes).

-Ahhh ... hahhahaha:) ... I know why Robert Poste has that empty mechanical pencil along with this regular pencil. This eraser is no good. I should probably tell him so he knows not to separate them.

-What do you do when you don't have an eraser, anyway?
-Just don't make any mistakes.

-Wow, that kid looks like a kid I went on a date with a couple years ago.
-Hey, is that my ex-boyfriend's sister? I'll wait until she gets up and try to see. I can't tell from here.
-flippin is going to make fun of me for this.
-I'm starving. I wish ... oh yah, I have candy in my bag! Thank you, Mom.

-Dangit, the proctor is walking by. I don't think I'm supposed to be getting stuff out of my bag.

-Waiting ...

-I may as well write some stuff on my test.

-DANGIT. ::erases:: That wasn't so bad ... okay ... kinda bad, though:)

-She's going to think I'm cheating no matter what, cuz I keep watching all the people around me.

-Dude, that girl looks like my friend's wife. She isn't.

-Awww, geez. That girl who might have been my ex's sister has been replaced with someone else! grrr. That's what I get for paying attention to my test.

-OK, I'm not waiting anymore. That proctor is gone enough.

-Where is my candy? There are tons of Advil packets in here. I swear there's candy in here, too.

-Ooh, orange admist all the white packets. That's it.

-What the heck is on that M&M? ::laughs, then looks around guiltily:: Are those devil horns? I think these are from Halloween.
-This Three Musketeers smells like a tire store. Has it always been this way?
-I am never going to remember all this.
-Listening to yourself think is maddening. We as humans never listen to ourselves think. I wish I could have some sort of narrator or computer program for this, because there is no accurate way to record it all in a pure state. It's the test-subject phenomenon; this should always be done blind.
-This test question is technically unethical.
-Uggghhhh, not again. ::erases:: That was better that time.
-My ex's sister's replacement has been replaced! Man, that must be the magic chair where you get done fast. I should have taken my test in that one. Except that's one of the blue chairs that I HATE.
-::jump:: The girl in front of me just flipped her hair onto my desk, and it made a significant sound. That's impressive.
-Oh, I know her. Hello!
-I think she's married, right? .... Yep, I was right.
-I wonder if that guy is married.
-Dang these people in front of me ... maybe when he puts his bag down I'll be able to ... nope. Oh, well.
-I wonder who is married around me? I like to guess on this one before I check...
-I wonder if there's a statistically significant "look" to married people? Cuz I'm often right.

-It isn't that I found that kid particularly attractive. Although he may be. I wasn't really paying attention. I just like to guess.
-This kid next to me is that guy who was studying in that group out on the lawn as I was coming in.
-Not married.
-I was right.
-He's been in here since before I was.
-Hey, I haven't wanted any candy in awhile. That's pretty good.
...
And, cut.

::Editor's Note::

Just for you, Mom, I fixed the 'crap's. Also, a bit of a redemption: I read through a lot of this and noticed that this was I think the only entry where I used the word at all. :)