* put baby down for a nap
* watch "Take the Lead" while baby is sleeping
* write blogs, check emails, finish story, and make shopping list while watching the movie
* after baby wakes up, go to the store and buy some freakin food
* pick up older kid from school
* invite friends over for a relaxing evening in the hot tub
Days when Eric has work off are so smooth and nice. I'm sure it's because he generously lets me sleep in and relax a little. Days off are a good thing!
This is why I would never go back to church: Sundays are precious to me now. Sunday used to mean stress and preparation and exhaustion. Now they mean a guaranteed day off, get up when we feel like it, shower, or not, and basically chill. I look forward to Sunday now! What a funny world this is...
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Something I've Been Forgetting
A few months back, I posted about wanting to give myself positive affirmation (if you follow the link, make sure to read Sideon's comment; it's good!). I've been distracted since then, because I forgot about its importance. I still need to do it, because I've yet again been reminded that "if you love yourself, then you can hear others' love too".
Have you ever stepped outside yourself and asked yourself "If I wasn't me, would I be friends with me?" In other words, do I really like myself.
I think I'd be friends with myself. I'm pretty funny. I listen well, and try (though sometimes futilely) to gain understanding. I like to get people to take a look at themselves, get to the root of the issue. It's true, I struggle doing that with myself, but I'm willing to try.
How about you? Would you be friends with yourself?
Have you ever stepped outside yourself and asked yourself "If I wasn't me, would I be friends with me?" In other words, do I really like myself.
I think I'd be friends with myself. I'm pretty funny. I listen well, and try (though sometimes futilely) to gain understanding. I like to get people to take a look at themselves, get to the root of the issue. It's true, I struggle doing that with myself, but I'm willing to try.
How about you? Would you be friends with yourself?
Time in a Bottle
"If I could save time in a bottle
The first thing that I'd like to do
Is to save every day
'Til eternity passes away
Just to spend them with you"
-Jim Croce
I don't remember anymore where I was when I heard that Amy was dead. I've lived more life now without her than I lived with her. There was a time I thought of her every day. Then it was every week, then month. Now I think about her a couple of times a year. In June, I remember her birthday. I've conveniently forgotten her death day.
Amy was goth, before goth was a word. She was really into The Cure, Violent Femmes, Edie Brickell, and other alternative music. I remember her favorite shirt had Robert Smith on it. She was my rebel friend. If I wanted to not only skip church, but skip church and do bad stuff, she was the person I'd do it with. Her mom died when she was young, so her older brother and sister were mostly in charge of her. But they didn't really raise her, they just allowed her to follow in their footsteps.
She had long, straight, beautiful brown hair. She was short and little, and she had a great smile. I was never sure why she liked me, because we were very different. I think we just liked each other. You know, a connection. She had an entirely separate group of friends, but we lived in the same neighborhood so we'd hang out fairly often. In the summer at Girl's Camp we'd always sneak away and do things that were against the rules. In fact, she was on the infamous midnight hike where we toilet-papered the Lone Tree along the rim of the Mia Shalom valley. Oh, good times!
We all knew she was depressed. Her father wasn't around after her mom died. Her mom had been the entire workings of their household, a really great lady, and he didn't know how to cope with anything after she was gone. Amy's siblings were older and had already started on their downward paths. She had no one really to bolster her up, to keep her afloat. And then they moved.
She still went to the same junior high school as I did, but because she lived far away we never hung out. We'd say "hey" in the halls, and sometimes we'd stop to talk. But we drifted apart. Oh, I just remembered where I was when I heard what happened. I was at my friend Karen's house. Her older sister had been on the phone when we walked into the room, and she looked at us with a sickly pale face.
"Amy Yergensen just committed suicide", she told us. Of course Karen and I didn't believe her.
"No way, Jodie, that's not even funny," was Karen's reply.
If only we'd been right.
I was angry and sad and confused all at the same time. I yelled at her; I yelled at the universe. Only 13, I challenged God and his reasons. I went to her viewing and saw her in atypical white clothing, looking fake and frightening. I had my first emotional meltdown later that night. My first ever. Sobbing uncontrollably, unable to form words, scared to death of death.
Amy's death and funeral shook me for many years, in many, many ways. I was scared of the dark; I would have conversations with the dead Amy; she haunted my dreams; I wouldn't let her go.
Slowly, over the years, I did let her go. Now she's a childhood memory, and one that I love thinking about. I remember her forcing me to listen to "What I am" by Edie Brickell over and over again. I remember peeling her back after she got way too sunburned in a tanning bed. I am so happy she was in my life, if only for a few short years.
The first thing that I'd like to do
Is to save every day
'Til eternity passes away
Just to spend them with you"
-Jim Croce
I don't remember anymore where I was when I heard that Amy was dead. I've lived more life now without her than I lived with her. There was a time I thought of her every day. Then it was every week, then month. Now I think about her a couple of times a year. In June, I remember her birthday. I've conveniently forgotten her death day.
Amy was goth, before goth was a word. She was really into The Cure, Violent Femmes, Edie Brickell, and other alternative music. I remember her favorite shirt had Robert Smith on it. She was my rebel friend. If I wanted to not only skip church, but skip church and do bad stuff, she was the person I'd do it with. Her mom died when she was young, so her older brother and sister were mostly in charge of her. But they didn't really raise her, they just allowed her to follow in their footsteps.
She had long, straight, beautiful brown hair. She was short and little, and she had a great smile. I was never sure why she liked me, because we were very different. I think we just liked each other. You know, a connection. She had an entirely separate group of friends, but we lived in the same neighborhood so we'd hang out fairly often. In the summer at Girl's Camp we'd always sneak away and do things that were against the rules. In fact, she was on the infamous midnight hike where we toilet-papered the Lone Tree along the rim of the Mia Shalom valley. Oh, good times!
We all knew she was depressed. Her father wasn't around after her mom died. Her mom had been the entire workings of their household, a really great lady, and he didn't know how to cope with anything after she was gone. Amy's siblings were older and had already started on their downward paths. She had no one really to bolster her up, to keep her afloat. And then they moved.
She still went to the same junior high school as I did, but because she lived far away we never hung out. We'd say "hey" in the halls, and sometimes we'd stop to talk. But we drifted apart. Oh, I just remembered where I was when I heard what happened. I was at my friend Karen's house. Her older sister had been on the phone when we walked into the room, and she looked at us with a sickly pale face.
"Amy Yergensen just committed suicide", she told us. Of course Karen and I didn't believe her.
"No way, Jodie, that's not even funny," was Karen's reply.
If only we'd been right.
I was angry and sad and confused all at the same time. I yelled at her; I yelled at the universe. Only 13, I challenged God and his reasons. I went to her viewing and saw her in atypical white clothing, looking fake and frightening. I had my first emotional meltdown later that night. My first ever. Sobbing uncontrollably, unable to form words, scared to death of death.
Amy's death and funeral shook me for many years, in many, many ways. I was scared of the dark; I would have conversations with the dead Amy; she haunted my dreams; I wouldn't let her go.
Slowly, over the years, I did let her go. Now she's a childhood memory, and one that I love thinking about. I remember her forcing me to listen to "What I am" by Edie Brickell over and over again. I remember peeling her back after she got way too sunburned in a tanning bed. I am so happy she was in my life, if only for a few short years.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
SD State Referendumb HB 1215
There is one abortion clinic in the entire state of South Dakota. One. Planned Parenthood opens for business one day every week, and the surgeon from Minnesota flies in to perform elective abortions just for the day. The average (from 2004 figures) is roughly 15 abortions per that one day.
Such a small, simple clinic in Sioux Falls doesn't seem like it would be a hot bed for politics, but it most certainly is. The voters of South Dakota now get to decide if they support their state legislature and the extreme religious right.
The SD state legislature passed a bill making abortion illegal, a felony to be specific, in every case, unless the mother's life is at risk. Yes, friends. Raped? Lousy one night stand you'll forever regret? You still have the option to take the morning-after pill, assuming you A) can get access to it and B) know to take it in the first place. Otherwise? You’re having that baby, sistah.
So yes, the bill passed. The governor signed it into law, back in March. It is technically illegal to have an abortion in the state of South Dakota. The people who designed the law (read: Pro-Lifers) never really intended it to be implemented. They expected the state would get sued, and the case would be taken all the way to the US Supreme Court where they could finally get Roe vs. Wade overturned. But there was an unaccounted-for loophole.
There’s an old law that allows voters to overrule laws by referendum. Thus, our friend, HB 1215 , the referendum which the voters shall support or overturn.
Both sides of the issue are flowing money into the state for advertising. As of now, polls show that it would probably not pass today. But keep a watch out this November, folks. This is a big issue, and its outcome will be historical. As someone who firmly believes my body is my own, I’d like to be able to make decisions for myself. Prove to me, in a court of law, that my body belongs to God, and maybe I’ll rethink my stance. Until then…
Such a small, simple clinic in Sioux Falls doesn't seem like it would be a hot bed for politics, but it most certainly is. The voters of South Dakota now get to decide if they support their state legislature and the extreme religious right.
The SD state legislature passed a bill making abortion illegal, a felony to be specific, in every case, unless the mother's life is at risk. Yes, friends. Raped? Lousy one night stand you'll forever regret? You still have the option to take the morning-after pill, assuming you A) can get access to it and B) know to take it in the first place. Otherwise? You’re having that baby, sistah.
So yes, the bill passed. The governor signed it into law, back in March. It is technically illegal to have an abortion in the state of South Dakota. The people who designed the law (read: Pro-Lifers) never really intended it to be implemented. They expected the state would get sued, and the case would be taken all the way to the US Supreme Court where they could finally get Roe vs. Wade overturned. But there was an unaccounted-for loophole.
There’s an old law that allows voters to overrule laws by referendum. Thus, our friend, HB 1215 , the referendum which the voters shall support or overturn.
Both sides of the issue are flowing money into the state for advertising. As of now, polls show that it would probably not pass today. But keep a watch out this November, folks. This is a big issue, and its outcome will be historical. As someone who firmly believes my body is my own, I’d like to be able to make decisions for myself. Prove to me, in a court of law, that my body belongs to God, and maybe I’ll rethink my stance. Until then…
Monday, August 28, 2006
I call "time!"
I need to take a little break. I'll still be around, reading all y'all's stuff. Peace out...
Sunday, August 27, 2006
"Why is life so precious and so cruel?" -Erasure
“You have a beautiful face.”
“You have really pretty eyes.”
“God, I love your breasts!”
“You’re so beautiful, you know that?”
“You’re just so dang cute!”
I’ve been hearing comments like this pretty regularly lately. I still haven’t gotten used to it though.
Before six months ago, I never would hear things like this. I always heard comments about my sense of humor, and sometimes people would remark about my long eyelashes. But I never, ever heard positive praise growing up. From anybody. So it’s hard for me to take a compliment.
I’m like my mother, and she’s like hers. I’m sure my daughter will be like me too. Nothing is good enough. We demand more and better. We don’t give praise lightly. Hugs and kisses are rewards (actually they weren’t even that with my mom; I never got hugs and kisses from her), not just a regular part of life.
I crave male attention. My dad was the kissy, huggy one in our family (not saying much) but he was hardly ever around. He was either at work, at the temple, home teaching (or some other church related thing), or he was reading the newspaper in the living room. Sometimes he’d humor us when we’d pester him to come outside and watch us play. He spent many summer evenings lounging on the front lawn. I loved those times! I actually liked Sacrament Meetings because I got to snuggle with my dad, and I'd play with the veins on his hands.
My brothers were all busy with their own lives to pay any attention to me. I looked for that attention elsewhere. I think it was as early as 8 years old. But the problem is, when you’re seeking attention from males that aren’t related to you, it most likely will be sexually natured attention you get. And it was.
So for me, compliments equate desire. Beauty precedes acceptance. And the funny thing about all of it, is that I can give compliments without them meaning desire. I can appreciate someone’s beauty and not have that be criteria of my acceptance of them. In other words, the standards I hold myself to do not match the standards I hold everyone else to. I’m a fucking hypocrite.
“You have really pretty eyes.”
“God, I love your breasts!”
“You’re so beautiful, you know that?”
“You’re just so dang cute!”
I’ve been hearing comments like this pretty regularly lately. I still haven’t gotten used to it though.
Before six months ago, I never would hear things like this. I always heard comments about my sense of humor, and sometimes people would remark about my long eyelashes. But I never, ever heard positive praise growing up. From anybody. So it’s hard for me to take a compliment.
I’m like my mother, and she’s like hers. I’m sure my daughter will be like me too. Nothing is good enough. We demand more and better. We don’t give praise lightly. Hugs and kisses are rewards (actually they weren’t even that with my mom; I never got hugs and kisses from her), not just a regular part of life.
I crave male attention. My dad was the kissy, huggy one in our family (not saying much) but he was hardly ever around. He was either at work, at the temple, home teaching (or some other church related thing), or he was reading the newspaper in the living room. Sometimes he’d humor us when we’d pester him to come outside and watch us play. He spent many summer evenings lounging on the front lawn. I loved those times! I actually liked Sacrament Meetings because I got to snuggle with my dad, and I'd play with the veins on his hands.
My brothers were all busy with their own lives to pay any attention to me. I looked for that attention elsewhere. I think it was as early as 8 years old. But the problem is, when you’re seeking attention from males that aren’t related to you, it most likely will be sexually natured attention you get. And it was.
So for me, compliments equate desire. Beauty precedes acceptance. And the funny thing about all of it, is that I can give compliments without them meaning desire. I can appreciate someone’s beauty and not have that be criteria of my acceptance of them. In other words, the standards I hold myself to do not match the standards I hold everyone else to. I’m a fucking hypocrite.
Friday, August 25, 2006
Random Friday thoughts
It's an indoor day. We've got lightning and thunder, and various downbursts of rain. It's a good day for cleaning my kitchen, folding the stacks of laundry (shh...don't judge). Then later it will be put-the-kids-to-bed time and R & R-for-Mom time.
Maybe my bottle of White Zinfandel will be my friend tonight. You know, I don't think I'll be drinking the whole bottle this time, fun as that was before. But a glass or two and I'll be warm and toasty.
I guess because of school starting, I'm looking forward to Fall already. Fall is my favorite time of year. Cooler temperatures, apple cider and pumpkin pie, changing leaves, holidays, and the feeling of winter looming. Fall feels very much like a transition, and I find comfort in its dying embrace. Bah! Screw it. I just like Fall, alright? ;) Happy weekend, everyone.
Maybe my bottle of White Zinfandel will be my friend tonight. You know, I don't think I'll be drinking the whole bottle this time, fun as that was before. But a glass or two and I'll be warm and toasty.
I guess because of school starting, I'm looking forward to Fall already. Fall is my favorite time of year. Cooler temperatures, apple cider and pumpkin pie, changing leaves, holidays, and the feeling of winter looming. Fall feels very much like a transition, and I find comfort in its dying embrace. Bah! Screw it. I just like Fall, alright? ;) Happy weekend, everyone.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Bishop Rick is a funny guy! :)
Phantom Bride by Erasure
I'm feeling a bit hormonal and depressive today, so it's a good idea for me to put in the ol' Erasure cd. Here's what I'll be listening to:
She was a shy girl from the lonely street
She had no job to do and no friends to meet
She'd sit in silence in her rented room
Dream of her childhood and invented truths
And in her mind she'd drift away
A secret place to steal away
Don't you cry, don't you cry
Let me wipe away the tears from your eyes
Don't you cry, don't you cry
Let me wipe away the tears from your eyes
He was a good boy from the upside of town
Said he could treat her right, said he could win her round
Her morning sickness and the kick inside
The phantom kisses of the phantom bride
And in her mind she'd drift away
A secret place to steal away
Don't you cry, don't you cry
Let me wipe away the tears from your eyes
Don't you cry, don't you cry
Let me wipe away the tears from your eyes
She was a shy girl from the lonely street
She had no job to do and no friends to meet
She'd sit in silence in her rented room
Dream of her childhood and invented truths
And in her mind she'd drift away
A secret place to steal away
Don't you cry, don't you cry
Let me wipe away the tears from your eyes
Don't you cry, don't you cry
Let me wipe away the tears from your eyes
He was a good boy from the upside of town
Said he could treat her right, said he could win her round
Her morning sickness and the kick inside
The phantom kisses of the phantom bride
And in her mind she'd drift away
A secret place to steal away
Don't you cry, don't you cry
Let me wipe away the tears from your eyes
Don't you cry, don't you cry
Let me wipe away the tears from your eyes
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Race
Weekly Anamnesis # 36
"Crap," I thought, "I'm going to be late!" I slammed the car door shut and yelled a distracted "Bye!" to my dad. My backpack was bouncing as I ran over the trodden snow-covered ground.
It was January of 1989 and I was in the 6th grade (shh...all you oldies). January is historically a bleak month in Utah. The temperature was bitterly frigid and any snowfall we got was dry and didn't make good snowmen or snowballs. January is the month of crunchy, feet-high snow drifts. As a kid, I'd get dressed to play outside, only to have my face stinging from the chill within minutes. January was mostly spent indoors, for me.
I lived 2 blocks up the road from my elementary school, so normally I walked with my friends. This day, however, I had to be there early. I was a part of Scera Park Singers, a school choir made up of 5th and 6th graders. We were having a before-school practice for some reason. Mrs. Greeves (the mean 5th grade teacher!!) was the director and we all did what we could to avoid her wrath. She literally looked like a witch. She was olive-skinned with piercing green eyes, salt and pepper hair, and very sharp features. I used to imagine the different models of brooms she must've kept at her house.
Being late meant that you didn't get to sing, simple as that. Missed practice and you missed performance too. That knowledge drove my strides as I raced the clock to get there on time. But there it was, the gym door, and I was almost there! No sooner had I relaxed my run than I misstepped on the craterous snow beneath my feet. I landed smack on my right arm, in the snow. It hurt! My fingers felt jammed and I couldn't wiggle them very well. "Oh well, I have to go sing," I told myself, and I stood up, brushed myself off and made it to the gym in the nick of time.
Throughout rehearsal I gradually got movement back in all fingers except my right pinky. It was starting to look funny too. It was kind of purplish, and it was the same thickness as my ring finger. I was starting to worry a bit. I didn't dare raise my hand and interrupt Mrs. Greeves, so I waited until my regular class started. My teacher was dear Mr. Kelly, and because he was genuinely concerned for me, he sent me to the office. So I called my dad at work.
"Dad?" I sniffled. I could never call home sick without crying buckets. "I think something is wrong with my pinky. Mr. Kelly thinks I need to see a doctor."
Dad was always the one who could get away from work to deal with my problems, so soon he was back at the same curb, this time picking me up. And this time I walked across the courtyard.
It turned out that I broke my pinky on the growth plate, right at the first metacarpal joint. Because of this, even though the fracture was small, the doctor put a cast on my arm. I couldn't move my wrist at all. For six weeks I taught myself how to write with my left hand, which I can still do fairly well to this day.
"Crap," I thought, "I'm going to be late!" I slammed the car door shut and yelled a distracted "Bye!" to my dad. My backpack was bouncing as I ran over the trodden snow-covered ground.
It was January of 1989 and I was in the 6th grade (shh...all you oldies). January is historically a bleak month in Utah. The temperature was bitterly frigid and any snowfall we got was dry and didn't make good snowmen or snowballs. January is the month of crunchy, feet-high snow drifts. As a kid, I'd get dressed to play outside, only to have my face stinging from the chill within minutes. January was mostly spent indoors, for me.
I lived 2 blocks up the road from my elementary school, so normally I walked with my friends. This day, however, I had to be there early. I was a part of Scera Park Singers, a school choir made up of 5th and 6th graders. We were having a before-school practice for some reason. Mrs. Greeves (the mean 5th grade teacher!!) was the director and we all did what we could to avoid her wrath. She literally looked like a witch. She was olive-skinned with piercing green eyes, salt and pepper hair, and very sharp features. I used to imagine the different models of brooms she must've kept at her house.
Being late meant that you didn't get to sing, simple as that. Missed practice and you missed performance too. That knowledge drove my strides as I raced the clock to get there on time. But there it was, the gym door, and I was almost there! No sooner had I relaxed my run than I misstepped on the craterous snow beneath my feet. I landed smack on my right arm, in the snow. It hurt! My fingers felt jammed and I couldn't wiggle them very well. "Oh well, I have to go sing," I told myself, and I stood up, brushed myself off and made it to the gym in the nick of time.
Throughout rehearsal I gradually got movement back in all fingers except my right pinky. It was starting to look funny too. It was kind of purplish, and it was the same thickness as my ring finger. I was starting to worry a bit. I didn't dare raise my hand and interrupt Mrs. Greeves, so I waited until my regular class started. My teacher was dear Mr. Kelly, and because he was genuinely concerned for me, he sent me to the office. So I called my dad at work.
"Dad?" I sniffled. I could never call home sick without crying buckets. "I think something is wrong with my pinky. Mr. Kelly thinks I need to see a doctor."
Dad was always the one who could get away from work to deal with my problems, so soon he was back at the same curb, this time picking me up. And this time I walked across the courtyard.
It turned out that I broke my pinky on the growth plate, right at the first metacarpal joint. Because of this, even though the fracture was small, the doctor put a cast on my arm. I couldn't move my wrist at all. For six weeks I taught myself how to write with my left hand, which I can still do fairly well to this day.
Aahh...first day of school!
My daughter started first grade this morning. A full day of school! School lunch!! She's getting so big now...
She went to bed early last night, and woke up with no alarm clock well before she needed to. I remember the excitement of the first day of school too. But she seems uber-excited!
Last year, as the first time I had a child in school, I signed up for everything I could. Room mother, Thursday classroom helper, Thursday home reading book switcher-outer, PTA, and to bring items for several parties. This was a mistake, I learned pretty quickly.
This time around I signed up for Wed. home reading, and as a "cutter". No, this does not involve superficial flesh wounds on my forearms. I just have to help the teacher cut things out for class. No biggie. This year will be much easier.
So now my days are free again--well as free as they can be with a toddler in tow.
She went to bed early last night, and woke up with no alarm clock well before she needed to. I remember the excitement of the first day of school too. But she seems uber-excited!
Last year, as the first time I had a child in school, I signed up for everything I could. Room mother, Thursday classroom helper, Thursday home reading book switcher-outer, PTA, and to bring items for several parties. This was a mistake, I learned pretty quickly.
This time around I signed up for Wed. home reading, and as a "cutter". No, this does not involve superficial flesh wounds on my forearms. I just have to help the teacher cut things out for class. No biggie. This year will be much easier.
So now my days are free again--well as free as they can be with a toddler in tow.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
As the government's allocation for education funds turns...
...so are the days of my life. Well, it's official. We are in a sucky tax bracket. We make too much money to qualify for significant financial aid, but we don't make enough to actually pay for school. So I'm taking a step back; taking a look at the bigger picture.
I dropped my classes for fall, and will spend this time applying for various grants and scholarships. I'll register for spring as soon as I'm able to. I will not apply for a student loan, not this time around.
I dropped my classes for fall, and will spend this time applying for various grants and scholarships. I'll register for spring as soon as I'm able to. I will not apply for a student loan, not this time around.
Monday, August 21, 2006
If you were Satan's Pawn, what would be your purpose??
I like the thought that I'm being used by Satan to lead astray the children of god. Seriously, that's pretty funny.
If I am truly a pawn of the devil, my purpose is to deflect the spirit. Emphacize cynicism. Encourage lightmindedness and carnal behavior. Stand at a window of the great and spacious building and dissuade my family and friends off their "path".
Actually I have more of a "to each his own" attitude about religion right now. But I still wish Satan were manipulating me. Maybe I'll get lucky someday...
If I am truly a pawn of the devil, my purpose is to deflect the spirit. Emphacize cynicism. Encourage lightmindedness and carnal behavior. Stand at a window of the great and spacious building and dissuade my family and friends off their "path".
Actually I have more of a "to each his own" attitude about religion right now. But I still wish Satan were manipulating me. Maybe I'll get lucky someday...
I love my own bed!
Details? Details. Ok.
Well, we took my mother's RV down to Yuba Lake, getting there mid-afternoon on Saturday. We parked right on the north beach. Our friends (four other couples) had all been there the night before too, so they already had the camping "look". :) Three more couples arrived shortly after we did, but only one of those couples stayed the night.
The water level is much higher than it was the last time we went there. With 2 winters of great snowpacks, it's no wonder! We didn't really want to go out on the boat, so instead we put the baby to sleep in the camper and enjoyed some quiet time. The sun was out, the water was comfortable, and I was on the cusp of a sublime experience. Unfortunately, I had downed two beers pretty soon after arriving, and that moment kept getting interrupted by violent bathroom urges. Oh well, it was still a nice time.
The nighttime was spectacular. You could see every damn star in the sky. The Milky Way was prominent, as there were no clouds to confuse it with. Amazing. My friend was feeling a bit down, so she and I took a tequila shot, stripped down naked, and walked casually into the dark water. Yet again, here was a moment which should have been extremely serene and sacred. But soon it became a novelty. More people joined us, it became sexually natured and I lost the moment for the second time that day.
I'd like to say it was just a party the whole time. Unfortunately there was drama and drunkenness and a baby around to keep it from being perfect. We still really enjoyed ourselves, and we want to go back again soon, with both kids, for a day trip or something. It's the perfect temperature right now: nice and warm in the day and cold at night. That temperature. :)
Well, we took my mother's RV down to Yuba Lake, getting there mid-afternoon on Saturday. We parked right on the north beach. Our friends (four other couples) had all been there the night before too, so they already had the camping "look". :) Three more couples arrived shortly after we did, but only one of those couples stayed the night.
The water level is much higher than it was the last time we went there. With 2 winters of great snowpacks, it's no wonder! We didn't really want to go out on the boat, so instead we put the baby to sleep in the camper and enjoyed some quiet time. The sun was out, the water was comfortable, and I was on the cusp of a sublime experience. Unfortunately, I had downed two beers pretty soon after arriving, and that moment kept getting interrupted by violent bathroom urges. Oh well, it was still a nice time.
The nighttime was spectacular. You could see every damn star in the sky. The Milky Way was prominent, as there were no clouds to confuse it with. Amazing. My friend was feeling a bit down, so she and I took a tequila shot, stripped down naked, and walked casually into the dark water. Yet again, here was a moment which should have been extremely serene and sacred. But soon it became a novelty. More people joined us, it became sexually natured and I lost the moment for the second time that day.
I'd like to say it was just a party the whole time. Unfortunately there was drama and drunkenness and a baby around to keep it from being perfect. We still really enjoyed ourselves, and we want to go back again soon, with both kids, for a day trip or something. It's the perfect temperature right now: nice and warm in the day and cold at night. That temperature. :)
Saturday, August 19, 2006
On Too-Short Hiatus
Y to the U to the B to the A .
Yeah we're heading south to Yuba Lake for a while. Our gang of local exmos is spending the weekend down there, sans children. We'll have our youngest, the devil toddler, with us because we can't think of anyone who deserves to watch him for a whole day. So our recklessness will therefore be capped. Perhaps that's a good thing?
I can't even begin to explain how much a break is needed right now! This will be good.
Okay bloggies...have a good couple of days.
Yeah we're heading south to Yuba Lake for a while. Our gang of local exmos is spending the weekend down there, sans children. We'll have our youngest, the devil toddler, with us because we can't think of anyone who deserves to watch him for a whole day. So our recklessness will therefore be capped. Perhaps that's a good thing?
I can't even begin to explain how much a break is needed right now! This will be good.
Okay bloggies...have a good couple of days.
Friday, August 18, 2006
The 4000th visitor to my blog is:
Simeon!
K dude, you're in CA, and I'm in Utah. You're a guy, and married too. So, my thoughts about a prize are pretty boring. How about I send you some beer? :) I'll work something out...
And how cool is this??
I just got my first visit from someone at Church Headquarters in SLC. I'm in the big leagues now...
Who will it be?!?
Today I'll reach the mark of 4000 visitors to my blog. I should give a prize, huh? Ok, the prize will depend on 3 things:
1)whether the 4000th visitor is a male or female
2)where the person lives
3)if I know who they are or not, and under what context
What a party-rific Friday, eh, folks?
1)whether the 4000th visitor is a male or female
2)where the person lives
3)if I know who they are or not, and under what context
What a party-rific Friday, eh, folks?
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Nighttime thoughts
Thanks to Chanson, who reviewed a book (which I want to read!) about a woman who's ex-husband is gay and the after-marriage life she's dealing with.
I've been thinking a lot lately about sexual orientation. What determines it? How come some people are attracted only to the opposite sex, while some are attracted to both sexes, and yet others are attracted only to the same sex. It's just odd, and insanely interesting.
Another thing: how come you can sometimes know for certainty what someone's sexual orientation is, and then other times you might think you know but you aren't quite sure, and then sometimes you haven't a clue. Weird! Although I guess it could be argued that you never know for sure. But you get what I'm saying.
If I believed in God I'd pray about these things.
I've been thinking a lot lately about sexual orientation. What determines it? How come some people are attracted only to the opposite sex, while some are attracted to both sexes, and yet others are attracted only to the same sex. It's just odd, and insanely interesting.
Another thing: how come you can sometimes know for certainty what someone's sexual orientation is, and then other times you might think you know but you aren't quite sure, and then sometimes you haven't a clue. Weird! Although I guess it could be argued that you never know for sure. But you get what I'm saying.
If I believed in God I'd pray about these things.
One Friday afternoon in June
"With this Garment I give you a New Name, which you should always remember, and which you must keep sacred, and never reveal except at a certain place which will be shown you hereafter. The name is Sarah," the nice lady smiled as she pronounced it.
"Sarah," I repeated. In my mind I was thinking of a friend of mine named Sarah who used to annoy me a lot. At least, I justified, I would always be able to remember it. Plus, it was a special, just-for-me name, and I really enjoyed Sarah in the bible. It would do. I would not protest.
As we finished our first endowment session, my husband (though not eternally at that point) stood behind the "veil" and repeated what the guy told him to say. I only can recall the part where I gave the First Token of the Aaronic Priesthood, or the New Name. I told Eric my new name and immediately wanted him to whisper what his was. But the temple worker kept on going with the ceremony. Then Eric, as the "Lord", guided me through the white polyester curtain. "Heaven" sure looked like a back-stage. A white one.
In my mind I kept stewing over Eric being the "Lord" in that scenario. But I tucked those thoughts down because the Celestial Room was pretty and I was concentrating on not letting my "robe" touch the floor.
It was dusk as we got in the car to leave. The sound of crickets and cicadas rang in our ears, and the horizon was a dull purple-blue. "Well that wasn't so bad," I declared.
"What'd you expect? Blood-letting?" joked my oldest brother.
I laughed, "Yeah sure. But the initiatory was weird. I didn't know she was going to touch me. Oh well, no biggie." My thoughts trailed off and we drove on with only superficial small-talk.
It wasn't until 5 years later, having removed my garments for the final time, that I remembered my first temple experience. Though it didn't stand out as traumatic, and I didn't realize anything awry at the time, I definately had an out-of-sync feeling that night. Quiet, yes it was. Peaceful, absolutely. Weird, you'd better believe it.
"Sarah," I repeated. In my mind I was thinking of a friend of mine named Sarah who used to annoy me a lot. At least, I justified, I would always be able to remember it. Plus, it was a special, just-for-me name, and I really enjoyed Sarah in the bible. It would do. I would not protest.
As we finished our first endowment session, my husband (though not eternally at that point) stood behind the "veil" and repeated what the guy told him to say. I only can recall the part where I gave the First Token of the Aaronic Priesthood, or the New Name. I told Eric my new name and immediately wanted him to whisper what his was. But the temple worker kept on going with the ceremony. Then Eric, as the "Lord", guided me through the white polyester curtain. "Heaven" sure looked like a back-stage. A white one.
In my mind I kept stewing over Eric being the "Lord" in that scenario. But I tucked those thoughts down because the Celestial Room was pretty and I was concentrating on not letting my "robe" touch the floor.
It was dusk as we got in the car to leave. The sound of crickets and cicadas rang in our ears, and the horizon was a dull purple-blue. "Well that wasn't so bad," I declared.
"What'd you expect? Blood-letting?" joked my oldest brother.
I laughed, "Yeah sure. But the initiatory was weird. I didn't know she was going to touch me. Oh well, no biggie." My thoughts trailed off and we drove on with only superficial small-talk.
It wasn't until 5 years later, having removed my garments for the final time, that I remembered my first temple experience. Though it didn't stand out as traumatic, and I didn't realize anything awry at the time, I definately had an out-of-sync feeling that night. Quiet, yes it was. Peaceful, absolutely. Weird, you'd better believe it.
My voice is GONE; that proves how cool Journey is!
I'm sulking and being grumpy because of how much Journey does NOT suck. We heard Faithfully, Don't Stop Believing, and Separate Ways. Yeah, it was quite a flashback to my sibling's high school days... I was way too young to appreciate them at their peak! (ok, so yes, I've resorting to throwing age around. I'm petty, aight?) :)
No I just like a lot of different kinds of music. I'll mostly listen to whatever. But deep down, I'm a rocker chick. Hasn't that been established already? I love classic and hard rock. I like great rockin-out guitar. Maybe that's why I like Def Leppard so much, because they use the word rock in almost all their songs. That reminds me, they have a new album out called Yeah (creative genius, eh?). Last night they played a song from that album, a cover of the Badfinger song "No Matter What". It was cool.
I'm so sorry for over-talking about this. Geez, I'll change the subject now. Hmm... Exmormon. Bitter. Angry. Sin! Misery. Blah. :)
No I just like a lot of different kinds of music. I'll mostly listen to whatever. But deep down, I'm a rocker chick. Hasn't that been established already? I love classic and hard rock. I like great rockin-out guitar. Maybe that's why I like Def Leppard so much, because they use the word rock in almost all their songs. That reminds me, they have a new album out called Yeah (creative genius, eh?). Last night they played a song from that album, a cover of the Badfinger song "No Matter What". It was cool.
I'm so sorry for over-talking about this. Geez, I'll change the subject now. Hmm... Exmormon. Bitter. Angry. Sin! Misery. Blah. :)
I'm hot, sticky and sweet...!
Ok that freakin rocked.
Journey opened, and we got there late so we only saw like 3 of their songs. But it was great. Then Def Leppard came out and rocked the crap out of the place.
They encored with Love Bites and Pour Some Sugar on Me. KICK butt. I'm telling ya.
Tomorrow I'll think of something more interesting to say, I'm sure. :)
Journey opened, and we got there late so we only saw like 3 of their songs. But it was great. Then Def Leppard came out and rocked the crap out of the place.
They encored with Love Bites and Pour Some Sugar on Me. KICK butt. I'm telling ya.
Tomorrow I'll think of something more interesting to say, I'm sure. :)
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Pour your sugar on me... :)
Woo-hoo!!!
Def Leppard tonight, baby!! Ooh, gotta throw my hot jeans in the wash. Hang on. K there.
So tonight we're heading up to Usana Ampitheater to see Def Leppard live in concert. I bet you I'll be disappointed. I always am with live shows. Plus, the only music I know of Def Leppard is their album Hysteria. Did they do anything else?!? ;)
Ok as of now I'm dropping all expectations and I'm going to have a rockin' time.
Def Leppard tonight, baby!! Ooh, gotta throw my hot jeans in the wash. Hang on. K there.
So tonight we're heading up to Usana Ampitheater to see Def Leppard live in concert. I bet you I'll be disappointed. I always am with live shows. Plus, the only music I know of Def Leppard is their album Hysteria. Did they do anything else?!? ;)
Ok as of now I'm dropping all expectations and I'm going to have a rockin' time.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Excuse
Weekly Anamnesis #35
The rain beat on the car roof like a child banging a pot. It was loud. There in the darkness we had to speak louder to hear each other. I laid my head on his lap, and we stared at each other as we giggled and explored with our hands. His blue eyes pierced me, even in the dark. When he smiled, his eyes twinkled. It was just like those moments you hear about: it only lasts for a short time, but it feels like forever.
I had seen him at work before. He was in charge of making bread, I think. He'd come into our shop every morning to drop off the loaves, and he'd hang around to talk and flirt with me and Jessica. His name was Rob. He had surfer blonde hair, was a thick build and he drove a white dumpy pick-up truck. He had just moved here from Arizona.
One Sunday at my singles ward I saw him there. I guess I was suprised because I hadn't associated him with mormon or church up to that point. After sacrament meeting, we met behind the pews and he asked me if I was going to sunday school. "No..." I replied, because I never liked auxillary meetings at that ward. He asked if I wanted to go out with him for lunch instead. Having not dated a lot, I got excited and said sure.
In his truck we drove up to Salt Lake valley. Neither of us could decide what we wanted to eat so we went to the mall and hung out for a while. He made me laugh. He complained about church, and his honesty was refreshing for me. We finally were hungry enough to go eat, and it was then, walking through the parking lot, that he reached out and held my hand.
The meal was mediocre. I think it might have been at Village Inn or Denny's or something. Somewhere in Sandy. I still think about him when we drive past the 106th south exit. I digress. We continued our conversation, but we also were frustrated with piss-poor service at the restaurant. We were both relieved when we were done and leaving.
We spent the rest of the day together. We came back to Alpine and drove around the hills a bit. I showed him the water tank, a gigantic white cylinder set into the hill, which you could sit on and have a spectacular view of the whole valley. After dark we drove back to my house. I could typically get around unnoticed and ignored, so we hung out in my back yard. My parents had spent a small fortune landscaping that yard. It was lit up by the moonlight, and the greens of the yard and trees looked a deep black. We sat holding hands and looking at the stars. He leaned over and kissed me, and though it was really nice, it was clear then that I didn't click with him.
Over the next couple of weeks we went out a few more times. But I was formulating my excuse to call it off. He just seemed distant. Seemed interested in the physical, but didn't really seem to care about me or my needs. I felt like a time-filler, since he was new to the area.
So there we were in his truck in the rain. We had been kissing (I'm a sucker for kissing) and I was laying on him. He had his big arms wrapped around me and he'd brush my lips with soft kisses. He put one of his hands up my shirt, in an effort to slip it off me. Though I was savoring and reeling from the sweet moment just before, it was then that I sat bolt upright and told him I couldn't do this. I told him that I wanted to stay pure (or some such nonsense) and that I was waiting to be married before I went further with a guy. I reminded him that he wore his garments, and that they were supposed to be sacred and private. This pretty well ruined the moment. He straightened himself upright and took me home. Sometimes having the church dictating my life came in handy.
The rain beat on the car roof like a child banging a pot. It was loud. There in the darkness we had to speak louder to hear each other. I laid my head on his lap, and we stared at each other as we giggled and explored with our hands. His blue eyes pierced me, even in the dark. When he smiled, his eyes twinkled. It was just like those moments you hear about: it only lasts for a short time, but it feels like forever.
I had seen him at work before. He was in charge of making bread, I think. He'd come into our shop every morning to drop off the loaves, and he'd hang around to talk and flirt with me and Jessica. His name was Rob. He had surfer blonde hair, was a thick build and he drove a white dumpy pick-up truck. He had just moved here from Arizona.
One Sunday at my singles ward I saw him there. I guess I was suprised because I hadn't associated him with mormon or church up to that point. After sacrament meeting, we met behind the pews and he asked me if I was going to sunday school. "No..." I replied, because I never liked auxillary meetings at that ward. He asked if I wanted to go out with him for lunch instead. Having not dated a lot, I got excited and said sure.
In his truck we drove up to Salt Lake valley. Neither of us could decide what we wanted to eat so we went to the mall and hung out for a while. He made me laugh. He complained about church, and his honesty was refreshing for me. We finally were hungry enough to go eat, and it was then, walking through the parking lot, that he reached out and held my hand.
The meal was mediocre. I think it might have been at Village Inn or Denny's or something. Somewhere in Sandy. I still think about him when we drive past the 106th south exit. I digress. We continued our conversation, but we also were frustrated with piss-poor service at the restaurant. We were both relieved when we were done and leaving.
We spent the rest of the day together. We came back to Alpine and drove around the hills a bit. I showed him the water tank, a gigantic white cylinder set into the hill, which you could sit on and have a spectacular view of the whole valley. After dark we drove back to my house. I could typically get around unnoticed and ignored, so we hung out in my back yard. My parents had spent a small fortune landscaping that yard. It was lit up by the moonlight, and the greens of the yard and trees looked a deep black. We sat holding hands and looking at the stars. He leaned over and kissed me, and though it was really nice, it was clear then that I didn't click with him.
Over the next couple of weeks we went out a few more times. But I was formulating my excuse to call it off. He just seemed distant. Seemed interested in the physical, but didn't really seem to care about me or my needs. I felt like a time-filler, since he was new to the area.
So there we were in his truck in the rain. We had been kissing (I'm a sucker for kissing) and I was laying on him. He had his big arms wrapped around me and he'd brush my lips with soft kisses. He put one of his hands up my shirt, in an effort to slip it off me. Though I was savoring and reeling from the sweet moment just before, it was then that I sat bolt upright and told him I couldn't do this. I told him that I wanted to stay pure (or some such nonsense) and that I was waiting to be married before I went further with a guy. I reminded him that he wore his garments, and that they were supposed to be sacred and private. This pretty well ruined the moment. He straightened himself upright and took me home. Sometimes having the church dictating my life came in handy.
A song that I listen to over and over again in my car, just belting out the words :)
Since the day before Rebecca left, I've been listening to the soundtrack of the play Chess. As Becca can probably attest, I know every goddamn word on that cd. Ok, well, most of the words. There is a song called Noboby's Side, in which the main character, Florence, is realizing that her current love, the American chess champion, is a prick and he doesn't care one bit about her. Only the game matters to him. It's a pivotal point in the play. (By the way, I really need to see this play live someday.)
The 3 verses from Nobody's Side:
Everybody's playing the game
But nobody's rules are the same
Nobody's on nobody's side
Better learn to go it alone
Recognize you're out on your own
Nobody's on nobody's side.
Never make a promise or plan
Take a little love where you can
Nobody's on nobody's side
Never stay too long in your bed
Never lose your heart, use your head
Nobody's on nobody's side.
Never take a stranger's advice
Never let a friend fool you twice
Nobody's on nobody's side
Never be the first to believe
Never be the last to deceive
Nobody's on nobody's side.
On some levels, I pity Florence because of her hardness. I feel like she's choosing to not trust. She's deciding to close herself off. But then I can also understand why she would want to put up the walls. I think that the more I age and the less I rely on feelings to decide things for me, I can see her motivation. And, truthfully, I can see myself choosing those very same things a lot lately.
I guess probably the most healthy way of approaching this is to know when to distance yourself and when to open yourself up. I guess there are certain times for each trait. After all, she sings this song, and then goes on to open herself up to the Russian chess champ. But that doesn't end well, either, just so you know. :)
The 3 verses from Nobody's Side:
Everybody's playing the game
But nobody's rules are the same
Nobody's on nobody's side
Better learn to go it alone
Recognize you're out on your own
Nobody's on nobody's side.
Never make a promise or plan
Take a little love where you can
Nobody's on nobody's side
Never stay too long in your bed
Never lose your heart, use your head
Nobody's on nobody's side.
Never take a stranger's advice
Never let a friend fool you twice
Nobody's on nobody's side
Never be the first to believe
Never be the last to deceive
Nobody's on nobody's side.
On some levels, I pity Florence because of her hardness. I feel like she's choosing to not trust. She's deciding to close herself off. But then I can also understand why she would want to put up the walls. I think that the more I age and the less I rely on feelings to decide things for me, I can see her motivation. And, truthfully, I can see myself choosing those very same things a lot lately.
I guess probably the most healthy way of approaching this is to know when to distance yourself and when to open yourself up. I guess there are certain times for each trait. After all, she sings this song, and then goes on to open herself up to the Russian chess champ. But that doesn't end well, either, just so you know. :)
Monday, August 14, 2006
Question for ya:
*My 110th post and my 4th post today! Woo-hoo!*
Is anyone coming to Utah for the exmo conference in October? We'd like to get a head count so we can decide whether or not we need to skip town that weekend or stay and be social exmo butterflies. And really I only care about bloggers. Who gives a crap about those RfM or Exmoso peeps?? Just jokin. A little bit.
Is anyone coming to Utah for the exmo conference in October? We'd like to get a head count so we can decide whether or not we need to skip town that weekend or stay and be social exmo butterflies. And really I only care about bloggers. Who gives a crap about those RfM or Exmoso peeps?? Just jokin. A little bit.
Yeah, uhm, thanks! But no thanks.
So Matt is nice enough. He's got quite a printing setup. I was relaxed, confidant (thanks to those who encouraged me!), and dressed nice casual. He made me wait for a bit, but that was fine.
Here's the thing: he wants a full-time employee to do grunt work for $7 per hour. He'll raise it to $8 if they are a good worker and they catch on well. And he said he'd work with me on my time. But I'm sorry. To work full-time I'd definitely need day-care for my son, and after taxes and day-care costs, I'd probably be only taking home $400 a month. Yeah. Uhm, so no.
But. This has inspired me to see what else is out there, and maybe look into working this semester and starting school in January. Oh well... NOW it's time for that beer! :)
Here's the thing: he wants a full-time employee to do grunt work for $7 per hour. He'll raise it to $8 if they are a good worker and they catch on well. And he said he'd work with me on my time. But I'm sorry. To work full-time I'd definitely need day-care for my son, and after taxes and day-care costs, I'd probably be only taking home $400 a month. Yeah. Uhm, so no.
But. This has inspired me to see what else is out there, and maybe look into working this semester and starting school in January. Oh well... NOW it's time for that beer! :)
Yikes!
The guy, Matt, whom I am visiting later this afternoon wants my references, so he can verify work ethic from previous employers. This is scary to me! I haven't worked in nearly 7 years, and back then I just took a job to keep busy. Most of the places I've worked before are closed now, or at least the people I worked for are gone.
K now I'm a little nervous. Looking at my resume, I am a boring, immature kid. I want to bring up my church service and seminary teaching. Seminary teaching took a lot of time, work, and dedication to do well. And it wasn't a "calling". It was an appointment. Anyway, I'll just go with the flow here... Maybe I'll have a beer before I go! Ok, just kidding.
K now I'm a little nervous. Looking at my resume, I am a boring, immature kid. I want to bring up my church service and seminary teaching. Seminary teaching took a lot of time, work, and dedication to do well. And it wasn't a "calling". It was an appointment. Anyway, I'll just go with the flow here... Maybe I'll have a beer before I go! Ok, just kidding.
Change of plans?
A few weeks ago over lunch, I announced to my brother and some co-workers of his that I need a job. I have 2 motivations for this: 1- more money! and 2- time away from home. Since then, I have successfully begun to fulfill #2 by registering for classes. But this scenario is actually draining from us, not adding.
Last spring when we filed our taxes, the computer crashed before my husband had a chance to print our returns out. So I've been having issues trying to fill out my FAFSA. In fact, I don't think we'll have a copy of the return before the deadline for tuition payment. Anyhow, that $1200 will have to be paid out of pocket by us, which is not an easy thing. I will, however, get the returns back in time to request financial aid for the Spring '07 semester.
My point? There's a guy my brother knows who runs a printing place. He does 90% of the promotional printing for the company my brother designs for. He needs someone to help him get organized and tighten up the ship. So when he heard that I was wanting part-time work, he told my brother to have me go visit him. I hesitated, because of having registered for school, but the tuition thing has me worried enough that I am now reconsidering. Extra money? How can I say no to that???
I'll go visit the guy today, and see how it feels.
Last spring when we filed our taxes, the computer crashed before my husband had a chance to print our returns out. So I've been having issues trying to fill out my FAFSA. In fact, I don't think we'll have a copy of the return before the deadline for tuition payment. Anyhow, that $1200 will have to be paid out of pocket by us, which is not an easy thing. I will, however, get the returns back in time to request financial aid for the Spring '07 semester.
My point? There's a guy my brother knows who runs a printing place. He does 90% of the promotional printing for the company my brother designs for. He needs someone to help him get organized and tighten up the ship. So when he heard that I was wanting part-time work, he told my brother to have me go visit him. I hesitated, because of having registered for school, but the tuition thing has me worried enough that I am now reconsidering. Extra money? How can I say no to that???
I'll go visit the guy today, and see how it feels.
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Blog removal...Grr...!
So. Yet again, JLO's blog has been removed. Hm.
I can guess the circumstances, and I hope everything is well with you, J. I wish we could meet for coffee... Mattman? Your cue. :) Friends are good at times like these.
I'm a lucky gal. I can think of about 5 different ways off-hand that my situation could've been different, and my life could've been hellish. I just feel really sorry that people have to struggle so much. In fact, I think it was JLO who said "leaving the church is not for the faint of heart". When I read that, I wondered if I was not faint of heart. I don't feel brave, not about this.
I hope the weather in Texas clears up, the clouds part, the suffocating humidity relents, and the crisp, hopeful sun shines through. :)
I can guess the circumstances, and I hope everything is well with you, J. I wish we could meet for coffee... Mattman? Your cue. :) Friends are good at times like these.
I'm a lucky gal. I can think of about 5 different ways off-hand that my situation could've been different, and my life could've been hellish. I just feel really sorry that people have to struggle so much. In fact, I think it was JLO who said "leaving the church is not for the faint of heart". When I read that, I wondered if I was not faint of heart. I don't feel brave, not about this.
I hope the weather in Texas clears up, the clouds part, the suffocating humidity relents, and the crisp, hopeful sun shines through. :)
Saturday, August 12, 2006
Labels
All this talk about feminists and pornography and definitions has me trying to slap a label on myself.
I've never voted Republican, and am registered Independent. I think I'm pretty liberal on most issues, but there are little threads of conservatism flowing deep in me.
I am a feminist in that I desire the same opportunities and rewards for women as for men. But I absolutely believe that men and women are inherently different, and those differences should be celebrated. Women are good for certain things, and men are good for certain things. Now, of course, this is a great big generalization. I guess what I'm getting at is that I'm a supporter of Individualism, regardless of gender.
I get "turned on" by many kinds of porn, including male/male sex. But really, it's intimacy that turns me on. I'm not so very interested in the stranger or one night stand ideas. Give me two (or more!) people that have some feelings for each other, and that's HOT! :) I like to think of myself as more than tolerant. I want to be more than accepting.
So what do we have so far? Liberally moderate feminist, open-minded but as yet inexperienced ALL-sexual (as opposed to homo or bi). What else? I don't want to get into some personal stuff, but there are other ways that I'm probably radical, too.
Ah... I got it! I'm a HIPPIE!! :) Now who's got the joint...?
I've never voted Republican, and am registered Independent. I think I'm pretty liberal on most issues, but there are little threads of conservatism flowing deep in me.
I am a feminist in that I desire the same opportunities and rewards for women as for men. But I absolutely believe that men and women are inherently different, and those differences should be celebrated. Women are good for certain things, and men are good for certain things. Now, of course, this is a great big generalization. I guess what I'm getting at is that I'm a supporter of Individualism, regardless of gender.
I get "turned on" by many kinds of porn, including male/male sex. But really, it's intimacy that turns me on. I'm not so very interested in the stranger or one night stand ideas. Give me two (or more!) people that have some feelings for each other, and that's HOT! :) I like to think of myself as more than tolerant. I want to be more than accepting.
So what do we have so far? Liberally moderate feminist, open-minded but as yet inexperienced ALL-sexual (as opposed to homo or bi). What else? I don't want to get into some personal stuff, but there are other ways that I'm probably radical, too.
Ah... I got it! I'm a HIPPIE!! :) Now who's got the joint...?
Friday, August 11, 2006
Ramblings of one crazed with boredom....
It's a Friday night. Ah, Fridays. I used to think Friday was better than Saturday, because I could party all night Friday then sleep in on Saturday. Back then I couldn't stay up all night on a Saturday because I'd have to wake up early for church on Sunday.
Now? Saturday rocks. Saturday kicks Friday to the curb. Friday doesn't stand a chance.
Can't wait for tomorrow night. It's bound to be better than tonight... ;)
Now? Saturday rocks. Saturday kicks Friday to the curb. Friday doesn't stand a chance.
Can't wait for tomorrow night. It's bound to be better than tonight... ;)
That Stinks!
So I was reading the "paper" a while ago, and the article described how the security guidelines for airline flights has again changed. Because of the foiled terrorist attack yesterday in London, now liquids/gels can no longer be brought on board. The passengers (at BWI, Dulles and National, as this was an article in the Post) stood in line for hours and then they had to throw their toiletries in the trash.
I read of people crying because of having to dump their designer perfumes and hair care products. No mousse, gel, perfume, deodorants, nothing. I would've been one of the ones crying, I'm sure. I have sympathy for these people because I hate waiting in lines and I LOVE my smelly lotions, etc. Not that I buy the high-end stuff, but what money I do spend I value.
Is this stuff ever going to end? I guess not. I guess this is our new existence, huh? Just like we all have microwaves and phones and email addresses, I suppose we just have to live with mostly ineffective uber-security at airports now. *sigh*
I read of people crying because of having to dump their designer perfumes and hair care products. No mousse, gel, perfume, deodorants, nothing. I would've been one of the ones crying, I'm sure. I have sympathy for these people because I hate waiting in lines and I LOVE my smelly lotions, etc. Not that I buy the high-end stuff, but what money I do spend I value.
Is this stuff ever going to end? I guess not. I guess this is our new existence, huh? Just like we all have microwaves and phones and email addresses, I suppose we just have to live with mostly ineffective uber-security at airports now. *sigh*
Thursday, August 10, 2006
My Top 5...
I always talk about my Top 5 most beautiful people, so I decided it's about time to actually compile that list. These are not ranked, they're only in order of which popped into my brain first.
Nicky Hayden
Milla Jovovich
Charlize Theron
Jude Law
Rachel Weisz
Ok, well this list can certainly be added upon, so feel free. I also want to give Ewan McCutehead and Scarlett Johluscious an honorable mention. They were this close to the top five. :)
Nicky Hayden
Milla Jovovich
Charlize Theron
Jude Law
Rachel Weisz
Ok, well this list can certainly be added upon, so feel free. I also want to give Ewan McCutehead and Scarlett Johluscious an honorable mention. They were this close to the top five. :)
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
3 Conversations with My Dad
**I just wrote this for the sake of saying it, but I think I'll change it a bit and use it for Weekly Anamnesis # 34. Not the best stuff I could do, but it's applicable.**
Dad was the more spiritual influence in our family. Sure he had a bad temper, but he also had a love of the scriptures. He did his best at instigating family home evening, family prayer, scripture study, etc. I think those things failed because the rest of us, including mom, were just completely non-supportive and would sleep through most of them
As I matured in age and testimony, I would talk with my dad about things I'd be learning in Seminary or Sunday School. I think I was 15 or 16 when I first found out about the priesthood being withheld from black men, and I took issue with it. So it was to my dad that I went. We had a conversation, scriptures in hand, about the curse of Cain and the flood and the mark and all that other BS. I don't remember feeling like I got an answer, or a good one at least, but I do remember liking that I could talk to my dad about stuff like that. I think I was the closest to my dad in that sense.
After I graduated and left home, dad shocked all of us by slapping a divorce on my mom. He called me on the phone to tell me. I couldn't breathe when we hung up. Eric had gone to work, so I had to repeat the conversation over again with him. I went to my job as a waitress later that day, but was no use to anyone. I would go off and find a corner to cry in, and I didn't have the strength to care what people wanted to eat. Within 7 months the divorce was final, and within 2 months after that, my dad was remarried. The respect I had for him dissipated fairly quickly and completely.
My dad then had a son with his new wife. A year later, when my oldest was born, my dad actually said to me, "Thank you for giving me a grandchild who's younger than my son." STILL creeps me out... His son, who's name is Moses (no need to say anything, I KNOW), is turning 8 in a couple of weeks. Dad mentioned something about a baptism, "if he passes the interview". That was funny to me, but dad didn't understand the real reason why.
My sister and I have envisioned the day we tell him about our leaving the church. Dad will approach us to casually mention that he and his new wife have been sealed in the temple. Our part of the conversation will go something like this: "Well, dad, it's too bad we couldn't have been there. We resigned our membership from the church, though, so even if you had invited us they probably wouldn't have let us in." I don't know how he'll take that news. I'm sure he'll feel guilty and possibly angry. He might try to challenge any information we've found out. He might just be sad and weepy. It's tough to predict my dad, I've learned. The only thing we know for sure is that after it's all out in the open, we're going to go have a big party.
Dad was the more spiritual influence in our family. Sure he had a bad temper, but he also had a love of the scriptures. He did his best at instigating family home evening, family prayer, scripture study, etc. I think those things failed because the rest of us, including mom, were just completely non-supportive and would sleep through most of them
As I matured in age and testimony, I would talk with my dad about things I'd be learning in Seminary or Sunday School. I think I was 15 or 16 when I first found out about the priesthood being withheld from black men, and I took issue with it. So it was to my dad that I went. We had a conversation, scriptures in hand, about the curse of Cain and the flood and the mark and all that other BS. I don't remember feeling like I got an answer, or a good one at least, but I do remember liking that I could talk to my dad about stuff like that. I think I was the closest to my dad in that sense.
After I graduated and left home, dad shocked all of us by slapping a divorce on my mom. He called me on the phone to tell me. I couldn't breathe when we hung up. Eric had gone to work, so I had to repeat the conversation over again with him. I went to my job as a waitress later that day, but was no use to anyone. I would go off and find a corner to cry in, and I didn't have the strength to care what people wanted to eat. Within 7 months the divorce was final, and within 2 months after that, my dad was remarried. The respect I had for him dissipated fairly quickly and completely.
My dad then had a son with his new wife. A year later, when my oldest was born, my dad actually said to me, "Thank you for giving me a grandchild who's younger than my son." STILL creeps me out... His son, who's name is Moses (no need to say anything, I KNOW), is turning 8 in a couple of weeks. Dad mentioned something about a baptism, "if he passes the interview". That was funny to me, but dad didn't understand the real reason why.
My sister and I have envisioned the day we tell him about our leaving the church. Dad will approach us to casually mention that he and his new wife have been sealed in the temple. Our part of the conversation will go something like this: "Well, dad, it's too bad we couldn't have been there. We resigned our membership from the church, though, so even if you had invited us they probably wouldn't have let us in." I don't know how he'll take that news. I'm sure he'll feel guilty and possibly angry. He might try to challenge any information we've found out. He might just be sad and weepy. It's tough to predict my dad, I've learned. The only thing we know for sure is that after it's all out in the open, we're going to go have a big party.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
A thought or three
Don't you hate it when you read other people's blogs/stories/writings and the power of their words or their images makes you feel totally inadequate? Sometimes that happens to me. But part of my growing up process is to take their words and let them shape me. Let them affect me. In essence, recognize and validate other people's strengths while not self-diminishing my own.
**Tangent Alert**
Ew! I was just sitting here and a gigantic fly landed on the moniter. It crawled upwards and creeped me out because it reminded me of the fly on the movie The Ring. I hate that movie. It makes me cry from fear, and that big fly comes out of the tv. Yucky!!! And that reminds me how much I do NOT want to see the new movie The Descent. It has darkness, enclosed spaces, and lack of air. No, no, no.... Not going to see it. (I have to be obstinate because my family finds humor in renting freaky movies and watching me cry when the creepy, choppy girl crawls out of the tv and kills people by doing something which the audience isn't quite clear on...)
Okay, back on track. So writing. Is eloquence learned or inborn? I want that. Eloquence, I mean. How can I write a post about strip malls and make it sound like poetry? Just kidding. I have to say, I think I'm pretty dang lucky to have a lot of English majors around to help and influence me. Will some of you do my homework for me too? Just kidding!!! Geez.
Well, I'm off to bed. Hope tomorrow is humptastic for all...
**Tangent Alert**
Ew! I was just sitting here and a gigantic fly landed on the moniter. It crawled upwards and creeped me out because it reminded me of the fly on the movie The Ring. I hate that movie. It makes me cry from fear, and that big fly comes out of the tv. Yucky!!! And that reminds me how much I do NOT want to see the new movie The Descent. It has darkness, enclosed spaces, and lack of air. No, no, no.... Not going to see it. (I have to be obstinate because my family finds humor in renting freaky movies and watching me cry when the creepy, choppy girl crawls out of the tv and kills people by doing something which the audience isn't quite clear on...)
Okay, back on track. So writing. Is eloquence learned or inborn? I want that. Eloquence, I mean. How can I write a post about strip malls and make it sound like poetry? Just kidding. I have to say, I think I'm pretty dang lucky to have a lot of English majors around to help and influence me. Will some of you do my homework for me too? Just kidding!!! Geez.
Well, I'm off to bed. Hope tomorrow is humptastic for all...
Monday, August 07, 2006
Just Another Mandoo-ic Monday
I would like to give a heart-felt apology for monopolizing the blogosphere today with my mention of writing erotica. Sorry all you people (Doug) haven't had the floods of hits/comments today like you do on normal boring days. Ok really I haven't had that many hits today. Not any more than normal, anyway. Oh well.
Today I bought my Def Leppard outfit. We're seeing them (and Journey) in concert on the 16th, and I needed something rocker-chick. So I bought a bunch of stuff, including a shirt with a dragonfly on it. TOO cute. Rebecca told me randomly today that my eyes are exotic. I've always wanted exotic eyes... I'll post a pic as soon as my techno husband can resize and cut and stuff.
Oh I have to dedicate a portion of this post to my lovely sister in law, Mandoo. She's TBM and bootie-licious. She is a faithful reader and learner-about-Laura, and she accepts me and my exmormonness even though it's hard. So that makes her the best EVER. It's good to be accepting, and I'm going to try and stop making blanket statements because they're inaccurate and dumb.
Ok, now it's time for more erotic story writing. P.S. I'll save Mandoo the disgust of reading a non-joking account of smut written by me. Even though she'd like it. ;)
Today I bought my Def Leppard outfit. We're seeing them (and Journey) in concert on the 16th, and I needed something rocker-chick. So I bought a bunch of stuff, including a shirt with a dragonfly on it. TOO cute. Rebecca told me randomly today that my eyes are exotic. I've always wanted exotic eyes... I'll post a pic as soon as my techno husband can resize and cut and stuff.
Oh I have to dedicate a portion of this post to my lovely sister in law, Mandoo. She's TBM and bootie-licious. She is a faithful reader and learner-about-Laura, and she accepts me and my exmormonness even though it's hard. So that makes her the best EVER. It's good to be accepting, and I'm going to try and stop making blanket statements because they're inaccurate and dumb.
Ok, now it's time for more erotic story writing. P.S. I'll save Mandoo the disgust of reading a non-joking account of smut written by me. Even though she'd like it. ;)
Sunday, August 06, 2006
One Small Step for La
I'm following in the footsteps of my dear blogging friends and I'm trying my hand at erotica. But I'm a little nervous to post it here. I need to finish off this last part of my story, so it's not quite done yet. I just thought I would announce to the world that I'm giving it a go.
I think everyone should do some erotica writing. Go ahead!
Oh, and as a side note, I saw Brokeback Mountain today. And Donnie Darko. It was a Jake Gyllenhaal fest! :)
I think everyone should do some erotica writing. Go ahead!
Oh, and as a side note, I saw Brokeback Mountain today. And Donnie Darko. It was a Jake Gyllenhaal fest! :)
Saturday, August 05, 2006
I know it seems like...
...I drink every night and probably am an alcoholic. If you think that though, you'd be wrong. I don't drink that much. Once, maybe twice a week at most. It's just that every time I DO drink, I feel the overwhelming need to blog about it.
Last night I went way out of my comfort zone, and then back into it again, then back out, and so forth. I drank Guiness Extra Stout as I ate deliciously warm chocolate chip cookies. Sideon insisted it is a perfect match, on par with chocolate and strawberries. The beer wasn't that bad actually. It wasn't as bitter as I expected it to be. But then I took a bite of my (BEST EVER) cookie, so when I returned to the beer, it was much more bitter. The sweetness of the cookie made the beer more bitter! It's like drinking orange juice after you brush your teeth. It just didn't work.
By the end of the beer, I was so buzzing (yeah, on just one!) that I didn't even care about the flavors anymore. It was really good by that time. So were the salsa and chips I was chowing on. Ok, to be fair, maybe the salsa flavor had something to do with my conflicting tastes. Oh well, they were movie snacks! Rebecca came over and we watched The Island. Can there be a better combination than Ewan McGregor and Scarlett Johannsen and Rebecca? Lovely, beautiful people, all.
Uhm, my next alcohol post will be about wine. That's my next conquest. I had chardonnay recently and really enjoyed it, so I went and bought a bottle (I will NOT be drinking the whole thing, lest I identify with the term "wine-o"). I also bought another white zinfandel, and a bottle of riesling. So stay tuned to the Adventures in Alcohol---quite the after-school special.
Happy Weekend!
Last night I went way out of my comfort zone, and then back into it again, then back out, and so forth. I drank Guiness Extra Stout as I ate deliciously warm chocolate chip cookies. Sideon insisted it is a perfect match, on par with chocolate and strawberries. The beer wasn't that bad actually. It wasn't as bitter as I expected it to be. But then I took a bite of my (BEST EVER) cookie, so when I returned to the beer, it was much more bitter. The sweetness of the cookie made the beer more bitter! It's like drinking orange juice after you brush your teeth. It just didn't work.
By the end of the beer, I was so buzzing (yeah, on just one!) that I didn't even care about the flavors anymore. It was really good by that time. So were the salsa and chips I was chowing on. Ok, to be fair, maybe the salsa flavor had something to do with my conflicting tastes. Oh well, they were movie snacks! Rebecca came over and we watched The Island. Can there be a better combination than Ewan McGregor and Scarlett Johannsen and Rebecca? Lovely, beautiful people, all.
Uhm, my next alcohol post will be about wine. That's my next conquest. I had chardonnay recently and really enjoyed it, so I went and bought a bottle (I will NOT be drinking the whole thing, lest I identify with the term "wine-o"). I also bought another white zinfandel, and a bottle of riesling. So stay tuned to the Adventures in Alcohol---quite the after-school special.
Happy Weekend!
Friday, August 04, 2006
Like, totally, man!
| You Belong in 1976 |
If you scored... 1970 - 1979: Bold and brash, you take life by the horns. Whether you're partying or protesting, you give it your all! |
I was all mad that I scored in the 70's. I should've scored in the early nineties!!! Or at least late eighties. But then I read the description, and yeah, that's sort of like me. So I accept 1976, even though I wasn't born yet (yikes!!!).
Why I was talked about in Bishopric Meeting
Chanson, I'm a sucker for talking about myself, and it's not really a great story. But I do pride myself on the fact that I was, indeed, talked about in a negative way in Bishopric meeting.
A tiny bit of background:
We moved from Raleigh to Orem in 2002, with the intent of Eric going to school. We lived in the basement (huge, btw) of my mom's condo, and so we attended her ward. It is, I believe, the oldest ward in Orem, in history and median age. Anyhow, we were "lucky" to have an ex-BYU football player (from the early 90's) as our bishop. You probably heard his story (though I have no desire to name him): he gave up his NFL contract because he refused to play on Sundays.
This bishop made it his personal goal to perfect all his saints.
When we moved to Orem we became complacent in our activity. The only reason I would walk the 20 feet to our chapel was because I got called to be RS teacher. It was a nice break after teaching early-morning seminary in NC. But we liked sleeping in. We disliked dressing up. We liked going to Sconecutter on Sunday.
The less I went to church, the less I cared about what I wore. (I had already ditched the garmies by this time--they only lasted a year) There were some shorts that I'd kept around, mostly because they were comfy, albeit a tad short. I stopped teaching in RS, just because I wanted a damn break from a calling for a minute. See? I was destined to leave...
Someone in the ward, let's just speculate it being the RS president, saw me wearing and enjoying my lack of clothes during the hot Utah summer. She felt it her duty to report this to the bishop in her one-on-one meeting. I guess they were trying to figure out what calling I could have, and she made it a point to mention my un-garment-worthy attire. So then the bishop takes this dire information and announces it in Ward Counsel.
As Eric sat there listening to the bish, taking notes, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Knowing me better than most anyone, he knew that my shorts had nothing to do with my character. He felt that they could've simply said "La isn't available for a calling", but instead had to go into the why and how and the unworthiness. He came home and told me about the meeting, and right there, in my shock and upset, was my first glimpse of the church being a joke. I knew nothing of the church's sordid past. I just knew that I didn't want to be a part of that kind of organization.
The end. (told you, not really that neat... If only it were chastity issues!!!)
A tiny bit of background:
We moved from Raleigh to Orem in 2002, with the intent of Eric going to school. We lived in the basement (huge, btw) of my mom's condo, and so we attended her ward. It is, I believe, the oldest ward in Orem, in history and median age. Anyhow, we were "lucky" to have an ex-BYU football player (from the early 90's) as our bishop. You probably heard his story (though I have no desire to name him): he gave up his NFL contract because he refused to play on Sundays.
This bishop made it his personal goal to perfect all his saints.
When we moved to Orem we became complacent in our activity. The only reason I would walk the 20 feet to our chapel was because I got called to be RS teacher. It was a nice break after teaching early-morning seminary in NC. But we liked sleeping in. We disliked dressing up. We liked going to Sconecutter on Sunday.
The less I went to church, the less I cared about what I wore. (I had already ditched the garmies by this time--they only lasted a year) There were some shorts that I'd kept around, mostly because they were comfy, albeit a tad short. I stopped teaching in RS, just because I wanted a damn break from a calling for a minute. See? I was destined to leave...
Someone in the ward, let's just speculate it being the RS president, saw me wearing and enjoying my lack of clothes during the hot Utah summer. She felt it her duty to report this to the bishop in her one-on-one meeting. I guess they were trying to figure out what calling I could have, and she made it a point to mention my un-garment-worthy attire. So then the bishop takes this dire information and announces it in Ward Counsel.
As Eric sat there listening to the bish, taking notes, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Knowing me better than most anyone, he knew that my shorts had nothing to do with my character. He felt that they could've simply said "La isn't available for a calling", but instead had to go into the why and how and the unworthiness. He came home and told me about the meeting, and right there, in my shock and upset, was my first glimpse of the church being a joke. I knew nothing of the church's sordid past. I just knew that I didn't want to be a part of that kind of organization.
The end. (told you, not really that neat... If only it were chastity issues!!!)
Thursday, August 03, 2006
And Since I Mentioned Maroon 5...
...I must post the rest of the song.
She Will be Loved by Maroon 5
Beauty queen of only eighteen
She had some trouble with herself
He was always there to help her
She always belonged to someone else
I drove for miles and miles
And wound up at your door
I've had you so many times
but somehow I want more
[chorus]
I don't mind spending everyday
Out on your corner in the pouring rain
Look for the girl with the broken smile
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile
And she will be loved
She will be loved
Tap on my window, knock on my door
I want to make you feel beautiful
I know I tend to get so insecure
It doesn't matter anymore
It's not always rainbows and butterflies
It's compromise that moves us along, yeah
My heart is full and my door's always open
You can come anytime you want
I know where you hide
Alone in your car
Know all of the things
that make you who you are
I know that goodbye
means nothing at all
Comes back and begs me
to catch her every time she falls
Tap on my window, knock on my door
I want to make you feel beautiful
Please don't try so hard to say goodbye
Please don't try so hard to say goodbye
She Will be Loved by Maroon 5
Beauty queen of only eighteen
She had some trouble with herself
He was always there to help her
She always belonged to someone else
I drove for miles and miles
And wound up at your door
I've had you so many times
but somehow I want more
[chorus]
I don't mind spending everyday
Out on your corner in the pouring rain
Look for the girl with the broken smile
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile
And she will be loved
She will be loved
Tap on my window, knock on my door
I want to make you feel beautiful
I know I tend to get so insecure
It doesn't matter anymore
It's not always rainbows and butterflies
It's compromise that moves us along, yeah
My heart is full and my door's always open
You can come anytime you want
I know where you hide
Alone in your car
Know all of the things
that make you who you are
I know that goodbye
means nothing at all
Comes back and begs me
to catch her every time she falls
Tap on my window, knock on my door
I want to make you feel beautiful
Please don't try so hard to say goodbye
Please don't try so hard to say goodbye
What are your bests?
I think I've said it before... Yep, this is nothing new. I like a beer buzz. I've never blogged drunk before, as I mentioned on 'stache dude's blog one night. And technically I'm not drunk now, either. But I'm nice and relaxed, fo sho.
Best line from a (Maroon 5) song :
"It's not always rainbows and butterflies, it's compromise that moves us along..."
Best beer :
Molson Canadian
Best Burger :
Char-grill in Raleigh, NC
Best line from a (Maroon 5) song :
"It's not always rainbows and butterflies, it's compromise that moves us along..."
Best beer :
Molson Canadian
Best Burger :
Char-grill in Raleigh, NC
First step; check!
Ok, all done. I've registered for three classes this fall. The english class wasn't available at the right time, so I had to come up with something else.
PHIL 2050 Ethics & Values
PSY 2800 Human Sexuality (I purposely chose the psych class as opposed to the health version)
HLTH 1100 Personal Health and Wellness
No English--sad!--but these all need to be out of the way.
Oh, and let me just bitch about the cost of education here in Utah. 1 credit hour, for a resident, costs $207. $257 with the fees!!! Good grief. My 3 little classes are going to cost me upwards of $1200. I think a move to California is in order. There, even as a non-resident, it would only be $163 per credit hour.
PHIL 2050 Ethics & Values
PSY 2800 Human Sexuality (I purposely chose the psych class as opposed to the health version)
HLTH 1100 Personal Health and Wellness
No English--sad!--but these all need to be out of the way.
Oh, and let me just bitch about the cost of education here in Utah. 1 credit hour, for a resident, costs $207. $257 with the fees!!! Good grief. My 3 little classes are going to cost me upwards of $1200. I think a move to California is in order. There, even as a non-resident, it would only be $163 per credit hour.
I hate crying!
(Thinking of JLO's post about crying)
When I was a kid, I was a cry-baby. I'm the youngest of six kids, and a girl, and so I learned quickly (however subconsciously) that crying was an effective tool to get my way. Ok, well I don't really know that I used it for manipulation, but likely I did. Mostly, I felt misunderstood.
My next oldest brother and I fought ALL the time. Seriously. He despised me tagging along with him, and I despised him for despising me. We never got along. Oh, except that one time we were on a long road trip and he and I made fun of my mom's love of the Chris DeBurgh song, Lady in Red. That was one day we were united.
So I would cry all the time. Cry to my mom, cry about my mom not punishing my brother, and cry about other stuff that I won't mention because my older siblings read this blog and they'll just call me a spoiled brat. :)
The crying throughout my teenage years was depressive and hormonal. *rolling eyes* I do not miss those days.
But then I stopped crying. Movies didn't make me cry anymore, Hallmark commercials didn't, boys didn't, nothing. As an adult, I cried when my parents got divorced 9 years ago. I cried while bearing my testimony. Yeah, just talking about Christ would get me all worked up. I cried when my best friend's husband shot himself, leaving her with 1 child and pregnant with another. So my adult crying has had some basis, I believe. I could probably work up a cry now, just thinking of those same things. I don't know why, but this is also the time where I really started to hate crying. Despise it. Hide it. Crying = bad. Hmm...
Since leaving the church in spirit last November, I've turned back into that cry-baby. Ok, well not that bad. I guess, while some people are full of anger and outrage, I'm full of depression and remorse. Even knowing that "the church was all I knew", it's still hard for me to understand how I could ever have believed it.
Here's what's funny: 10 years from now, I'll probably look back on this time in my life and roll my eyes. Hopefully I'll be that much closer, then, to balance and peace.
When I was a kid, I was a cry-baby. I'm the youngest of six kids, and a girl, and so I learned quickly (however subconsciously) that crying was an effective tool to get my way. Ok, well I don't really know that I used it for manipulation, but likely I did. Mostly, I felt misunderstood.
My next oldest brother and I fought ALL the time. Seriously. He despised me tagging along with him, and I despised him for despising me. We never got along. Oh, except that one time we were on a long road trip and he and I made fun of my mom's love of the Chris DeBurgh song, Lady in Red. That was one day we were united.
So I would cry all the time. Cry to my mom, cry about my mom not punishing my brother, and cry about other stuff that I won't mention because my older siblings read this blog and they'll just call me a spoiled brat. :)
The crying throughout my teenage years was depressive and hormonal. *rolling eyes* I do not miss those days.
But then I stopped crying. Movies didn't make me cry anymore, Hallmark commercials didn't, boys didn't, nothing. As an adult, I cried when my parents got divorced 9 years ago. I cried while bearing my testimony. Yeah, just talking about Christ would get me all worked up. I cried when my best friend's husband shot himself, leaving her with 1 child and pregnant with another. So my adult crying has had some basis, I believe. I could probably work up a cry now, just thinking of those same things. I don't know why, but this is also the time where I really started to hate crying. Despise it. Hide it. Crying = bad. Hmm...
Since leaving the church in spirit last November, I've turned back into that cry-baby. Ok, well not that bad. I guess, while some people are full of anger and outrage, I'm full of depression and remorse. Even knowing that "the church was all I knew", it's still hard for me to understand how I could ever have believed it.
Here's what's funny: 10 years from now, I'll probably look back on this time in my life and roll my eyes. Hopefully I'll be that much closer, then, to balance and peace.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Coolness!
I just got back a little while ago from visiting my academic advisor. She was very helpful, as opposed to the prior ones I've worked with. We had engaging conversation, and she seemed genuinely interested in my success. So that was cool.
Assuming they take my transfer credit, and they should dangit, then I'm starting as a sophmore, and don't have much left to get an General Ed Associates with an English Emphasis. This seems like a good plan--going for the ass. :D--because then I can transfer to another college and enter as a junior, needing no further general eds.
I'm starting this semester just taking 2 classes. Maybe 3. If I can handle the load, and my son does well in day care, then I'll go full time next semester. Remember that post a while back about needing to pick which English class? Well I need neither of those classes! I fulfilled them already! Ok so now I have 1 English class left for the gen eds...and it's Critical Introduction to Literature (it actually fills the Humanities gen ed req). So I'll probably be taking that one this semester. Plus an online health class, and maybe Ethics & Values.
So yeah, a bunch of reading, a bunch of writing, but I think I might just be able to handle it. And I'm very excited, so that makes a ginormous difference. :) :) :) School is cool!
Assuming they take my transfer credit, and they should dangit, then I'm starting as a sophmore, and don't have much left to get an General Ed Associates with an English Emphasis. This seems like a good plan--going for the ass. :D--because then I can transfer to another college and enter as a junior, needing no further general eds.
I'm starting this semester just taking 2 classes. Maybe 3. If I can handle the load, and my son does well in day care, then I'll go full time next semester. Remember that post a while back about needing to pick which English class? Well I need neither of those classes! I fulfilled them already! Ok so now I have 1 English class left for the gen eds...and it's Critical Introduction to Literature (it actually fills the Humanities gen ed req). So I'll probably be taking that one this semester. Plus an online health class, and maybe Ethics & Values.
So yeah, a bunch of reading, a bunch of writing, but I think I might just be able to handle it. And I'm very excited, so that makes a ginormous difference. :) :) :) School is cool!
Defending the faith, or lack of it, or whatever...
Something that's been bugging me lately is why I take things so personally. For instance, on my husband's blog, A New Eric, his mom commented that she never "believed he was mormon". (sorry for bringing this up here, but it seems a good forum)
Is it the Sagittarian in me that still pays lip service, to a miniscule degree, to the religion in which I no longer believe? Why do I care? Eric never did get into the church as much as I did, but that's to be expected. I was born into it. It was my culture. Eric did, however, become very active. We went to church every week. He taught the older teenagers in Sunday School. Here in Utah he was one of the upper-level callings, Ward Clerk. That means he got to sit in on all the juicy meetings (the content of some of said meetings actually helped in my exit).
I knew that there was something wrong though. He never "fulfilled his priesthood duties". He didn't give/offer blessings. He didn't lead the family, in prayers, family home evening, or other such mormon mandates. I always attributed his lack of gung-ho-ness (it IS a word) to his never having lived in the mormon culture. He had no example of these things, and so it was new and very strange to him. So maybe there were signs of his non-mormon-ness (again...a word).
For me, though, I never in a million years would've thought this is where I'd end up. Throughout turmoil, throughout changes and moves, the one common denominator was my belief in Joseph Smith and the Restoration. Hindsight, I can see I was much too liberal for mormons. I had bursts of feminism, but I was able to tuck those away and be proud to be a mormon woman, a "queen of Israel".
I can watch that mormon South Park episode and laugh my guts out. It's so clearly false. It's so clearly crap. But then why am I still defensive? I don't like thinking mormon; I've done fairly well at disassociation so far. Then occasionally, these thoughts creep back in, and they piss me off.
Is it the Sagittarian in me that still pays lip service, to a miniscule degree, to the religion in which I no longer believe? Why do I care? Eric never did get into the church as much as I did, but that's to be expected. I was born into it. It was my culture. Eric did, however, become very active. We went to church every week. He taught the older teenagers in Sunday School. Here in Utah he was one of the upper-level callings, Ward Clerk. That means he got to sit in on all the juicy meetings (the content of some of said meetings actually helped in my exit).
I knew that there was something wrong though. He never "fulfilled his priesthood duties". He didn't give/offer blessings. He didn't lead the family, in prayers, family home evening, or other such mormon mandates. I always attributed his lack of gung-ho-ness (it IS a word) to his never having lived in the mormon culture. He had no example of these things, and so it was new and very strange to him. So maybe there were signs of his non-mormon-ness (again...a word).
For me, though, I never in a million years would've thought this is where I'd end up. Throughout turmoil, throughout changes and moves, the one common denominator was my belief in Joseph Smith and the Restoration. Hindsight, I can see I was much too liberal for mormons. I had bursts of feminism, but I was able to tuck those away and be proud to be a mormon woman, a "queen of Israel".
I can watch that mormon South Park episode and laugh my guts out. It's so clearly false. It's so clearly crap. But then why am I still defensive? I don't like thinking mormon; I've done fairly well at disassociation so far. Then occasionally, these thoughts creep back in, and they piss me off.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
What to do in case of erection lasting 4 hours or more:
Call your friends!
Ok so I got some tv watching in tonight. It's all ED drugs and top ten lists and bad reality tv ads. I haven't been missing much, is what I've realized.
Top Ten Movies I have to see:
The Mission (still on the must-see list from like 10 years ago)
Superman Returns
Mission Impossible 3
Lady in the Water (not caring about my bro's review)
Clerks 2
Miami Vice (if only to see the 'stache)
The Devil Wears Prada (yeah, I read a good review)
Pirates of the Caribbean 2
You, Me and Dupree (Owen, the funnier Wilson)
My Super Ex-girlfriend (Luke, the hotter Wilson)
The list could go on and on!! I really need to see some movies.
Ok so I got some tv watching in tonight. It's all ED drugs and top ten lists and bad reality tv ads. I haven't been missing much, is what I've realized.
Top Ten Movies I have to see:
The Mission (still on the must-see list from like 10 years ago)
Superman Returns
Mission Impossible 3
Lady in the Water (not caring about my bro's review)
Clerks 2
Miami Vice (if only to see the 'stache)
The Devil Wears Prada (yeah, I read a good review)
Pirates of the Caribbean 2
You, Me and Dupree (Owen, the funnier Wilson)
My Super Ex-girlfriend (Luke, the hotter Wilson)
The list could go on and on!! I really need to see some movies.
Brrr...
It's nice and cold today!!! There were some kick-a thunderstorms a little while ago, with some super intense lightning. But now it's calm and serene...albeit overcast still.
Know what's the saddest thing in all the world? When my 20 month old son shivers from fright when he hears thunder. Poor kid. He's such a cutie, and to see him so scared tugs at my heart strings. But then, in steps my wonder-6 yr old. She is a very good big sister. She comforts him and hugs him, and he responds well to her affection. They are a good sibling match, in my opinion. That gives me great joy.
Know what's the saddest thing in all the world? When my 20 month old son shivers from fright when he hears thunder. Poor kid. He's such a cutie, and to see him so scared tugs at my heart strings. But then, in steps my wonder-6 yr old. She is a very good big sister. She comforts him and hugs him, and he responds well to her affection. They are a good sibling match, in my opinion. That gives me great joy.
Mood Changers
There are 3 things in this world that instantly switch my mood. Or make it even better. Does everyone have these? All you have to do is see/hear it and suddenly the world is a brighter place. You know me pretty well if you know my 3 things. But I'm going to share one of them with the blog world. Ready? It's really neat...!
Dragonflies.
Here's a cool pic I found at a photgraphy gallery website. It's of a twelve spotted skimmer, or Libellula pulchella.
Isn't it beautiful? A couple of weeks ago I was outside on my deck at dusk. Suddenly a whizzing sound rushed past my head. As I turned my head upward I saw 3 or 4 dragonflies speeding about in circles around our back yard. Dinnertime, no doubt. They were amazing! With their speed and agility, they seem like small birds.
Dragonflies.
Here's a cool pic I found at a photgraphy gallery website. It's of a twelve spotted skimmer, or Libellula pulchella.
Isn't it beautiful? A couple of weeks ago I was outside on my deck at dusk. Suddenly a whizzing sound rushed past my head. As I turned my head upward I saw 3 or 4 dragonflies speeding about in circles around our back yard. Dinnertime, no doubt. They were amazing! With their speed and agility, they seem like small birds.That was a great evening.
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