Showing posts with label I want a shrink. Show all posts

Saturday, April 21, 2012

There's a reason someone in this story isn't married yet... you decide who it is

Anyone who's had the experience of being an "over 25" single LDS person knows that the world of dating (and not dating) can be confusing, frustrating, and sometimes our own personal ninth circle of hell. Men and women alike struggle to navigate the complexities that surround what dating is (and is not) in this modern world and during these attempts they often run aground, take on water, face hurricanes, battle sea monsters, and basically consider casting themselves overboard and ending the madness, all in one weekend. Of course, some of this struggle unfortunately also includes pointing fingers at the other gender.

"All men are man-children who prefer video games every weekend to going out on dates with girl" or "All women expect men to be able to give them everything their daddy's gave them by the time they're 24.. it's too much pressure." or "Men are pigs... women are nags... men only want to make out... women only ever want to "talk about things"... and so on and so on.

Of course, the blame game gets everyone nowhere very fast. Correction, it gets you a one way ticket to lifelong singlehood very fast. Having a little faith in the opposite sex, at least the faith that there is ONE member of the opposite sex, that will love you and you can love them back, I feel, has basically become a true blue, God given miracle. If anyone out there questions if miracles still happen - mutual love is it. It seems the odds of that happening are almost astronomical these days and likewise, for that love and companionship to beat the 50% divorce rate is comparable to summoning a plague of locusts or parting the Red Sea. In fact, I think Moses would prefer wandering in the wilderness another 40 years to the University 2nd Stake's Speed Dating Extravaganza complete with cow bell. Mooooooove to the next piece of meat lads! Sigh. I know I would.

That said...

I'd like to present you with just such a scenario that takes that sliver of "faith" and crushes it into a fine powder that is sprinkled over the billowing smoke of discouragement. How's that for bleak? It's almost all one can do to not utter that word saturated with bitter disdain, "Typical."

------

The story commences...

I'm a member of ye old ldssingles.com. It's alright. I'd say the.... "quality" of single person on this website is the highest of most LDS specific dating websites I've encountered.

So, I get a correspondence from a nice guy upon said website, asking the basic questions (school.. work..movies) and we exchanged pleasantries over a couple of weeks... nay 5-6 weeks come to think of it. It started to seem fairly stretched out for me, I got a little busy, he actually said I few things that signaled a potential yellow flag or two; so though I responded in a mostly timely manner the whole thing pittered out say... four months ago.. ish. Yes, I think I was the one who didn't respond to his last correspondence. Truthfully, I got a little bored. After a month or so and he didn't seem close to wanting to meet organically in some respect (there's only so much you can say over email...), he stopped blipping on my "give it a try" radar completely. Judge me how you will; this story isn't over.

Four months pass...

Then last week I received an email from him. Fairly random but very nice. Observe the pleasantries below

"Andrea. Hey. Haha, remember me? I thought about you a little bit ago and thought I should write and see how you were! I enjoyed getting to know you a bit and think it's too bad we never got together for dinner or something. Hope you're doing good, it would be cool to hear from you. Ttyl!"

I was pleasantly surprised I'd say. I proceeded to scan through our previous correspondence and decided, hey... maybe I was in a weird phase when we were initially emailing because he sounds like a pretty decent guy and we could have fun. I didn't entirely remember why I'd stopped emailing him, though those few little yellow flags still waved, they could be chalked up to "well, some meanings are lost over email." Fair enough. So, dear friends... I responded probably a day or so later with the following:

"Hi,

Yes I remember :) I'm glad you touched base again. Yes, it is a shame we never got together. Perhaps that needs to be remedied? I hope you are doing well too. And perhaps enjoying the random warm day we get once in awhile. Spring is such a tease. - Andrea"

It's been... two and a half weeks... three weeks on Sunday... and nuthin. No response. Radio silence.

Now, without attempting to wrack your brain for the next hour as to a plausible explanation for this radio silence (maybe he's out of town... in Borneo.. where they don't have email access... and he won't be back for a month... and clearly it makes sense to randomly email someone and then leave the country for a month...), tell me how dating is not in every single way annoying, confusing, ridiculous, and possibly the man's fault. HA! Okay, possibly THIS man's fault because friends, I don't see why this person would email me out of the blue "slyly" hinting at his despondence at us never getting together (which I just have to say, was also somewhat his fault... see: six weeks of correspondence) and my attempt to additionally suggest I am also despondent by saying it "needed to be remedied" only to be met with silence.

It. Doesn't. Make. Sense.

Thus why I will likely remain single forever; as will this joker.

Monday, April 16, 2012

Find Me a Find, Catch me a Catch…

Turns out none of you give a damn… darn… about my taking the biggest step towards accomplishing my three year long “run a half marathon” resolution. That’s fine. Just dandy. Thanks a whole heap.

Alright, I’m sure you “care” in the loosest sense of the term – as in “sure I care… I just don’t really CARE as in care, ya know?” or “I care… just not as much as I care about the depletion of the ozone or a cure for testicular cancer,” OR, “I care…but I care more about how your Mormon Matchmaker interview went on Friday so quit posting sub-par narcissistic posts about goals we’ve long expected you to fail and get to it!” Fair enough. Fair. E. Nuff.

First, here’s my outfit (gold sandals not seen – thus trust that they are adorable). My favorite part of this picture is my toothy T-Rex grin. Grrrrrr!

Dress - Target $25, Belt - borrowed from Jaime for the price of sweet sweet loving (way worth it), Cuff - Forever 21 $8, Earrings - Anthro $40 (any excuse! I BORROWED a BELT), Shoes, Piperlime - $17)

Note that I am first and foremost, not an avid picture taker for no other reason than laziness and second, most definitely not a “take a picture of myself in a mirror” picture taker; particularly if it starts taking longer than 8 minutes. That’s my threshold – if it takes longer than 8 minutes is it worth it? Ask yourself this question and see the efficiency in your life skyrocket.

SECOND, the interview went very well I’d say. In fact, I have long boasted that if I can get in for an interview (to anything) it’s likely I will get whatever it is I interview for unless Providence has other plans. The interview was mainly an expansion of what was addressed in the Skype interview they conducted nigh a month ago except this time it was in front of a white screen with two big bright lights, a camera, and interviewer. It was at this point I thanked my J-O-B for affording me the opportunity to have some experience with delivering a line on camera. I knew where to look (and where not to look), to start my answer with the question, but not in a Jr. High restate the question sort of way, and was able to interact with the interviewer pretty naturally for the most part. Plus, I like being the center of attention AND I once had dreams of becoming the next Katie Couric so you better believe I live my life for the few moments where I get the chance to act out what my life might have been had a pursued Broadcast Journalism instead of education. No regrets, though. No regrets.

There were a few questions that stood out… such as:

So, do you think something is wrong with you and that’s why you’re still single?

a. Answer – Absolutely not. I feel there is likely something wrong with the entire male populace rather than a single individual that is me. I'm a gem!

b. Real answer – Of course I’ve wondered that. Any woman my age in Utah and not married (or dating) wonders if there’s something wrong with her. If she’s doing something wrong or needs to tweak or adjust her technique somehow that just might make all the difference in her dating life. Yes! And realistically, I must acknowledge that the common denominator in all of my dating experiences is, in fact, me. Thus, I must take some personal responsibility in the endeavor. However, I feel over the years those tweaks and adjustments I’ve made are bringing me ever closer to that ultimate dating goal…to stop dating forever... and I foresee only improvements henceforth. (I didn’t say henceforth – which I now regret. Nothing says “stick up your butt” like using a word like, Henceforth!)

Tell me about yourself

a. Answer - Well, lets put it this way, if I were a vegetable, I'd be a potato. Mull that metaphor over for awhile.

b. Real Answer – Can I use my prop? (see Star Trek Encyclopedia)

c. Response – Yes?

d. Real answer with prop in hand – I am this that and the other. I am also stuff and things… bleh blah… BUT! What’s really surprising about me is how big of a nerd I truly am. I have here a Star Trek Encyclopedia to illustrate such nerdiness (raise prop in front of camera) in case you brush my of self-proclaimed geekdom as something “all girls say to appear cute.” Clearly, my nerdery runs deep. Real deep. Let’s go ahead and add Xena: Warrior Princess, The X-Files (Scully is my home girl – yes I said it), and the Walking Dead to that mix and you’ve got yourself a bonified nerd. Don’t believe me still? NCC 1701-D. That’s the Star Trek the Next Generation Enterprise classification number. BAM. Re-pre-sent!

You told me once you think you don’t date a lot because guys are scared of you. Explain that.

a. Answer – Screw you LOSER! (crazy eyes, flared nostrils) He he... was that scary? (maniacal laughter).

b. Real Answer – Well Matt (his name wasn’t Matt… remember… I’m reenacting my possible alternative life that would’ve involved Matt Lauer somehow), I would say they are more intimidated than scared. And this actually isn’t a designation that I’ve put on myself, but mostly from what other people have told me. I can be intimidating – all 5’2 of me. Why am I intimidating? I’m not sure. It could be the education, it could be that I’m reasonably self-assured, it COULD be that I don’t…how do I say this… shy away from “smart” conversations. Example. Second date… guy said something about tax equity, and I responded knowledgeably (as well as respectfully disagreeing with what he’d said and providing reasons why I thought so.... I’m a discusser… not arguer) and I never heard from him again. Here’s why I’m okay being a little intimidating; because I know that the guy who likes me is confident in himself and doesn’t need an overly submissive type of person to make him feel superior. He doesn't need to feel he can "control" me to feel manly. He can feel manly because he likes himself. I feel it weeds out the ones I wouldn’t be happy with anyway. So, though I am very realistically aware that amiability is more attractive than a venom squirt to the eye, I feel I can amiably express my thoughts and a confident guy will appreciate it. Eh? Eh?...

... .... ....

Tell me what you think about love. Love is…

a. Answer – Love is your mom. Haw. Haw. Your. MOM!

b. Real answer – Love is companionship. It’s anything from having someone help you carry in the groceries – which ironically is when I wish for companionship the most, 6 bags per arm – to sharing the joys and the sorrows of my everyday. It’s someone to share in this "life" experience; a partner, and a comrade. It’s someone to lean on and someone who you want to lean on you when they need too. It’s taking two whole and complete people and making them two halves of a new whole. That’s love to me. Love is facing the storms and rainbows hand in hand.

c. Response – That’ s adorable

d. Reaction – Well, if there’s one thing that could be said of me it’s “I’m adorable.”

So there’s a quick rundown of a 45 minutes interview. I felt pretty good coming out of it and again, have little expectations either way. I like this “no expectations” thing because I’ve yet to be disappointed but most definitely pleasantly surprised.

What now?

Well, they may or may not call me anymore from a week to six months. Given the outline of the show, apparently they will select a couple of folks for the pilot episode on through the first season and see how it goes. I could be called to participate first or somewhere towards the last or not at all. We shall see.

Oh… and

Lifetime. It’s no TLC but meh, TV is TV, right? Right. So set that DVR!

Friday, April 13, 2012

Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Make Me a Match…

Remember the outfit for the “event-that-must-not-be-named” I alluded to in my last post? WELL! First, and most importantly, the outfit has been chosen and I am quite pleased. I thank you for all of your opinions via bloggery, face-bookery, and textery. It’s been most helpful and naturally, the reason why I choose fashionistas to be a part of my circle of friends. You have served your purpose well. Pics to be posted once I actually don the finished product later today. I know you're, like, soooo interested.

Second, I’m sure you’d like to know what the “event-that-must-not-be-named” actually is. You should know that typing that phrase with dashes is rather tedious and next, I am going to make this as annoying as possible by beginning at the beginning before I just tell you what the event is already! Hurray! I also hesitated mentioning this at all because I wasn't sure if I "could." But it's not been alluded to otherwise so meh, why not.

I was born at 11:03pm on October 12th, 1983 to Cheryl and Bru...oh wait... not that beginning.

Several months ago, a good friend whom we shall call Holly because that is, in fact, her name, sent me a little clipping (e-clipping? Erp) from the Salt Lake Tribune with the subheading “Coming soon to a TV near you: aMormon Matchmaker reality show” exclaiming I would be her hero if I attempted to be part of these shenanigans. After a moment’s deliberation, I figured becoming someone’s hero by merely submitting answers to a few questions for a reality show I didn’t know anything about was well worth it! Hero-hood here I come! So submit I did and have since enjoyed 3 months of being a hero. It's a good feeling. If you ever have the chance to "earn" titles you don't deserve by doing things that require little effort and no foreseeable consequences or sacrifice, I suggest you do it.

The submission only required answering three questions “in brief” which included “Give a brief dating history” and “describe your perfect mate in 3-5 sentences.” Naturally, me being me and thinking I’m clever and funny, answered these questions in such a way that would convey such effortless cleverness.

Example

Described your perfect mate in 3-5 sentences: For the perfect man, combine the following: Indiana Jones, Maximus (Gladiator), and Atticus Finch with a dash of Agent Mulder; make him Mormon and you’ve created my perfect mate. An academic but can flick a whip (don’t get weird – it just means he’s manly you kinky bunch!), loyal, humble, and a fighter; scrupulous, a good father, hard worker, and patient; and finally, passionate and focused... and tallish. Mm hmm.

Eh? Eh? Well it’s my perfect not your perfect mate so back yo'self on up. And truly – I don’t think I’ve ever really thought about “my perfect mate.” Perhaps that has something to do with creating unrealistic expectations... OR the fear of gross disappointment. If you always have “perfect” in the back of your naturally flawed mortal brain, you’re setting yourself up for some monster disappointments and life long dissatisfaction. Turns out, people aren’t perfect. However, I don’t think you should settle either. Strike a balance. Must haves… would be nice… and deal-breakers. As I’ve gotten older, those things I like in a potential "mate" have changed… so perfect in a mortal mind is fluid as well. Thus making it even more unrealistic to try and nail down.

I digress.

I submitted my answers and continued with my day to day living.

About a week later, I received a phone call from the casting agency for the Mormon Matchmaker reality show wanting to set up a Skype interview. With me! I must say I was surprised and most definitely curious. Mostly I wondered how slim the pickins really were to select the “Indiana Jones” girl. Am I right? We set up a Skype interview for a week hence and when the day came, I chatted with one of their folks for probably about 45 minutes. Most of the questions they asked were elaboration on the previous three I’d already submitted with some additions like “Would you ever date a divorced someone” (yes of course) or, “how important is religion in your dating” (gonna go ahead and say that is the #1 won’t compromise sort of thing... acknowledging that fate could have other plans but that’s my plan now). He also asked things like “I’m not Mormon, tell me why you want to marry another Mormon” which I responded by basically bearing testimony of temple marriage and eternal families and how that’s the only option for happiness for me because that’s how I want to live, raise my children, and share in that journey with the most important person in the world for me (Gee... tell me how your really feel). Needless to say, I was beginning to realize that if this was something I had the opportunity to participate in, I would be representing an entire group of people and anything I did or did not do would be attached to 14 million other Latter-Day Saints. Too bad Glen Beck has never made this connection. Juuuuuust kidding… ish. And of course, I don’t think that little old me on a reality show I don’t even know I’m on yet would affect someone’s perspective of Mormons; particularly considering brighter spotlights shone on more substantial figures like Mr. Romney. But it might affect SOMEONE’s perception and that makes me a little nervous. Rep-re-sent! I should stop intermittently swearing... dammit.

After the Skype interview ended, I was thanked and told I may or may not hear from them in 1-4 weeks. Show-biz. Always on their timetable. Thus, day to day living resumed much as it always had; with no expectation either way.

As luck would have it though – I received an email request for an in person interview right here in downtown SLC. Naturally, SLC also happens to be the location for filming said show so let’s not pretend that my current living arrangements in SLC don’t make me an appealing candidate. I mean I’m RIGHT here.

That in-person interview is today.

Thus you see the need to pick an outfit that is representative of MOI.

Expectations?

Once again, not really. Ha! Which is probably what’s gotten me to this point in the first place. I will say, however, I’m very curious. All I know is this is a reality show featuring Mormons and a matchmaker’s attempt to help us find eternal love. Sounds about right as Reality TV goes, but as for logistics; i.e. will it be one girl set up with many guys or one guy and many girls (Bachelor flash! NO!) or many girls and many guys? Shrug. Dunno. I’ve been promised these logistics will all be discussed today. I am naturally a little weary of the whole thing as well. Particularly when I think of disasters (addictive disasters I admit it) like the Bachelor and the… er.. “type” of girl they clearly choose for such entertainment. It is, after all, still about entertainment! I’m just not that girl. Perhaps I’m the Ace in the hole! The quirky one who everyone feels kind of bad for but hopes upon hope that she’ll find a nerd just like her in the end! Or perhaps they’ll make me the goody two shoes that everyone “aw… how sweet's (pat pat head head)” at her blatant naivety to things of the world. I also wonder if such a venue is somewhere I actually want to find someone to marry. If there’s one thing you can count on – it’s not to count on everyone being themselves in front of a camera. I’ll sure try my damnedest...er... darnedest, but if any research has told us anything about social experiences and attempting to make unbiased observations of groups of people’s mating rituals, it’s that you can never be sure if what you are getting is authentic or always tainted but the subjects knowledge of being under constant observation. "Act natural..." er... the first way to make me not act natural is to tell me to act natural. No one actively thinks about acting natural.... when they do it comes off as unnatural. Oh irony! I already know I’m going to be more aware of ME when it comes to representing my faith on a greater medium than my day to day interactions; so who knows how authentic I'll be. Or maybe this is a way to get me to step up a little bit more and represent a little bit better. To become the me I should be becoming anyway.

I also think to much. So there's that.

All I DO know is that I have a really great outfit that represents my style and a Star Trek Encyclopedia and/or the complete 7 seasons of Star Trek the Next Generation on DVD (thanks, Jon and Pete!) as my prop(s) of choice. Already this is looking like a win-win scenario. Right?!?! Wish me luck!

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Why I don't blog like a regular blogger

So come to find, I don't blog like a regular blogger. What does that even MEAN?!?! Well, I guess it means I'm either a non-conformist or completely out of touch. I'm going with the latter on that one seeing as I'm usually the last to know anything (see: not knowing Amy Winehouse had died until a few months ago or figuring out that DIY means Do It Yourself, like, a month ago) or last to jump on already brimmingly full cultural bandwagons (see: any popular TV show in general, capri's (which I still refuse), and Twitter. I don't tweet. I don't understand the point of tweets. And I think it's weird when people say, "I read this tweet..." or "I tweeted" You... WHAT?!?! Ew.

I only noticed my irregular bloggery because I've finally (FINALLY) noticed a pattern with most bloggers I like to read/peruse. Or just most bloggers in general I suppose. I've noted before, I only follow 4 or 5 blogs fairly consistently and mostly, it's because I can endure their writing. Nay, it's because I actually ENJOY their writing. And who follows blogs because of the WRITING?? I'm going with slim to no one considering everyone thinks they're a writer and only about 5.25% actually include words in their blog entries. And abut 4.653% of THOSE can construct a meaningful paragraph... that even KNOW how to "paragraph." Yes, I just made "parapgraph" a verb; "She paragraphed as if each thought she had was transitory yet related..." If I were merely enduring what I was reading, then you can be certain I would've stopped that ridiculousness ages ago - though I'm sure still well behind everyone else who stopped enduring dangling participles and blatant neglect of the Oxford comma. I won't give it up I tell you! The flag is red, white, and blue! Not red.... .... .... whiteandblue! Shudder.

There's also the blogs I like to look at because I am inspired by their creativity (cough, Roxy Marj, cough). In fact, I will go so far as to say "dangle your participle!" because your modge-podge would have even Monet shopping for sponges. You modge podge with sponges right? These things:

Anyway...

Here are some patterns of bloggery I've noticed are fairly consistent (i.e. "regular) with most high profile-type blogs that I rarely if ever do on my own blog. Why? Most of it has to do with pure unadulterated laziness. Oh, and the narcissistic concept that all you need is my writing to enjoy my blog. Ha ha ha! Riiiiiight.

1. DIY projects (that's Do It Yourself... to the slow person). I don't think I've ever been described as "crafty." Creative perhaps. I can plan one hell of a themed party! But crafty? I've recently dipped my proverbial toe into craft-land and find I very much enjoy it. Never the less - there's no bloggery about it. It just seems to produce a useful "How-to" list complete with pictures and steps seems like doubling the work of an already painstaking craft. I MADE a Halloween banner. What more do you WANT?!? Figure it our your damn self, Sherlock.

2. Trips. Alright -I HAVE blogged about trips and I enjoy writing about them. But they have to be rather significant trips... or really trips at all. I find a lot of bloggers discuss their recent jaunt to Trader Joe's (not in Utah, so how can I even blog about that? Huh! How?!?), or their weekend sabbatical in "insert location 20 minute away from their home town" and though I like reading about these things, I don't blog about them often. Maybe I should, "Today, I while buying Tostitos as Smith's, I saw a frozen coyote in a shopping cart."

Aside: so that's an actual story that happened to my brother at the Price, Wal-Mart. I mean, of COURSE it happened at a Price, Wal-Mart. Maybe if I start blogging about interesting things I will tell you that story. But it is not this day.

3. Products. I don't mention products or make-ups or tasty things I've eaten and so must YOU or things I've recently tried and regretted. I probably should. I mean, for the 2 or 3 people who glance over my blog, at least they'd get an opinion about a product they've been considering from someone who has no clout. And I do want to help people! It's the philanthropist in me. Here's a start:

I like the scoops myself as it allows you to balance your salsa to chip ratio much more effectively. I'm also a pico-de-gallo fan more so than your basic salsas. I like the chunks without the runs. There's clearly a 12 year old boy joke in there somewhere. Poop allusions are funny.

4. Pictures. And that's basically what it all boils down to. Pictures. People like to see them; and I don't ever take them. So I guess I mean "real life" pictures. That's because you can't google those, "Me eating Tostitos scoops" and get what you expected. You can, however, google "Daniel Craig is sexy" and have a myriad of options right at your finger tips. Mmmm... Daniel Craig at your fingertips. Sure, you'll get a blurry phone photo of Zooey or little Carter now and again I guess. That's as real life as I get. I think if I added real life pictures to whatever nonsense I attempt to describe, it might help me look more bloggery. But then again, I am an Ar-teest! And my art is in my writing. Why would I muddle such beauty with something as silly as pictures? I ASK YOU!

5. I also don't have kids. That's the old fail safe blog post isn't it? I've not blogged in awhile, so here, look at these 93 still shots of my kid smearing carrot puree all over his face. Riveting. That creates a nice irregular bloggery hole in my blog world I'd say. One I hope to never fill. Not because I don't want kids, cause I do, but because carrot puree makes me gag.

6. Cooking. Do I cook? Yeah, sure I do. In fact, I've been subsisting on a vat of homemade chicken noodle soup for a solid week now. HOMEMADE! CHICKEN NOODLE! I also bake. I'd say I bake a lot. Over that same chicken noodle week I've been ceremoniously supplementing said meal with a delicious chocolate crunch brownie. But just like the crafts, I don't care to document the experience in painstaking technical writing complete with attempts at "arty-food" pictures.

BRIGHT IDEA ALERT! AKA RIDICULOUS TANGENT!

Perhaps I could blog about the brownie making process as if the brownie were an actual character in a story. Example:

As Hershey Cocoa rested comfortably divided evenly among 3 Tablespoons, awaiting her turn in the rotating bowl of doom that was at this moment creaming together 2 sticks of butter, 2 cups of sugar, and 1 teaspoon vanilla, she glanced over at the oven temperature and noted it read 350 degrees respectively. She usually tried not to do this as it was like looking into the furnace of her own death - but this time - she looked - along with the 1 cup flour and 4 eggs waiting in line with her. The flour glanced at her with resignation and the eggs, well, the eggs just grinned and clucked among themselves. Eggs. They were always so smug what with their white shells and gooey centers. They never even see the inevitable coming. No, they just fluff and preen and coagulate the rest of us together - patting themselves on the back for creating a sense of "community" among the other ingredients. It's not until we're all spread evenly in a greased 9x10 glass cake pan and starting to feel the sting of 25-30 minutes or until the center isn't gooey, do they start to panic.

What do you think?... Eh?.... EH?!??!.... erp.

So that's what I DON'T blog about that makes me a not so regular blogger. What I DO blog about is contained basically to a few random trips, commentary on social issues, Zooey and/or Carter, self-reflection, life lessons, and random things I find funny, inspirational, or addicting (see: Downton Abbey... X-Files... Tostitos Multigrain Scoops). I also enjoy a good lament or rant once in awhile.

I'm glad I figured this out - that I am not a "regular" kind of blogger. Why? Shrug. So I could irregularly blog about it. Oh snap. Did I mention I like to blog in "sass" and "irony." Yep, just made those writing genres. What of it.

Monday, January 2, 2012

Recap... Resolute... Same old same old

I can't help myself. It's the beginning of a New Year and I must make some resolutions! I usually find New Years resolutions antiquated and to be frank, pointless. Bah-humbug! It's not that I don't think setting goals isn't a valuable exercise; on the contrary. I think setting goals for yourself and then working to achieve them is a very good way to improve your life, and improve your self-esteem. I think setting goals is also an excellent way to organize and utilize "life" in its best, most efficient, and most effective form. I've just taken the magic out of accomplishment haven't I? Well I'm a rather formulaic sort of person and if you haven't learned that by now, you're not very observant! Are you? ARE YOU!?!?! YOU MORON!

Woah... just kidding.

Anyway...

Goals good. New Years resolutions... antiquated and pointless. But never the less, here I am with the rest of you billions of suckers who have justified the past 6 months of laziness, gluttony, bad attitudes, and expired gym memberships because you might as well not start anything new, self-motivating, or good-for-you until January 1st. It's the reason we all gain 20lbs starting weeks before Halloween all the way through December 31st (Or January 1st if it lands on a weekend - am I right? You know I am) because you're so totally planning on starting that ambitious work-out regime as part of your New Years resolutions; conveniently forgetting last years same justifications which prompted the same goal-mongering only to have everything fall to shambles by mid-February. D'oh well... no point in trying again until after the holidays anyway! YOU MORON!

Woah... just kidding.

Amongst my bitter mumblings about pointless traditions, I also took the time to look back on last years resolution to see what goals I had forgotten mid-February 2011 and which ones were worth resurrecting this year for inevitable failure. But what ho? What did I find? Well my friends! I was shocked to discover that in fact, I am a picture of resolution success circa 2011! Turns out, I accomplished 99% of the resolutions I set last year! ME! I did it!!! Check it out, morons!

Resolutions from 2011 - Mostly Success!

1. Graduate - Summer 2011. You will then refer to me as Master Cox.
Result: Success! I graduated end of summer 2011 and spent several posts thereafter referring to myself as Master Cox. Well done! Pat on the back!As an aside, I thus entered a "Lazy Period" where I refused to do most anything nor feel guilty about my slothfulness as a reward for milking my brains dry for two whole years. Needless to say, I've never been so lazy and felt so good about it. However, I can tell the "Lazy Period" is coming to a close and I'm going to have to start making something of myself soon. Boo.

2. Travel - anything that takes me outside the state of Utah... or inside the state really so's long as I haven't been there before...
Result: Success again!! In 2011 I had the privilege of going to Charleston, South Carolina as well as Portland, Canon Beach, and Astoria Oregon, and Forks, Port Angeles, and Seattle Washington. I also ate at a Texas Roadhouse! All places I'd never been before! That's two gold stars so far!

3. Eat less, exercise more.
Result: A little from column A... and a little from column B. In fact, I'd say that I did the opposite of that until I graduated from school. August through present day, however, I have been instilling this goal into my daily routine a great deal more... well... the exercise part. The eating less part was only true because I substituted SOME cookies, brownies, cakes, and all assortments of holiday goodies for A LOT of sensible good-for-me foods. Still, half a star for both attempting to exercise while in the throes of school and then a prompt upswing in said exercise when it was over. I guess the Lazy Period was mainly brain lazy. We shan't speak of the cookies.

4. Make more money - legally
Result: Fail. I made more money but it was illegal. Oh ho ho! Just kidding. I make the same. Good thing I got a Master's degree, eh? Fist shake.

5. Turn 28
Result: Success! Did and done did! Ha! Nothing was going to keep me from accomplishing that little goal.... even if I wanted to fail! Blasted biological certainties and their inevitability.

6. Alright... run a half marathon. Let's give it another go. Why not?
Result: Fail. Blame = School + Lazy Period.

7. Go to movies sometimes
Result: Success! In fact, Internet, I've seen three movies within the last... 10 days! How's the for spanking that goals blue! We're painting the roses red! We're painting the roses red! No? Ahem... proceeding.

8. Wear skirts
Result: Resounding success! Weekly... nay... almost daily. I'm a skirt girl. I set myself up for success and succeed. Double gold star and a chocolate chip cookie!

9. Chew gum
Result: Success! Check and check. Through this goal I have found my preference for Orbits Sweet Mint. Accomplishing goals opens up doors you never thought possible.

10. Go on one date in 2011..
Result: Success! In fact, I'd say I went on a grundle (word?) of dates in 2011. See what you can accomplish if you put your mind to it? I might have even gone on TWO dates with ONE person. Shooting for the stars everyone.

So how's THAT for being a super goal-achieving achiever of goals? Pretty stinking GOOD! In fact, I'm feeling so accomplished right now, perhaps I'll just set a bunch more goals! I will call them "Resolutions 2012!" How about that?!?! MORONS!!!!

Resolutions 2012

1. Come-up with more creative titles for my lists

2. Stop calling my Internet friend(s) morons.

3. Run that *&!%$!! half marathon or stop setting it as a goal

4. Grow my hair out to my shoulders but keep the bangs... something rather Zooey DeChanel-esque

5. Set better goals for self-improvement than "growing my hair out"

6. Travel to a few more places I've never been. I'm loathe to name specific places as I don't like to limit my myself - but I'm going to go against my better judgement and throw Washington DC out to the universe.

7. Work on that novel. And I mean really work on that novel. Set a writing schedule, find your happy writing place, and just do the thing!

8. Make the Summer of 2012 the most campingest, outdoorsy, non-schooled summer I've ever experienced! I'm talking perma-camp fire hair smell, ridiculously sun bespeckled cheeks, and pic after pic of me in a rustic all be it super cute hiking outfit infront of many mountains, forests, streams, canyons, and critters! (Future disclaimer: Zooey counts as a critter)

9. Now that I've slain the Diet Coke dragon (applause! It's true... the Diet Coke and I... well... I finally broke it off for good several months ago. No regrets!), lets see if we can't nip the old Sugar Fairy in the bud too. Reduce. Reduce. Reduce.

10. End Lazy Period and do stuff

11. Come on, get happy. By happy I mean content. By content I mean grateful. And by grateful I mean humble.

So what do you think? Pretty good list, eh? And perhaps a titch more ambitious than last year (see: Chew gum and Wear Skirts). But I'm positive I will likely succeed at most (see: half marathon doomed for failure) of these goals during the wonderous year - 2012. So just in case you were a big fat resolution failure for 2011 and were considering opting out of resoluting for 2012 like I almost did, don't be a MORON* and set a few anyway. I did. And as some advice, DO as I did and aim low so there's really no way you can screw up.

*As January 2nd is clearly considered part of the holiday-time and thus merely 2011 "leavins"; real life doesn't start until tomorrow and THEN will all afore mentioned goals be promptly instituted. And off we go.

Monday, November 28, 2011

Gobble it Up Little Thankfulses

Welcome back indulgent few! I hope you ate yourselves into a silly stupor like I did this weekend. Mmm… eating myself into a silly stupor… that sounds so great. SO GREAT! SO! GREAT!

Of course, I have naturally committed to a non-accomplishable goal of skipping the sugary substances until Christmas like the rest of you weak-willed pot bellied suckers. Let us be suckers together! I give it one week. Who can resist a maple cookie or ginger snap? Or anything boasting peppermint accents and warm chocolaty ANYTHING! Losers. That’s who. Do you want to be a loser? Me neither. Eat, Drink and be Merry! For in January, we'll all be a huffin and a puffin on neighbor treadmills together. Alas.

Anyway…

I thought I’d jump on the bloggery bandwagon and give you a list of “Me So Thankfuls.” Tis the season. I realize this is post-Thanksgiving and by rights, Christmas is “legally” acknowledged with the behest of Black Friday. But you know me… I like to ruminate on things and then spew it forth in my own due time… generally a little post-facto. I’d also like to get into the knitty gritty of this thankful business and really pull out some miniature gems of simple happiness that make my day to day existence worth facing. You won’t find a bunch of blather about family or friends or America or “food on my table” on THIS list! No sir-ee-bob! When I say it’s about the little things… I take it to a whole new level. Perhaps it would do you some good to really get down to the nuts and bolts of the tiniest things that you’re thankful for. Eh? Scrap the bottom of that proverbial barrel.

Me So Thankfuls List

Word-smithery. The fact I just threw out such words as “behest,post-facto, and blather” without blinking an eye makes me very grateful for my self-proclaimed title of Word-Smith. Behest?!? Who does that?!? This guy. And I think I almost used it right too. What do you know anyway?
The semi-colon. A fantastic grammatical tool combining two very separate yet related sentences into one. It gives my writing flow; it gives it stream of thought. You see what I did there?
A really smooth ball point pen. None of that inky splotch sort of fancy stuff for me! I write in cursive rather exclusively (right?!?!) and a nice ball point pen makes the curve and flow of the cursive hand smooth and magical.
Sporks. It’s a spoon, it’s a fork. Enough said.
Washing my face at night. Oh heaven! Oh bliss! I love wiping of the days grim with a warm wash cloth and seeing my bespeckled cheeks shine through rosy and clean. I’m thankful for washcloths! I’m thankful for Clinique Face Foam! No really... I LOVE CLINQUE FACE FOAM!
The smell of books. Yep. I’m that weirdy you saw sniffing the books in the Fiction section of Barnes and Noble. I snatch me a book, examine its bindings and coverings, hold the pages close to my nose and flip through while inhaling deeply. Sniffing a good book is almost as good as sniffing freshly copied paper. In grade school I’d sniff a newly printed assignment before beginning to tarnish it with ink and lead. Saver the smells.
Bill Paxton – for being that “one guy… ya know… UGH! What is his name?!? He's in... stuff!” in any movie or TV show that requires some amount of talent but not a lot of face-memory. He also did a fine job in Twister.
Bejeweled Butt Jeans. Seeing women of the 40+ age bracket sporting them reminds me that I am what they want to be without having to wear bejeweled butt jeans. I’m a 20 something. It also gives me a false sense of superiority realizing that they are getting a false sense of superiority derived from sporting a bejeweled butt at $200 a pop. Vicious circle… but I’m grateful for it.
Miracle Whip – oh the tangy zip!
Dust. I like dusting! Thus, when dust besets my table tops, dressers, book shelves, and black TV stand, I skip happily to the cleaning product cupboard, selecting my Orange scented Pledge and dust rag with almost palpable ecstasy at the prospect of de-dusting my furniture to an almost sparkling newness, and proceed in a twirling Poppins-esque enthusiasm around the room, wiping as I go! Oh dust! Thank you!
Comeuppance. I get no greater satisfaction then when weasely bad guys get their comeuppance! And it’s more so when it’s the douschy little side kick rather than the full blown villain. Grah! I can’t stand snively little sidekicks that are more annoying than they are villainy. But I like it when the villains get their’s too. Take that!
Mouse Glue Traps.
Spell Check
All Day Marathons such as but not limited to: Lord of the Rings Trilogy presented on Encore this weekend commercial free; America's Next Top Model all day marathons on Oxygen (she suddenly realized that what had begun as a potentially productive Saturday morning had now dimmed like the 6 daylight hours that had so easily slipped by), A Christmas Story all day on TNT Christmas Eve, Harry Potter marathons a la ABC Family, and any other all day epic marathons that steal your day in a flurry of Orc battles and ring bearing!

And there are a few things that make my life a little more worth living. What about you? What’s your Spork?

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Turns out, it's because I only ever wanted a man

I thought this was worth a post vs. a passing FB shout out.

What I learned from this little editorial (below)? It turns out I've always wanted to date men and not boys. And I mean always... like since High School always. And in High School it's okay for boys to be boys because they are boys and it's okay for girls to date boys because they're girls. But I've always wanted to date men. My propensity for men was even manifest in the "celeb crushes" I had throughout high school. They weren't yourt your young strapping baby faced boys like Orlando Bloom (I guess he's more of a girl), Paul Walker (circa 1999), or Christian Slater (I'm a child of the mid-90's... clearly). Naw. I liked Russel Crowe or Harrison Ford or George Clooney. And now I can see it was because they represent a manly manness those "pretty" boys didn't have. They were something more adult and controlled and committed versus rowdy and pubescent. Sure I had my Jonathon Taylor Thomas phase - but really - I've always liked the idea of men.

THUS! I'm single at 28 because I had to reach an age where my expectations of dating men ( vs boys) was realistic and legitimate and not creepy (cause I'm not into the whole 18 year old and 35 year old... "thing"). How could I have expected that from an 18... 21... or even 24 year old? I couldn't. It wasn't fair. But NOW... NOW I can. I can expect man'ness from a 26, 30, or 32 year old. It's time! Time for men! Not men-children! The men-children tend to like the immature (different from young) ones like themselves. They're the creeper 35 year old scoping out the 19 year old freshman. I guess it makes sense cause their maturity levels are copacetic ( a great 90's term in my mind).

Speaking of...

I guess the rub is... there's a lot of 18 year old 30 year olds out there. A lot. And there are maybe a few 24 year old 35 year olds out there. A few. It really is a state of mind (and life and choices and emotional competence). I've gone out with a few almost 23 year olds over the last handful of months (my ward is swimming with them!) and truly, it's not the number, it's just where they are in life; somewhere I've already been. They are 23 year old boys and that's okay cause they're 23. I expect 23 year old mind sets and lifestyles and super jumbo nachos for dinner and sleeping in a heap of dirty clothes on a dorm floor. The 26 year old 18 year olds though? Mmmm... PASS. Of the 26+ I expect some leafy greens and a laundry basket.

Enough of my commentary - read the below. It's entertaining and makes a little bit of sense. And how many things during your typical work day do you read things that are entertaining and make a little sense? Yep, that's what I thought. You're welcome.

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The Office’s Mindy Kaling on Why You Need a Man, Not a Boy

The funniest woman on TV, The Office’s Mindy Kaling, serves up some astonishingly helpful relationship advice in this exclusive excerpt from her new book, Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? Where have you been all our lives, Mindy?

By Mindy Kaling

Mindy Kaling is an Emmy-nominated writer and star of The Office. Her book hits shelves this month, click here to order a copy!

Sometimes I eavesdrop on people.
I could rationalize it—oh, this is good anthropological research for characters I’m writing—but it’s basically just nosiness. It also helps me gauge where I’m at: Am I normal? Am I doing the correct trendy cardio exercises? Am I reading the right books? Is gluten still lame? It was through eavesdropping that I learned that you could buy fresh peanut butter at Whole Foods from a machine that grinds it in front of you. I had wasted so much of my life eating stupid old already-ground peanut butter. So, yeah, I highly recommend a little nosiness once in a while.

Recently I listened in on two attractive thirtyish women talking over brunch. I heard the following:

Girl #1 (pretty girl, Lululemon yoga pants, great body): Jeremy just finished his creative writing program at Columbia. But now he wants to maybe apply to law school.
Girl #2 (tiny girl, sheet of black hair, strangely huge breasts): Oh, God.
Lululemon: What?
32D: How many grad schools is he going to go to?
Lululemon: I know. But it’s not his fault. No publishers are buying short stories from unfamous people. Basically, you have to be Paris Hilton to sell books these days.
32D: For the 10 years that Jeremy has been out of college doing entry-level job after entry-level job and grad school, you’ve had a job that has turned into a career.
Lululemon: Yeah, so?
32D: Jeremy’s a boy. You need a man.

Lululemon did not take this well, as I’d anticipated. I felt bad for Lulu because I’ve been Lulu. It’s really hard when you realize the guy you’ve been dating is basically a high schooler at heart. It makes you feel like Mary Kay Letourneau. It’s the worst.

Until I was 30, I dated only boys. I’ll tell you why: Men scared the sh*t out of me. Men know what they want. Men own alarm clocks. Men sleep on a mattress that isn’t on the floor. Men buy new shampoo instead of adding water to a nearly empty bottle of shampoo. Men make reservations. Men go in for a kiss without giving you some long preamble about how they’re thinking of kissing you. Men wear clothes that have never been worn by anyone else before.

OK, maybe men aren’t exactly like this. But this is what I’ve cobbled together from the handful of men I know or know of, ranging from Heathcliff Huxtable to Theodore Roosevelt to my dad. The point: Men know what they want, and that is scary.
What I was used to was boys.

Boys are adorable. Boys trail off their sentences in an appealing way. Boys get haircuts from their roommate, who “totally knows how to cut hair.” Boys can pack up their whole life and move to Brooklyn for a gig if they need to. Boys have “gigs.” Boys are broke. And when they do have money, they spend it on a trip to Colorado to see a music festival.

Continued (page 2 of 3)

By Mindy Kaling

Boys can talk for hours with you in a diner at three in the morning because they don’t have regular work hours. But they suck to date when you turn 30.
When I was 25, I went on exactly four dates with a much older guy whom I’ll call Peter Parker. I’m calling him Peter Parker because, well, it’s my story, and I’ll name a guy I dated after Spider-Man’s alter ego if I want to.

Peter Parker was a comedy writer who was a smidgen more accomplished than I but who talked about everything with the tone of “you’ve got a lot to learn, kid.” He gave me lots of unsolicited advice about how to get a job “if The Office got canceled.” After a while, it became clear that he thought The Office would get canceled, and by our fourth and last date, that he clearly thought it should get canceled.
Why am I bringing up Peter Parker? Because he was the first real man I dated. An insufferable yet legit man.
Peter owned a house. It wasn’t ritzy or anything, but he’d really made it a home. The walls were painted; there was art in frames. He had installed a flat-screen TV and speakers. There was just so much screwed into the walls, so much that would make you lose your deposit. I marveled at the brazenness of it. Peter’s house reminded me more of my house growing up than of a college dorm room. I’d never seen that before.

Owning a house obviously wasn’t enough to make me want to keep dating Peter. Like I said, he was kind of a condescending dick. But I observed in Peter a quality that I knew I wanted in the next guy I dated seriously: He wasn’t afraid of commitment.

At this point you might want to smack me and say: “Are you seriously just another grown woman talking about how she wants a man who isn’t afraid of commitment?” Let me explain! I’m not talking about commitment to romantic relationships. I’m talking about commitment to things—houses, jobs, neighborhoods. Paying a mortgage. When men hear women want a commitment, they think it means commitment to a romantic relationship, but that’s not it. It’s a commitment to not floating around anymore. I want a guy who is entrenched in his own life. Entrenched is awesome.

So I’m into men now, even though they can be frightening. I want a schedule-keeping, waking-up-early, wallet-carrying, picture-hanging man. I don’t care if he takes prescription drugs for cholesterol or hair loss. (I don’t want that, but I can handle it. I’m a grown-up too.)

I know I’m only marginally qualified to be giving advice. I’m not married, I frequently use my debit card to buy things that cost less than three dollars, and my bedroom is so untidy it looks like vandals ransacked the Anthropologie sale section. I’m kind of a mess. I did, however, fulfill a childhood dream of writing, producing and acting in television and movies. Armed with that confidence, alongside a lifelong love of the sound of my own voice, I’m giving you this bit of wisdom: When you turn 30—maybe even before—a fun thing to try is dating men. It’ll be like freshly ground peanut butter, times a million.

---------> SO CITED

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Here's to men!

Friday, October 21, 2011

I'm over it... I think

5 years ago I became a Diet Coke drinker.

I remember the day it all began.

There I was, 7:00am at the high school where I was doing my student teaching, and staring bleary eyed at the lesson plans before me.

"I can't do this... I'm so tired!"

I remember thinking that. I remember it because I was, in fact, so very tired and I did, in fact, feel I couldn't do it. It was one of those really emotional tipping points where lying under a desk in the fetal position seemed a completely healthy way to deal with tiredness and stressness.

I needed something to lift my spirits... or mostly, my eyelids. I needed something to wake me the hell up.

And then I remembered something...

I remembered my 11th grade Honors English teacher and his almost religious devotion to his gigantic Maverick mug brimming with what he deemed life-saving elixir - Diet Coke. I remember the quips in my education classes or wandering the halls through various Jr. high and high schools: "I need my Diet Coke this morning or I'll never make it!" or as an excuse for memory lapse, "Sorry I forgot to put on pants... I haven't had my Diet Coke yet." Or perhaps, "I didn't mean to staple his hand to the desk, I haven't had my Diet Coke yet." The officer would then nod and look around for a staple remover.

I assumed also that it must be the DIET variety pegged for ritualistic consumption as that somehow makes it less of a vice than a pure sugary Cola. Vices have limits and apparently aspartame is the saving grace of caffeinated beverage addicts. It's like heroine without the... dirty needle. It's just a clean needle. If only I knew more about illegal substances - then that allusion could've been really effective!

Plus it's referred to in the Mormon underground as "LDS coffee." What greater evidence did I need?

That morning... I sought out a dealer.

I found it in the teacher's lounge glowing iridescent in the morning light. I walked toward the machine and deposited my coins; glancing over my shoulder as bodily shadows drifted in and out with their own morning pick-me-ups. I was among friends.

The Diet Coke spewed forth, and I took it back up to my classroom before unscrewing the cap. I wanted my first taste to be in private.

PsssssssssTUH! Glug. Cough. Sniff. Eye water.... mmmmm....

A Diet Coke addict was born.

5 years later, I am lying in bed thinking, how did it come to this? Since that morning so long ago, I've procured a can or small fountain (yes, I do exercise some restraint thank you) Diet Coke every morning for the extra boost of "get me through this day." Before that morning so long ago, I hadn't so much as glanced at a carbonated beverage. No not once. But now, I was becoming a slave to it. Well, more like an indentured servant though I'm not sure what the agreement ever was. I reflected on the many Sundays when I had neglected to stalk my fridge the Saturday before with a daily dosage and resorted to putting on a hood and dark shades to drive to the local gas station just for a fix. I recall many times being overcome with giddyness at the prospect of a 20 pack of DC on sale for $12 (Smiths!). Of becoming disgruntled and irritable by 11:00am if I hadn't guzzled a can of happy juice. My mood, my finances, and even my religious orthodoxy were effected!

Then there's my health to consider.

I'm one of those people who never got cavities. Ever. Until... that is... about 3 years ago. My diet hadn't changed, I'm not a big "candy" muncher, and yet, my cavity incidents had gone up I'd say 80%. Meaning I was getting 2 cavities a year as opposed to NONE (don't check that percentage you dork - no one likes a math geek). May not seem like a big to-do to YOU! But for someone who doesn't get cavities, brushes twice a day, flosses, fluorides, and doesn't eat a lot of candy on top of never getting cavities anyway... it seemed very strange!

Then there's the indigestion. Somewhat genetic. I am slightly lactose intolerant and my Grandma said I have what's called the "Petty back and the Petty stomach." This means my lower back tends to ache at the end of a long day on my feet and always has done. This is an aside... I also experience "sour stomach" with anything that's not bland or covered in gravy. The starches and I have always gotten along... acid substances? Not as much. And over the past 3 or so years, I feel my scrambling for two Tums has increased and/or elevated to carrying a flask of Pepto Bismol in my purse. Sweet stomach coating liquid.

Last night, as I lay in bed contemplating life and various other things, I felt a little sick to my stomach and deposited two Tums down the old gullet. It was then I noticed an empty Diet Coke can on my dresser table and realized, woah.... I'm killing myself with aspartame. It makes my tummy hurt as it eats slowly away at my esophageal lining day in and day out. It erodes my enamel. It rules my mornings. It probably is keeping me from getting a raise!

Diet Coke, my friends, is the enemy! And I've been letting it slowly wind its flaxen cords around me for years! YEARS!

Well no more I tell you! I'm threw. I'm over it. Me and the DC? We're broken up for good. For the next couple weeks - it's me and Mr. Aspirin and then me and independence! I won't be a slave to substance and I won't let my insides be eaten up by a delicious little Carmel colored pathogen with fizz! (Realistically - I'll contain my DC shenanigans to a weekend movie or dinner.... or holiday... or with pizza... what?). And I'm very curious to see if my Tums consumption reduces and I once again am awarded a sugar free lolly for having no cavities for the fifth time in a row! In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if I even grew a little taller.

So let it be written, so let it be done.

Saturday, October 15, 2011

On becoming an old bag...

October is a great month. There are a lot of reasons why this is true and we could spend a great deal of time (not to mention the lists I could create!) going through all the reasons why October is probably the best month out of the year. However, today I'd like to focus on one reason: my Birthday.

Yes, I'm aware this reason tops a lot of "Why October is the Best Month Ever" lists out there, and to be certain that reason holding at least one of the top 3 spots of that list only makes sense. This year, however, my list was not like most of yours. This year, I was somewhat (or A LOT) dreading my Birthday.

I've always felt that people hating their Birthday was not only a super old person thing, but TERRIBLY cliche. In fact, I think the "hating of my birthday" was something Hollywood implanted into our minds as something everyone hates and everyone discusses hating and everyone can make jokes about hating or mock other people for or create some sort of standard accessible social cue. I think some of those cliches are just throwing the many "unfunny" or un-opinioned or generally socially awkward people out there a bone. "Here ya go generally socially awkward unfunny indifferent person... here is a standard joke or piece of cynicism or commonly shared experience you can always use because we've made it so EVERYONE can hate their birthdays. It will never fail!" It's like reverting to the weather to avoid discussing the elephant in the room "Oh Aunt Jane, let us discuss how beautiful this weekend was rather than how your two-bit hooker of a daughter went and got herself knocked up again!" Thank you Hollywood for providing such fodder for the inept. We've all had to resort to such outs in our lives and I for one, am not above the occasional "cliched" bit of cynicism.

Well come to find, this month I would find this socially inexperienced person commenting on the dreaded "birthday" as incredibly insightful and wise. "Why yes! I TOO hate my Birthday! For I am growing older." Ironically, that may be the measure of age is when you stop crossing off days until your Pretty Princess Birthday Party and instead think up ways to avoid said occurrence altogether; like straddling international date lines. Which as we know, only gets us a few days if we're lucky. There's always cryogenic freezing I suppose - but I feel I missed my time to do that. 24 was my peak. If I were going to freeze my bodily time - that was the year. Hindsight is always 20/20 I suppose.

This year I turned 28. Here is where my crisis comes in. When I was a wee 19 year old first moving to SLC and attending my bran new Singles Ward, everyone I met was 28. I kid you not. Inevitably conversations would lead to those around me pronouncing their age and it would always be... 28. Once in awhile a 26... but mostly... 28. The stranger thing is - even as the years passed - every new person I met in my various Singles Wards or standing in line at grocery stores was always 28.

(That's actually not true - not everyone being 28 part but the meeting people in a grocery line part. I mean - have you really actually ever MET someone in a grocery store line? Me neither... Hollywood cliche suckers us again!).

And usually, they were 28, single, somewhat resentful, and of course, haters of Birthdays. They also always seemed to have just a tinge of desperation... as if they were running out of time. Time to get married? Time for children? Well, maybe. I'm not sure as each case was likely different - but I always got the distinct feeling of anxiousness from these groups of 28's... and particularly the women. As if they felt they were walking the final mile and it was all downhill from here. 28 became a symbol to me. Anyone who was single was old at 28 (thanks a bunch Utah). Anyone who was on the cusp of inevitable spinsterhood... well... they were 28. Any 20 something Peter Pans were never going to grow up if they hadn't by now... at 28. The hopeless? 28. The angry? 28. The basement dwelling video game playing part-time jobbers? 28. The pickins were slim... the chances were minute. 28 is the end of happiness and the acceptance of a lack luster existence!

I never thought I'd be 28.

Even when I turned 27 - a fantastic year - I never thought I'd be 28.

So in about August - it finally started to sink in. Whether I liked it or not - I was becoming a 28. And I felt that anxiety that I had seen in all the eyes of the many many 28's in my life. I felt like I was running out of time... that I was at a crucial tipping point and if that thing that I wasn't sure of didn't happen soon, well you can forget it sister because it likely won't now that you're 28. I admit, I'd never taken the idea of "biological clock" seriously either. I guess at 28 the ticking is turned up exponentially. I never thought I would have to start considering the idea of not being physically able to produce children. Yes, a little dramatic seeing as Hollywood has proven that women can bear children into their 40's, and Sariah in the Bible had a baby WELL into her 90's, but NEVER THE LESS! That's Hollywood and that's ONE person... in the HISTORY of the WORLD! I felt a squeeze on my soul... and perhaps a little proverbial nudge in my ovaries. Was I becoming one of those 28's? I'd heard of mid-life crisis - but quarter life and some change crisis? No one ever talks about those. But they're real my friends. Stop ignoring them.

August and September were hit and miss. I reflected on my existence - the possibilities that lay before me - and the sheer frustration that I was becoming one of those people that dreaded their Birthday! I didn't want to be one of those people and surely turning 28 wasn't the horror I had always witnessed, right?

Well, 28 came and here's the secret - I've never felt better!

Mostly because I received this pop-up Birthday card bearing a chef-cat. How great is that?

But also, instead of dreading what I always thought a 28 year old single LDS female was, I decided to make sure I wasn't that person by simply choosing not to be. Why should I let a silly number effect my outlook and hopes about life? Why should I let a number ruin one of the greatest reasons I love October? Why should 28 suddenly make me into some baby-hungry psycho maniac?? Cause really, those will come in good time anyway.... and I have a Zooey to boot!

I decided instead of dreading my birthday, which would inevitably lead to more dread, to love my Birthday just like I did before I turned 28. I planned myself a little intimate soup party with close friends. I wanted to celebrate another year of health and happiness and living in America and freedom and the fact I had made it to 28 smiling and intact. In fact, I had made it to 28 still looking like a 20 year old and THAT my friends is indeed something to celebrate! Celebrate good genes! Celebrate being a wee person! I always knew this 5 foot 1 business would come in handy.

I've had to vocalize my age a few times since my Birthday and actually, I feel really great about it. I'm a 28. I've had some significant experiences, learned a lot of valuable lessons, and have had discussions with 23 year olds with 3 years of their freaking undergrad left and still subsisting on Mac&Cheese and am incredibly grateful I never EVER have to do that again. If you really think you want to be 23 or 21 again - go ahead and interact with a gaggle of them. I guarantee you will find a greater appreciation for where you are now and shudder at how far they have yet to go.

My goal as a 28 year old is to always be happy on my Happy Birthdays and never lie about my age. You heard me! Ask this woman her age! And she will tell you happily! "Why yes sir, no offense taken. For I am 28! And I am very happy to be right where I am doing what I'm doing and pressing forward for another year! So let them eat cake!" (Especially if its Grandma's recipe for chocolate rum cake.... nothing like a drop of rum to take the edge off).

And in the spirit of my delusions - lets go ahead and not mention 30 okay? Baby steps.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Conspiracy Theory in Green Velvet

Because my writing inspiration tank is chugging on fumes... I can't promise any mind-altering posts in the near future. I mean because my posts usually are, you know, mind-altering. Why not? You might ask. Is it because I've started watching the X-Files start to finish (currently on Season 4 episode 4!) and now my mind is more consumed with debunking government conspiracies rather than reflecting on life's this and that's? Is it because I've started reading novels again and my creative juices seem lack-luster compared with talent of legitimate novelists? Is it because I feel overwhelmed at the amount of time and creativity folks devote to their blogs that makes mine look amateurish and dull? IS IT??!??!?

Maybe...

It's mostly the X-Files though. I see conspiracy everywhere these days. Example: I was contemplating last night upon the movie Contagion. Have you seen it? Well, you should cause it will freak your socks off. It freaked me out a little bit - just because disease spreading seems much more diabolical than nuclear war in my mind. I'd rather risk being vaporized than pustuleized. Apparently all my disease fears center on pustules. This post is self-reflective after all. Things transported easily by air or touch strikes fear in my soul simply because it's an invisible enemy. You can't see it riding on someone's shoulder posed to leap... it just smoothly jumps from them to you in a swift natural movement and before you know it... a handshake becomes the kiss of death. At least the nuclear bomb has the decency to whistle and explode into a mushroom cloud before melting your face off. It's just plain common decency. I'd like to know when death is knocking.

Anyway...

I was contemplating Contagion last night and got to thinking... this sure is interesting timing to release such a movie, isn't it? I mean THINK about it. Flu season is upon us... the movie specifically mentions such recent epidemics as H1N1 (pig flu), bird flu, and other such sicknesses they've had to boil up a vaccine for. They liken those epidemics with this pig/bat/brain melting sickness that sweeps over the entire earth in a matter of months - wiping out millions. It's the black death of 2011! So I found the timing very interesting... almost TOO interesting. Releasing such a film when people are starting to prepare their immune system for "flu season" and on the hunt for vaccinations of all sorts.

I then thought it interesting they paint the CDC and other governmental bureaucrats as the do-gooders trying their best to save the good people of planet earth; meanwhile contending with the loony conspiracy theorist (Jude Law) utilizing social media to elicit a following that ultimately turns out to be self-serving and downright ludicrous. Isn't THAT interesting? ISN'T IT?!?! AND! It's ALSO interesting that the government ends up finding said anti-dote because they contract their services to a private firm in San Francisco. What the political underpinnings! What the economic allusion to contracting government services for the most quality product!

And FURTHERMORE! You've guaranteed that most people in the USofA will see this movie given it's plethora of legitimate A-list stars gracing the credits: Matt Damon, Gwenyth Paltrow, Kate Winslet (adore), Marian Cotillard (also adore), Laurence Fishburn, Jude Law, and a dozen other recognizables commonly supported by the general populous. I mean, right?!??!

It all adds UP!?!??!

The government is about to release a wide-spread brain melting epidemic that is transmitted by mere touch alone and then will swoop in with the anti-dote after the world's population has been reduced by MILLIONS there-by solidifying our blinding faith in their administrative oversight so we will never question their authority AGAIN!

OR!

They are making sure that every citizen in the world gets a flu vaccination which is actually not a vaccination at all but in fact, the next bubonic plague and once all of America has been subconsciously influenced by the movie Contagion to get their vaccinations and start dying en masse the government will "miraculously" come up with the anti-dote and ONLY make it available to those who support and are a part of the GOVERNMENTS HEALTH CARE POLICY! Thus, socialism takes over the WORLD!

OR!

They (i.e. the GOVERNMENT) are preparing the world for an alien invasion and therefore, to avoid mass hysteria will utilize this movie to subconsciously plant "go get a flu vaccination" into our minds which really turns out to be a genetic marker that will make every human who is injected either an alien-human hybrid making those who receive the injection immune to the poisons the invading aliens will strategically infect the entire human race in preparation for colonization OR, causing the OPPOSITE effect and slowly killing off humans in preparation for the alien invasion. Thus leaders must strike a deal with the alien invaders that allows them to live and rule alongside this new world colony all the while secretly concocting an anti-dote to the poisonous injection that was ROUTINELY administered through seasonal FLU VACCINATIONS thus allowing government leaders to save themselves and hand select others to receive this immunity OR selling it to the highest bidder! Power! Money! Intrigue! Colonization!

It's a conspiracy I tell you!!!! WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!

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Seriously though, I am interested to see the upswing of flu shot vaccinations this year compared with last year in correlation with the release of the movie. Right? I mean what a great study on the influence of media... adding irony to the thick of things by integrating the Jude Law story line and alluding to how easily the masses are swayed by Facebook, twitter, Hollywood... and the nightly ritual of watching an X-Files episode that may lead to gross paranoia and exuberant exaggeration.... erp.... wait...

So you can see why my mind has been occupied elsewhere.

I'd also like you to know, I started this post with the intent of bagging on velvet. Yeah, it makes no sense what-so-ever... velvet and that my original inspiration for this post was to mock it. I think the post started out with the intent of my lacking so much creative writing juice that I'd reduced myself to analyzing synthetic materials. It turned into a conspiracy rant instead. But really, velvet? What a strange material! I think velvet should be used to line coffins and draped across sorceresses (sorceressi?) or fortune tellers and not worn by the average person to any event at all... no... not even Christmas events. Clearly Halloween is acceptable as velvet is rather costumey. But that's it! I also find it a very creepy sort of texture that makes me think of black lights and musky scents... like a thick amber vanilla incense. Though, I guess my dislike of velvet lies more within the "all over" velvet rather than just a hint of it here or there - on a bow, or the top half of a fancy dress vs. an entire dress constructed out of the stuff.

It's still a very weird texture to me and I always question the wearing of it in any sense outside of a theatrical production or... Transylvania... or... over the age of 8. Ya know how little girls Christmas dresses always have some velvet involved. We can let that slide...

So here's the moral of this post: Really think about that flu vaccine and notice if those administering it are dressed all in black and using a lot of acronyms... and save the velvet for Halloween. I've also learned that I'm my most eccentric at my least-creative.

I think we've done some good work here. Keep Calm... Carry On.