About Time

I'm pretty overdue for a post, wouldn't you say? Of course, I have been incredibly busy, what with all the travelling I've been doing over the past week or so. Shall we enumerate my experience?

1. Flight from SLC to MCI (that's the Kansas City airport, for those of you who have avoided the armpit of America, you lucky dogs!), Thursday, Dec. 16th -- This was a pretty lack-luster affair. Though, I did get to go through the stupid TSA scanners when I went through security. When my mom picked me up, I told her about it. Her response: "Porn star." That was definitely the highlight of the car ride.

2. Stop at Cracker Barrel, Independence, MO, still Thursday -- Suddenly, Christmas flight pick up stop at Cracker Barrel has become a tradition. I don't think we can abandon it now. Just for the record, I had chicken'n'dumplin's, and the stupid peg game on the table said I was slower than average (and we're talking slower mental state, not actual speed. This is a southern border state, and we use technical terminology like that.)

3. Stop at home. Yep, still Thursday. -- :)

4. Driving to and from Old Navy on Sunday, Dec. 19th, Monday, Dec. 20th, and Tuesday, Dec. 21st -- The first two hours on the first day were good. After that, it was like that one burny hot place we all know about. Probably mostly due to the fact that I don't believe I've been on my feet for five straight hours since ... the last time I worked in August. Literally, I don't believe I've done it. How pathetic is that? Needless to say, my body ached like the dickens. (What does that phrase even mean?)

5. Driving from Jefferson City, MO to Colby, KS, Wednesday, Dec. 22nd -- An 8 hour drive commencing at 5 p.m. Not the way the Cardon clan usually rolls, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. Something about it being dark and staying dark the whole time made it feel like time wasn't actually moving, and really made the trip feel short.

6. Driving from Colby, KS to Colorado Springs, CO, Thursday, Dec. 23rd -- A four hour drive to the Springs, which started off with the worst continental breakfast I think I've ever had. Too bad I don't think a Hyatt Place would touch Colby, KS with a 50 foot pole, because I love their cinnamon rolls.

7. Driving from Colorado Springs, CO to Crested Butte, CO, still Thursday -- This four hour drive commenced approximately 15 minutes after the last 4 hour drive ended, so we might as well lump them together and call them an 8 hour drive, because that's what it felt like.

8. Stop at CRESTED BUTTE, CO, Thursday, Dec. 23rd thru Monday, Dec. 27th -- (That link is just to the same cruddy video I made of the cabin) "WE WON!!! WE WON!!!!!!!!!!!!!" That's the quote of the trip. Also, "Are you gonna compromise your integrity over this?" A few points about this stop:

• The cabin held 21 people over the course of our stay.
• Delicious food, all day, every day.
• Ski-in/Ski-out. You can't imagine how great it is to ride on groomed trail (which was off the resort property) straight to your cabin with a hot lunch waiting for you. Like soup. Much different from trekking to the parking lot and chowing on a cold sandwich while sitting in the back of a car, and hating having to take off your gloves. We have been spoiled, and Brian Head 2011 won't settle for much less, only in highly favorable and compensatory circumstances. We're currently scoping places that sleep up to 45 people. Boyfriend applications now being accepted. :P Hahaha.
• Miraculously, we had perfect weather. They got 60 inches in the 72 hours leading up to our arrival, driving weather was perfect, and Friday and Saturday (our ski days) were cloudless, and edging up on 40 degrees-so warm, you could have left your gloves in your pockets. On Sunday, when we weren't on the mountain, it was overcast. It was like they planned it just for us. Driving back was, again, excellent weather.
• The dumbwaiter. It wasn't even that useful, for our short stay anyhow. It was just cool that we had one! :)
• The delicious king-sized bed I slept on. Admittedly, with my sister. But it was like she wasn't even there. And besides some really crazy dreams, it was some of the best sleep I ever did get.
• When I was chilled to the bone after my post-boarding nap, I hit up the steam shower. It was boiling, wonderful hot up in there, but it felt SO good. After that ....
• ... I took a regular shower. With double shower heads. While still taking in the remnant steam from my steam shower. I might have left both on at the same time, but I might have melted from all the heat.
• On the first day, my back hurt really badly from all the time I'd spent in the car. So I took a bath in the jetted tub under 20+ foot ceilings. Yummy.
• I boarded better than I've ever boarded in my life, which is kind of a big deal since I only get to go like one or two days a year, and I've only been doing it for like 5 years. And I learned some dang good life-lessons on my second day (to which Heather can testify!)
• I got to spend time with some of my favorite people, and had my semi-annual dating pep talk with Sis. N! Haha. How I do so look forward to our chats ...
• Had a great Ben Barnes dream. I blame/credit this on the multifarious BB postings on Rachel's tumblr. Keep 'em coming, gf. You ROCK. :)
• I finished The Book Thief. It was good. But I wouldn't recommend purchasing it. Your local library is the place to go. Plus it was super slow, and I questioned whether or not it was worth my effort until like the last 10 pages. So maybe it wasn't really worth it after all. Idk.
• Got a taste of Celestial Seasoning's herbal tea, Roastaroma flavor. I think I found a new favorite, though I'd hardly call it a "tea." Definitely more of a coffee experience. Yum.
• ... I don't really have too much more to say about it, except that it was AMAZING and I LOVED it. Definitely one of the top 5 vacations of my life because it was just so perfect.
• Oh, and did I mention, we had the most beautiful view? It was seriously lovely. On the day we got in, a big fluffy cloud had settled in the valley, and we got to look down on it from our cozy cabin up on the slopes.
• I love my life. Really.

9. Drive from Crested Butte, CO to Colorado Springs, CO, Monday, Dec. 27th -- I love staying with the Norton family. Sis. N made an amazing authentic Italian dinner, and I got to hang out with my amigo that I literally hadn't seen in a year. Crazy! Doesn't feel like it could be that long, but I guess that's how it is now, ya know?

10. Drive from Colorado Springs, CO to Jefferson City, MO, Tuesday, Dec. 28th -- I did not love this car ride. By the time we hit Kansas City, my back was aching and I was so sick of being in the car that I was practically beside myself. My bed, however, welcomed me back with open arms, and I think I slept in until 11 on Wednesday morning. Love my life :)

Being Offended, and I LOVE THIS CABIN

I'd just like to make a tiny little comment on people being offended (even a little bit).

DON'T LET IT HAPPEN.

People need to learn to be happy with their own lives, and stop caring about what everyone else does and says, because it doesn't matter. And don't bring it up on Facebook. That's just kinda tacky.

As a piece of paper on my seminar teacher's wall once said, "Anger is like taking poison and expecting the other person to die." I know I'm not the best example of living the principle contained in this little phrase, but when I remember it, I remember not to be angry, bitter, jealous, annoyed, offended, etc.

Besides that, who wants to waste a second of their day harboring bitter feelings when there are so many good things in life?? For example, this ROCKING cabin that we're staying in right now. And there's a video tour, if you've got 10 minutes to waste. It's terrible video/sound/camera-holder quality, but I'm not a film major or in any way planning to have anything to do with film for the rest of my life, so no griping. Haha. Here 'tis: The Cabin

Hobert's Monkey

Somewhere in the midst of the chaos of 21 people trying to arrange food and bags and gear and bedding and gifts and who knows what else, I've been able to find escape in the living room (of all places) to tell you an incredible story. This is the story of Hobert's Monkey.

---

My dad has a dental assistant named Jane, and Jane has a son named Robert. Robert, like many children, learned to pronounce his R's some time after he learned to correctly pronounce the rest of his alphabet. Because of this, Robert was not able to pronounce his own name correctly for some time, calling himself "Hobert" instead of Robert.

After a little while, Robert learned to pronounce his R's, but he still insisted on calling himself Hobert. In an attempt to trick Robert into calling himself Robert, rather than Hobert, his mother, Jane would ask him questions.

"What's the name of the animal that has long ears and a fluffy tail?" she would ask.

"A rabbit!" Robert would say.

"What's your name?" she would then ask.

"Hobert!" Robert would reply.

She would continue to ask him questions such as, "What are we driving on?" ("A road!") and "What kind of car drives really fast?" ("A race car!") after which she would ask Robert his name. Regardless of her attempts at tricking him into correct pronunciation, he continued to respond "Hobert!"

One day, Jane bought her son a stuffed monkey, which he liked very much. After playing with it for a little while, he decided to tell his mom what he had named the monkey.

"Robert," he said, "is Hobert's monkey!"

---

Thus endeth the tale of Hobert's monkey. Hope you enjoyed! :)

Christmas Break 2010

Let's just get one thing straight here: I do not miss Provo. I am happy to be home with my family. I love the fact that I'm sitting in a memory-foam topped king-size bed with about 50 blankets on top of it because my room is an igloo.

What I'm not so stoked about is the fact that my siblings are still in school, and will be having school until Wednesday, which is the day we finally leave for Colorado (but not until around 4 in the p.m.). I'm not so happy with myself for staying up WAY too late, sleeping in way too late, and losing like half of my day, and then finishing it up with babysitting feral children. (That's an exaggeration. After about 2 hours, they calmed down and were really sweet. BUT the almost-destroying-of-my-father's-projector, and the puketastic poopy diaper that I had to change negate the sweetness). I'm not so jazzed that I have to work tomorrow from 1 to 6, and from 12-5 on Monday and Tuesday (you know how much I hate Old Navy after working there all this summer). I'm also not too jazzed that I feel totally cut off from everyone! Why do you all have LIVES outside of the INTERNET? I just want to talk to you!!! Haha. Just kidding. I mean, of course I do want to talk to you, but I'm not like ... going completely bonkers.

Or am I?

No, but for realsies, I'm just missing you PEOPLE (NOT Provo!) I mean, being home is great. My bed is great. My beloved piano is great. The fact that I'm going to actually get to make some money over break is great, even though it has to be through Old Navy. My family is great. Not having to be in class is great. Knowing that finals are over is great. Getting ready to enjoy Christmas is great. Getting ready to go to Colorado is great. My life is freaking great.

I'm just bored out of my mind right now because I live with a bunch of people who go to bed ridiculously early!!! :)

Whiners

I really hate whiners. I realize that I am a(n extremely verbose) complainer quite often, but at least I have legitimate reasons to back up my complaints. And when they aren't legitimate, they are always well-worded and/or extensively passionate. Despite my periodic dips in the Well of Whining, I feel that the particular situation I wish to discuss is an unusually legitimate, and is one for which I feel more than usually passionate. As to well-worded-ness, that is yet to be seen. But I hope that it will be so.

Seriously, though, this is a very big deal to me, and I refuse to remain silent about it. Here's the problem: Some students (yes, at BYU) seem to be severely afflicted with a sense of entitlement that renders them rude, and is, frankly, an embarrassment to our fine educational institution.

I've noticed the tendency towards this sense of entitlement a few times through my experience at BYU, particularly as I've taken my GE classes. I suppose this can be partially attributed to freshmen, just out of high school and used to waltzing through their classes without even grazing over the thought of making an effort, and maybe that's why they think that they have a right to have every answer to every test question handed to them on a solid-gold platter without having to learn anything that they won't actually be tested on. Maybe that's where the problem is originating. I HOPE that that's the only place it's coming from. I'd be even more embarrassed to be numbered among the students in my class, who really are acting like a skid mark on the undies of our campus.

Just to be clear, I've had two GE classes this semester, Biology 100 and Sociology 111, and as I've attended the final reviews for each of these classes, there have been multiple students who have sat around complaining about having to know things that aren't on the test. Like two extra percentages, or a couple more dates. When my Biology TA listed the three statistics that we should know, a student asked, "But which ones are actually going to be on the test?" My TA said, "You just need to know them. One of them could be on the test, or all of them." The kid was obviously not satisfied with this answer, and the girls sitting directly behind me said in softish voices, "This isn't a game. Why won't he just tell us?" Later, while the TA was writing something on the board, the girl next to me leaned over and said, "It's better if you take your contacts because then you can't see how ridiculous it is that he's writing that on the board."

Now, I'm going to admit that even though I went to most of the lectures, I in no way have been paying attention for the past month or so. Considering the barrenness of the classroom and the tendency of numberless concourses of students to leave mid-lecture (which really is so disrespectful I could just spit), I'd say there's a pretty decent chance that the majority of the people in the review weren't coming to class, and of those who were there, they probably weren't paying much more attention than I was. And let's be honest, if you really pay decent attention in class, reviews aren't that necessary. Helpful, yes, but not necessary. You can get a very decent grade without them. Very decent.

As one of the less-attentive students, I was just happy that he was willing to set aside two hours in the middle of his finals week to hold a review. That's kind of a big deal, you know? I mean, we are ALL very busy, and there have been reviews held every single day since the last day of class. That's huge.

Furthermore, reviews are, as always, completely and totally optional. So if you don't want to be there, don't be there. You knew that this review was going to last two hours. Why you would think it would last 30 minutes is so far beyond me, that I can't even express it adequately.

And seriously, we're paying a pittance for our education here at the Y, so what makes you think that you should have everything handed straight to you? I mean, I am so hugely against people thinking that they can just pay for things and get what they want without working for it, but I am even more against people paying very small amounts of money, paying costs that are subsidized by tithing from members of the church all over the world, and still expecting to not have to work at all for their education. You ingrates. I'm so sick of you.

What do you have to do that is so much more important than studying for a final anyhow? I mean really? How much is really as important as this right now, short of your mother being on her deathbed? Oh, I'm sorry... Is your boyfriend eating his dinner alone in the Cougareat right now? GET SOME PRIORITIES.

Why is it so hard for you to be respectful, huh? I mean really, there is very little that grates on my nerves quite like people being disrespectful, and I'm APPALLED at the number of people who were cutting off the TA, who were making snarky comments, who were asking him to tell them exactly what was going to be on the test, and who were just being rude to him, and to the rest of us who were in there.

I literally wanted to punch every person within a 5 seat radius of me in the face. I have never been so disgusted in my life. The majority of students were so rude, so disrespectful, and so disgustingly convinced that they deserved to have the answers to every question on the test given to them so that they could memorize them and spit them out verbatim with the smallest amount of effort possible.

NEWSFLASH STUDENTS: You don't deserve a degree UNTIL you've made an effort.

Those rude students in my Biology class are not making an effort. Well, they're making an effort to get out of making an effort, and that is simply not acceptable. I am so repulsed at their behavior, and at any student who exhibits the same behavior. It's absolutely foul, and it's an embarrassment to the university, and to the Church that we represent. Students need to be more respectful, and need to care more about their education. Because that's what we're here for; that's what life is all about—learning. And if you're expecting the purpose of life to be given to you without asking anything of you, you need a serious attitude adjustment. And you certainly don't need to be at BYU, because there are people out there that would actually put in the work, that deserve to be here, when compared to your whiny tushes. Stop being so ungrateful, and get rid of that revolting sense of entitlement that you possess.

I need to stop. This rant is getting outrageous, and also I'm running out of G-rated words to describe my annoyance with these idiots that call themselves students. UGH.

Don't You Hate It When ...

It can happen to anyone, anytime. You slide your feet further under your seat, you clasp your hands together, you try to adjust your desk or move your chair, your stomach makes the gurglies....

And you just know that someone in the near vicinity is going to think you ripped one.

What do you do? This depends on who you're with. If you're with friends, you can laugh it off and explain what happened. If you're with family, you don't even need to say anything. But if you're with strangers ... Well, let me just tell you what happened to me this week.

I just so happened to be sitting in my Biology 100 class, absorbed in Facebook and StumbleUpon, as I am wont to be in the middle of the world's most brain-mushing GE. In the midst of this absorption, it became apparent that it was time to participate in an in-class assignment. We had to write down whether or not we should try to save endangered species, or something dumb like that. I don't really care what it was, because it's not really important. What IS important is that while I was waiting for the TA's to tell us what to do with our papers, my fingers were not occupied with my keyboard. So, as so-called "nervous" people tend to be, I needed something to do with my hands. I often struggle, especially when I'm extremely bored, to keep my hands still. They've got to be doing something. So I was clasping my palms together, squeezing my joints about, which led to my palms squeezing together. This was not a problem, as I had exceptionally dry hands that day. Except something went wrong, and there it went ... the flatulent noise that boys have perfected by the age of seven.

Only it wasn't a perfect one. Not one of the loud, obvious, fake ones that we all know so well. No. This was a terrible one because it was just loud enough to be heard, but quiet enough to sound like I'd tried to sneak a real one. There were people right in front of me ... I knew that they had heard. And I was sitting all by myself, which meant there was no way I could even pretend that the guy next to me was responsible. No. I was trapped.

I had to let them know that it was an accident! That it was the pure product of unfortunate circumstances, the result of the tragic laws of science and vacuums and whatnot!! So what do I do?

I start squeezing my hands together with furious speed.

But they, of course, were unusually dry, and I couldn't get the slightest hint of a sound to eject from my hands. So I lift my hands up a little higher, so that maybe if I can't repeat the sound I just created, then maybe they'd catch a glimpse of my hands and therefore understand that the mystery sound was not a legitimate Bronx cheer, but just the result of air rushing between my palms.

Some time after this, I just gave up.

But don't you hate that moment when you know that people around you think that that sound they just heard could have been the warning bell that their air is about to be befouled? Then, of course, you're in this losing battle with time trying to make the same sound again so people realize that you haven't tried to cropdust them.

Whether it's frantically rubbing your shoes against the floor, tromping all across the wood trying to find the squeaky board again, or squeezing your hands together with enough ferocity to permanently attach them to each other, we'll all do anything to keep people from thinking that we are guilty. And I think it's hilarious.

Rejection

(Just so you know, I've been on a blogging frenzy today, so, if you so desire, browse about and see some of the new posts, including "Craigslist" and "Facebook Fads." Those might be the only other new ones, but whatever.)

Some time ago, Katie had a film due in her film class. Natalie and I were fortunate enough to be actresses in this film and we had a GREAT time doing it, and I'm so excited to do the real version tomorrow! Anyways, as she showed this "rough draft" to her class a couple of weeks ago, the other students were asked to fill out comment cards. One of the cards said, "I asked one of those girls out twice and got rejected hardcore :("

Now, let's just be honest here: Natalie is the dating machine of the apartment. I've never heard of someone getting asked out on so many dates. It sometimes literally blows my mind (not because there's any reason for her not to get asked out, it's just the ratio between her dating and that of like every other girl on the planet). I, of course, haven't really had much opportunity to reject people this semester, and I feel like I've been very open to blind dates and pretty much whoever whenever.

The point is, it obviously was not me.

So Katie shoots me a text, asking if I or Natalie knew this guy, I didn't recognize the name, and Natalie didn't either, but she knew that she had turned down a guy in her tap class a couple of times and she couldn't remember his name. Sad, but sometimes this happens.

Last night, at our cocoa party, Rachel brought over a gift from Katie--the stack of comment cards. They were all really nice, saying we were good actors and stuff, and complimenting Katie's choice of shots and her great idea and the funny scene where Natalie shoves me back into "my" room. We finally get to the infamous rejection card, and we decide to look the guy up on Facebook. Natalie looks at him and says, "That's not the guy in my tap class." So I start looking at him ...

... And he's looking pretty familiar.

But I'm thinking to myself, This isn't possible. This guy can't have asked me out twice. It's just impossible. I certainly haven't met him this year, and I know he wasn't in my ward, but I didn't know anyone in any of my classes LAST year that would have asked me out ... So how can this be?

Only that's where we hit the reason for the rejection, and the reason I barely even recognize him: I didn't know him. And he still asked me out. Twice. We were in a freshman film seminar my first semester, and he was an R.M., and I was not yet or just barely 19, and I was totally freaked out that he was asking me out.

In hindsight, this was silly and kind of rude of me, but that's how I felt at that time. Added to the fact that I HATED going to International Cinema for that class (we were expected to see two of the three films each week), I just wasn't happy about any of his offer. I preferred to stream the movies while I was alone in my room and laying on my bed or the floor. Of course, that semester was like the worst 4 months of my life, and at the end of it, I was sitting in a lodge halfway up a mountain in Winter Park, Colorado, sucking down a tall mug of cocoa and crying my eyes out, telling my mom that I didn't want to come back to college. I was emotionally unstable because my entire life was feeling unstable at that point, but who hasn't gone through a period of emotional instability before?

Anyways, long-story-short, I now feel super bad. I mean, I can't believe the guy even remembers that he asked me out in the first place, but the fact that he wrote that down on the comment card with a frowny face makes me feel like a terrible person. Whatever. Nothing I can do about it now, I suppose.

While we're in the subject of rejection ... I've had a funny thought today. I mean, we all know that the person who cares the least in a relationship has the most control over it. This is a truth that we've all accepted it, and many of us have striven to care less so that we can maintain control over the relationship. (Hopefully I'm not the only one who does this ... Awkward.) But have you ever let someone think that they were rejecting you because you just don't even care enough to want them to know that it's you rejecting them, and not the other way around?

I was thinking about this, about certain events in my past (how recent or not recent is irrelevant). But I think maybe sometimes you just care so little that you don't even care to bother rejecting someone. You just let them do the work and let them think that they've turned you down, when really it's just your indifference that's making them want to reject you in the first place. There's a part of me thinks, You can be angry about this. This is an absolutely valid reason to be totally pissed off. You may have been somewhat at fault, but he's definitely in the wrong here. I try to be angry. I try to care.

But 99.999% of me just doesn't.

Am I emotionally disturbed? Do I have a dysfunctional heart? (Hola, Cheesy Kayla!) Was the timing off? (Let me answer that one: YES. Big, fat, heinous YESness.) What's my deal? Am I going to be like this forever? (Heck, I hope not.)

I guess my point is this: Dating, love, whatever all this junk is, is complicated, and no matter how annoying it is, or how differently each of us handles it and ourselves... Well, people say it's worth it. Too many, in fact, for it to be disregarded. Sometimes, majority shouldn't rule, but maybe sometimes it should. And rejection, no matter how much it sucks, is a part of life. Sometimes you're the rejecter, sometimes you're the rejectee, and sometimes you're some kind of mixture of both. It's just life.

Ultimately, I'd like to sum up my thoughts by quoting myself, "Whate'er."

Facebook Fads

Facebook fads, trends, movements, rumors—I hate them all. You know why? BECAUSE THEY'RE STUPID. This may sound like an immature argument, but I intend to back it up, not in any sort of well-planned or thought out order, but just as it comes out of my mouth. I have a lot of rage on this subject, so be prepared. Here goes:

(1) I don't care what celebrity you think you look like. The fact is, you don't REALLY look like a celebrity, and it annoys the junk out of me that I can't tell who you are because YOU AREN'T IN YOUR OWN DANGED PROFILE PICTURE. Really, I think people just want to have really sexy profile pictures for a week (or month, as it happened) so they can hide their real faces. Grow up. We all know what you really look like, and honey, it ain't anything like Heidi Klum. I also don't care who your favorite cartoon character is. It has nothing to do with who you are as a person.

(2) Are you really stupid enough to think that changing your profile picture to a stupid cartoon character is going to do anything about child abuse? Seriously? Also, I don't want to talk to Tinkerbell or Pikachu or Betty Boop or Spongebob. And I definitely don't want to have to hover over your freaking picture to try to figure out who the heck you are. I just don't.

(3) "ATTENTION: Everyone change your profile pictures back to yourself because the group asking everyone to change their profile picture to their favorite cartoon character is actually a group of pedophiles. They're doing it because kids will accept their friend request faster if they see a cartoon picture. It has nothing to do with supporting child violence. It's on tonight's news! Copy and paste this as your status! Pass it on! Wow." I'm not even going to address the fact that this was absolutely heinous in regards to grammatical quality. But SERIOUSLY PEOPLE?? I mean, yes there are children on Facebook, but not a significant portion. Furthermore, how would a cartoon profile picture make them more likely to accept a friend request? I'm pretty sure serious pedophiles are a bit more sophisticated than that in their pursuits. And let's also point out "supporting child violence." NO ONE IS SUPPORTING CHILD VIOLENCE. Except maybe you because you think that you're doing good in the world by changing your profile picture to a stupid cartoon. Newsflash: doesn't work (please see #2 above). What is wrong with you that you can't Google the story before posting your stupid status? I mean, really? Are you THAT dumb? Is it just TOO HARD for you to check this out and make sure it's really before you spam everybody's wall with your garbage? I mean, I was already annoyed out of my mind when people started changing their profile pictures to cartoons. But the fact that people are reposting this idiotic claim that it's a group of pedophiles who started it ... Good gravy. GET YOUR FREAKING FACTS STRAIGHT, STOP POSTING GARBAGE ON MY NEWS FEED, AND CHANGE YOUR PROFILE PICTURE BACK TO YOUR OWN FACE. I'm done with this one.

(4) I know you feel scandalous and dirty when you post "turquoise" or "I like it on the desk," but I don't care what color your bra is and I'm no wiser about breast cancer after you say that. Secondly, I don't care where you like your purse, and what does that have to do with anything? It's not even funny. It's just stupid.

(5) I really just hate any sort of viral Facebooking activity. Got it? Good.

Emergency Lent

I'm calling an emergency period of Lent. Why? Because I need to give up Facebook Stalking for at least 40 days, and I think it might be the hump I have to get over to make it to, oh, idk, FOREVER.

Now, you might be thinking to yourself, "Why would Kayla do this? She has excellent connections, and skills, and sneaky ways of going about things that make her ability to Facestalk someone into practical familial closeness is nigh unto criminal, all with the added bonus of not being totally creepy and using her talents for evil."

And, of course, all these things are true. I have an arsenal of abilities, mostly brought on by excellent deductive skills, reasoning, and awareness of key technological advances that have come about in the past 5 years or so, which make me an excellent source when you're wondering about your next blind date, or trying to find out if that dude you saw in that one show is available, or not. Furthermore, these skills are never used for evil purposes, like totally creeping on strangers beyond the vital information. (Unless you count looking at strangers' wedding albums, but every girl does that, plus I look at wedding blogs, so I really just do that all the time.)

Well, despite all these magnificent things, I have come to the point where the connections between people have seriously creeped me out.

There was that one time when someone posted an album of photos from their FHE group, and one of my friends that I met through my roommate's boyfriend was in that album multiple times. That wasn't strange.

Once I was looking at a friend from MO's new pictures, went to her profile, and saw that we had a mutual friend in a girl that I got to know a little bit in CO. That was kind of random, but not too weird.

It started to get a little shocking when I went to a party hosted by one of the guys in my ward, and, while I was dancing to my heart's content, watched three former floormates (who live rather distant from where we live) walk into the party as well. I mean, there could only have been like 100-150 people who passed through that party that night. And there's only like, over 30,000 students at BYU, PLUS all the UVU kids that live here in Provo, instead of Orem. No big deal.

And then there was how I started going to a university ward back in MO (a 45 minute drive, mind you) and got to know some of the people down there. And then, when I returned to good old BYU, received a phone call from the first counselor of the bishopric of that ward, asking me if he could give his brother-in-law my cell phone number. I said yes, the young man's name was given to me, and I never heard from him. I did, however, see his name pop up on another friend's Facebook status. A friend/former floormate who is now DATING him. I mean, out of the over 30,000 students on campus, he picked one of the less than 100 girls that I could actually knew by name? No. That's not weird at all. Surprising, perhaps. But not at all an uncommon occurrence at the Y.

No, none of these things, surprising or unexpected or weird as they might have seemed for a moment have really fazed me.

But now, a threshold has been crossed and there is some SERIOUS weirdness taking place. This is what happened:

The Short Version:

Unattainable Gorgeous Man of the Week is friend to the little brother of former floormate who is friends with (related to?) a guy that I met on a random outing in early September who is friends with some of my ward BFFs.

The Long Version:

Last week, I decided, on the spur of a moment, to attend a certain event which shall remain nameless. At that event, I was surprised to encounter people I haven't seen in ages, including a certain relative of theirs that I've never met, but heard of, who arbitrarily received status as Unattainable Gorgeous Man of the Week. Because hey, he's really good looking. No big deal, right?

Fast forward to tonight. I'm sitting here, being bored and lonely and whatnot, and I decide to look at a friend's new profile picture. That, of necessity, led to looking at other pictures of that person. As I'm looking at this friend's pictures, I find a picture that I'm in. I look at the other people in the picture with us, wondering who the heck some of them are. I remember one of the guys in the picture, and I remember thinking he was cute, but that there was some barrier to getting to know him, either he was shy or dating someone or who knows what. So I think, What the heck! If his relationship status is on Facebook, then maybe that'll jog my memory and I'll know and I won't have to sit here wondering why the heck I didn't get to know this cute guy better.

Thus went my thoughts, but, behold, once upon his page, I see that we have mutual friends. Two former floormates, in fact! I notice that this young man has the same last name as one of my former floormates. It's a relatively uncommon last name, and I think, surely this girl has a family picture stowed away somewhere in here that can tell me if they're related. We're friends, and so I'm browsing through her pictures, enjoying seeing prom photos and whatnot, until I finally find one family picture.

This is where hindsight tells me I should have stopped because now's the point where it's just late enough that I don't give a crap that I'm being creepy, even though I TOTALLY am being a creeper. At least I'm (wo)man enough, and secure enough in myself to admit to it. (Because you all know that you do the exact same thing, only I'm being honest about it. Judge me, if you will, but only after you consider your own behavior, and your own integrity on the matter!)

So I come to this picture, and, surprise, the guy I'm looking for isn't in the shot, giving me no indication of whether or not these two are related to each other, specifically in the sibling sort of way. However, there is this other kid.

Don't ask me why, because for the life of me I can't fathom why I clicked on his danged name beneath the picture. I mean, the kid is CLEARLY a young'n. We're talking like, my little brother's age. It wasn't some cougar-like tendency or anything weird like that. I'm not a baby licker, like some people are. That's gross.

Regardless, I clicked on the picture.

Now, it has become clear that Facebook's "Friends" box on others' profile pages has a sixth sense regarding the people you might (and really probably do) know. I can't explain it fully, except through the following phenomenon.

As I'm looking at this young man's page, I see our box of mutual friends (aw, how sweet), and then, below it, the box of HIS friends ...

And wouldn't you know, there's the Unattainable Gorgeous Man of the Week.

At that point, I'm all like ... Whhhhhaaaaaatttttt ...... ??????? Because, frankly, this is all so sudden. I only remembered that Gorgeous Man even existed like, a week and a half ago. I've never even met the guy. Just heard about him, and seen him like twice. Maybe only once!

And yet here he is, popping up in the friends list of a high school boy whose older sister was a former floormate of mine who may or may not be related to a kind of cute guy whose relationship status remains mysterious that I met in early September when hanging out with guys who have since become ward BFFs, but who certainly were not at that particular point.

That's weird.

That's REALLY weird.

And the weirdest part about it is that I even realized how weird it was. I'm a little embarrassed that this even happened, and even more so that I'm admitting to it. But I figure we all do weird things, and it's amusing enough that it'd be selfish not to share, right? Also, it's 1:30 in the morning, and I've been alone or with family for the past 5 days, and you can imagine that that has an effect on one's sanity, whether for better or worse. Judge away, my dears. Judge away. I know that, despite my actions in my sleepily-disabled state, I am not a true creeper, and that's good enough for me.

But if you EVER need any Facebook stalking help, don't you DARE come asking me. :P

Really though, I love you all. Hope your Thanksgiving holidays were as wonderful as mine was!

Craigslist

So, since I'm home alone and a total failure at being productive, I decided to watch a movie on Hulu. Turns out there aren't a lot of great movies on Hulu, if you're not into Lifetime movies, or steamy R-rated's. There are also a lot of documentaries, such as Supersize Me, and one called 24 Hours on Craigslist. Now, I didn't get more than 3 minutes into it, because it was just terribly put together and I have SUCH a hard time watching low quality film. However, it did lead me to do a little Craigslist browsing myself, just for curiosity's sake.

And let me tell you, I've never been so creeped out/amused in my life. Okay, that's a total lie, but seriously, there are SO MANY weird dudes in the Provo/Orem area seeking cuddles and NCMO, it's just not even funny.

What I want to know is this: what makes any guy think he's going to find a smart, attractive girl to hook up with on CRAIGSLIST?

I'm going to take a little tangent here and say something that might seem a little shallow to you. People (should) date within their own range of attractiveness. I have a small number of observations/opinions that are a part of this. (1) This usually happens naturally. (2) Most people can't (and shouldn't) expect to date someone who is significantly more attractive than them. (3) You see attractive girls dating unattractive guys WAY more often than you see attractive guys dating unattractive girls. (4) Watch Dating in the Dark. Therein lies proof that girls accept a wider range of attractiveness in guys than guys do in girls. (5) When a girl accepts a guy who is less attractive than her, and then that guy rejects her, what kinds of things does that do to her self esteem? (6) This is turning into a rant, when the point I was shooting for was ...

I think that unattractive guys post on Craigslist looking for attractive girls. I think this is a completely unfounded hope, and I highly doubt that attractive girls are prowling Craigslist, looking for a good cuddle with an unattractive guy. Get real, people.

Ya know, I started writing this post a couple of days ago and now I have nothing else to say about it. So ... hooray.

Worlds

I've been thinking a lot today about our world, the conceptions of our world, the way those conceptions have changed over time, and what those conceptions mean for us.

Today in my British Literary History class, we were reading Caedmon's Hymn, which goes a little something like this:

Now we must honor

The guardian of heaven,

The might of the architect

And his purpose,

The work of the father of glory,

As he, the eternal Lord,

Established

The beginning of wonders.

He, the holy creator,

First created heaven as a roof

For the children of men.

Then the guardian of mankind,

The eternal lord,

The lord almighty,

Afterwards appointed

The middle-earth

The lands, for men.

The reason I bring this poem up is that, in my class, we noted the Anglo-Saxon cosmology, in which heaven is the roof of the house, earth (middle-earth) is the body/interior of the house, and hell was that which was beneath the house. Now, there was a lot of other stuff about it, but that's the basics of what I'd like to focus on.

Because what are the repercussions of believing that your earth is a home that God has built for you, and that heaven, God's home, is the roof of that house, and what protects you from the outside elements?

I think that this is not too far a shot from LDS doctrine, only I'd make the roof the Gospel, rather than heaven, because faith in the gospel of Christ is our shield and our protection from the storms that would beat us down while we live on this little planet of ours. It's a very functional analogy, I believe.

---

The other aspect of worlds I've been thinking of today came from my biology class. We were watching my professor's movie that she made about Tongans, and it got me thinking about what it would be like if I had been born into a different culture, a different "world," so to speak (and to maintain a sense of continuity throughout this post). I thought about how different my life would be if I had been born Tongan, or Japanese, or French, or African, or Nicaraguan ... Part of me was kind of sad that I had missed out on not having that same perspective on life that comes from each of these unique, fascinating, and beautiful cultures. I mean, I might have liked being an Australian, or an Eskimo, or Spanish, or Indian ...

But despite my small portion of sadness at missing out on the cultural richness that these other nationalities would have offered me, I am grateful that I know of worlds before and worlds to come, and the Creator of all of these worlds and cultures that placed me in the situation that I am, both because it has been a great blessing in my life, and because I know that where I am is the best place for me to be in the eternal scheme of things. It's a great comfort, knowing that God is out there, and that He has a plan for our lives, a plan that has the power to make us fantastic and happy beyond our ability to comprehend. I can't imagine being satisfied with life, were it not for that knowledge.

---

The final thing I'd like to share with you is this video. It was made using a tilt-shift camera lens, which gives the video a really interesting quality. Rather than telling you what that quality/effect is, I will just let you observe it for yourself:

Small Worlds Project: Circular Quay. Pause while a clip is playing to share it.
Tilt Shift Video by Keith Loutit | Twitter | Facebook

Isn't that interesting? It looks like a little playset, with little dolls running around and toy cars and plastic trees ... But it's all the real world that we see every day with our own eyes. Of course, God is acquainted with every intimate detail of our lives, but I feel like this is what we must look like from heaven. Like a bunch of little toys, waiting to be picked up and rearranged at the will of God.

It's kind of funny, how everything looks like it's in miniature. It makes all these things we do, these mindless motions and stupid activities and things that happen in our lives that distract us from the plan seem so ... insignificant.

Maybe that's because they are, and we're simply looking at the world, and at life, through the wrong type of lens.

This Must End

You may have noticed that I haven't blogged anything in the past month. I owe this to the fact that I was overcome with some sort of self-consciousness since there were people (besides the people who always read it and/or hear about almost everything I write about anyways) who were reading it. I know you aren't judging me, so I don't know why I got so self-conscious about it, but I did and that's the truth. So I have about 50 (no actually it's only like 5) drafts piled up in Windows Live Writer that are just waiting to be finished, because I can't really compile my thoughts suitably. Basically I just didn't like what was coming out. However, I've come to the realization that I really need an outlet. I've been going crazy over the past couple weeks, and I think it's because I haven't taken the time to write my thoughts down and clear out all the excess gunk in my head so that I can actually function like a normal human being, which is what I'd really like to do with myself right about now. I can no longer keep these things to myself. The silence must end. NOW.

So I have a couple of things going through my head right now, the first of which is my sociology class. It's just Soc 111, nothing special. I mean, I really like the class and I think it's totally great, and I found out that Jake Heaps is in my class today, which is kind of interesting I suppose. Anyway, we had these big old papers due a couple of weeks ago and we just got them back today. Which wouldn't have been a big deal, except that I found out that my printer sabotaged me. For those of you who don't comprendo, here's what happened:

The Violent and Tragic Destruction of Page Four

Yeah. I turned that in. (Moment of Irony: "Dancing Through Life" from Wicked just came on my iTunes, and the line that says "mindless and careless" played right as I uploaded these photos. Well said, Fieyro. Thanks for pointing out my own idiocy.) I mean, do you see how heinous that looks?? It's so embarrassing that I let that slip under my radar. I should know better. This happened to me once in my first semester, and it was just as embarrassing, only less because I actually knew the person who was grading it. (Why is it more embarrassing when a stranger grades it??) But yeah. How could I let it happen? I remember being in such a hurry, and that I was a tiny bit late to class that day... Gosh. Lesson learned. I no longer trust my beast of a printer, not a bit.

In other news ... I had a great moment last night after Heather and I went on a walk last night. We ended up getting home at like 1:00, and I stayed up doing who knows what until like 1:30-1:45ish. I go into the dark bedroom and proceed to prepare myself for bed. Being that it was dark, I had to turn my lamp on, which totally woke Natalie up. I really didn't mean to, but I didn't adjust the angle of the lampshade as well as I thought I had, and it was terrible. To my surprise, however, she sits up a little bit and starts talking to me.

"What did you win?" she asks. I, of course, am confused as heck. What did I win? What on earth is she talking about?

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say back, continuing to change into my pj's.

"She had a Wheel of Fortune thing out there. What did you win?"

I still am extremely confused, but also extremely tired, so I kind of ignore the question and keep getting ready for bed.

"By the way," Natalie says to me, "This isn't dream talk. I'm awake."

Oh really?

I give some kind of non-committal response and go brush my teeth. By the time I'm done, she's asleep again and I go to sleep.

This, of course, is not the end of the story. As I'm putting on my makeup this morning, Natalie comes in to do the same and asks me, "When did you go to bed last night?" I tell her that it was 1:30, 1:45ish that I went to bed.

"Did I try to talk to you last night?"

Oh yes. Yes, you did. I told her this, at which point it became very funny. I admit, in the middle of the night, I was more confused than amused, though it was a funny moment. It was one of those moments when exhaustion made everything less funny rather than more funny. Once we were both fully aware that she was totally like, dream-talking to me, we both laughed. Like I said, it was funny.

This brings up something else that I'd like to talk about. Have you ever had a moment when you have been trying to nap, or have accidentally fallen asleep, or you're trying to go to bed, and then someone wakes you up or says, "Oh yeah, she's asleep," but you find yourself either suddenly conscious, or you simply hadn't fully fallen asleep? I know it's a confusing way to put it, but I think you understand. You're all intelligent folks. Have you ever noticed that whenever this happens, you often feel this sudden need to alert everyone around you to the fact that you're awake? It seems so important! They have to know that you weren't asleep. Never mind the fact that you're completely incoherent and the only thought that IS forming in your head is "I'm awake. They have to know I'm awake." All the while, you're just proving that you're totally not awake OR coherent. So silly, and yet it always seems like such an urgent matter... Funny.

In other good news, the BYU Bookstore had a $1 Book Sale! It was great. I didn't even know it was happening, and then this girl who was at a focus group that I went to (which I'll tell you about in two shakes) told us that she went to it. And I was like, "BOOKS FOR A DOLLAR? Sign me UP baby!" So I went with my awesome amiga Katie, during the time that I should have been in class... but the focus group was gonna make me 15 minutes late anyways, and I think it's so rude to interrupt class like that, especially a class with only like 30 people in it, that I just can't do it. So I skeeeeeped. Whatever. No big deal.

Anyways. I'm going around and I find all of these great books. Like FIVE great books that I want super bad. And I think to myself, "It's so great that I have been keeping my wallet in my backpack lately!" (I usually don't, because I usually leave it in my purse, also because I don't want to have money for food when I have food at home that I can eat.) And then I realize that no, I do not have my wallet. I had to lend Natalie some money last night so we could pay our electric bill and my wallet wasn't there. So I think, well if Katie has money with her, I can pay her back pronto once I get my wallet. Alas, Katie's wallet is not in her backpack either. Desperate for these books, I head to the register to beg this girl to hold the books for me. Then I see my friend Glen from Missouri who happens to work at the Bookstore. The girl, of course, tells me that she can't hold the books for me. I try to explain that it'll only be 15 minutes and I'll be back with my wallet. She still can't do it. Glen, naturally, hears my predicament and offers a suggestion: that I hide the books in a box underneath one of the tables and then put another box on top of it. So that's what I did. I then ran home to grab my wallet.

By this time, I've got a time crunch because I wanted to walk home from class with Rachel, so I needed to go and get my wallet, get back to the Bookstore, buy the books, and get back over to the sound circles in front of the JFSB at 12:50. Naturally, when I get home, my wallet is nowhere to be found. I look everywhere I can think of, including my bed and the closet where the washer and dryer are. But all my searching is in vain. I'm starting to get antsy, and my brain is saying, "God doesn't want you to have these books!" and my heart is fighting with my brain saying, "BUT IT'S GOOD TO HAVE BOOKS! AND THEY'RE ONLY A DOLLAR!!! PLEASE!!!!!!!" I start sending out frantic text messages to my roommates, trying to figure out if any of them saw it or know where it went. But it's no good. No one knows where my wallet is, and I'm starting to have horrible visions of people going under the table, pulling out the top box, and finding all five of my darling $1 books in the bottom box, then laughing as they twirl their curlicue mustaches and cradle my books beneath the sheath of their black cloak (total Bowler Hat Guy style). Terror was running through my veins. It was horrendous. Just as I'm about to give up, I see a bump under the rug. Lo, and behold, tis my wallet. So I ran back, retrieved my books from the box (you can't imagine my relief when I saw them there), purchased them, and ran to meet Rachel to walk home. It was great. Here's what I bought:

Snapshots by Michal Govrin

The Work of Print: Authorship and the English Text Trades 1660-1760 by Lisa Maruca

Sky in a Bottle by Peter Pesic

The Beautiful Fall: Fashion, Genius, and Glorious Excess in 1970s Paris by Alicia Drake

Flaubert: A Biography by Frederick Brown

Quite the mix, wouldn't you say? I'm actually really excited about all of them. The first one, Snapshots, was translated from Hebrew, and it's written by an Israeli woman who has won every single one of Israel's literary awards. The Work of Print is more historical, and talks about the changing concept of authorship and print culture during the Enlightenment period. Then there's Sky in a Bottle, which is also kind of historical, and talks about the changing understanding of the answer to the question, "Why is the sky blue?" through history, art, science, and the works of classical philosophers. Sounds fascinating, no? The fourth one, The Beautiful Fall also sounds interesting. I've never read a book about fashion and stuff before, and it looks super cool. The last one, Flaubert, is probably going to be the hardest read of all, but we just learned about Gustave Flaubert and Madame Bovary in my French class, and it sounds like he had a kind of crazy life, and I'd like to understand more about him. So that'll be cool. But yeah ... pretty fun, huh? I'm stoked to read them. Also to amass a larger collection of books. I love books. Oh so very much.

Anyways, on to the focus group stuff. Today, as I was hanging with Rachel and Katie and we were chilling on some of the couches on the third floor and I'd accepted the fact that I was absolutely not going to get to take a nap when a man walks up to us and asks us if we're doing anything over the next hour and would we like to attend a focus group with some consultants from the East Coast. We said okay and followed him into a classroom where there were a couple people hanging out in front of some blueprints of the Wilk and a computer with a slideshow going on it.

The purpose of the focus group was to discuss how students use the Wilk currently, and what could be changed to make the Wilk more appealing to students, and what might draw them to the Wilk during the evenings, most particularly on the first floor in the Post Office/Bowling Alley/Outdoor Adventures area. It was actually really interesting to think about why I go the places I go in the Wilk, what kinds of changes I'd like to see, what kind of changes they're thinking of making, and what I liked and disliked about the proposed changes.

And let me tell you, those changes look COOL. The study won't be over until January, and then I'm sure it'll be some time before they actually put those changes into action and actual construction, but I really want to be here when they happen so I can actually use them. They really look awesome, and they could make that area down there so hoppin' I would probably never want to leave. Okay, that's a total exaggeration, but it is going to be awesome. Be so excited for the future, guys! It's gonna be FLYYYY :)

How to Know If You Like Someone, part 1

So I've come to the conclusion that there are a few things in life that are unnecessarily difficult, one of them being trying to figure out if you really do like someone, especially in the middle college years of life, when it's actually important to evaluate your interest. There are a lot of things that can go wrong in the dating game. Some people just have raging hormones. Some people are desperately seeking eternal companionship. Some people are creepy. Some people are ... unfortunate looking. Some people are too shy for their own good. Some people are too outgoing and crazy for their own good. Some people are insatiable and skip from person to person. Some people are just plain lonely. Some people just can't make decisions.

It is the people who can't make decisions that I am most worried about. Mostly because I consider myself to be (at least to some extent) one of them. It can be so difficult, not knowing if you even want to go on that next date, not knowing if you're really interested in the person or just doing it for one of the reasons above, and worrying if you like someone enough to put in the effort required to make things happen. I've suffered all of these things, and more. And so it is with these poor folks (and myself, selfishly enough) in mind that I have devised a few fool-proof indicators of interest.

1. The Facebook Stalking Test, a.k.a. How Shallow Are You? just kidding ... not.

Let's face it: Facebook Stalking (hereafter known as "FaceStalking") has become a definite part of the dating experience. It has, in some ways, revolutionized the dating game--it has delivered sight to many blind daters, and lets you get a feel of people before you can even experience them for yourself. Whether this is good or bad is pretty irrelevant at this point. The fact is that there's a lot you can tell about yourself from looking at the Subject's photos.

Most people have a TON of photos, which makes things better and worse at the same time. On the one hand, you get to see a lot about what the Subject likes to do, what kind of people they hang out with, whether or not they're pimp-daddies (or pimp-mamas ... but that's just uncomfortable).

On the other hand, there's a lot of potential for awkward photos to show up. You know exactly the ones I'm talking about. The ones where the Subject made a weird face or wasn't ready for the camera. The ones where the Subject wore a weird outfit as a joke but you don't really understand the context, and so you're just uncomfortable. The ones where some cruel former classmate found a box of photographs from high school and decided to scan them all in and tag every person. We've all seen them. What's worse, we've all got them. And why? Because if you untag yourself in every awkward photo, people know you're self-conscious or vain or something. Anyways, the point is: What is your reaction to awkward photos of the Subject?

If awkward photos make you uncomfortable and slightly repulsed, pack your suitcase and move on. If there's anything about their appearance in the photos (and yes, that's in the plural because generally it's better to observe more than one awkward photo for scientific accuracy) that turns that little unattractiveness screw in your stomach and makes you regret (even a little bit) that you ever were attracted to the wretch on the screen, really--you don't truly like the person, and it's okay to let go.

HOWEVER, if you find the awkward photos endearing, adorable, funny, cute, precious, silly, and maybe even a little bit strangely attractive ... there's a very good chance that you actually do like this person! Congratulations! Now, that's not to say that they won't do something repugnant in the future. Things could fall apart at any moment. They could do something utterly unattractive and you could land on your tush, crush-less without the slightest prior indication. It happens. But for now, raise your glass: This could be love!

2. The Kiss Q, or, How Hormonally-Charged Is This Relationship?

Some time ago, I was riding in the car up to Sandy with my aunt. I was chronicling my recent dating history to her, and telling her about this guy I'd gone on a number of dates with. He was cool, nice, gentlemanly, talented, smart, and a whole host of other great things ... but there was a problem. I couldn't tell whether or not I actually wanted to keep going out with him. Although there was a definite indication that the answer was 'no' (because I thought that, more or less, anything other than 'yes' was 'no', in the words of the darling John Mayer), I still couldn't be sure because there just wasn't any concrete evidence that I didn't, or really any reason why I shouldn't have liked him and wanted to continue dating him. So my aunt asked me a simple question: "Do you want him to kiss your face?" (And, just to clarify, by "face" she meant lips. She just talks like that.)

For me, the answer was, "No. HECK no, I do not want him to kiss my face. That does not appeal to me at all!" And lo, and behold, when we went our separate ways, I was anything but disappointed. In fact, I was happy, relieved, and glad to see him making progress to his eventual EC ... who certainly wasn't me.

So ask yourself, "Do I want [the Subject] to kiss my face?" If the answer is no, step away from the merch. If the answer is yes ... get on your pony and get some.

3. "Je pense, donc je l'aime"

I may be totally ripping off Descartes' statement "I think, therefore I am" right now, but I think this is a totally valid test. For those who do not speak the sophisticated tongue, the name of this indicator is, "I think, therefore I like him/her." This is pretty self-explanatory. When you like someone, it's kind of hard to think of anything else. That's just the way it is.

It's also related to number four ...

4. The Speech Test

No, no, you don't have to give a speech. But it stands to reason that you talk about what you think about. Is the Subject coming up in conversation a lot? Are you forcing yourself to pip out of conversations because you're afraid you're annoying people because you just can't stop saying the Subject's name and bringing them into the conversation? Odds are, if the answer is yes, you've got a case of the likeys.

Odds are also that your roomies and/or close friends are gonna pick up on it too because this is like having a flashing red heart-shaped love light above your head. (Note: Tends to happen a lot when you're trying to pretend like you don't like someone. They WILL come up in conversation, and you WILL have to ask a question about it because, unfortunately, you care about what they're doing too much to let it slip by unnoticed.)

***

And now, because Natalie wants to go to bed, I'm going to let her. Poor thing looks tired and she has to get up early. Aw. What a cutie. She's like cuddling herself right now. But not in an awkward way ... Hah. GOODNIGHT :)

The Photos I Couldn't Put on Facebook

Natalie and Hannah and I went to Wyoming last weekend for Kirsten's baptism. It was a great time. And I took a few pictures while we were in the car. They're generally unattractive, but I like them anyways, so since I can't put them on Facebook where gentlemen could potentially see them, I'm sticking them on here. Hooray!

I think there might have been some more, but I took my SD card out of my computer and I don't want to go get my camera. So maybe later. Maybe. Probably not. But maybe.

The Jane Austen Book Club

I just finished watching the movie The Jane Austen Book Club. And I loved it. I guess I had pretty low expectations, since I'd heard that it wasn't really all that good. But I really loved it. It was amazing how watching it made me fall more in love with Jane Austen's novels, with literature in general, with French, with the world, with the vast variety of people there are, with love, with libraries, with travel, with staying up late to read a good book ... with so many things. After such a sucky day (you remember, the one that started with the super-depressing cyberbullying suicide video?) it's remarkable how much that movie excited me about life, about what I'm doing with life. Granted, it also made me hope for a time when it'll be just me, alone in my house and holed up with a good book, staying up until who knows how late doing something that just makes me happy. But I suppose at the same time that's not really what I'm supposed to want ... aloneness, endless recreation, not ever having to work, etc. It's glamorous, idealized, and for the number of problems those characters have, it's remarkable that I don't really attend to them. It's wonderful to get caught up in a movie like that, to just depart from reality and, for at least a few moments, enjoy another world.

I don't really know how to feel right now. I know what I feel, but I also feel like I shouldn't be feeling what I feel, that I shouldn't be wanting what I want, that I'm some kind of lousy slug for wanting what I want, that what I want isn't really what I want because I've made it into a whole other creature in my head so I'm wanting something that's completely unattainable, that what I perceive as what I want is really just a glamorized illusion of a means to get what I really want, and that, tragically, I can never have what I want because it doesn't exist, and all of these realities are going to come crashing down on me like a cold bucket of water on my head on a frosty February morning.

Is everything I'm feeling an illusion? Am I stuck in a movie? Am I exaggerating how good I feel right now because this has been a Monday that has fully fulfilled its reputation? Am I experiencing a minor chemical imbalance? Am I crazy? Can I have what I want? Do I want what I want because it's the easy way out since the past few days have been a spiraling misery pit wherein I've started to fear that many of the big things I want from life are going to be snatched from out around me without me being able to control any of it? What is my problem? Am I trying to eat away this ebbing tide of unhappiness that is ever so slightly tainting my life? Am I becoming a bitter cynic whose expectations for life have been inflated to the point that they can never be fulfilled? What do I want in the short-run?

Too many questions. I'm losing the glow of my movie delight, and that's annoying. Time for bed.

On Love and Interest

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