Lousy Compliments and a Defense of Singledom

I really hope that what I'm about to say isn't offensive, especially to my married amigos, whose marital situation makes them the most likely party to be offended by what I'm about to say. But none of you are particularly thin-skinned, and I don't think what I'm going to say is going to be offensive at all ... I'm just throwing this out there: if you get offended, it's not my fault—I'm only speaking truth.

Today at church I was talking with one of the ladies in my parents' ward and she said to me, "Wow! You look so grown up!"

It felt like getting slapped in the face with a wet fish, having your cheeks pinched, and then getting handed a bubble wand and asked if you're lost from mommy and daddy.

I mean, I know she meant well. I'm completely aware of this, and honestly I really like her. But every bit of me wanted to just say, "Excuse me? I am older than your married daughter and your daughters-in-law. So I'm sorry that my singleness has me stuck at the kiddie table in your eyes, but that whole growing up thing? Yeah. Did that. I'm there. So, yes, I do indeed look 'grown up,' because I am, and you shouldn't think that saying that to me is a compliment, because it's not."

Am I making a mountain out of a molehill? No. I would be if I had actually said these things to her and made a scene, but I didn't, so I consider myself in the clear here. I'm just really irritated. I suppose I should take a step back and thank my lucky stars that I didn't get the same treatment as another young man my mom heard about. He was twenty-eight at the time of this particular event and he got called as the youth speaker in his ward while the twenty-three-ish married couple got the Real Speaker slots. I would have thrown a fit. Not because I want to give the twenty-minute talk, but because being single does not make me any less mature or less qualified to do anything I want to do than people who are married.

In fact, I'd like to note the fact that I'm significantly more mature than a lot of the married people I know. Especially some of the teen/freshman brides, good grief. Getting married at a young age is not a sign of maturity, particularly (I'm speaking generally here, so don't get your bristles up) in females. It just isn't. I don't know why people think that a relationship is an indicator of maturity. Older adults seem to understand this when we're in middle and high school—that leaping into relationships bears no indication of maturity at all, and is, in fact, more likely to indicate immaturity—but by the time you're half-past twenty-one, they seem to forget what was once more obvious than an inch-wide mole looming just south of someone's right eye.

The implication that I only look grown up is beyond irritating. Like, if I just look so grown up, but I'm obviously not actually grown up, why don't you hand me that tupperware of Fruit Loops, eh? Give me that blankie, and then let's head to the bathroom and you can change my diaper. Really, folks? That's nauseating. The more I write about it, the more irritated I get. Makes me want to punch something, like maybe a real baby. Then when I have to defend myself and they tell me I'm too old for such behavior, I can be like, "What? I thought I only looked grown up. My bad. From inside, I can't tell the difference between me and that baby. We're like the same."

Maybe I am being a baby and immature for writing this all. But I'm really annoyed. And many of you won't understand because you are married, and therefore don't get treated like an infant because of your marital status. Or maybe you do... I have no idea on how older adults infantilize young married adults, if they do so at all, because (as every #%*& person in my life is quick to point out) I'm Single as a Pringle, a Dollar Bill, a slice of American cheese, and so on and so forth. I'm not freaking married and I'm not really in a hurry to change that. I'm enjoying my life the way it is, and frankly, I've dated quite the number of people this year, and you know what? Didn't really fancy a one of them for long, if at all. If not liking them is my fault, well then tie me to the radiator and grape me right in the mouth for decades and decades (click HERE for a link to the video I'm referencing if you haven't seen it, so you don't think I'm a pervert) because I'm completely unrepentant in that department.

But seriously, I love my life. In a week and two days, I'm moving to London where I'll be living for three months. That would be significantly harder to do if I were married, and I'm excited to have this amazing experience and opportunity. I'm happy with who I am. I enjoy the freedom of being the only one I have to watch out for. And frankly, while I don't hate the idea of marriage, I still hate the label of being someone's "girlfriend" and how everyone and their dog gets emotionally invested in your relationship so that you feel pressure not just to make this one person happy, but their parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts and uncles, former roommates, AND that guy from their freshman year calculus class. I'm sorry, but that kind of pressure kills me. I know, because I've tried. Not tried and given up: tried repeatedly, and found that I don't want relationships (whether they've started or not) with any of the people who have tried to date me thus far.

Don't anyone dare call that immaturity—it's just a different brand of maturity. It's the kind that says, "I'm not ready for this, and so I'm not going to thrust myself into a relationship or make myself unhappy just to fold to societal pressures. I'm brave enough to say no to the things I don't want." I mean, they teach us how to say no to drugs because they aren't good for us. So, my apologies for recognizing that some things aren't good for me, that other things are better for me, and for having the gumption to stand my ground and do myself (and all parties involved) a solid by remaining unwed. My apologies for not being a big enough jerk that I bring someone else down by getting myself into something I'm not ready for. I'd twenty times rather be where I am, living the life I am living, than be where some people I know have landed themselves, even some of those who purport to be happy. My apologies for saying, "No."

That's not to say that it'll always be no. I hope to high heavens that it's not always no. Someday, it'll be yes. But it'll be on my (/the Lord's) timetable. It'll be when I'm ready. It'll be when Mr. Right (on Time) saunters into my life. And so far, none of those things have happened.

So you'll excuse me for taking offense at the claim that I "look so grown up." I'm a lot more grown up than you think, and remaining unmarried is just one evidence of that.

A Rant: Greeting People

I hate greeting people.

I didn't really realize this until this week because I have had an unusually high number of awkward passings-by since my return to Provo. I offer one quick example:


I was wandering down the sidewalk enjoying the evening air, not looking at any of the people coming towards me, when, as you might expect, an unexpected person saw me and decided to make their presence known. I hear my name said with a really odd interrogative tone—I say odd because the fact that the tone was interrogative suggested an uncertainty about whether or not I was the person he was addressing, and yet his volume was such that there was no way someone could have ignored it if they weren't actually me. Maybe I'm just the weird shy one here, but if I'm not sure that I'm addressing the person I think I'm addressing, I do not use the 300-yard shout within the cloistered 3 feet of usable space on the sidewalk.

So after being clobbered in close-quarters with this unsettling and brash uncertainty, I recognize the perpetrator—someone whom I quickly found to be socially-awkwardly-creepy about seven years ago and subsequently tried to avoid, I dunno, all the time. In resting my eyes upon this individual, I saw that the bizarre interrogative tone was accompanied by a strange interrogative posture. Kind of like this:

Okay, sans crazy eyes. But you get the idea. It was like he was trying to make up for the 300-yard shout with this super interrogative posture. Instead, it just made the run-in creepier because it was like he was shocked by my very presence, despite the fact that we had an awkward run-in during finals week. He knows I live here! Anyways, this is just super detailed background for how the actual conversation went. Which was like this:

Him: Kayla!????!!??!??!?!???!???!!!! (Click to see my post Pet Peeve: Guess What for a little on why I hate "?!" so much)Me: Oh! Hi! [Shocked and dismayed at seeing this person because of aforementioned socially-awkward-creepiness.]
Him: What's up? [Or some similar question posed to indicate interest in the other person's life without really expecting or desiring an answer to the question.]
Me: [So shocked, dismayed, and disoriented by the weirdness of the conversation that can't form words and compute what question was actually asked. Result: turned other way and had verbal vomit in form of mumbling something like...] Good .... ? [Note weird interrogative tone because recognized that "Good" might have been wrong answer to question.]

How embarrassing. Not that I care in the slightest about his opinion of me, but I do so hate to loose my composure like that. Who knew all my coolness could be derailed so easily? (Or maybe I'm not as cool as I think ... [entirely possible and extremely likely].)

This scenario brings up a few problems with the way we greet each other. As I see it, greeting people that you don't spend a lot of time with is a lot like holding the door open for someone, so I'm going to use the following illustration as a jump-off point for this whole greeting-people problem.

Let's say you see someone you know coming towards you. If they're far enough away that they're in the awkward zone, STOP. DO NOT BEGIN CONVERSATION. Why? Because of all the little people you're going to trap awkwardly in the air space between your conversation! It's not a fun place for them to be. (Believe me, I know this from personal experience.) Furthermore, you're going to run into another problem which I like to call "Too Much Space, Too Little Conversation" or, conversely, "Too Little Space, Too Much Conversation." It can really go either way, depending on how bold you are in continuing the conversation after the necessary pleasantries are completed.

If, on the one hand, you are very bold, you end up starting a conversation that you don't have time to finish without stopping. (And we're going to assume that you aren't able to stop, because if we didn't, I'd have too many possible scenarios bouncing around in my head.) On the other hand, if you aren't very bold, but you stop the conversation too early, you've got all this extra time where you both know you've got nothing more to say to each other. Awkie.

Once safely within the courtesy zone, we have to deal with this awful societal beast I call the Necessary Pleasantries. For some reason, we've got this idea that in order to be polite, we need to act interested in the other person's life. The best way to do this, as far as we've figured out, is to ask simple questions. "What's up? How's it going? How are you?"

Unfortunately for us, we picked simple questions that don't have simple answers. And apparently we weren't quick enough on the draw to stop this horrendous misstep in creating social conventions, and so we went with Plan B which was to make up basic, meaningless answers to each of these questions. "Not much. Good. Fine." Congrats, humanity. Now we have the psychological repercussions of feeling like we should feel good about interacting with each other while simultaneously recognizing that our interaction was completely meaningless, and therefore being unable to actually feel good about it. Well done. (snarksnarksnark). The good side of these answers is that a conversation made in passing can happen very quickly and easily. We can happily acknowledge each other, fake a little interest with meaningless prattle, and go on our merry way without disturbing our forward momentum.

This, apparently, was not good enough for us though. Over the course of time, we've tried to make these Necessary Pleasantries a little more interesting by shaking up our answers. "Great. Lovely. Doing wonderfully, thanks."

EEEEEEEEEKKKKKKK. Time to put on the brakes everyone! This is a BAD IDEA. Why? Well, there are a couple of reasons:

1. The more you shake things up, the more likely you are to overrun your allotted time for passing conversation, which then leads to this whole problem of trying to finish the conversation and having to twist your neck to maintain the eye contact, turn around and start walking backwards (super dangerous), or feel super weird answering the question while you're no longer facing the person. Way too many problems happening here to even be dealt with. 
2. If you start throwing in a bunch of other possible answers to these usual questions, it can get really confusing for people who are trying to answer your question...

... like when you run into them unexpectedly and throw off their groove so that they, in their victimized state of disorientation, find it completely impossible to narrow down the list of possible answers to ones which are question-appropriate, and ultimately pick the wrong one causing loads of undue stress and embarrassment. 

Thanks a lot, society. 

snarksnarksnarksnarksnark.

Snobbery

I'm going to have to throw out the possibility that some majors may in fact be smarter than others. And I don't just mean the biochemical engineers. Maybe this is all coming about because I'm something of a logophile, and an English major, and therefore am frequently surrounded by those who have a similar love of words, phraseology, orature, and hearing the sound of our own voices saying those words. (Hence... this blog. Obviously.)

I've taken the opportunity this semester to delve a little bit into another area of study that caught my interest last fall, and signed up for a sociology of gender class. It was pretty okay, but definitely felt like a battle against my own weak-sauce conservativism (I say weak-sauce simply because I consider myself predominantly politically illiterate and completely unable to argue my own opinions, as I don't spend a lot of time thinking about them). Anyways, I'm getting so far off the track that it's boring me to death, and we all know that I get more pleasure out of writing these things that any of you get from reading them, so if I'm bored, you must be gouging your eyes out, or no longer reading this post (congrats if you are). Back to sociology of gender!

The first day of class, we took the time to have everyone introduce themselves, their major, hometown, etc. This, I believe, is moderately unusual in a class of 40-50 students, but we did it anyways because the syllabus (and the class) was painfully simple and took about .2 seconds to discuss. The breakdown of this monotonous introduction hour came to about this: the majority of the class were either sociology or psychology minors, but there were a few variants here and there, some business majors, a theater major, ... and myself, the single, solitary English major in the whole place. Now, I don't mean to be judgmental (*ahem* who are we kidding? I'm being hugely judgmental, and you better believe I mean it) but I've come to the conclusion that I think I'm smarter than at least a few of these people. 

Don't get me wrong. They're still valuable human beings who are capable of doing many good things, and somewhere in my heart of hearts, I probably have some kind of love for them. 

But I cannot hold back the stink eye when I catch someone saying the word "like" 30 times in a 45-second comment. (See my post A Rant: "Like" for more on this subject.) And even though that may be a worst-case-scenario, over the past few days of listening to presentations on research papers, I've been subjected to some of the most horrifically slang-peppered verbosity of my life. Or maybe it's just never bothered me this bad.... in which case, I can only blame my sociology of gender class. And who ever heard of a sociology class making someone more intolerant? And, in my case, I probably got a little more sexist because the girls are far more likely to make idiotic comments that are watered down with "like"s and "ya knows" and "so"s and "just"s and "just-like"s and "doesthatmakesense"s that if you cut them out, they're probably only saying somewhere in the ballpark of twelve significant words that contribute to a coherent message for every 50 that come out of their mouths .... Not that I'm suggesting that my professor is, in any way, shape or form, responsible for my decreased tolerance and increased sexism. It's my classmates! 

I suppose it isn't fair of me to feel like I am smarter than these individuals, because they probably know a lot more about sociology than I do. And yet, I cannot stop myself from believing that a vital part of being smart is being able to communicate in a way that doesn't make you sound like an insipid thirteen year old in a Justin Bieber t-shirt. (Okay, so maybe the t-shirt has nothing to do with anything.) But seriously guys. I don't want your message from concentrate. I want the concentrate when I'm at school. Don't make me listen to all your other stupid words, please. You're wasting them, and you're wasting my time. 

A Rant: "Like"

It seems to me that there's always at least one person in a class who frequently feels compelled to comment, and who, unfortunately, also grates massively on your nerves. Perhaps it's just the simple fact that they seem always to have something to say that is truly bothersome and inspires you to look for other reasons to want to plug your ears and shout "LA LA LA LA LA" every time their hand goes up in the air ... but we all know that we find those other reasons. Whether or not this is the case for you, I will leave to your own interpretation of yourself. But for me, whether this is the true reason that I'm bothered by one of my dear classmates' comments, or simply a justifying cover-up for the fact that I seem to glean nothing from the words that come out of her mouth, I don't really care about right now. Because the fact that I'm hung up on right now is that this girl cannot eradicate the word "like" from her vocabulary.

Am I being oversensitive? I mean, lots of people use the word "like" in ways that extend beyond its dictionary definition, and they do so with very high frequency, compared to other words. "Like" has become our space filler, the word that comes out of our mouths when we realize we don't know the word we really want to say, the word that seems to indicate an impending metaphor ... but not really. I could go on, but I'll just stop for the time being, because I'm sure, scientific minds that you all have, want some evidence to support my point, and not just my own unadulterated irritation.

Last class, I took it upon myself to tally the number of times she said "like" in one comment. In one comment, probably lasting 30-45 seconds, she said the word "like" 32 times. It doesn't even seem possible, does it? But let me tell you how possible it is. There were moments when I could barely finish one tally before I had to put two more down. There were a lot of "and like, it's like" and "and it's just like" and sometimes some "and like, it's like, just like" ... (And I won't even mention (beyond this single moment) how many "ya know?"s there were smushed in there as well). I know, it's sounds like I'm kidding. But I assure you, I am 100%, bet-your-bottom-dollar, I'm-going-to-claw-my-eyes-out serious about this girl. I'm amazed that she could actually convey a message that was so watered down with "like". It was truly horrific.

And that being said, I'm going to pass you over to Taylor Mali, who is (1) a perfectly fantastic slam poet and personal favorite, (2) full of words of wisdom on how we do, and should, converse.

First Video: for the purposes of my own message, I recommend watching the first minute or so. You can keep watching if you want to hear his poem (which I also recommend) "Any Language Much Less English"



Second Video: I've posted this here before, but it's just fantastic, so I'm posting it again. You should watch all of this one, and enjoy the beautiful typography. :)




He's brilliant. I wish everyone would watch these things. Can you even imagine how much better comments in class would be?

:)

Stupid Sarcasm

Maybe I'm just imagining things, but I've been seeing the following pop up in a lot (and I mean a LOT) of status updates on Facebook. Maybe you're familiar with it. It goes a little something like this:

" That awkward moment when your sarcasm is so advanced that people actually think you are stupid! "

Now, maybe I'm a meanie, but I often find myself tempted to leave the following in the comments:

" That awkward moment when your stupid is so advanced that you actually think you're sarcastic. "

 Oh my honeys ... Please leave the building. Just ... please.

The Reality of Frozen Yogurt

Frozen yogurt places are quickly becoming Utah's greatest culinary prostitute. Is there a single block between Provo and Salt Lake that doesn't have a Yogurtland, Spoon Me, Spoon It Up, Yozone, etc.? If it weren't for cupcakes, fro-yo would be Utah's only culinary prostitute, and we know that the only thing taking up more real estate than fro-yo places is LDS chapels. (Now don't get me wrong--I love the fact that I can travel down 9th East in Provo and see, I dunno, 28 chapels and 13 more under construction (rough estimate).)

But I'm digressing from my point. 

I've never really been a frozen treats kind of girl. I can enjoy a good vanilla cone, or small dish of ice cream every now and then, but I will never be the kind of girl that craves it. Blame it on my sugar-free-cereals upbringing, subsequent sugar gluttony, and then recovery. Or blame it on the fact that I have sensitive teeth and a tongue that just don't like cold things. Whatever reason you choose, take it, run with it. Fact is, I'm not an ice cream girl. Or a frozen yogurt girl. If anything, I'm a frozen custard girl, but that's another topic for another day. For me, the point of frozen yogurt is to get enough to allow you to get as many mini gummy bears as possible half-frozen on top of it. The fro-yo's just an adhesive cooling device. 

Now, I suppose the fact that I'm already not such a fan of frozen yogurt really discredits my reliability as a giver of the following opinion, but so be it:
Frozen Yogurt is a LIE, STEVEN!!! 

Just kidding. Your name isn't Steven. I was just channeling Jack Black there for a moment. (Please view the following video if you no comprendo.)

Anyways. Back to the reasons why frozen yogurt is a lie. 

You may notice as you have gone to these frozen yogurt places that fro-yo typically has the consistency of soft-serve, maybe a little firmer, and is somewhat less creamy and more tart than regular ice cream. This is in the style of regular yogurt vs. cream. In theory, frozen yogurt and ice cream are just the significantly chilled versions of their refrigerated counterparts. 

This is not true. How do I know? Because I am eating a frozen yogurt right now and it is not the same as fro-yo!

I know. That doesn't make sense. Because frozen yogurt and the general concept of fro-yo are two very different things. I'm talking about a yogurt, Raspberry Yumberry to be exact (yeah, idk what a yumberry is either. Stop worrying about it. It tastes good, and that's all that matters.) which I bought probably a week ago. This yogurt, as it so happens, fell victim to the everyone-in-our-apartment-has-too-much-food incident, which tends to result in fridge-tetris, hard-to-shut-doors, and an inability for the cool air to get around to everything. You may be thinking that this is a problem because the food closest to the door can't get cool. Oddly enough, that is not the problem. The problem is with food getting stuck in the back where all the cool air is also stuck. Hence, the reason I think of that area as the second freezer. 

Other foods of mine have been a victim of this, mainly produce, like the lettuce and my celery (R.I.P. celery). You wouldn't think that freezing would really be much of an issue. Just defrost it, right? WRONG. My poor celery got freakishly floppy and looked bruised, and the lettuce last year was just as much of a disaster. Needless to say, I get a little angry with the fridge, but it's nbd, right?

I suppose I should have realized that my Raspberry Yumberry yogurt, having been knocked back into the second freezer area of the fridge, might have fallen victim to this chilly death. It wasn't until I pulled back the foil that I actually recognized that it was, in fact, frozen. And instead of moving it to the front of the fridge and allowing it to slowly defrost, which may have worked, I kept pulling back the foil. 

This was the wrong decision. 

Somewhere in my head I thought, "This will be fine. It'll be just like fro-yo in a cup. Or like one of those awesome Minute Maid frozen lemonades. Just with a more yogurt-y taste."

WRONG, my friends. SO MUCH WRONGNESS. 

I may have experienced some anger at this realization. 

And what a realization it was.

Turns out, when yogurt freezes, it also separates. Yeah. Into the watery-ish part, and the actual yogurt goop part. To make matters worse, I tried to microwave it slowly, so as not to have warm yogurt. I tried a couple sessions of 30-seconds at 50% power, which were interspersed with spoon jabbings into the little cup. Welcome to shards of ice in yogurt dregs. 

At this point, fearing the imminent yogurt soup, I gave up on the microwave, and decided to stir it into submission. Nothing like a little friction to get things moving slowly, right?

Still so wrong. 

Ultimately, I ended up with some watery room-temperature Raspberry Barfberry melange with little cottage-cheese like curds of stubborn still-frozen yogurt dregs swimming in it.

What I'm really trying to get at is this:
frozen yogurt 
is not the same as 
frozen yogurt.

And you know what the worst part of it all is?

... I still ate it. 

Pet Peeve: Guess What

I'm just going to take a quick moment to address a stupidity of the English language. Yes, I too am guilty (as always). But it's a problem, and we need to talk about it.

The phrase "guess what" has got to go.

Let's just start with the first annoying part: How the heck are you supposed to punctuate that?? I mean, technically it's a question ... but you aren't usually expecting people to guess because the whole point of saying that is that they probably won't guess it, right? But when you say it and you know it's only a pseudo-question, so basically there are three options:

1. "Guess what?" which conveys nothing but b-o-r-i-n-g and makes people feel like they have to answer a question, and what are they even supposed to say? (This will be addressed shortly. Never you fear!)
2. "Guess what!" which doesn't acknowledge the fact that it's technically a question and sound stupid
3. "Guess what?!" which is just too much emotion, and you don't want to overwhelm people or over excite them for something that just ain't that great (and it's usually not, because life ain't that exciting, folks)

All in all, not a good choice among them. Lame, eh?

Now let's say you're on the receiving end of said question. This is how it usually goes:

Person 1: Guess what[? and/or !]

Person 2: What?

** PAUSE **

Me: Okay, now let's examine this response. "What?" Since when is "What?" the appropriate answer to that question? It's not. It's just what we say because we don't want to get into a situation like Person 1 is about to create ...

** PLAY **

Person 1: No! I said for you to guess!

Person 2: (Doesn't want to guess. What kind of stupid game is this?) Ummm ... I don't know ...

Person 1: Come on! It doesn't matter! Just guess!

Person 2: (The stink eye is about to come out. Super doesn't want to guess, because no matter what they say, it's going to be wrong and they're going to look stupid.) Uhhhh ... you're pregnant. (Hint: Not an appropriate guess, usually.)

Person 1: No! I *blah blah blah something about how great their life is blah blah blah* ...

Person 2: (Doesn't care. Still feels stupid about the pregnancy comment, and wants to unleash the stink eye on Person 1 for putting them into that position.)

Person 1: (Selfish snot.)

The end.

As you can see, "Guess what?/!" is a stupid question, and it needs to not be a part of our speaking anymore. Because it's mean, and confusing, and just a big lie all around. Boo on GUESS WHAT!!!!

:)

Blog Re-Vamp, and A Dating Pet-Peeve

Okay, so I know that I've been squirrely with the design of this blog all over the place, but now there's a bigger change going on -- NEW BLOG TITLE! I figured now was a prime time to do it because this is my 101st post! Crazy, huh?? It's almost hard to believe.... almost. Of course, I'm rather verbose, and there's probably 20+ drafts scattered throughout Blogger, Windows Live Writer, and Word ... but who really knows. There's 100 on here, and that's what counts.

So, why "The Happy Pessimist"? Well, first off, I think that's what I am. I know it seems a little bit contradictory, but I think it's very possible to be both pessimistic and happy. I guess a more accurate title would actually be something like "The Optimistic Realist," but that doesn't have quite the same ring to it, and really doesn't mean the same thing. And I mean it to mean what it means, which is "I'm a pessimist, and dangit I'm happy too!"

Additionally, I feel like it's about time I adopted some kind of blog-identity. It just feels right. I don't know how much of a difference that makes, but it feels different. Sort of. Not really. Plus, I have the advantage of not making a title-specific blog address, so I can change the actual title whenever I want. Suck on that. :)

Anyways. That's all the news on the blog re-vamp. On to my newest dating pet peeve. Are you so ready for this, people?

So here's what's up: When you're 15 and you're trying to sneakily date someone and you keep saying "It's not a date," but it looks like a date, smells like a date, sounds like a date, etc. ... it's a date.

BUT

When you're in college, and you're repeatedly getting called to repentance for not dating and not getting married, you don't get to rip your moves off the 15-year old pubescent boys. It's severely not cool.

In college, if you want to go on a date with a girl, you ASK HER ON A DATE. Not "want to hang out?" or "want to play?" (which is just hecka annoying for a bajillion other reasons) or "a bunch of us are doing this want to come?" No. NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO. These are all the wrong way to handle the dating situation. I suppose you don't actually have to say the word "date" (though it's much preferred, as it makes things that much more clear). You do need to make the Three P's (Planned, Paid For, Paired Off) very clear from the very beginning to count it as a date.

Let me give you a situation I have recently become acquainted with (and dramatized for effect).

A young woman was hanging out with herself one day, and a young man texted her and said "Wanna play tonight?" (You boys have REALLY got to stop saying that. It's infantile and creepy sounding.) She said okay, and they determined to meet up later that evening to do something. When they met up, they decided to get some food, as friends are wont to do. Upon arriving at the restaurant, the young man offered to pay. She said no, that she could get it, but he insisted, and she gave in. They hung out that night, had a fun time, and that was the end of it.

Or so she thought.

The next day at church, the young man's roommates and friends asked her at different times throughout the day, "How was your date last night?"

The young woman was surprised. She hadn't been on a date. She had hung out with a friend. Yes, that friend offered to pay ... but that wasn't the intent from the beginning. At least, she didn't think it was. In her mind, it hadn't been a date. How could such a misunderstanding have happened?

Here's another story that happened to me about a year and a half ago. I met this guy at a party, and we became Facebook friends, and one night he invited me over to his house to watch a movie with him and some of his friends. Being uncool and having no form of vehicular transportation and this guy living far away, I said, "Sorry, I can't make it." Eventually it came out (though I was much more cool about it than the way I just explained it) and he said he'd come and pick me up. So he came and got me, and then he said he was hungry and that he wanted to grab some food at the Taco Bell. He asked if I wanted anything, I said no, and we proceeded on to his place.

There wasn't anyone else there.

Now I'm thinking either this guy was really clever, or he didn't have any friends, or he was the lonesome loser that got left out when everyone else wanted to have fun. So since there's nobody there, we put in Hot Rod and sit on the couch and it's super awkward because we don't know each other at all and, like I said, there was no one else there, plus his house was really creepy and gross. Eventually, the night came to an end, and he took me home.

So, what I'm still wondering is ... was that supposed to be a date? I mean, it kind of came off looking like one, and he did end up asking me out on a real date later on (which lasted 45 minutes, muahahaha), but what was that heinousness? There's an even more important question though:

Don't I have the right to know if I'm on a date or not?

I don't feel like that's an outrageous expectation. Is it? I'm going to give you an answer for that: No. No, it is not. Girls have the right to know when a boy thinks he's on a date with her. Which is why it is preferable that the word "DATE" is used when inviting a girl to do something, if that something is indeed being perceived by you as a date. Okay, kids? If it's not going to be a date, make that clear also. There are creepy, overeager girls too who will turn anything into a date. SO MAKE YOUR INTENTIONS CLEAR.

You know, I feel like this applies to a lot of situations, and I feel like there are a lot of problems that would be solved in this world if people were just straight-up honest about things, if people actually said the things they were thinking instead of trying to hint at or suggest or imply or whatever their actual thoughts. In the words of John Mayer, "Say what you need to say. It's better to say too much than never to say what you need to say."

It really blows my mind that some people can talk so much without saying anything. You'd think with all the time we spend talking about ourselves, updating our Twitter accounts and telling people what we're doing and posting pictures of things we've attended and stuff we've done ... that we'd somehow find the ability to convey our actual thoughts, feelings, intentions. But we fail. Big time. Is anyone else frustrated that we deal with all this miscommunication and misunderstanding when we really don't have to? Why?

I really don't get it. Not to suggest that I have superior skills in the communication department, because heaven knows I've had my fair share of responsibility in these types of matters. I'm just saying, something needs to change.

One of "Those" ...

I think we've lost our articulateness, as a society. I was just thinking about how this week has been one of "those" weeks, and how somehow that has become an all-encompassing word to mean anything from "the most awful, dreadful, nightmarish 7-day period of my life" to "nothing happened that merits the effort of speech."

With what audacity do we dare sum up 168 God-given hours in such a pathetic, ambiguous word? Especially one that is usually attended with a negative connotation?

It's hard to say why we choose to do this. Do we think other people don't care about our lives? Do we not care about our lives? Are we afraid that they will be annoyed or bored with the things we have to say? Do we have anything to say? Or do we simply not know how to say it?

I can't help but think right now of Taylor Mali's slam poem "Totally like whatever, you know?" Watch it. It's awesome. :)

Are we so uncertain about the value of the things we have to say, do we have so little emotion invested in the things that happen to us, that we simply cannot articulate our own lives?

And isn't that something that's kind of important? Shouldn't we be able to talk about our lives, about the things we think, and about the things that are important to us?

Where things really get confusing for me is how we simultaneously have people who will post on Facebook every single thing they do and every single thing they feel. "SOOOOOO annoyed :(((((((((((" or "Bobbie Butthead is at Chile's right now. Chicken Enchilada Soup. YUMMMM." (I recognize that I'm being really immature by including the word "butthead" in my blogpost, but at this point I just don't even care. Judge me at your will and pleasure.)

Do we simply have no idea what is worth documenting and discussing? Or are we just afraid to talk about the things that actually ARE worth documenting and discussing because we don't want people to argue with us and judge us? Do we just not develop our opinions deep enough to have understanding sufficient TO argue them?

Are we so afraid of sounding stupid that we aren't willing to take the chance of sounding smart?

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

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.

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.

On Love and Interest

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