Playing Frantic Catch-Up

Much has happened in the past few weeks. My dad got married so now there are three new people in the immediate family, not to menion the numerous extended family members. Then my brother went through the temple for the first time. Next came the inevitable missionary farewell talk. Sidnee conned herself into the program a well, and proceeded to give the most redneck speech I have ever heard in my life, where she claimed Christ was a cowboy. (A good analogy, but quite unexpected.) Shay's talk was phenomenal. And so the day arrived, when we all had to drive to Provo to drop him off. Luckily I am completely incapable of driving in traffic, so I got to ride in my dad's car, where Shay's luggage is, so I got to sit next to him as we drove through Provo to the MTC. Me and Sid also got to dragg his luggage to wherever and walk with him into the building. He got his name tag with a fluorescent sticker labeling him a greenie. My dad was tearing up as we entered the room where they have the little devotional, but he soon became more excited than anything. My mom, however, slowly crumbled. The siblings remained strong. I didn't cry, though when I turned around and looked behind me and saw a little boy clinging desperately to his brother, I got a little choked up. Shay was on his way out and gave Sid one last punch. With lightening-like reflexes, she whacked him in the arm. He looked as though he were sorely tempted to get the last punch in, but the missionary in him won out and he walked through the doors and out of our lives for the next two years. A few weeks later Kendra got her endowments out (and was really overwhelmed) and a week later, she got married to Zac and became a Lanier. Weird. Things settled down for a while, then I got accepted to school and my mom is off to Australia for a month to visit my grandpa. Hmmm, Bozeman during the winter or Australia during their summer, no contest. I'd rather go there.

Bozeman here I come

I GOT ACCEPTED INTO MONTANA STATE UNIVERSITY! As long as the federal loan comes through in time, I'm good. If not, I'm totally hosed.

No One

This is a poem my friend Shannon wrote after a high school classmate committed suicide:

No One
NO ONE should be a NO ONE
NO ONE should hurt that bad
Or feel that heartache from their heartbreak

NO ONE should understand that kind of pain
NO ONE should see themselves as nothing
NO ONE should get to that point

NO ONE can understand the NO ONE
NO ONE can ever see
Or fix the fragile shattered life

NO ONE should feel they are NO ONE
To every NO ONE there is an inner SOMEONE
And to God every NO ONE is His

He can understand the NO ONE
He’s the only one to ever see
Or comprehend the pain and heartache of the NO ONE

NO ONE should be a NO ONE
NO ONE should hurt that bad
Or feel that heartache of bitter pain

God sees the potential of the NO ONE
He bought each NO ONE with a price
Through His son the NO ONE finds the SOMEONE

But what if the SOMEONE can’t be found
How can the NO ONE get so lost?
How did the NO ONE forget the Father’s love?

NO ONE should feel alone
NO ONE should see their life as wasted or without use
For it’s the NO ONE’s who change my life every day

The NO ONE lights the way
The NO ONE who smiles despite unfriendly stares
The NO ONE who laughs

NO ONE sees the NO ONE cry
NO ONE could ever comprehend
Or imagine the hopelessness of the NO ONE

Who in my life is a NO ONE?
How can I help them to see the way
To find their way to the SOMEONE

What will happen to the NO ONE,
The one lost and so alone?
Only through God can the SOMEONE be found.

Shannon Christina Malan

Today I have the flu and want to crawl into a hole and die...

Stop Tibetan Genocide

Standing ovation for Nancy Pelosi for her comments and actions on Tibet. I agree with her. The USA should skip the opening ceremonies and should encourage other countries to do the same. Then, let the athletes go and kick some Chinese butt.
Tibet forever!
So lately, aside from lamenting the plight of the Tibetan people (trust me, that is not a subject you want to get me started on. I could go on forever) I have been watching Columbo and laughing. The show is quite good, but I've noticed that all of the men are so incredibly homely and have terribly frizzy hair. Some of them have been almost nauseating in their looks. On the other hand, the women are always beyond beautiful, with incredible fashion and jewlery. Although I did notice that the men and women were always wearing clothes that are impossibly tight and you know for a fact there is nothing on underneath...Polyester on bare skin. Shudder.

Woo-she-ah moo-vees

I am not one who likes movies to end badly. Movies are a much needed break from reality and should end happily. Good should always conquer evil, the hero always gets his damsel, all is well. Bearing this in mind, it makes no sense for me to like these stylized martial arts movies, wuxia I think they're called. I've only seen two, Hero and House of Flying Daggers, but I really want to see more. There is far too much angst, too much sadness, but the colors! The grace in every movement! The way every look, every movement, every word is filled with meaning! The way it twists and keeps you creeping to the edge of your seat! Most movies tend to be so cliche I can guess what is going to happen, when, why...and these movies are too, but they keep you so dazzled in the beauty of the art, it's like seeing the story for the first time.
Poo on American martial arts films....

Pictures I Like

Look close at the above picture...

Strange Thoughts

You know that band Incubus? Ever wonder what it means? According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary it means an evil spirit that lies on persons in their sleep; especially : one that has sexual intercourse with women while they are sleeping or one that oppresses or burdens like a nightmare.
Makes you wonder doesn't it...
You know how back in the day the wagon the police used to carry prisoners was called a paddy wagon? Well, a paddy is a derogatory term for the Irish. Is this a stereotypical reflection on the Irish being drunken prisoners or because in the 19th century they were the only ones who would take the job of police officer?
You know how rednecks/hillbillies are always portrayed as having tons of junk in the yard? But have you ever wondered why? Well, for decades, people in the rural south had absolutely nothing and little money for the things they did need, so everything they had, they kept, just in case. They kept old cars in case they needed a spare part for the working car, they kept old cans in case they needed tin or a container. The habit of keeping things was passed on to each generation and became a piece of American stereotype.
Did you know that the Bikini Island (where they tested nuclear weapons) is actually pronounced bic-in-ee? And that the island of Kiribati is pronounced keer-e-bahs?
And did you know that the traditional tataus of the Maori in New Zealand (or Aotearoa, Land of the Long White Cloud) were literally carved into the skin, rather than merely being ink tapped into the skin, like other islands and today's tattoos?

Happiness in a Can

Deliverence Dueling Banjos

The best song ever can be watched on the You Tube video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=esl2NNOtHQE

Jackson Hole Trip

Ashley, Zack, Kendra, Shay, Me

A favorite poem

Norman Morrison
By Adrian Mitchell
On November 2nd 1965
in the multi-coloured multi-minded
United beautiful States of terrible America
Norman Morrison set himself on fire
outside the Pentagon.
He was thirty-one, he was a Quaker,
and his wife (seen weeping in the newsreels)
and his three children
survive him as best they can.
He did it in Washington where everyone could see
because
people were being set on fire
in the dark corners of Vietnam where nobody could see.
Their names, ages, beliefs and loves
are not recorded.
This is what Norman Morrison did.
He poured petrol over himself.
He burned. He suffered.
He died.
That is what he did
in the white heart of Washington
where everyone could see.
He simply burned away his clothes,
his passport, his pink-tinted skin,
put on a new skin of flame
and became
Vietnamese.

Have you ever pooped a balloon?-Dwight Shrute

I went to Payless today hoping to get some pink ballet-like slippers, but they didn't have any that fit my fat feet. Discrimination I say. So to salve my wounded pride, I bought myself a dress and a couple of sparkly brooches that match nothing, but purchased because they're shiny. I've spent the day watching movies and pecking at my report that's due fairly soon. I have a huge math test I have to take tomorrow and have I studied? Of course not. Do I feel guilty or panicked? Of course not.
For those of you who don't know (ahem, Angie) Arthur Miller wrote the plays Death of a Salesman, All my sons, the Crucible. Brilliant man.
This weekend my family is going to Jackson to dink around. Shay has invited a girl he's twitterpated with as well as her cousin, who I think Kendra is eyeing. And then there will be my mom and I, in the midst of all these hormones. Heaven help me...

Pieces of Pieces

I found this in a journal of mine: (and yes, I wrote it, go figure)

A piece of a day becomes
A piece of a year
And far is only
Pieces of near
A piece of a look
Is a piece of a life
And a piece of a lie
Is a piece of a strife
Pieces of dreams become
Pieces of real
Just as pieces of love
Are the pieces that heal
Pieces of blood become
Pieces of man
Just as pieces of can't
Become pieces of can
But the most important piece
That I can see
Is that pieces of you
Become pieces of me

sand and shadows, water and wonders

I'm going through baby withdrawls. Poor me. So yesterday at chruch the ward clerk grabs me after sacrament and asks if I can meet with the bishop. I'm thinking, crap, I don't want a calling and crap, he's probably wondering why I've missed so much church. But it turns out he just wanted to see how I was because he hadn't seen me in a while. Also, he's a family counselor and he knows my parents are divorced, so he tends to check up on that every semester. But I dont' mind. I love our bishopric.
After church I ate Girl Scout cookies and read Arthur Miller's autobiography. Incredible writer! I've never been a great fan of his plays. Although they are incredibly well written and intellectually stimulating, they're a bit too depressing for me. However, his autobio gives me a whole new perspective so I want to read through his plays again. And in his autobio he offers thoughts on so many things that are so beautifully written and so thought provoking...but I digress. In short, it's a great book, even if it is 500 pages.
Today's music: Bob Dylan

ah penny, brown penny

Well the past few days have been filled with a whole lot of horrible. Until Saturday afternoon. I drove to Pocatello and spend hours playing with Kim's baby Reese. I couldn't get over the chubby cheeks and the weird way her hair was growing. And the way she just curled up after eating with her head on my shoulder...I am so in love with that baby! It was nice to get out of poopy Rexburg, although Pocatello was horribly cold and windy and there were so much traffic I couldn't believe it. I took the wrong exit and followed traffic until I wound up in the Lowe's parking lot. Traffic is evil. When I got home, my jacket smelled like baby barf and I loved it. On the drive home, however, my mom called and told my Sidnee has a fractured vertebre in her back. Apparently it's been there since her accident and the freaking doctors never caught it! So she's been walking around, riding horses, playing sports with a broken back! I was so mad. When a young girl is thrown out of a truck down a mountain, lands among logs and rocks, suffers from a bruised lung and concussion...and they check for broken ribs but not a broken back? IDIOTS! (deep breath) Anyways, I have a huge test this week in Math, among other things, and I'm not looking forward to it.
Today's music obsession: Beirut

eddie would go

So last week the apartment managers sent out an email asking if anyone would be interested in being the RA. I sent back a reply thinking, what the heck, why not? On Friday she sent out another email saying that a lot of people had been interested and would we mind answering a few questions? The questions were like, if someone was coming in consistently late, what would you do, what would you do about this, what are your thoughts about the Honor Code, etc. I answered very bluntly with things like, warning people twice and if they break it again, then the managers would have to talk to the Honor Code office, if an apartment had a problem, then I would help them sort it out without resorting to the managers because we're adults and we need to start learning how to solve our own problems and if people can't obey the rules of the apartment, how are they going to handle the real world? I sent back these answers thinking I would never be picked, that I sounded a bit too hard-nosed, that I wasn't going to be around enough, etc. Anyways, I met with the managers tonight, thinking they wanted to meet with a few applicants. After chatting with them about mutual acquaintances, Lisa was like, "well, we're giving you the job. When we read your email, my husband was like, you're hiring her right?" Apparently my bluntness was a good thing, because they really liked it. So for $50 a month, I have to lock the laundry room doors and do random checks for guys. Go figure.

la primavera

I just watched the funniest movie I've seen in a long time. It was called Death at a Funeral and I laughed the whole time! I loved it! But of course the humour of the movie was offset by the fact that it's midterms, meaning there's like a month left of school and I have sooooo much left to do. I wish the snow would melt already. Spring fever has hit me hard.

rage against the dying of the light

Saturday morning, about 7am, Shay and I headed for Preston. He was driving my car and I had a little bed made up in the back seat and was planning on sleeping on the way down. Ha ha. Every bump in the road, every movement made and I had to sit up to make sure my car was okay. I eventually gave up trying to sleep and got a little bit of homework done. Slept on and off the rest of the day, read a book and laid about. My TMJ was acting up so I didn't sleep well that night and slept through church the next day.
Outside my dad's house I noticed a black mass in the snow. Getting closer, I discovered it was the corpse of a baby cow. Shay said it had been running around one day and suddenly fell over, dead. My dad thinks a vessel in its lung burst. I think so too, because it had blood in its nose and mouth. Is was disgusting. I can handle human corpses, but not animals, especially baby animals.
We had to leave early because I had to be back in Rexburg to work. I was irritated at work because there was some stuff that a certain someone was supposed to do during the day, but never did, so I was stuck with it. Of course I was just irritated at everything because my head was pounding.
When I got home everyone asked me if I had a good weekend. I never know what to say to that when I go to Preston. There's just so many bad memories, so many echoes of hate and hurt within those walls. I spent so so long wanting to run away from that place, it's hard for me to go back.
Lately, I've felt like I've been rushing around like a sightless demon, doing so much for everyone but me. Technically the school work will make me smarter and my job earns me money, but you know what I mean. I feel directionless and overworked and in great need of a self-rejuvenating break.

tears in a rice paddy

I made a completely stupid mistake at work today and it ruined my night. Then I got home and read the latest copy of the voice, a newspaper that complains about everything and does nothing else, which kind of made my mood worse. The only good thing that happened...it's over.

I had a midterm today, which I forgot about until the last possible moment. I studied frantically for about 20 minutes and drove to campus to take the test. I hate the testing center. It's employed by Nazis that pick out students they hate and nail them for pathetically minor things. So while standing in line, I quickly made sure I had no skin exposed and showed no sign of happiness or joy, lest they think me disrespectful. The test was only 50 questions and I breezed through it feeling rather good, aside from the fact that Aunt Flo was knocking impatiently at my door, eager to beging her monthly visit, and my panicked jumps at the slightest movements, fearing the Testing Center Nazis were coming to drag me out by my ear. I got a 76%. Not bad for no studying, but worse than I thought. Much as I care. I hate that class. So now I have an hour to waste before I have to go to work and deal with (ugh) people. I dislike people very much this week. I would like nothing more than to hole up in my room and wait for the week to be over. Better yet, ship me to a beach somewhere and give me a large, virgin, pomegranete margarita and a breeze strong enough to cool the skin but gentle, so the sand doesn't fly everywhere.

a laugh a day...

This is an actual letter from an Austin woman sent to American company Proctor and Gamble regarding their feminine products. She really gets rolling after the first paragraph... PC Magazine's 2007 editors' choice for best webmail-award-winning letter....Dear Mr. Thatcher, I have been a loyal user of your 'Always' maxi pads for over 20 years and I appreciate many of their features. Why, without the Leak Guard Core or Dri-Weave absorbency, I'd probably never go horseback riding or salsa dancing, and I'd certainly steer clear of running up and down the beach in tight, white shorts. But my favorite feature has to be your revolutionary Flexi-Wings. Kudos on being the only company smart enough to realize how crucial it is that maxi pads be aerodynamic. I can't tell you how safe and secure I feel each month knowing there's a little F-16 in my pants. Have you ever had a menstrual period, Mr. Thatcher? Ever suffered from the curse'? I'm guessing you haven't. Well, my time of the month is starting right now. As I type, I can already feel hormonal forces violently surging through my body. Just a few minutes from now, my body will adjust and I'll be transformed into what my husband likes to call 'an inbred hillbilly with knife skills. Isn't the human body amazing? As Brand Manager in the Feminine-Hygiene Division, you've no doubt seen quite a bit of research on what exactly happens during your customers monthly visits from 'Aunt Flo'. Therefore, you must know about the bloating, puffiness, and cramping we endure, and about our intense mood swings, crying jags, and out-of-control behavior. You surely realize it's a tough time for most women. In fact, only last week, my friend Jennifer fought the violent urge to shove her boyfriend's testicles into a George Foreman Grill just because he told her he thought Grey's Anatomy was written by drunken chimps. Crazy! The point is, sir, you of all people must realize that America is just crawling with homicidal maniacs in Capri pants... Which brings me to the reason for my letter. Last month, while in the throes of cramping so painful I wanted to reach inside my body and yank out my uterus, I opened an Always maxi-pad, and there, printed on the adhesive backing, were these words: 'Have a Happy Period.' Are you ?*!* kidding me? What I mean is, does any part of your tiny middle-manager brain really think happiness -- actual smiling, laughing happiness is possible during a menstrual period? Did anything mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable? Well, did it, James? FYI, unless you're some kind of sick S&M freak girl, there will never be anything 'happy' about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on Motrin and Kahlua and lock yourself in your house just so you don't march down to the local Walgreen's armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory.For the love of God, pull your head out, man! If you just have to slap a moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn't it make more sense to say something that's actually pertinent, like 'Put down the Hammer' or 'Vehicular Manslaughter is Wrong', or are you just picking on us?Sir, please inform your Accounting Department that, effective immediately, there will be an $8 drop in monthly profits, for I have chosen to take my maxi-pad business elsewhere. And though I will certainly miss your Flexi-Wings, I will not for one minute miss your brand of condescending bull?-**t. And that's a promise I will keep. Always....Best,Wendi AaronsAustin , TX

Well, today was interesting. Anyone who knows me knows I hate mornings with a great passion, but for whatever reason, I woke up at 6:15 this morning and for the life of me, I couldn't go back to sleep. I had been having a really good dream about a snowboarder using his head and a tree as a brake and I was a super EMT saving his life. Apparently I'm going through emergency medicine withdrawls. Anyways, lately I've been stressing about a research paper I have to write this semester. I decided to write about how Indian gaming has improved the standard of living on reservations, thinking there'd be sooo much information on this subject and therefore an easy paper. I've been searching on and off for over a month now and have found very little iformation. Until today. I stumbled across the website for the Harvard Project on American Indian Economic Development. All this time I've been stressing and here the Harvard people have done all my research for me. That's a load off my shoulders, you have no idea.

After Shay got out of class today, we headed to IF to look at ipods and mp3 players for my dad's birthday. Kendra said the radio in the kitchen isn't working and all he cds are scratched and thought it would be nice if he had all of his music on one thing that he could take to work, have in his truck, play at home, etc. Anyways, we get all the way to IF and Kendra calls and says that dad found out what we were planning on getting for him and asked if he got to pick which one he wanted. Of course she tells us when we were already in IF. So we wandered around trying to find somewhere that sold model cars, the kind you have to glue together. No one in IF sold them so we had to go to King's in Rigby. Of all places, they were the one's that had some. When we got back to Rexburg we rented movies. Woo hoo.

Fortunately school is out in a little over a month. A very exciting and very daunting thought...

A list of records I recently bought:
The Beatles White Album
The Beatles Magical Mystery Tour
The Beach Boys in Concert
The Beatles Abbey Road
The Beatles Revolver
The Who Greatest Hits
Bob Dylan Greatest Hits
Steve Miller Band
Crosby Stills and Nash

I cannot get enough of old school rock!

Random Thoughts

Ever notice how characters in old movies have really dramatic facial expressions? Or how it looks like it hurts when they kiss because they smash their faces together so fast and hard?
Ever notice how loud things seems when you're trying your best to be quiet?
Ever notice how idiots seem to come out of the woodwork when you're having a bad day?
Who has more grace: Audrey Hepburn or Julie Andrews?
Why do humans have such a driving need to communicate (particularily on the internet), but shy away from personal contact?