Monday, December 19, 2005

Enlightenment

You know that feeling. Yes. That feeling. The feeling of Nirvana.
I don't want to brag and be prideful about it, but it's true: I've reached Nirvana.
Today, I have successfully packed 3 weeks of my life into a carry-on piece of luggage and a backpack.

Can you hear the choir in the background singing the Hallelujah Chorus?

This is one of my greatest achievements. I'd like to thank my parents, especially my father, for teaching me how to pack properly. A thanks is also thrown out to BYU for giving me a three week break so that my packing skills could be tried. And some cookies for the football team for getting us to a BOWL GAME!

Actually, the real reason that I packed so well is that it's an attractive quality. Well, at least for me, if a guy can pack efficiently, he's more attractive. I am specifically recalling a particular conversation last Friday when, as McKay was getting ready to go, I asked him if he needed help taking his stuff out to Deveren's car. He responded that he only had one bag, so my help wouldn't be needed.
One bag? McKay, for about 10 seconds after that conversation, I was swooning over your packing skills. Sigh...

What is so attractive about packing light? First, it's a sign that the person can be somewhat organized. Second, you know that the person isn't too worldly and needs that extra pair of shoes or bottle of shampoo. Thirdly (and most importantly), the amount of physical luggage is directly proportional to the amount of emotional luggage a person carries with them. If they can pack well, it means that they don't have extra stuff in the back of their mind that they can't let go of.
And that is why I try to pack well. That's the type of person I want to portray. So here I go: Vegas, Christmas in Chicago, and back to Utah again. All in a carry-on.

(actually, I also packed a bag within the carry-on so that I can bring Christmas presents home, so I'm not as efficient as I would like to be...stupid emotional baggage)

Ohhhhmmm. Ohhhhmmm.

Thursday, December 15, 2005

Life's too Short not to Live it Up a Little

Are you still hiding in your comfort zone, afraid to make your great debut in the world?
As the Heavenly Hosts say, "Fear Not!" I have created a new product that is guaranteed to throw you out of your comfort zone and into the frying pan where the party is HOT HOT HOT!
Because it is such a revolutionary idea, I cannot tell you exactly what the product is, I can tell you it's name, though. Please welcome to the market the 2006 Turbo Charged Bubble Popper XL-360!
Your bubble guaranteed to pop in just 10 days!
With this product, you will find yourself doing all the things you never did because you were too afraid to! You will be following impulses that will make your life more exciting like a MOVIE!
Impulses, you say, what kind of impulses? All the good ones. This product will help you realize that really any thing you want to do, even if it is not immediately socially acceptable, is perfectly fine, unless said activity harms the physical well being or the eternal progression or agency of yourself or others. Taking those few things out, you can do just about anything!
You want more specifics? These bubble popping impulses include:

  • Deciding to become a vegitarian without any warning.
  • Jaydancing instead of jaywalking.
  • Shouting "Allelujah" at random intervals.
  • Taking up a new hobby like origami or Uno.
  • Doing your homework with fingerpaint.
  • Becoming ambidextrous.
  • Giving high-fives to the neighborhood kids.
  • Buying flowers and giving them to homeless people.
  • Learning how to play the harmonica in your free time.
  • Playing said harmonica in sacrament meeting.
  • Writing backwards.
  • Wearing silly hats.
  • Disco dancing.
  • Throwing paper airplanes off heights.
  • Impulse sidewalk chalk buying.
  • Strange desires to learn to yo-yo.
  • Drinking abnormal amounts of root beer.
  • and so much more!
Too good to be true? It gets better!
Side effects include: Joy. Freedom of behavior. Realization that agency means more than choosing right over wrong, but better over good!
The essence of this product is that it allows you to ask yourself, "Will this action affect other people or myself in an adverse way? No? Then what's stopping me?"
This product is recommended by 9/10 doctors (the last doctor was in Fiji and we couldn't get ahold of him). It has not been tested on animals, although including your dog in on the fun is recommended.
Warning: do not give to children under the age of 7. It's like feeding them more sugar, and we all know they don't need that.

Testimonials:
After I started using the 2006 Turbo Charged Bubble Popper XL-360, I noticed that I wasn't so tense after a hard day. I came home in better spirits than I left that morning. It has worked wonders for my stress levels and my cooking! -Not Me from Bringhurst, Indiana

I decided to use the 2006 Turbo Charged Bubble Popper XL-360 when I realized that my talk in church last month was boring. Now I've seen the light and highly recommend this product to anyone who is looking for a solution to their dull life. -A Different Person from Jacksonville, Florida

As you see, this product will CHANGE YOUR LIFE! What are you waiting for?
Act now! End your life of monotony TODAY!

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Dear God

Dear God,
I know you get this all the time, but I think you're pretty awesome. Life has been good to me, how about you? I can't complain too much. There are little things, but you already know about those.
But I do have a question: what were you thinking when you made me? Yeah. There you are giving everyone nice traits. Oh shy, witty, good with knitting, that'll make a nice librarian. or ambitious, good people skills, smooth talker, a born leader. And then at the end of making all these wonderful combinations of people, you say to yourself, "Let's see...what could make me laugh the most. Oh yes! A clumsy, absent-minded, talks-before-she-thinks, blasphemus, smart-but-not-smart-enough-for-her-aspirations, excited about everything she sees girl. Yeah. That'll be a riot. And so here I am. I'm glad I can give you a good laugh, but it'd be really nice if you gave me some direction.
Ok, yeah. I might be talking out of line, but you still love me.
Oh! Thanks for the snow today. Very nice. You know what would be wonderful, though? If you could help me clean my room. That needs to be done. And help me study for tomorrow's test and help me relax. I feel really tense all the time now. I blame finals. Yeah. One week and I'll be in Vegas, but you already knew that, eh?
So how about a game of hopscotch sometime? I bet you're pretty good at hopscotch. You might even be perfect. I don't know, though, I'm a mean hopscotch competitor. I'll give you a run for your money, sir.
Well, I'm sure you're busy and all, planning for the end of the world. Just hold off the little red button for a few days, ok?
Sounds good. I'll chat with you later on, you busy at about 4? Good.
And you know I don't mean to sound blasphemus. Well, I do, but I don't mean anything terrible by it. Blasphemy! Ok. Sorry, God.

I'm sorry.

The good thing about having only 4 hours of sleep and sitting here an hour and a half before a final I'm going to fail and a day before I fail another one and the day after I failed another final (but will pass the class) is that it really humbles you.
And now I'm going to do what God told me to do last year, but I was too stubborn to do: I'm going to change my major. I don't know to what. Don't ask me. It's just not going to be math.
I'm going to minor in math (since I pretty much have one of those).
I don't know what to do, music? english? agriculture? Who knows? Well, God knows, but at the moment, He's not telling me, so I'm at an impasse. In all seriousness, I'm considering English. Yeah. I know. 360. I know. I know. I know.
I feel like I've failed all of you. I've failed my friends back at home who knew me as a math person. I've failed Dr. Forcade who expects me to get into grad school with my math. I feel like I failed McKay because now he can't say that he's dating a math major (I'm sorry, man). And I've failed God for putting off this decision for a year (God, I know you told me to do this last October, but I just didn't know what to do. All I know is math. I didn't know any other choice. Okay, Okay. No excuses. I should have listened last year. Are you up to helping me now, even though it's a year late?)
Next semester will be a make-up semester with my grades. I'm retaking a couple of my math classes.
And I plan on graduating sometime in 2008 instead of 2007 (I hope. I don't know because I don't know what program I'm doing, so it's hard to predict.) I do have most of my Generals done. I just need Bio, Civ 2 (History of the printing press, here I come), my social science (I'm taking that next semester) and an arts (Music 101, my friends). I'm signed up for bio for next semester, I'm not sure if I'm doing it yet, though.
And I plan on not doing an REU this summer like I wanted to.
But I still plan on doing my research with Dr. Forcade and publishing that math paper and presenting it at the Spring Research Conference in March. I'll let you all know when it is so you can see me.
And if tomorrow's Daily Universe mentions a co-ed who died from falling off the SWKT, well, it won't be me, but it should.
And now I just wait. Revelation? You there? God? Hello?

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

duh.

Your results:
You are Wonder Woman

Wonder Woman
100%
Spider-Man
90%
Superman
85%
Green Lantern
80%
Supergirl
75%
Robin
70%
Iron Man
60%
The Flash
60%
Hulk
60%
Catwoman
55%
Batman
40%
You are a beautiful princess
with great strength of character.
Click here to take the "Which Superhero are you?" quiz...

Monday, December 12, 2005

the first day of finals



And I don't have any finals today!
and it's my birthday!
I'm old!
20!
And I want to thank everyone who emailed me and all that jazz for my birthday.
w00t!

Here's my To Do List for December 12, 2005!
Laundry
Study
clean your room
eat icecream

Sounds good, doesn't it?

Ooh! And last night was so much fun! I went to see Handel's Messiah with McKay up in Salt Lake City and then we walked around Temple Square to look at the Christmas lights, they are AMAZING!

One year from now, I'm having a kegger! You can buy rootbeer in kegs, you know.
And I'm getting a concealed weapons permit. Pretty awesome, eh?

Saturday, December 10, 2005

Short like Daisy Dukes

I don't typically use this space to comment on my personal life, so I'm going to make this short.
I have a boyfriend now. His name is McKay Farley.

Wednesday, December 07, 2005

Happiness is...


A NEW HAT!
So yeah. Next week's my birthday so I have some spare money to spend on myself. Hooray for birthday cards!
Well, yesterday, I went down to the mall to buy Christmas gifts for all of my roommates, and guess what?! I saw this Fedora sitting there. So I bought it. And it was on clearance! $6! That's a happy figure.
It's a black, pinstripe fedora with a little embroidery to flourish up the style. I'm so excited!. FEDORA!
Fedora is a really cool word, don't you think? I think I'll name one of my girls (when I get married and have children) Fedora. I already have a couple of awesome boys' names picked out, now I have a girl's. Hooray for Jesus, Paul, and Fedora!
Jesus will be pronounced exactly how you pronounce it at church. Frankly, I don't see why Americans can't name a son Jesus when all of Latin America can. I think it's a perfectly good name. And I think Christ is a perfectly good person (literally) to name someone after. And can you just imagine yourself, "Jesus! Did you clean your room? It's dinner time!" And I'm sure the ward will be slightly shocked. Sweetness. A slightly shocked ward is everything I've ever hoped for. Hooray for being offensive without really being offensive!
I chose Paul because he's an awesome New Testament apostle. He really is pretty awesome.
And now Fedora. Sweetness.
FEDORA!

Sunday, December 04, 2005

washing your makeup off

It was a good date. Milk shakes, quality comedic entertainment, a game of Uno. A goodnight hug.
He leaves you at your apartment. Walking to your room, you beam (and your roommates give you all these questioning looks).
Wait...You have makeup on, so instead of making it all the way to your room, you stop at the vanity to wash it off. You turn on the faucet, cup some water in your hands, and bend towards the clean feel of a washed face.
But, as you bend down towards the water in your hand, you look up at the mirror in front of you.
Wait that's what you looked like all night?
And then they come: the doubts.
It's really only one doubt: who on earth could like you? Well, you have friends; people like you well enough, but what about you would lead to someone being romantically interested in you?
So you stop in the middle of washing your face. Yeah. You have a round face. Who would like someone with a round face?
Your hair's a mess and you could probably stand to lose a few pounds. You're the biggest geek on the planet.
And yet, some guy likes you.
And it's a wonderful game.

Thursday, December 01, 2005

Have you ever...

I mooched this off of Erin's blog. I don't normally do these types of things, but hey, what the heck.
Smoked a cigarette. Uh-uh.
Smoked a joint. Never.
Drank a beer. No way Jose.
Drank any other kind of alcohol. Nope.
Crashed a car. Yes.
Stolen a car. Nope
Been in love. Yesiree.
Had a threesome. Nope
Been dumped. Yes.
Shoplifted. No.
Been fired. Yes and it was really stupid, too. Ask me about it sometime.
Been in a fistfight. No, but I've almost been. It was close. For some reason, guys won't hit girls.
Snuck out of the house. Yes. Three times. Successfully.
Had feelings for someone who didn't have them back. Yes
Been arrested. No
Made out with a stranger. No
Gone on a blind date. Yes
Lied to a friend. Yes
Had a crush on a teacher. No
Been to Europe. Ja, klar. Kitzingen, Bayern, Deutschland.
Skipped school. Yes
Seen someone die. No
Been to Canada. Yes
Been to Mexico. Nope
Been on a plane. Yes
Seen the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Parts of it. It's on my list of things to see.
Thrown up in a bar. No
Purposely set a part of yourself on fire. No
Eaten Sushi. Nope. I'm actually a little scared to do so...
Been snowboarding. Yep.
Met someone from the internet in person. Yes.
Been moshing at a concert. No, but I really wanted to. John was being over-proctective and wouldn't let me. Next time, though. Next time.
Been in an abusive relationship. No...eh? Depends on your definition of abusive, probably.
Taken painkillers. For my wisdom teeth, aye.
Love someone or miss someone right now. Yes. Yes I do.
Laid and watched cloud shapes go by. Yes
Made a snow angel. Heck yes!
Had a tea party. No.
Flown a kite. Yes. Even a kite I made myself.
Built a sand castle. Yes
Gone puddle jumping. Yes. Last week.
Played dress up. Yes. All the time
Jumped into a pile of leaves. Yes
Gone sledding. Yes
Cheated while playing a game. Yes- Heads up seven up, 3rd grade, I peeked at the shoes of the person who put my thumb down.
Been lonely. Yes
Fallen asleep at work/school. Yes
Used a fake ID. No
Watched the sun set. Yes
Felt an earthquake. No
Touched a snake. Yes
Slept beneath the stars. Yes
Been tickled. Yes
Been robbed. Yes
Been misunderstood. Yes
Pet a reindeer/goat. Yes.
Won a contest. Yes
Run a red light. Twice. I felt really guilty after both times.
Been suspended from school. No
Been in a car accident. Yes- I crashed a car, didn't I?
Had braces. Nope.
Felt like an outcast. Yes
Eaten a whole pint of ice cream in one night. um. yeah. not just a pint...
Had deja vu. Yes
Danced in the moonlight. Yes
Hated the way you look. Yes
Witnessed a crime. No.
Pole danced. Umm...next question, please...
...Fine! I haven't, but it's on my list of things to learn.
Been obsessed with post-it notes. No
Walked barefoot through the mud. Yes
Been lost. Yes
Been to the opposite side of the world. No
Swam in the ocean. Yes
Felt like dying. Yes
Cried yourself to sleep. Yes
Played cops and robbers. Yes. Once with the neighborhood kids. We played King of the Mountain more.
Recently colored with crayons/colored pencils/markers. Yes
Sung karaoke. Yes
Paid for a meal with only coins. Yes
Done something you told yourself you wouldn't. Yes
Made prank phone calls when you were younger. No.
Laughed until some kind of beverage came out of your nose. Yes
Caught a snowflake on your tongue. Yes- yesterday, actually.
Danced in the rain. Yes
Written a letter to Santa Claus. Yes
Been kissed under the mistletoe. No. I don't even think I've ever seen mistletoe in real life.
Watched the sunrise with someone you care about. No. Also on my list of things to do.
Blown bubbles. Yes
Had a bonfire on the beach. No
Crashed a party. Yes
Gone roller-skating. Yes
Had a wish come true. Yes
Worn pearls. Yes. I love pearls.
Jumped off a bridge. No
Screamed the word “penis” in public. No. I'm not Melanie Medic, you know.
Ate dog/cat food. No
Told a complete stranger you loved them. Yes.
Kissed a mirror.Yes
Sang in the shower. Yes
Owned a little black dress. Yes. Who hasn't? Who doesn't?
Had a dream that you married someone. Yes
Glued your hand to something. Yes.
Got your tongue stuck to a flagpole. No, but it's very tempting
Worn the opposite sex's clothes. Yes
Been a cheerleader. No
Sat on a rooftop. Yes
Screamed at the top of your lungs. Yes
Done a one-handed cartwheel. I can't even to a two-handed one.
Talked on the phone for more than 6 hours. No
Stayed up all night. No
Didn't take a shower for a week. No
Picked and ate an apple right off the tree. Yes
Climbed a tree. Yes
Had a tree house. No
Are scared to watch scary movies. No
Believe in ghosts. Yes.
Have more than 30 pairs of shoes. No
Worn a really ugly outfit to school just to see what others say. No
Gone streaking. Does running from the bathroom to my bedroom count?
Gone skinny-dipping. No
Played ding-dong-ditch. Yes
Played chicken. No, but I'm planning on it. List of things to do...
Been pushed into a pool/lake with all your clothes on. No
Been told you're beautiful by a complete stranger. You know, I can count on my hand the number of people who have said I'm beautiful. I can count on one finger the number of people who actually meant it and wasn't trying to get some.
Broken a bone. No
Been easily amused. Yes
Caught a fish then ate it. No
Caught a butterfly. Yes
Laughed so hard you cried. Yes
Cried so hard you laughed. Yes
Puked and laid in it. Yes. I was really sick and I really didn't feel like moving.
Had sex in the back seat of a car. No. Haven't had sex. Go me!
So yeah. that was productive...

Other interesting things: I've never had a nose bleed. I've been stung by bees 3 times, and I once at 8 root beer floats in one sitting.

Wednesday, November 30, 2005

Now Bring us Some Figgy Pudding

Ok. Picture this: Ward Christmas Party/Closing Social
Dinner is finished.
Christmas Carol Time.
We Wish You a Merry Christmas.

So first of all, I guess I've been singing the song wrong for ages. I go ahead to the "Now bring us some figgy pudding" part, but pronounce "figgy" as "fijy" Yeah. Yeah.
So here I am waiting for my fijy pudding, and we continue.
"We won't go until we get some." (include an eyebrow/nod thingy and a wry sexy smile directed at Megan, my roommate.)
So now I've ruined the whole song. We're waiting 'til we get some and none of us can sing because we are laughing so much.
"Heather what is it you're trying to get?" Kaycee asks.
"Fijy pudding. I'm not leaving until I get some." More eyebrow/nod thingys.
Laughter ensues. More laughter ensues.

Tonight, I better get some fijy pudding.

So now I can never sing a Christmas carol again. The end.
The birds are going to fly whether the sultan is there or not.

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

The Man Who Killed Science

The day after string theory was proven, all graduate programs in physics lost their funding. A week later, they were all demolished. Masters and PhD students were forced to find alternative subjects. Some became mathematicians, some went into computer programming. Most became engineers.
With the sudden drop of graduate students, PhDs started scrambling for teaching positions in universities that still taught menial, or ancient, physics: Newtonian, Einsteinien. Because physics departments couldn't handle the excess faculty, pink slips were found in numerous mailboxes and slipped under office doors.

Dear Jon Doe, PhD.:
We had been hoping that during this difficult period of reorganization we could keep all of our employees with the University. Unfortunately, this is not the case.
It is with regret, therefore, that we must inform you that we will be unable to utilize your services after Monday the 16th. We have been pleased with the qualities you have exhibited
during your tenure of employment with us, and will be sorry to lose you as an employee of the Blank University Physics Department.
Please accept our best wishes for your future.


It wasn't easy for Dr. Norris to prove string theory. It had taken the better of seven years working late nights and rising early in the morning, putting strain on his family life, worrying his wife. And then it ended and Dr. Norris finally came home early.
"I've done it. I've done it. All I need to do now is publish the paper and present it at the Conference. It's a sure Nobel," he exclaimed as he walked in the door and found his wife putting dinner on the table. He took her by the waist and spun her around.
"Years from now, children learning to write five paragraph essays will look me up in the World Book Encyclopedia and title their biographical papers 'My Hero, Richard Norris.'"
He smiled at her and brought her close.
"This is my biggest achievement. It'll be our big break into the world of rich, high society. How does that sound?"
And he kissed her.

"Norris Unifies Universe" "X University Professor Speaks at Conference" "PhD unravels String Theory" "String Theorist on Larry King" "Nobel Prize Expected" "Dr. Norris to Speak"

September 22nd came around. Honorary degrees, memberships to elect societies, came as a rain of flowers.
"My friends and fellow scientists. Unifying the nature of physics has been a long endeavor. Since the Greeks, mankind has tried to explain the world around them, and until recently, science has been split between quantum mechanics and general relativity. But now we have done it. We no longer have to struggle. The universe is one. It is finished."
Applause.
Another Nobel Prize in Physics.

It was the last Nobel Prize to ever be given in physics. Because that's when the departments started shutting down.
Six months after his acceptance speech, Richard Norris was found in his office.
"Hey, Richard."
"Hey Stephen! What's up?"
"I was just stopping by to say goodbye."
"Goodbye? Why?"
"The university is downsizing some more. Three PhDs is too much for the univerisity to pay. Alan and I have been laid off. They're probably keeping you just because you're you."
"But you've been here for so long! Twice as long as me! Surely they can see your worth to the University!"
"Richard. That's just how it is. The world's changing now."


"Daddy."
Richard was sitting in his den, reading the Tribune. Peering around the paper, he sees the bright eyes of his wife in his son's face.
"Daddy. Today in school, the teacher asked us to write a sentence about what we want to be when we grow up."
He pushes his paper into his father's lap.
"I want to be a physicist, just like you."

It has been 56 years since I won the Nobel Prize in Physics. I have lived the excitement of discovery, and the lethargy of completeness. My co-workers, my mentors, my students have all gone a different way, and even, I, in the end was forced to retire due to lack of subject. A new generation has grown up with all the answers, without any mystery to add to the curiosity of the universe. I know that none of you blame me. After all, I was just adding to out understanding of the world, just like Newton, just like Einstein, just like every scientist before me. But unlike the great men of the past, instead of adding new genius to science, I ended it. I know that no one in this world will say this to my face, so instead, I will say it now: I killed science. Because of my naivity and pompousness, physics is dead. There is nothing left to do.

It is finished.

Three years later, Dr. Norris went to his grave. Three hundred years later, science was ancient history.

Thursday, November 24, 2005

an attempt

at making a wallpaper.
From Full Metal Alchemist, it's Colonel Mustang. I had to do the hair myself (which is why it sucks) and all of the cutting and pasting was done in Paint Art, so it kind of sucks too. But Colonel Mustang is pretty much the hottest animated character on the planet.

Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving!
I'm currently working on a small science fiction piece which I will post later today when I finish it. It's actually the first fiction I've written in a long time. As you can tell, I either update you all about the BYU football team/BYU Marching Band or I do creative non-fiction. Jack Brown is fiction, but I failed to post that last Saturday. I'll post it this Saturday.
I'm also working on an essay for the David O. McKay Essay Contest. It's a rather serious piece and was difficult to write. I might post it here pieces at a time. The material is tough and very personal. When I do post it, don't judge me, my friends.

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

what happens in Las Vegas...

IS A BOWL GAME!!
December 22 the BYU football team will be playing in the 2005 Pioneer PureVision Las Vegas Bowl!
And guess who's going!
The BYU Marching Band, the Power of the Wasatch. And they are, of course, bringing their talented dancers, the Color Guard, of which I am a part.
So I won't be home in Chicago until the 23rd. I'm sorry, friends, but you know how it goes...

Monday, November 21, 2005

decimals have their points...

I've heard so many people tell me lately that math has no real purpose.
"What's the point? No one's going to come up to you and ask, 'Quickly, quickly, write out a proof of Lagrange's Theorem in group theory!' as you walk down the street."
And I used to agree with them.

"This is TopHat."
"I'm a math major, too," I injected explaining how I knew Keith. Sitting on a rugged orange chair which reminded me of the chair in Mr. Magnini's office in high school, I was visiting Keith in his apartment when his roommate Monty came in.
"Math major? Really? I have a question for you."
I looked over at Keith. His eyes were saying "Oh great. Not this."
Monty didn't see the look, "Which is larger as you go to infinity, the whole numbers or the positive even numbers?"
Beautiful. This was one of those moments that I was glad I was asked a simple question, and that I had learned a little bit of set theory last year.
"They are the same size, or have the same order, because you can find a 1 to 1 function from the whole numbers to the even positives."
Smiling wide, I look over at Keith, proud. Take that Keith. I'm a hot commodity. I can answer math questions on the spot and I made you cookies today (that was the reason I was there).
Monty looks at me and he looks at me and his face is full of disbelief.
"No!"
Keith chuckled (I haven't known anyone to chuckle until I met Keith), "I've been telling him that all year; he just doesn't get it."

So there. Yes. People WILL come up to you and ask you math questions on the street.
Be prepared. No calculators. And you can't use your neighbor.
Don't I hear any of you telling me that math is useless in my everday life.

Saturday, November 19, 2005

Today's the Big Day!



Ok. It is currently 2 hours before I have to be at the marching band field for the Utah game. We had better win. The suspense is killing me. Wait. No. That would be the lack of sleep.

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

They Might Arrest Me


someday...

I love breaking rules. Now, I don’t go around breaking every rule of the book; my limits are that if I don’t hurt anyone’s physical well-being or eternal salvation, then it’s ok. Jaywalking is an excellent example of this. I keep hearing tales of pedstrians receiving citations for jaywalking. I don’t believe them.
When I was taking driver’s ed in Chicago, a police officer came to the class to answer questions. One boy asked if pedestrians have the right of way even if they’re jaywalking. I love the answer: Of course jaywalkers have the right of way. They are pedestrians and if you hit one with your vehicle, that’s a crime. Oh bliss! I can jaywalk all I want, and if I get hit, I can sue them.
Jaywalking is fun because it’s so blatant. You have to jaywalk at the right time. If you go out into with just five seconds before the walk signal, it’s not jaywalking (in my book). You have to cross completely with the red hand staring at you the whole way for it to count as a proper jaywalk. I love it. It shocks so many people to see someone just walk out into the street. The pedestrians that you leave behind nervously eye one another. Is it okay to cross the street? She did. But the light says you shouldn’t. Should we follow like sheep? No. They shouldn’t follow like sheep, so they stay on the corner until the blinking walking man shows up.
And I wouldn’t want them to follow anyway. If they don’t have enough guts to start a jaywalk on their own, then they shouldn’t be jaywalking at all. Have some guts. Show the law who’s boss. Take it to the man.

Monday, November 14, 2005

HEAVY METAL!

(sousaphones really are pretty heavy)

Come one! Come all!
Tuesday night at the DeJong Concert Hall, the BYU Marching Band will be performing FREE!
It's at 7.30 pm. It'll be only an hour and a half max, for those of you who wish to be home doing homework.

Advisory: not for infants who can't handle loud noises. It's going to be LOUD. Next time you take 200+ musicians who are used to playing outside and put them in a concert hall, you'll know what I mean.

And you'll have lots of fun, I promise. The purpose of the Marching Band is to get people up and excited, and we are good at what we do.

And personal plug: I'm in the color guard. Look for me during Incredibles, El Toro, and the Cougar Fight Song!

Sunday, November 13, 2005

Let's get ready to RUMBLE!

(childlike): I'm going to a bowl game I'm going to a bowl game nya nya nya nya nya!

W00t! Yesterday, with BYU's win against Wyoming, BYU has achieved the required 6 wins to be eligible for a bowl game! BYU is currently placed second in the Mountain West Conference!

It even gets better! In our final game this next Saturday, BYU will be playing rival UofUtah in a home game! Happy Red week! BYU is ranked higher than Utah, but at the BYU/Utah game, anything goes. You all better be there this weekend!

Even better news: As a part of the Power of the Wasatch, I get to go to the bowl game and perform! Hooray for marching band! I'll update you all on which bowl and when and where as soon as I get the information.

In all, this is a great day. FOOTBALL!

Saturday, November 12, 2005

Missing in the Math Lab (part 1)

Thursday. Lightening flashes outside, rain drops collect on the window like engineers to the Clyde building, starting off individually, but grouping into masses and falling and failing and failing...
It has been two days since my last case and it is already beginning to show. Papers are stacked on my desk, pencils laying on the floor, the bulb of my desk lamp flickering, I sit lounged, with my feet on top of my desk, taking in the Fedora atmosphere and procrastinating already late research. I could grade papers. I could study. I could...
A shadow appears from behind the door, walking forward with caution. As it approaches my desk, I see that it is a young woman.
"Are you...are you the man I hear is a private investigator?"
It seems word has gotten out to campus already.
"Yes. I am. My name's Jack Brown. Please sit down."
She takes the chair in front of my desk. Hunched over she searches for something in her purse-a tissue. The glisten in her eyes gieves away that she had been crying; her face is drained of any energy. Wrinkling the tissue in her hands, she sits knees together, shaking as if she is cold. She's beautiful. Her dark hair falls carelessly on her shoulders.
"How may I help you? Would you take my coat?"
"No. I'm fine. It's my brother. He's missing."
I pull a small notebook out from under a pile of papers, and removing my feet from off the desk, I reach for a pen.
Leaning foward, I ask, "Can you give me a description of him? Where he was last seen?"
"His name is Daniel. Daniel M. Hendrickson. He's about 5'10", dark hair, green eyes. He's a communications major, but was taking Math 110 for a GE requirement. That's where he disappeared. He went to the Math Lab last Monday and never came home."
"The Math Lab, eh? Sounds like a risky place. I'll get right on it Miss Hendrickson."
"Oh. Thank you so much." Her face loosens up, but her eyes are still pleading to me.
"No problem. This is what I do. Could I have your number so I can reach if I come across something?"
She scribbles her digits on a post-it.
"Thank you for being so kind."
"No. Thank you for coming to me," I pause, "It's getting late; would you mind if I walked you home?"
"Oh. I'm fine. I'll just call Safe Walk." Standing up to leave, she offers her hand, switching the tissue from her right to left.
"Goodnight, Mr. Brown."
"I'll be calling you."
And with that, she turns to the door, her silhouette swaying in the doorway until the door clicks shut.
Ooh! Foiled by the University Police and their Safe Walk again!
Alone in the room, I gaze at the flicker of the lamp and turn to watch the gathering of the raindrops. I scrawl on a manilla folder: Case 2: Missing in the Math Lab.
(to be continued...)

Friday, November 11, 2005

Teaser...

Coming Soon!
Jack Brown, a graduate student at Brigham Young University, has office hours 10am-12pm every day for desperate freshman seeking A's in his class. Seeking a more rivoting lifestyle, he has extended his office hours into the wee hours of the night and has become

JACK BROWN:
PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR
THE REAL BYU-EYE

After completing his first case, The Chalk Circle Crook, Jack is found relaxing in his office after hours....

(stay tuned for details)

Thursday, November 10, 2005

and-a 1 and-a 2 and-a...

My softball number when I was in second grade: 14. Teeth I’ve chipped: 1. Times I’ve been pulled over: 3. Tickets: 0. Places I’ve lived: 9. Rock concerts I’ve been to: 1. College sports games I’ve seen: 12. Professional sports games I’ve seen: 0. Colleges I applied to: 4. Times I’ve stubbed my toe: 18. Age when I found that Santa didn’t exist: 8. Zoos I’ve been to: 4. Times I fell down the stairs last week: 15. Letters I’ve received from John: 35. Watches I’ve owned: 6. Perfumes I’ve worn: 5. Talks I’ve given in church: 5. Years I’ve been on a color guard: 5. Rolls of film I’ve used up: 12. Pencils I’ve broken: 153. Cousins: 11. Cousins I’m on speaking terms with: 3. Minutes it takes to walk to the Deseret Book in Orem: 36. Nights I’ve been stranded in Salt Lake: 1. Movies I saw this summer: 3. Band-aids I’ve used this semester: 3. Sushi rolls I’ve eaten: 0. Times I’ve sworn: 4. Times I’ve given the bird: 0. Arm wrestles I’ve won: 3. Times I’ve blinked: 1,985,687,234. Hailstorms I’ve been in: 3. Rent: $230. Dances I went to in high school: 6. I cried at 4. My favorite prime number: 2039. Age I learned to snap on both hands: 9. Age I learned to whistle: 11. Free space on my hard drive: 100GB. People in my apartment: 4. Age when my grandpa died: 13. Ants I killed today: 2. Quarters I have for laundry: 46. Times I ditched class in high school: 1. Times I’ve ditched class in college: 3. Bottles of shampoo I own: 2.

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

To the Future Mr. Top Hat

Dear Mr. TopHat,
There are some things about me that you are going to have to understand and be ok with before you marry me. That's ok, right? Well, it had better be, because that's how it's going to be, sir.
First, every recipe I know has tomatoes in it because every recipe that I ever ate when I was growing up had tomatoes in it. If you're allergic to tomatoes, now is the time to break this thing off.
Concerning the topic of food, I am a "food purist." This means I don't mix foods often. Ask me to cook for you sometime, you'll see what I mean.
Second, I am a clutz. There's this thing called a "body" and I have a tendency to forget that I have one. At every wrong moment, I will forget what my hand or foot is doing in relation to the rest of me and I'll do something terrible. I can give you three examples from just yesterday: I spilt lemonade on my lap at lunch, I broke my pencil from reaching it out of my pocket, and then when I was pondering what a clutz I am on the way to class, I fell off the curb. Why do I do these things? Because I haven't exactly mastered my motor skills yet. Now don't get me wrong, I can play the piano like a madwoman and type 55-65 wpm. I'm on the BYU colorguard. I do have motor skills, just not climbing-stairs ones. My brain just forgets that it's a part of a body. That's all. There will be many times in our married life when I will cut myself accidently or spill sugar all over the floor. I will just shrug these off because it happens to me all the time. You, however, have probably never experienced this. I can be frustrating, but don't get upset at me. I'm just going to shrug it off anyway.
Sir, another thing I do is put things down and forget where I put them. You are about to jump into a neverending conversation that sounds like this:
"Where did I put my ____?"
"It's right next to you, honey."
"Where?" and I will look all around myself and not see it, believe me.
"Right there."
"Oh!"
That conversation will happen everyday at least five times. Get used to it. If you need them, I'll make up flash cards for you so you can practice it.
You also need to know, sir, that I do a lot alone. I can clean, but only by myself. If someone else is there (meaning if someone else is in the house and is not asleep), I cannot clean. The same goes for cooking. I can only cook if I'm the only one in the kitchen. Honest. Don't you even try to add oregano to the spaghetti. I will do it and I will do it alone.
I get crazy ideas all the time. Sometimes I go on an origami spree or a vegetarian spree. Don't worry these will all pass. Let me have my fun.
I talk in movie theaters. And I laugh at all the wrong places in a movie, loudly, very loudly.
I talk to myselt a lot. And to God. And to the moon. And to the bedroom and the chair I'm sitting on and to just about everything. Get used to it. Don't send me to a pysch hospital.
I'm a stickler about rules, but I jaywalk religiously. I prefer riding a bike to driving a car. I dance every time I think no one's looking (and a lot of the time when people are looking) and I like AC/DC. I have no shame and will not behave myself in "proper" company. If taken to a fancy dinner, I will laugh because of the waiter's accent and nothing will stop me and you'll be embarrassed in front of your boss, but I will keep on laughing. And the Webster's dictionary is my closest friend. Nothing will come between us. Not even you, Mr. Top Hat...if that really is your name....


Um yeah. So if you are ok with all of that, sure let's get married.
Love,
Top Hat

Tuesday, November 08, 2005

Beam me up

Be prepared.
Be prepared in everything.
So what if a mad (or not-so-mad) scientist asked you to test his new time machine? Well, you'd have to pack! Would you be prepared?

My list of things I'd pack if a mad/not mad scientist asked me to try out a time travelling device:

My contacts and contact solution
Girl supplies
My watch and extra batteries
Shampoo and conditioner
Bandaids
Picture of my family
Highlighter
Slinky
Comb
Hat (I'm thinking my orange one)
Journal
Pen(cil?)
Scriptures
Some awesome purple makeup
Mirror
Rubiks cube
Pants
Lighter
Candy

I think that'll do it. Yessiree.

And as he straps me into the machine, my right foot on the "go" lever, I set the date. August, May, January... The door closes and the lights flash on and off in spuratic intervals.

This ride might take some time, so reaching down into my bag of belongings, I grab the Rubiks cube... click click click.

Monday, November 07, 2005

I don't like tuna, thank you very much.

You Are Fall Flowers

Beautiful yet often forgotten.



Beautiful yet often forgotten? I think what they meant by often is "every Friday and Saturday night, every guy that you talked to during the week is going to ask another chick out, propose to her on Monday and live happily ever after. You, however, will end up lonely for the rest of your life eating tuna out of cans."

Why Thank you! My self esteem is wondrously high today.

Sunday, November 06, 2005

FENG SHUI!


I re-arranged my bedroom this weekend! I now have stadium auditorium seating in front of my computer. I can fit 6-8 people in the room and watch movies on my 17" LCD screen! It's beautiful.
I told Carolyn that "once you enter, you won't want to leave." She didn't believe me and then....
*VA-VOOM* There she was, entranced by my feng shui.
I think I'm going to paint a mural on one of the walls over Thanksgiving. My plans to go to Vegas (sadly) fell through and my parents can't conjure up the money to bring me home for both Christmas and Thanksgiving (and they aren't too happy about the Christmas thing either; ask me later). So now, I'm going to be left in Provo bumming off of my bishopric for Thanksgiving. My mom suggested that I find a boy to take me home for Thanksgiving. right... Keep on dreaming, mom.

Thursday, November 03, 2005

5 minute penalty for not liking root beer.

I once decided to be a vegetarian. I woke up one day and said, "I'm going to be a vegetarian." So I did.
It was very easy, actually, well, until you reach the point when you start dreaming about hot dogs. Mmmm. You see, in the dream they were Chicago style hotdogs in nice, fluffy Wonderbread buns. Onions, mustard, relish, peppers. So good.
But you know what? I still stayed a vegetarian after that dream. For a week. And then I gave up and had a chicken pot pie. It cost me 39 cents at Aldi's. It wasn't the best chicken pot pie, but for 39 cents and a 3 minute microwave wait, who cares? Oh man. I bet it would have been better if I had baked it in the oven. I don't know. I've never tried it.
Maybe I will. Sunday. That sounds good. Sunday after church I'll put a chicken pot pie in the oven and actually bake it. And I'll have lemonade and then root beer.
Who doesn't love root beer? Tell me. I think they ought to be shunned from society, but only for 5 minutes because we don't want to be too mean.

Thursday, October 20, 2005

the flower at Grandpa's wake

From the outside, a funeral home looks welcoming. Flowers are planted in neat rows, the grass is neatly trimmed, and the sidewalk is swept. The large wooden doors, decorated in elaborate ivy designs are clean and polished. It’s hard to imagine that dead people are carried in and out of them on a regular basis.
Just inside, there is a hallway with blue-gray carpet and light blue walls. There are mirrors put up at modest intervals, framed with a light above and an end table below. Each end table has a little drawer with a single knob and a vase of flowers placed neatly in the center. What do they keep in the little drawer?
I am with my family and they were giving off a nervous air. My father and brothers are in the suits they normally wear for church. My mom is wearing a black skirt and dark blouse and my sister is wearing a dark-colored dress. My dress is the prettiest I own: burgundy and velvet.
At the end of hallway there is a right turn before you go into the room where the casket is displayed. The small crowd of my family turns the corner together in a large mass. I wonder if it is hard to turn a casket through this corner. Grandpa must have been carried through this little walkway; did the carriers bump him against the sides of the wall?
We enter the room. There are chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, chairs set up facing a pulpit and more flowers. In another corner there is a television showing calm nature scenes to set the mood. A small upright piano was standing opposite of Grandpa.
Grandma is standing by Grandpa talking to Dennis, her son. There are people all over the place, some looking at Grandpa, some ignoring the existence of his dead body. What am I supposed to look at? Should I go admire some flowers? Should I go talk to relatives I’ve never met? Should I go see Grandpa?
I walk around slowly weaving between groups of people and head towards the piano. I had brought some music, so I move the bench out. The bench was old and had scratches all over it. Placing my foot on the right-most pedal, I see that it is easily the most worn of the three. I lean up and try turning the light one. Click. Click. Oh it needs to be plugged in. Noticing me at the piano, my mom starts towards me. Ignoring her, I open my music and start playing.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” She has been asking that all day. She thinks I should be too distraught to play at the funeral.
“I’m fine.”
“Ok…You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
I run through the piece a few times. It’s not hard. I’ve been playing it for at least four months now. Some relatives mention how nice I play and I give up at it. I guess I should go take a look at Grandpa.
Scooting the bench back, I get up and walk to the casket. Grandpa is wearing a nice suit and looks very peaceful- like he can wake up any second now. His hands are lying on top of each other on his belly, but he’s not holding any flowers. This is not how Disney portrays it in the movies. I think I’ll remedy that. I grab a bright orange carnation off an arrangement. Maybe I should grab roses…no carnations last longer. Taking the carnation, I try to slide it into the gap between his hands.
It won’t go in. I try again. No luck. I continue jabbing the end of the carnation against the dead man’s palms. His hands are like hard rubber; every time I poke the flower into the gap, it bounces back at me. I lean over Grandpa and down look at his hands from his perspective, trying to get the carnation in just right so I don’t have to feel the hardness of his hands through the flower. I try to slip the flower in, with some success. The flower is there all right. It just needs to be positioned just right….
Oh crap. I just touched Grandpa’s stiff, dead hands! I touched a dead man! What do I do? Is that bad? Are you allowed to touch dead people? Did my mom see?
I search around me for any sign that I was offending people…none. Ok. I can handle that. I just have to get away from the casket before I do it again. The piano! Yes. That’s safe.
Walking briskly back towards the piano, I sit down in one quick motion and play until the wake is over. The piano keys seem stiffer than they were and aren’t playing like I would like them. A few relatives comment on my dress. Grandma comments on the flower in Grandpa’s hand.
“It looks nice.”
“I did it.” And desecrated his dead body while I was at it.
“Thanks. I like it.”
I nod and get ready to go back to the hotel. I’ll be back tomorrow for the funeral, the orange carnation blaring that I had touched a dead man.

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

How to Make a Bed

When I wake up in the morning, I usually go straight to the shower because I feel dirty or straight to the kitchen because I feel hungry. It is not until I return to my room to grab a book or to refresh my hair that I realize that the bed has not been made. Panic ensues as I check the clock. Classes start in fifteen minutes. Making the bed takes between five to twenty minutes.
Of course, there is the easy way out, pulling the blanket over the mess to hide the unsightly bundle of sheets. This is the rule of choice most days, as I grab and apple and run out the door.
Making the bed is much more complex than that these days, with all the types of beds and blankets and our hectic schedules. We are not all hotel maids, trained in transforming strewn cloth into welcoming perfection.

Sheets
Sheets, whether red, polka-dotted, or paisley, are a staple in the bedroom. When making a bed, you must have the right size of sheet, or else you will find hideous wrinkles as you slip into sleep. This is most obvious with the fitted sheet. Now, it used to be that fitted sheets were bunched on the two ends of the bed: the head end and the foot end. However, lately, I’ve been finding fitted sheets that have been bunched on the two sides. This causes great confusion while making a bed, especially under a strict time-limit. To avoid this confusion, it is always best to find the tag before laying a fitted sheet on a bed. The tag will indicate which side of the sheet faces up and also where the foot of the sheet can be found.
If fitted sheets were our only worries, making the bed might not be such a chore. The flat sheet is where a lot of trouble comes in. Do you fold it over at the top or does the sheet just come up to a certain point? How far from the top of the bed do you make the fold? This is usually personal preference. Remember to keep the ultimate objective in mind. Decide beforehand how you want the sheet folded or not folded; if you do not, you waste a lot of time adjusting and re-adjusting the sheet for the perfect look. It might be best to do this when you have more time. Practice making the bed on a Saturday afternoon until you get it just right. Always tuck the foot end of the sheet in first before you continue on to the sides.

Beds
The biggest problem with beds is the orientation. Nearly always, the bed is situated against a wall on one or two sides. Having the head of the bed at a wall is not normally a large problem; practice over time will fix that, but having the side of the bed against the wall will increase the making the bed time by at last a couple of minutes. The fitted sheet doesn’t pose too much of a problem, but the flat does. Unless you can fit yourself in the small space between the wall and the mattress, you end up having to climb on top of the bed, lift the top mattress while you are on it and quickly shove the sheet between the two mattresses. The most common problem with this is the evenness of the tuck and any wrinkles that occur because you were on the bed. The best bet with this is to tuck the side near the wall first, so that when you tuck the open side, you can compensate for any wrinkles or unevenness. It is also fine to not tuck that side of the sheet between the mattresses, but let it hang against the wall; no one will notice.
The size of the bed is also problematic. Making a twin size bed can easily be down by yourself; however, a full-, queen-, or king-sized bed might require two or more people. Now, it is possible to make one of these larger beds by yourself, but only if you don’t mind running around the outside of the bed, back and forth, while you get it right. This technique will lengthen the amount of time it takes to make the bed. There is also the make-the-bed-while-you-are-on-top-of-it technique, but the maker who follows that course of study will lose points in the wrinkle department. Ideally, when you make a large bed, find a friend and use the buddy-system; doing it together will speed up the process (minding that you don’t argue about the technique or style while doing it).

Comforters and blankets
Comforters are relatively easy, they can be thrown onto a bed, and as long as it hangs evenly off the edge, it will greatly improve the look of the bed making. Sometimes, in colder regions, it is necessary to have more than one blanket for the purpose of keeping warm at night. If such a blanket is needed, this blanket is tucked into the mattress like the sheets are (foot end first, sides second). The comforter is then laid on top of the blanket in the usual fashion.

Pillows and throw pillows
Pillows are essential in sleeping. It is customary to keep the pillows near the head of the bed. Whether or not they lay under or on top of the comforter is personal preference and style. This also needs to be decided before attempting to make a bed.
Throw pillows are usually found on bed in which women sleep. Because of this, before placing them on the bed, check with the female sleeper how she wants them to be placed. If you do not do this, consequences could be disastrous, especially if you also want to be sleeping in that bed later and not on the couch. It is also fashionable to keep the throw pillows at the foot of the bed in a dramatic and stylistic pile.

Headboards, Footboards, and Four-poster beds
Extra stylistic addendums to the bed can also create trouble. Headboards are highly common and only create problems when the maker is applying the fitted sheet. Blessed is the bed with only a headboard, for the maker can cut minutes off his chore. Having a footboard not only complicates the fitted sheet, but the flat sheet, too. I once had an oak bed that had head- and footboards. Tucking the flat sheet between the mattresses is a painful chore. The best way to avoid scrapes on your knuckles and wrists during this step in the process is to slightly lift the mattress as you shove the sheet in there. I highly recommend having a partner help with this, unless, of course, you have a large supply of Disney Princess Band-Aids on hand. In dealing with four-poster beds, use the same techniques.

Loft and Bunk beds
Any woman attempting to make her child’s bunk bed understands the mess involved. This high-wire act can only be done while on the mattress, making the tucking more difficult. There are also other dangers such as unsteady ladders up to the bed or ceiling fans near the maker’s head. Authorities on this subject recommend wearing a sneaker for climbing up the ladder so as to avoid splinters and to keep a keen balance. Please make sure that any ceiling fan is turned off and the blades are away from the maker. Do not attempt making a bunk bed unless you have at least 10 minutes devoted to tucking and re-tucking. Blankets pose a natural problem; the safest solution is to fold the blanket neatly and keep it at the foot of the bed. Doing this will avoid unnecessary tucking and consequent scrapes.

Once the bed is made, the maker usually rushes out to run daily errands. The bed is left alone all day and there is no one to appreciate it until later that night, while crawling around in the dark, the sleeper slides a foot between the wrinkle-free sheets, and takes a deep breath, “Ahhh…”

Tuesday, October 11, 2005

sex education

I never saw the girl across the street go to school. I always wondered why not. She was about my age and ought to be in second or third grade, but I had never seen her waiting at the end of her driveway for the bus. She lived with her grandfather in a white ranch exactly opposite our cream two-story house. I don’t know where her parents were; I want to say that they were divorced.

I never knew how I felt about Samantha. Her grandfather and she would let us go in their pool sometimes. They were the only ones in the neighborhood who had a pool, so this was a treat. I went to Bible camp one summer with her; those kids knew all the travels of Abraham and Lot and even people you never heard of. They don’t teach that stuff in Primary. I felt really stupid compared to the other kids. But other than these, I never saw her out of her house. I wonder what she did in there all day.

Samantha had beautiful long dark hair. It would lay on her shoulders in a messy, carefree way. Her eyes were searching; she made me feel naked.

Her mailbox was just beyond a ditch in her yard, close to the white gravel road. It had been a while since I had played with her, so when I saw Samantha out by the mailbox, I ran over there.

“Hi.” The long grass by the road was rarely mowed. It was making my legs itchy. I fidgeted with my legs a bit, reaching down to relieve the itch, but only causing it to be worse. A grasshopper jumped onto my leg, I brushed him aside.

"Hi.” Her greeting was drawn out. “I’m just getting the mail.”

“Yeah. It came earlier. I already got ours.”

She drew her hand into the mailbox, grabbing some ads and bills. She turned and looked at me with a cocky stare and leaned on the mailbox.

She stood there for a while, letting the sun gleam in her wavy curls. I was facing the sun, so I squinted.

“You want to play?”

“No. I’m busy.”

“Do you know what sex is?” she interrupted, facing me abruptly, taunting and knowing that she knew about something that I didn’t.

I didn’t, and by the sound of it, it was dirty and something I shouldn’t know about. I had to answer her. I didn’t want to look stupid, but then again, I really had no idea what sex was. It was something that the boys at school would look up in the dictionary and giggle. It was something I was planning to stay completely in the dark on.

She could see my inner battle about answering her question, so she went ahead, leaning forward, almost matter-of-fact-like, but in a loud whisper, “It’s when a man pees into a woman’s pee-hole. It’s how you make babies.”

I looked at her shocked. No. That wouldn’t happen. That’s gross. I wanted to get away from that mailbox as soon as possible.

"I have to go.” I turned and crossed the street to our yard. She turned and walked into her house unphased, whipping her hair back and forth.

Pee is gross. Why would you want a man to pee into your pee hole? I felt dirty. I wasn’t supposed to know about this ‘sex’. Should I tell my mom? No. I don’t want to know if this is really true. Samantha probably made it up anyway and I wouldn’t want to embarrass myself in front of my mom, informing her of something that didn’t exist. But it did make sense. That’s where babies come out of moms. Samantha might be right.

I snuck inside the house, embarrassed, trying to avoid my mom. Finding my room, I sat down on the green shaggy carpet. I looked over at my collection of horse figurines that my grandfather bought for me. Horses have babies. Do they have sex? How would a horse have sex? I picked up a couple of the plastic horses. They were in walking or trotting poses. How would a boy horse even get near a girl horse’s pee hole? Horses can’t move that way. I put the horses down on the carpet, one fell over on its side. I ignored it and went to the window.

I could see Samantha’s house straight across the way. I was mad at her. Why would she tell me this? Now I had a secret. I was eight years old and I had the world’s most embarrassing secret with me. I wish she hadn’t told me.

I went to school with this secret. Did the girls know what the boys giggled about? Should I tell them? Once, in third grade, Mike told me that he had dreamt about me naked. Were the boys dreaming about girls who had no idea what was in store for them?

My grandfather bought me some more horse figurines. I now have two baby horses to go with my big ones. All of the horses now sit in the crawl space in a large box. I’ll get them out someday for my girls. On some afternoon by a mailbox, they would learn what sex was from a little girl with lusty dark hair and teasing eyes.

Thursday, October 06, 2005

Purple Mountain Majesty

The Rocky Mountains of the western United States are the results of the ricochet of plate tectonics. The North American plate, moving westward, rammed itself into the side of the Pacific plate, moving northward. Since two plates cannot occupy the same space, the collision caused the plates to go up onto each other, creating the Rocky Mountains.
The Rocky Mountains have become a tourist attraction. National Sporting Goods Association claims that over 11 million people go snowboarding or skiing a year. According to the National Ski Areas Association, on average, 39 people die snowboarding or skiing every year.

The airplane was a little late; it was dinner time when we landed in Salt Lake City. We grabbed a little rental car, a bite to eat, and headed down I-15 towards Provo. It was my first opportunity to see the mountains. The mountains in the west darkened as the sun set; the ones in the east seemed dangerously close. I had seen mountains before, but my experience had limited me to the lively Appalachians and the vineyard-covered mountains of Bayern. I had never imagined lifeless, steak-knife mountains and yet here they were cutting the sky into pieces. It became dark very quickly.
The flashes of billboards were the number one attraction. “BUY THIS!” “CHECK THIS OUT!” “YOU WANT TO SEE THIS MOVIE!” I wasn’t convinced by their signs, nor did I have much time for billboards. Traffic was uneasy, so navigating became my first priority. I buried my head in the map. We approached Provo and I gave the signal to exit.
We turned east, and I looked up from the map. My eyes went wide. I leaned into the windshield and looked up.

There was no differentiating between the blues of the mountains and sky. There were stars and then where the mountains were, a void existed. It just ended. I strained my eyes.
I looked up at the stars above the mountains, closed my eyes, and struggled to keep their glimmer on my eyelids. I lowered my head and opened my eyes, trying to cut and paste the image of the night sky to the mountain.
You should never look out and see nothing. It’s unnatural.
I strained harder. I felt like I was waking up in a pitch black room and straining for a trace of light to indicate a shadow, color, something was there with me, but no effort would yield success. The only choice is to resign and close my eyes. It’s better to have your eyes closed than to absorb nothingness with them.
The mountain was mocking me. He was staring at me, claiming that I was the unnatural one.
“Ask anyone,” he taunted, “they’ll say I make them feel safe. I protect them.” Cheshire smile.
The car brought our faces closer together, amplifying the effect. I would not yield to his mind. There is no safety in darkness and he could not convince me that he was doing me a favor by sitting there.
I broke the contact, needing to see light again. I needed to know that the mountain hadn’t completely devoured the rest of the sky while I was staring him down. Stars. He hadn’t. But he had won. I couldn’t stop him from eating the stars and moon every evening. I couldn’t keep him from delaying the sunrise in the mornings. Every night, he would take everything beautiful and make a void.
We can’t live like that. When we look outside, we shouldn’t have to strain our necks to see the moonrise or the constellations. We need freedom. We need movement. We can’t be huddled in a corner, keeping the stars out and calling it protection. It’s not. It’s unnatural.
Lie down and look up. It should just be you and the heavens.

Wednesday, October 05, 2005

Police Blotter

This morning, a BYU co-ed was found unconscious in her bed. She has not been identified as of yet. Police reports say that it appeared as if there was a struggle.
"Things were everywhere. We could hardly get in the door." stated the county sherriff.
Police have infered that the victim must have been assaulted late last night or early this morning.
One roommate complied with questioning, "All I know is that we haven't seen her in a while because she's always doing Homework. She's out with him late into the night and I've seen them together in her room. They were pretty close. .... She always refered to him as her Homework. I think she's been sleeping with him for about 6 weeks now."
According to BYU-housing standards, boys are not allowed in the apartments after midnight and are not allowed in the bedroom areas at all.
"If she had just followed the Honor Code, this wouldn't have happened."
As of right now, Homework is the only suspect. BYU and UVSC students in the Provo should be on careful watch for this fearful predator; however, similar attacks have been seen on many college campuses.
"It would seem that this is not the work of just one individual, but that there is a ring of "Homework" all through the United States."
Homework is dangerous and armed. If you see someone that resembles Homework, turn him into the proper authorities immediately. Do not leave your apartments or dorms. Authorities have discovered that going to class will only aggravate this predator.

Updates on the situation will be made regularly.

Tuesday, October 04, 2005

GOOOOOOOOO......OOOOOOOOOL!

Hey! My brothers play soccer! Check them out!

Rick at the Cary-Grove versus Prairie Ridge game. He's number twelve!!!
(it was the best pic they had of him that he isn't in the background)

Jared at the Schleisman's tournament (he has the ball)
more Jared
and even more (I'm flying!!)


That's the happiness for the day!
Love you all!

Monday, October 03, 2005

ugh...mormon jello shots

College life is waking up and not remembering what happened the night before, with a blaring headache, sensitivity to light and motion, and impending dread of the day before me. I want to hit the snooze button, but it's out of reach. Someone was up before me and the light in the hallway is shining underneath my door. Rolling out of bed, I hit my right hip and bruise it badly; I've been doing this for so long, my entire right side is purple. It looks like my boyfriend beats me only on my right side...except for the ultimate lack of boyfriend.
The sprinklers go on outside. What are they watering? There's no grass there. The pssssssh of the sprinklers is incessant. Maybe I should close my window. No. No.
What did I do last night? I couldn't have stayed up late. Oh. Ugh. I have homework due today. That's right...I remember now. I had a party. A good ol' Mormon party. All weekend long. Filled with glasses of laziness, a keg and a half of loafing, and many shots of procrastination. While my state school friends had parties of toga all weekend, I had parties of lollygag.
The mirror shows how tired my eyes look; they are the remnants of an old widow's sagging breasts. Nothing a little makeup can't fix.
I turn on the shower and stare at my feet for a while. I find the energy to turn the water higher. It pours over my head and down my face. My arm reaches for the shampoo. No it doesn't. I'm telling it to, it feels like it's getting there, but my arm is still limp at my side. I heave a loud sigh. Thank goodness for showers.
After waking myself, I roll back into bed. I envy my state friends. At least they have a proper excuse for this...what am I supposed to say? I'm high on life? I'm drunk of funk? I've been shooting up laziness? I've been on an LDS trip?
And what a trip it was...
Is a hangover a good excuse not to show up at class?

Sunday, October 02, 2005

3...2...1....EVERYBODY KISS!

It was January first. We were watching football and eating leftover ham from Christmas.

"What're your resolutions for the new year?" I ask.
"I don't make them. I don't wait for a new year to change my life."

I agree with my dad.

So I figured I'd write up some resolutions (good and bad and in no particular order) for now. Happy ex-New Year!

  • I will get 1.5-2 weeks ahead in all of my classes.
  • I will keep my room clean for at least a week. (you have to start off slow, you know)
  • I will grow my nails out long and pretty (and sexy, mind you).
  • I will be able to do the splits by December 12.
  • I will get a good portion of a novel finished by December.
  • I will have enough work done on my proof that I'll present it in a conference next March.
  • I will catch up in my letter writing. I will write back the next day each letter I receive.
  • I will buy some new ties.
  • I will actually get asked on a date this semester...um yeah. That's more of a wishful thinking thing...
  • I will finish the Book of Mormon twice before the year's end (once for John and once for Hinckley).
  • I will buy some clubbing clothes.
  • I will kiss at least 20 people in one day.
  • I will find a bra whose straps do not fall off my shoulders in class.
  • I will write an epic poem.
  • I will find some way to download a whole ton of Megadeth songs, or I will just go out and buy an effin' CD.
  • I will be able to play Rachmaninoff's Pollichinelle by January.

That's kind of all I can think of right now. I'll probably add more later.

Friday, September 30, 2005

Getting things off my chest

(and I'm not talking about my shirt)

So I get a bad midterm. Yeah. Really bad. But Jarvis told me that he feels like I can do better, so I'm getting a second chance! w00t! I love BYU and their belief that people can repent from bad midterm scores!
So now I have a lot to do this weekend. Like apply for an internship, go shopping, watch General Conference, clean my room, fold my clean clothes (they've been done since Tuesday), and all types of other wonderful stuff. My apartment-mates are no longer leaving for the weekend; I was hoping to have the apartment to myself. Oh well.
Band is pretty intense. Our dance for the Incredibles is pretty intense. My shoulders and back are so sore. If only I could get a back rub...
Pizza for dinner tonight. That's what we have on Friday nights, and it's Friday night. So that's how it goes. I'll probably end up watching anime for the rest of the evening. That's all. I'm sorry this isn't a very creative insert, but you'll live, my dears.

Thursday, September 29, 2005

We're sleeping together

Your eyelids start falling with impending disaster. The Dixon Ticonderoga falls from your hand. Analysis from a Topological Viewpoint becomes the chariot that will take your dreams to their heaven.
Yesterday's homework sticks to your sweaty legs; tomorrow's is cuddled in your arms like a lover. And what a sweet lover she is. She whispers sweet nothings into your ear as you are lowered into sleep.
You wake blinking once or twice; the light is still on. You move your arm only to find a strange tribal imprint on your arm left by a cannibal spiral notebook. You turn your head; papers rustle. Underneath the sheets of paper, there are sheets of cloth, three weeks over due for a wash. Stepping out of your bed, a paper tears, you stick your foot onto a textbook and the pages stick to the bottom of your foot. You would make your bed, but why bother? The sheets are all laid out for you already. 2.30 am. Yes.
Yes.
Hit the snooze button and stop the buzzing in your head. Lay back down, the snooze button hit, buzzing is still in your head. Pull a light blanket over yourself and sleep with your work. Sleep with it. Love it. Make love to it. It shares your bed for the next 8 months like a boyfriend who won't commit. 3am. 4am. 5am.
Good morning! It looks like it'll be a cloudy morning opening up to a sun filled day...

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Gender Equality

I figured out why being female is so much better than being male. The answer is simple. Hair dryers. These all-purpose machines don’t just make your hair silky and shiny (or frizzy and dry depending on the day), but they also melt ice, kill bugs, dry clothes, and most importantly, warm feet. Have you noticed that when you get out of a shower, your feet and hands are more cold than usual? You dry them with a towel, but still there are chunks of ice floating through you veins. This is where hair dryers come in. You start drying your hair. It flies in all directions to the cacophonous noise of the dryer. Then you stop. Your feet are cold, but your hair seems so warm. And then suddenly, your feet are receiving the warm blessings that your hair received. That’s what is so great about being female. Men, who have no need for a hair dryer never learn this secret. It is a sacred secret in the fraternity of womanhood.