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- Mood:
a little lazy
Did we meet in band first, or through Mrs. Bussell's class? It had to have been band, because our gifted classes didn't mix. Mrs. Bussell's class was right behind the bandroom. So I'm sure I saw Karissa in between classes. I had Mrs. Bussell for geography in 7th grade and US history in 8th grade. I definitely didn't want Mr. Bailey. Poor Mr. Bailey.
We probably started really being friends when she was in ninth grade, and I was in eighth, and we were in Symphonic Band together. Ah yes, how cool were we that we memorized our parts and sang our pieces on the bus to and from festivals (or anywhere else)? We thought so much of ourselves, only because we were actually awesome. Right?
She talked me into joining High-Q when I got to high school. She was a member of the academic team, too, and she was able to bestow upon me much wisdom from being a year ahead. Like, you don't really have to pay attention in Ms. Marlette's class. And Mr. Laird is cool, but he's a hippie. And, there's no such thing as a pool or elevators at Middleburg High School; don't fall for it.
We got to experience our marching band at its very best. "Payload," y'all. "Trooper Salute." That's all I have to say.
We got to assign Star Wars characters to our group of friends.
I thought she was cool because she lived in Lake Asbury.
I've not known anyone who's as voracious a reader as this girl. Lynn Reed gave her a run for her money, but never really was her match.
She was brave enough to play the oboe in sit-down band. She rocked it.
She went to a marching band university. She went on to medical school and became Dee-Arr Karissa H.
When was it she tripped somewhere on a football field? Was it during graduation practice?
We supported each other in internet dating. I have to laugh, dude. Pepsi machine vending guy.
She hosted me for 3 days in Knoxville and took me to Cozymel and introduced me to Tennessee outlet malls. AND her still plastic-wrapped videos. And her awesome cats.
She married a very cool Jewish man who's apparently an amazing cook and husband and sports writer. I hate her for this. Not for anti-Semitic reasons, though. Let's get that straight.
We've been friends - OH MY HECK - almost 20 years. And she was born 13 years before that. (Oh. Oops. Don't do the math on that.)
The world's definitely a better place for it. She's kind and generous and incredibly intelligent and qualified to be a contestant on Jeopardy! and shares her Pop Tarts with me. That's true friendship, right there.
It's already 11AM the next day in Japan, but we're still celebrating here in the USA. There's never a reason not to celebrate this girl.
Happy Birthday, Karissa!
So a few of us sit around the apartment. We're talking.
Somehow it comes up that I wouldn't be caught in public kissing, much less having my picture taken doing so.
A person asks why.
I say it's just something I don't do. Later on, I say maybe a quick peck goodbye.
On the cheek.
Then another person hints that there's a photo somewhere of her kissing someone.
The rest of our ears perk right up.
We ask her, Who are you kissing? Do you have this picture?
This other person tries to change the subject.
Someone else threatens to break into the apartment computer network and perform a search for the photo.
This someone else says all it would have to take is a search for JPGs and similar files.
10, 15 minutes tops.
She argues her files are locked.
The other person looks at the rest of us as if that wouldn't matter in the slightest.
Who could she be kissing?
And she says she did it to win a bet.
She's on her computer, laughing, avoiding eye contact.
Then after a few minutes of toying with us, she shows us her computer screen.
There it is.
To win a bet.
She's standing with some guy.
They're kissing.
It's like a movie poster. Just like a movie poster.
Eyes closed.
In the throes of love.
But tasteful, and not seemingly staged at all.
Not like she was doing it to win a bet.
Yet, she emphasized this point.
I thought I'd be embarrassed looking at this photo.
But I was more like, huh, that's what that looks like.
Like she's an expert.
You go, girl.
Changing voice here. Generalized you:
I want to be a good friend. But I want to be able to understand you. I can't make any assumptions, which is why I'll keep asking you what some things you say mean. When I hear the word dangerous, I need to know what that means, because I've seen the extremes of that word played out. I've been right in front of a friend as she kept swallowing Tylenol, one pill at a time, and she wouldn't let anyone near her until she bottomed up the last of the bottle and another friend and I had to rush her to the emergency room to have her stomach pumped and have the psych ward admit her. I was there when a friend took a knife from a kitchen drawer and ran upstairs to the bathroom to try hurting herself. I've been in some pretty rocky relationships where I was the desperate codependent, where all I wanted was more and more and more attention, and the more attention I demanded, the more distant people became. I understand there is a spiritual danger, that slippery slope that seems to appear when you've stopped praying or reading scriptures or going to church, but there is another place, a darker place, a truly dangerous place where no one deserves to go. So please don't assume I know what you mean when you say dangerous, because while I don't want to assume the worst, I will automatically assume this other danger, and I won't hesitate to call the police or the hospital or my own therapist, if I have to. At the same time, do not ignore the issue; do not frill it up or write it off to be No Big Deal. I can recognize passive aggression and I will counter it with directness because YOUR WELL-BEING is at stake. If I come across as too intervening, it's because I'd rather do too much than not enough. I love you very, very much, and I want to protect you, and I'm sorry if this is overly dramatic, but I can't help it: my abilities of a friend have been tried beyond what I could have imagined, and there was and is a purpose to it all. I'm a better friend because of it; better, because I want to understand.
I was going to post a photo of some beautiful avocados cut in half and ready to go in an amazing guacamole, all laid out on sheets under the shade in Central Park, but I thought this picture was a little more interesting. It was a total accident including the megahunk in this photo of my friend Michelle Buteau. This picture is actually a part of a sequence that shows her playing some mean frisbee. As you can see here, she apparently saw me pointing the camera at her, so she mugged, but what she didn't see was Mr. Muscles behind her. While the series of eight photos could be entitled "Michelle with the Frisbee," it could also be called "A De-shirted Walk in the Park" or "The Need for Clothes" or "How Good Are You at Purging Unpure Thoughts from Your Mind?" Ahem. Because seriously? Seriously. Click on the photo for more shenanigans. Rated PG.
The last of Michelle's annual summer picnics I attended was four years ago. I've missed a lot of her gigs, but I have caught her auditions on "Last Comic Standing." I met some really great and funny people at the picnic. It's nice to meet new people. It's insightful to see where they are in their lives, what they strive for, the relationships they maintain, their view of the world. I got reacquainted with a guy named Mark, from four years ago. I met his friend Sacheen ('sa-SHEEN'). I met a Vicki (who made the guacamole), and Blanca, and Nick (who apparently Alison-from-MTV's boyfriend) and Kelly (whose husband was at home installing the AC) and Wilson and a few others whose names I didn't catch. When the picnic first started, as someone new came to the blankets, we'd introduce ourselves. Three or four hours into it, we just didn't bother.
Kristin Plater was at the picnic, too. I happened to be wearing my "Good grammar costs nothing" t-shirt, and she totally called me out on her email I posted where I pointed out the misused apostrophes. I felt bad, but the thing is, my intention was to emphasize her praise AND my anal-retentiveness - because it was about my noticing too much, and I wouldn't have posted her email if I thought she'd be truly offended. But she was, and just for the record, my grammar isn't perfect, even though I'm passionate about it. So, I'm sorry for being such a punk.
It was HOT yesterday, and it was HUMID. Normal humans do not thrive in those conditions. Michelle claimed a spot in the shade at 1:15. I arrived at 1:45, and others soon followed. That's where a bunch of us vegetated and ate and chatted for nearly the whole afternoon. And played frisbee, and pointed out the hubba-hubba shirtless, and winced at the thong bikinis, and watched the Capoeira demonstration. Michelle also got to play with a stranger's baby, thereby making a new friend. She's so good at that. I met her through Kristin Plater, but then how we managed to stay friends is kind of a mystery, but I'm grateful, all the same.
Later that evening, I attended a birthday party downtown. It was on the roof of a building in the Financial District, but right when we arrived, I saw some lightning flash in some clouds pretty far away, and when I stepped onto the roof, big, fatty, funky raindrops started falling at an angle from the sky or wherever, and we had to take the party to a club room inside. Turned out it was one of those freak rainstorms that lasted maybe ten minutes. The party was okay, but I found myself comparing my comfort talking to the picnic folks to the weirdness of the birthday party. Part of it was everyone already knowing each other at the birthday party. Part of it was my feeling paleozoic around the partygoers. It was fine.
I enjoyed church today. I attended Becky's ward, and the meetings were quite good. I was actually rather impressed. This is where you notice that I won't dedicate numerous paragraphs to the three hours I spent at church or the quasi-crush I have on someone's cousin who's only visiting for a week. But I will say the vibes in the singles and married wards are quite different. Wow.
This is Ladd. I've known him for a good while; we've seen each other at parties, but we haven't really gotten much of a chance to talk. We went out Tuesday evening. A couple of times a year the city goes bonkers and lets anyone attend the museums along Fifth Avenue for free. That stretch of museums is called Museum Mile. It's kind of speed appreciation of culture, because people want to be able to see as many museums as possible in a few hours. Ladd and I browsed in a few of the smaller museums. We did not go into the Met or the Guggenheim.
Of course they didn't allow photos inside the museums, and that was fine. We went to the National Academy Museum which showcased art by budding artists from everywhere. This was more modern art: mixed media, fluorescent colors, neon lights, computer parts. Outside the museum, beside some easels, children were sketching or painting or seriously contemplating their navels. 
The Museum of the City of the New York is pretty cool. Lots of exhibit cards to read, which there wasn't time for. And lots of old furniture. And drawing rooms. Really ornate, because that was Rockefeller's or whichever financial tycoon's wife's style. This is the place to go if you want detailed information on New York's progression, in terms of city planning, government, immigration, and its evolution into the capitol of the world.
The last place we stopped was outside The Jewish Museum to listen to a Yiddish folk band perform. These musicians were pretty hard core. There was an accordion and tuba and viola and clarinet and saxophone and drums and they played traditional music and some sort of tango-esque music, where a few couples danced a sexy, Eastern European dance. There was also this man who reminded me of Albert Einstein who danced to the faster, more polkalike music. This band was pretty good. A decent crowd gathered around them. Sadly, they did not meet my request of "Free Bird." The drummer totally could have gotten it started.
After the museums, Ladd bought us ice cream from an ice cream truck, then we went to an Indian restaurant for dinner. The conversation was pretty good. Although we didn't elaborate too much on our interests in spite of having a few things in common, we actually talked about our personal lives more. Our families, where we grew up. We talked about food, which is always safe. He's not a man of many words, and when the lull started to sag a little more, I asked him what his favorite invention is. Hee.
This man lives in the Upper West Side, 90-something and Riverside Avenue. The museums were in the 90s across Central Park, on Fifth Avenue. I live in Midtown, in the 30s. Ladd took me home, even after I insisted he didn't have to, because all he would have to do was catch a crosstown bus. That impressed me.
We have a male third roommate, and he's met two of these dates this month. How about I let him think I'm a playah? Can't slow a girl down, yo. Call me!
Okay, three dates in two weeks AND the Harbor Cruise AND Carnegie Hall. If no one signs up for this week, I get a little bit of a break.
I'll go ahead and link the harbor cruise photos. Click on the sunset below. I actually had a great time. The weather was perfect, and the company was fabulous. Yes, I felt great at the end of the evening, which was sometime around 2AM. However, my social fuel tank is running a smidge low, and with fuel averaging $4 a gallon? I'm taking it easy.
Wow, interesting thread. Not sure of a sincere search for understanding or of an argument for the sake of itself. We're dealing with individual and personal and sometimes spiritual life decisions. This person seems like s/he's expecting to get a rise or two ...
Then I posted a link for this t-shirt:
It's one of the funniest t-shirts I've seen. Some people comment they'd buy it if it weren't pink. Well PEOPLE, the shirt is pink because it USED TO BE white. Right? Right? The pink is no accident, folks.
Anyway, another person commented on the hilarity of the t-shirt before the entire thread got taken down. Luckily, this comment triggered an email notification, so I decided to make myself a little better known and send the person a message. And this person decided to respond. And it's been good fun.
I signed up for another BYU Independent Study class. Creative Writing, English 218R. This is less mechanics and tons and tons and tons more writing. Forgive me if I use this place for practice.
Sarah used to get up early in high school and take her showers in the dark.
Becky has the biggest crush on Daryl Hall of anyone I know.
Laura once dated a guy who worked at Disney World, and we got Fast Passes from him. We spent the day with the guy, then I pretended to sleep in my bed in the hotel room while listening to them make out for a little bit.
Lisa's family have more curls in their hair than the entire rest of the world.
Karissa used to like keeping the plastic clear packaging on all her VHS tapes.
Jenny can trill a third-space C on the clarinet better than anyone I know.
Michelle once sang harmony to "Lean on Me" at our freshman ward talent show, and I was impressed.
Kristin used to sing the National Anthem before Detroit Redwings' matches.
Wendy used to play her solo festival pieces by heart, walking around the classroom while she played. Super-hard, grade 7 pieces, like they were no big deal.
Matt used to run his track events in high school without any underwear. Just his shorts. This is not a lie. Footage exists somewhere, if it hasn't been destroyed.
Greg once ate my leftover fries at lunch without knowing that I licked them first. He also flew me home a couple of times with his frequent flyer miles.
Andrea is not as closeted a Celtic Thunder fan as I once thought.
Meredith gave up her job in PR to work for Magnolia Bakery. She frosted a cake for Matthew Broderick for Sarah Jessica Parker's birthday.
Ray got to high-five Stephen Colbert.
Kate once got me admitted into BYU just by stepping into someone's office and getting a signature.
I made out with Philip a couple times on the band bus coming home from practice festivals. We were going out at the time. And this is when Joel Agcon liked me. He was a senior.
Part of an email to a friend:
Well, Austin is change. Change of pace. Change of scenery. All I can really explain is it's what I feel I need in my life. New York has been wonderful. I've grown much and learned a lot. I don't know if I told you I was in the temple one day seeking answers to my own personal life questions and the thought of Austin entered my mind. So I'm following up with that prompting. I'm not sure what's there for me, but I know it's there for me. Another phase, another way to grow. I wish I could be more specific, but my faith is being tried here, so that's all I have to go on.
This is Nathan. I asked him to look pensive for me, and he nailed it. We went out to the Museum of American Folk Art on Friday. Nathan's a great guy - very smart, very easy to talk to. Instead of covering a wide variety of subjects, we kept our conversation focused on books, movies, music, and art, with a few tangents here and there. One of them was about a book Nathan read about the DNA that determines our social dispositions. He taught me about introverts and extroverts, and their brain chemistry. And how they process energy from being around other people. He mentioned that there are outgoing introverts and shy extroverts. I made the mistake of looking at my watch while we were at dinner. I'm not sure why I did that, because I was having a good time, but then I was also anxious about the spelling bee and I was considering inviting Nathan over to come watch it with Becky and me. I don't know what the date etiquette defines. The museum featured an artist named Henry Darger. Brilliant, but typically eccentric. He's inspired a lot of newer artists in simulating his technique and philosophy. Some of his art is about children, but it isn't for children. Keep that in mind if you ever see this exhibit.
The bicycle sculpture hanging from the wall is a sneak. They wouldn't allow photography inside, and I needed something as a memento. This, as far as I know, is not Darger's work. I mean, this is a bicylist, not an anatomically confused child fighting in a battle. It was hovering over a couple of folk singers we decided to listen to before we went to dinner. The singers were good by the way, and again I must emphasize the je ne sais quoi scruffy musicians have. I don't know what, y'all.
Anyway, I really enjoyed going out with Nathan. He's well-spoken, courteous, funny, talented. He's probably one of the best guys I know here in the city.
I rode my bike to work today. It's five miles, which is a nice little ride. I left the apartment around 6:45 this morning, and got there before 7:30. I spent about 10 minutes trying to figure out how to maximize the securability of my bike locks with the bike rack. With traffic and backtracking (because I'm a stickler about going with the flow of traffic), I made it to work in about 35 minutes. It was a cool morning, hardly anyone was on the bike path, just a few runners who seem to have a habit of running every day. I was pretty energetic all day. I kept busy, I kept focused, I multitasked. However, I think I developed a little bit of road rage on the streets today, because I swore on several occasions, under my breath. And not even using the virtually harmless hell and damn. I kind of went full-throttle. Which is sad, because I even read the scriptures before diving into my workload. I tried leaving later than usual to avoid a lot of the other bikers, but the path was busy on the way home. My inner beast sneered and snarled at the pedestrians who didn't even look before crossing the street, especially when my light was green. I could have just, oops, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to run into you with my bike, because pedestrians ALWAYS have the right of way, which, incidentally, is one of the reasons I love this city. Still, I couldn't help but cuss at the people doing what I might have done if I were walking home from work. I'll just have to do better tomorrow.
- Mood:
awake
They had driven a half-hour outside of the City of Charlotte. The sun shone; the sky was perfect. They pulled into the ranch with gravel driveways and whitewashed fences. Michelle, Becky and May arrived early. They paid for their trailrides and wandered around the grounds a bit. They moseyed their way toward Barn D, where they would be picking up the horses. Becky and Michelle had previous riding experience, and May didn't have any. She was very excited as she pet different horses in their stables.
The trail guide had a few helpers bring out the horses and some stools. Michelle's horse was Dumpling (Dumplin'), Becky's horse was Daisy, and May's horse was Benny, pronounced "binny," almost leaning toward "beany." May didn't have any trouble mounting the horse, but the stirrups were too long, so she had nowhere to hold her feet.
Jeff the Trail Guide gave each of the riders a quick lesson on controlling the reins. Pull with the hand the direction you want to turn toward the same-side hip. Pull with both hands toward the hips if you want to slow down or stop.
May's legs hung to the sides of the horse, but she felt comfortable enough. Benny was plenty girthy and May felt pretty centered on her horse. She was raring to go, but she didn't want the horse to be all that raring.
Well, it turned out that Benny wasn't raring at all. Jeff, Michelle and Becky took off, and Benny didn't go anywhere. One of the helpers had to lead Benny toward the trail while the others waited. This helper told May to give the reins a little slack. Benny took a few steps onto the trail and found a nice patch of grass to graze. He lowered his head, and May tried pulling it back up, but Benny would have none of that. May tugged at the reins, and Jeff rode back to tell her to choke up on the reins a bit for more control of the horse.
Jeff dismounted and led both horses awhile, until May caught up to her friends. Jeff went back to the front of the line, and Benny followed for a few steps, and May thought things were going well until Benny pulled off for some more delicious grass. She tried pulling his head up again, one side at a time, then in frustration she pulled up with both hands and Benny backed up into some brush, where the grass was greener and more delectable. From that point with every single tug, Benny backed into the grass just a little bit more for a tasty mouthful of juicy grass.
May called for Jeff. Yelled, actually. She was sweating and flustered, and she couldn't believe that this horse was having his way with her. Even with Jeff's prodding and May's kicking (which seemed only to tickle the horse because his torso twitched slightly) Benny wouldn't budge. Jeff called for backup. A man with a cowboy hat rode up after the expanding eternity of five minutes waiting. May was a little embarrassed, but she wasn't going to get off that horse.
After a few minutes, Cowboy Hat and his horse, Bull, were able to coax Benny from behind, and Benny was relatively cooperative through the end of the ride. Cowboy Hat rightly guessed this was May's first time on a horse, but he complimented how relaxed she looked. May discovered that Benny liked more slack in the reins instead of her choking up on them. There were times when Benny would try to dip his head down for a quick munch, but May quickly tugged his head back up to continue on the trail. There were a few times when Benny would start on a quicker trot down a hill, and May would lean back a little and settle into the saddle and pull on the reins to slow down. Cowboy Hat was right behind her to reinforce these instructions and to tell her what a good job she was doing, and to say she'd turn into a cowgirl yet.
She was getting the hang of it.
Without the benefit of stirrups. Just her low center of gravity and adductors keeping her on good ol' Benny.
Throughout the remainder of the trail, she told Benny he was doing a good job, and when he was too slow, she'd make those kissy sounds she heard Cowboy Hat make to encourage the horse to speed up. She'd say going up hills, Come on, Benny; you can do it, Benny; what a good boy, Benny. She caught a glimpse of Mountain Island Lake. She rode by other riders and even passed a carriage pulled off to the side of the trail. It was a beautiful ride.
The ride ended back at Barn D, where one of the ranch hands took the horse and placed the left stirrup on May's foot so she could dismount. Everyone else got off their horses and other ranch hands led the horses to their stables. Jeff came back out and the girls thanked him for the ride. May, with a fun sarcasm, thanked Jeff for giving her a hard horse. He laughed. He talked about how the horses have personalities and will try to see what they can get away with. He said if they had brought out another horse instead of pushing Benny, Benny would have won and ten weeks of training would have gone to waste. May nodded in understanding. She said the horse was stubborn at first, but did just fine once he got going.
Michelle told May she did a good job handling Benny. Jeff seconded that thought, and May, realizing how hard she worked, told them to get her a carrot. Jeff repeated the request, and laughed at the joke. Everyone thanked each other again, and the girls washed their hands, got into the car and headed back to the city.
May's second-day sore rule didn't apply here. Her hips immediately hurt after she dismounted, then later in the day and for the next two days her adductors pretty much cursed her existence. It was awesome.
May always thought horses were beautiful. Strong, graceful. Now she gets why people really love them. She now has a taste for the ride, and she craves it. She has experienced (as much as one can in an hour) a fusion with nature and animal and human - how they all can communicate. She learned a lot. Who's in control. Mutual respect. She's ultimately grateful she got the stubborn horse. That's how she's lived her life so far. Sometimes her own spirit or attitude is so intractable someone has to nudge or prod or smack her into motion and into seeing beyond the instant graze. Sometimes her pace isn't so steady and she wants to charge and bound into an open field. Once she gets going on a path, once she's found her stride, she's agreeable and easy-going. That's right, get her a carrot.
That horse is a kindred spirit.
That Benny.
- Mood:
hee
Why are clouds and sun the stuff that heaven is made of? And why am I lucky enough to catch moments like these? Click on the photo to view the Charlotte set. The road trip was a lot of fun. Becky and I were delirious by the very end. We took a detour through Shenandoah National Park, and we wound around the Blue Ridge Mountains and added two or so hours to the trip. It was worth it, though. So much green and so many overlooks out to eternity, vast and endless and awesome and phenomenal scenery. It brought me to tears.
I might do another list of 100 for this trip.
It was really good seeing Michelle again.
I went on a date last night. I've gotta write about that. It was a pretty good time.
Happy summer, everyone.
- Mood:
cheerful
Becky (she and Michelle are nice and dark pink from the being in the sun): Yes, how could you tell?
Kirby the Waiter: Well it was a beautiful day, seemed like a fun thing to do, and you're a little sunburned.
Becky: It doesn't take much ... we weren't even out there for that long.
Kirby the Waiter: (to May) You didn't get sunburned
May: (raised eyebrow)
Becky: Well, she's got a little bit of blushing ...
May: (averting eyes from Kirby the Waiter) that's because you're standing near us.
Everyone: (bursts into laughter and Kirby the Waiter walks away)
That was so beautifully set up. I couldn't not capitalize on it. Thanks.
Kirby the Waiter was cute, y'all. He was super young. I mean, his mama might have had to drop him off at work. That kind of thing. Well, maybe not that young, but maybe between 18 and 20. And I'm embarrassed (kind of) to say I flirted with him. If he ever asked me what my last name was, I'm afraid I'd have to admit, ROBINSON.
He was kind enough to pose for a picture with me. I'll post it sometime after I get back. Thanks, Kirby. I really had fun.
Today: Wal-Mart, Freedom Park, feeding ducks and geese, flying kites, Sonic, downtown Charlotte for Speed Street, free samples of stuff, airbrush tattoos, rode the light rail, Target, Indiana Jones 4, Sonny's, watching my friends apply aloe to each other's sunburned arms. Today has been a very, very full day. Tomorrow should be pretty fun, too.
It's beautiful here. Charlotte's a great city.
- Mood:
tired
Charlotte is a nice town. The folks here are right nice, y'all. I find myself slipping into a slight Southern accent when I talk to the people here. We're going to a place called Freedom Park tomorrow. If we can manage it, we're also going horseback riding followed by a cowboy dinner. Fun stuff, y'all.
We went to a fish camp for dinner and had a TON of fried food. So I'm feeling a bit sluggish.
More updates to come. Pictures accompanying.
C C D C F E
C C D C G F
C C C(8va) A F E D
Bb A F G F
I think that's it. I played it over and over this morning while waiting for students to show up this morning.
Today has been a really good day. It has been a beautiful day.
I didn't throw a party tonight. Becky and I are heading on a road trip to Charlotte, NC for the weekend. We'll be visiting a friend who used to live here.
I can't figure out whether I should throw a party. Life has been busy and spinning me senseless.
The guys on the calendar who have signed up so far are really, really nice. Really. This has got to be one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.
Thanks for the emails, phone calls, texts, tributes and singing. I love you guys.
- Mood:
grateful
Of course the very first thing I notice are the plurals with apostrophes, but then I still feel really pleased and validated, because my friend is really pleased with the photos. And her friends seem to like them okay, too. But then I feel some sort of imagined pressure, because she asked me to bring my camera to all her gigs, like she expects me to pull out good shots every single time she performs. And different shots. Well, I guess I can look at it as a challenge.
I guess I'm just scared taking pictures won't be fun anymore. And I'm totally taking things out of perspective. These past few years I've made a conscious effort to enjoy as much as possible. I enjoy hard work. I don't necessarily enjoy depression or going to therapy or "that" time of the month, but I appreciate what I've gained from them. When I decided to get another camera a few months ago, I was excited about what I might be able to do as an amateur photographer. I looked for a camera that wasn't all that expensive, and I did a good deal of research that had to factor in what I wanted in a camera as well as my budget.
Now, before a certain parental goes ballistic about my priorities and starts to loudly and hysterically wonder when I'm going to ever apply and pay for naturalization, she can just calm down because I did it already, I mailed in the application and the fee yesterday, thank you very much, so I am really enjoying the camera and I feel photos can add to this journal. Plus, I like being able to share photos from friends's vacations or various gigs or just interesting things around town.
I've learned stuff about focus. And perspective. And I'm not talking only about photography here.
So, yeah. I went over the N-400 at least 5 times, made sure all the information I provided was accurate. Where I've lived in the past 5 years. Where I've worked in the past 5 years. Signed it, dated it. Wrote a check. Thanked my mom in my heart for helping make that possible. Put the application and check in an envelope. Took it to the post office, and mailed it. Yesterday. I kinda can't believe I have to study a test on Americana and be sworn in as a citizen. I'm not sure when it's all going to happen, but does anyone want to come to my swearing in?
Discussing the procreative process within the Mormon culture is taboo. We don't do it, really. Well, married people do "it," but they normally don't talk about it. It's interesting how often it can come up in conversation, whether it's intended or not.
Trying to find a seat at a movie theater, some friends and I walk up to the second to last row and make our way to the center. When we reach the middle, one of the friends asks us, "Do you want to stop here, or you do you want to go all the way?" And, I say, "[Friend], that's a dirty question."
This is only funny, because the friend who asked the question doesn't have a single obscene or crude bone in her body. I, on the other hand, repeated dirty jokes when I was younger. A lot of these jokes were clever, and I laughed more at the cleverness than the dirtiness, and I know that doesn't excuse me, but boy, the delivery of a joke can make or break it. Needless to say, we stopped to sit in the middle of the row at the movie theater. We did not go all the way.
Last week, no students came to seminary. The students who are dating showed up to class this morning and explained to me the guy had strep throat last Monday and Tuesday, and the girl had it the rest of the week. I told them, "Strep throat is really contagious. Y'all shouldn't be smooching or even near each other." Then they talked some more about antibiotics, and I only half heard them, because I couldn't believe I outright said smooching to them. I kept repeating it to myself in my mind. Who says that?
Part of an online chat with a married friend:
me: not too bad. feels like springtime finally
how's life for you?
friend: good
we bought our first house a couple weeks ago so things have been crazy but we love our new place
me: my heck. you're such a grownup
friend: i know. it's crazy! :)
some days i hate it! well mainly the days i have to go to work. work puts such a damper on life.
me: yeah. i can't believe it. you OWN a HOUSE; you're DOING IT with a man you're MARRIED to. that's the dream, kiddo
friend: i know. it's so amazing and wonderfully overwhelming that most days i can't believe it
especially the doing it part with the married part :)
I put this here, partly to show how comfortable I am talking openly about sex with marrieds. And see how it doesn't really phase her? You can't really shock married people.
Here's a really short chat between a guy friend and me. I'll include the timestamps to give you a sense of plot:
10:17 PM me: what are you getting me for my 32nd birthday?
11:13 PM guy friend: sorry may, i was in the back room frosting the cake [roommate] and I are going to pop out of
Naughty! I wish you could be inside my head as I imagine these two guys popping out of a cake. You probably don't wish that. Talk about my dreams coming true. But not. Because I can banter most openly wth guys who aren't interested in me. This does not bode well for my future in being unfazed by my single friends when they want to shock me by talking about "doing it."
Thing is, I'd steer completely clear of conversations like this with (most of) my non-Mormon friends. I blush pretty easily around them, and they'll make make an innuendo just to make me uncomfortable.
In an unrelated matter, here's what my roommate has decided to do for my birthday. Sounds like it will be SO MUCH FUN!
32 Dates in 32 Days
For May Anderton's 32nd birthday, we wanted to get her something very special. Thus, in lieu of presents, we invite you to participate in the 32 Dates in 32 Days Event. It so happens that May is one of the most intelligent, witty, clever, and beautiful people we know, so this really is a gift to you, too.
The rules:
1. Sign up to take May on a date by accessing the google calendar. Include your name, email, and the time you're signing up for. The event runs from 27 May through 27 June 08. If you need to gain access to the calendar for the first time, please email Becky or Amy to be added (see below).
2. Contact May a few days before the date and let her know the details. (i.e. time, place, activity, special instructions.) [contact info]
3. Show up for the date.
4. Pay for the date (if applicable).
5. Have an awesome time.
Note: it doesn't have to be one date every day, so if no one wants to take Sunday, feel free to double up on a Saturday.
Another Note: you can sign up multiple times...
Eligibility:
You must be a single male to participate. (If you don't meet the eligibility requirement, please feel free to pass this on to someone equally as cool as you are.)
About May:
May is not a picky person and thus she loves to try new things. We're sure that anything you plan will be perfect, but these are some things we know she'll enjoy:
May loves New York's local music scene, so taking her out for a drink and live music is definitely appropriate.
She also loves independent movies, so if you feel up for it, take her to the Angelika.
May is an amateur photographer, so a Saturday afternoon on the canoes at Central Park would be fantastic.
She is also a runner and a biker, so if you have either of those persuasions, a more active date would certainly be welcome.
Sincerely,
May's friends
Questions?
Contact Becky
or Amy
How awesome does that sound? I only hope the calendar actually gets some names. My 32nd birthday will be the best yet! Also? By the end of the month I'll be completely exhausted. And I guess maybe I should let the guys know I'll be blogging about every single one of them. Hee. Woo-hoo!
- Mood:
crazy
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