Hollister Does the Impossible - Hits the All Time "Low"

Alright. So, I've been waiting to create a new post until I get some pics of my weekend in St. George with my Ward. I decided it was time to make some friends and hey, maybe even see if I'm ready to come out of dating retirement (which lets be honest - dating retired or not there's no dating going on for me so at least I can live under the delusion that it's voluntary - eh?). Well, needless to say the retirement is sticking, but I had a lot of funny in sunny St. Georgey with the Wardys. I climbed Angel's Landing for the first time, which was truly inspirational, mostly because I felt I really had a substantial work out for the first time since Frisbee sprints in San Franny (I may or may not have gained 5 lbs - sue me - I ate my feelings for awhile). At any rate - enough St. George allusions - pics are hopefully on the way. Oh! And the reason I don't have them now isn't because I've gone "retro" and converted back to the old film and develop routine - it's because though I brought my camera - when I dug it out of my bag at the beginning of Angel's Landing and tried to turn it on - oops - battery dead. SO! I relied on my fellow hikers to take pics and subsequently post them on Facebook so I could snag them for YOUR viewing pleasure, dear Internet. So hang tight - they'll be worth the wait.

Anyway - while we wait I'd like to present Hollister's new low. You recall the low riding jeans barely hanging on to the manikin by his manikin bulge, right? Oh you recall. The dollar bills. All those fun and inappropriate things. WELL! Just when you think it couldn't get any lower - they go and pull something like this:

And TOTALLY redeem themselves!!! Well, not redeem, that just seemed like the thing to say considering the obscure Dumb and Dumber allusion. Please tell me some of you got it. At any rate - you think dem otha pants was low. Psh! Try NO PANTS! How will they EVER beat this? I mean! This shirt and scarf are SO great that you don't even need to wear PANTS! I have to have this shirt... I'm sure the Comissioner will understand... I'm sure the public would get it... "that's the shirt from Hollister that requires no pants... she really pulls it off well"

A Letter To Me… From Me… 10 Years in the Waiting

In 1999 I was 15 years old and in 9th grade. Ah, 15 years old. Do you remember those days? Do you remember what went through your mind at 15 years old? What was important to you then that now, older and wiser(?), you can’t believe you really cared THAT much about? Maybe things like old what’s-his-name you were in love with and couldn’t understand why he liked his skinny mean girlfriend or if you went to that dance or won the big game. Maybe you were concerned about your clothes, your make-up, if you were popular enough or smart enough or cool enough. Our parents always told us that zits and boys didn't matter, that we wouldn't care one day, and it will all work out. Oh those parents – they really do know what they’re talking about don’t they? We should give them a smidgen of credit. A smidgen.

Well, I’m 25 years old now and though I still get zits sometimes and boys are still a misery I’d rather avoid, I am a little more capable of handling those insignificant life fluctuations than my 15 year old mind was. If I were to describe my 9th grade self, I would tell you that I’d come out of a very depressing Junior High experience. My self-esteem was pathetically low (as most teenagers), I was self-conscious of my body, not because I was overweight, but because I didn’t like boobs. True story. I tried to hide my little buds all through Junior High (which is weird because they’ve sprouted and remained B’s my whole life – not much to hide – ahem) with big sweaters I’d steal from my mom. Thus, I wasn’t considered in any remote way “stylish” – and let’s be honest – I was a bit of a fem-nazi. I was never obsessed with boys or having a boyfriend; it just never seemed important to me (a big thanks goes out to Singles Wards for changing all that – mumble grumble – stupid pressure). There was also a lot of rage inside me and I lashed out a lot with my fiery attitude and cool logic in class, with friends, and at my wee brothers. I don’t remember being extraordinarily happy really; but wouldn’t let myself feel sad. I plugged through – and had all the ups and downs of an angsty teenage life. Junior High didn’t end soon enough.

However on a positive note (and not to make you think I was a raging psycho), I naturally made friends and now that I think back on it, had a lot of good friends I never really appreciated. I joked and laughed a lot. I was spontaneous and focused on my schooling. I wrote short stories and poems – and read read read. Sigh. I did have a lot of friends. I really did. Good friends too. Oh, the things we miss when we’re too absorbed in our own drama to look outside and see how blessed life really is – to see other people for their good, and love them when they need someone to love them. Sure we have lonely and sad times at 15 or at 25, that’s natural, but “it could always be worse” is an annoyingly familiar but entirely true adage I always try and remember when I find myself having a “self-pity party” all too reminiscent of a brooding teenager. I’m healthy. I have a job. I’m trying my best. And though things do tend to get lonely, it really could always be worse. I could be a self-absorbed 15 year old again for one thing! Shudder. And some people remain self-absorbed 15 year olds well into their 20’s (trust me I’ve dated them). However, I hope I’ve grown outside of my teenage “what does everyone think of me? Why is the world always watching me?” attitude into “what can I do for everyone else? Where can I improve the world” attitude. Anyway… bit of a self-reflective side note there. Borrrrrring.

Moving right along…

Now that I have you thinking back to your teenage years – some full of angst – some full of happy freedoms – some forgotten – I’d like to show you a letter sent to me from my 9th Grade Seminary teacher, Sister Powell. Wonderful woman! She had us sit down one day and write a letter to our “10 years away” future selves – our 25 year old selves. We were supposed to record where we thought we would be, what we should be doing, and any advice we’d like to give our much older and hopefully much wiser, selves. We sealed it away with a photo of our 9th Grade Seminary Class – handed it in - and pushed it into the back of our minds – until a week ago:
--------------------------------------
May 10th, 1999

Dear Andrea Cox,

Hey! I’m sitting here in Seminary next to the Canyon View Jr. High School in Huntington, Ut. By the time you get this you/me are 25 years old! Wow! I’m ancient! 25!!

By now you should be through High School, and in a good college in a city. Preferably Logan, or maybe, out of state.

You should be on the road to a successful career in one of the following: psychiatry, law (lawyer, FBI agent?), or possibly a doctor. Right now I really don’t know what I want to be but you should know, right? You should be very self-sufficient and healthy. Having a healthy lifestyle is important! Eat better! Exercise! I know you are.

You shouldn’t be married yet. No children yet either. You should be going for your career. Even though a family is a nice thought; [it’s] not right now. You should be closer to the gospel it seems, closer to your family, and not put so much priority on friends. I’m at a difficult time now, but I know now that making or not making the volleyball team doesn’t matter to you. Things that seem important to me now, you’ve gone through and know just how “important” they were.

I hope you’re happy and ready for anything!

Luv Always,
Andrea Cox J

PS: Remember Tina Ward.

----------------------------------------------------------------

And the picture (I’m the chubby cheeked homely “cover the boob buds” one in the middle – don’t judge! We’re just humble country folk… the kind that think Logan is a “city.”)

What’s incredible is I remember every one of my class mates names. Seriously. Many of the girls are married as are the boys – in fact about 95% of them are married – and I’m not in contact with any of them. I do remember Tina Ward though (to my immediate right)! I also remember that she wrote “PS Remember Andrea Cox” on her “self-letter.” It’s high time for a Facebook search. Good old Facebook.

And now, a little bit in the way of response:

I’ve been reflecting on this letter for the past week. Thinking about where I have gone (University of Utah) what I am doing (awaiting MPA school and working in a great job with promising future prospects) and what I want more than anything in this world – a family. The 15 year old me would scoff at my greatest desire morphing from career to family (though I can have both come to find) – but because I’m a 25 year old who’s now had a few experiences that have taught her what is really important in life – I will just knowingly shake my head at “15-year-old-scoffing-angry-boob-fearing-me” and know that she’s got a lot of growing up to do. Ya know what’s really refreshing is knowing how much I HAVE grown and changed and hopefully have become a more refined, better equipped, wishing for a little bigger boobs, woman. I am closer to my family, I am stronger in the gospel, and dammit 15-year old me, I really don’t care that I made the volleyball team in 9th grade (though as I side note I totally did).

What really struck me is the final sentence in my letter “I hope you’re happy and ready for anything!”

Am I happy? Well, I’m working really hard on it. I want to be happy. I’m doing those things that make me happy, and trying to be patient for those things that would add to my happiness. I’m trying to forget those things that make me sad, and forgive those who have hurt me. Happiness. Sigh. What is happiness anyway? It’s another post for another time I suppose. BUT, after some rough and tumble life experiences, I CAN assure you I AM ready for anything. I’m ready for all of it.

Like, Wow Hollister... WOW.

My offices are located at the Gateway. I really like the location. Well, there are some torturous aspects (like driving my Anthropologie's ever changing window display... oh it burns us), but mostly I really like it. There's some decent places for me and the co-workers to eat if we don't want what we have sealed away in our Ziplocs and Tupperware. We also get to pass a few stores like LoveSac, PacSun, LIDS, and...Hollister. YEAH! Everytime I've passed this store, be it the dead of winter or a lovely Spring day like today, there is a half dressed man advertising clothes... I shall repeat... a HALF dressed man advertising CLOTHES with loooooooow slung jeans posed outside of Hollister. I mean I've seen low slung, but these are downright obscene. I mean, you can see his... ya know... MAN-ikin parts. If this were a real man - he'd have to shave - stuff. Abercrombie has always notoriously flirted with this "nudity sells clothes" idea - but Hollister - they've taken it to a whole new level... a looooower level. His pants are ONLY held up by... a bulge... which you can HALF see! Don't nooobody want to see that. Breasts are one thing - they're artistic and beautiful - but man-ikin parts... no thanks.

Oh... ha ha ha.. and the dollar bills? Well - after weeks and weeks of walking by, and mocking, and staring (how could we not?) at this scantily clad manikin, my co-worker Darren and I decided it was time to stuff some dollar bills in his pants and take a pic. I mean - what else could we do? We felt compelled to give him $1 bills. We also got some interesting looks - and a few snickers from High School boys. You can always count on High Schools boys to snicker.

I'm in. Wait... I'm in!??! I Am In!!!

Today is an auspicious day. Yes indeed. Today, I have been accepted to the Master of Public Administration (MPA) Program at the University of Utah. Squee! Whoops – sorry – didn’t mean to squee all over. How embarrassing.

I’m pretty stinking excited though. I loves school. Loves it precious! I know what you’re thinking – that’s crazy talk – but I really do like it and I’m so excited (and so ready) to go back and get my Masters. The MPA program appealed most specifically to me for a plethora of reasons. Even though I went to school with the intent of being a secondary English/French teacher, life, as it tends to do, seemed always to steer me down a VERY different course. I mean, around this time last year I was working at BYU Independent Study in Provo, planning on earning money to eventually go back to get my Masters in English Literature at BYU and eventually begin doctorate work to ultimately become a College Professor. I never thought I would be back in SLC and most specifically, back at the University of Utah. Ha. To be honest it was the last place I ever thought I would end up getting my Masters. I’d already been there, done that. I mean, I loved the U and I love SLC, but I wanted a new experience, something different, and well, I guess that wasn’t in the plan. It’s been rough to try and mold myself to this very unexpected turn of events. However, even though this “different” course has been really hard and trying at times, I feel as if it’s the “right” course, and I will carry on, carry on, carry on. This program encapsulates all my interests and goals: from my desire to be involved in non-profit organizations to working in the public sector and most specifically, educational policy and leadership. It’s going to open up all sorts of career avenues and opportunities for me. Ha, wow, it sounds like I’m writing a letter of intent, doesn’t it? Well – it’s true. In fact, I didn’t even know this program existed until I started working at the Utah System of Higher Education and my boss mentioned it to me. Upon doing some research – I found that all my interests in law, politics, policy, the public good, non-profit organizations and education all fell inline with a MPA program. Genius. GENIUS! It was a pretty awesome moment when I realized that THIS is what I am supposed to do. Getting that direction in my life came at a time when I had absolutely no direction – zero- zip – nothing. It came at a time when all my dreams and all I had thought was going to happen had been shaken up and rather ceremoniously destroyed. Yes, it was that traumatic… over and over. Shudder. However, as we all know, when one door closes, another one opens… or at least we can crack a window. The MPA has cracked a window – and will hopefully lead to more open doors. What’s particularly funny is even when I decided to get my MPA – I STILL researched other schools to see what their programs had to offer – ya know – just to see. ;) I checked ASU, some schools in California, Washington, and New York. But in the end, I knew the U was where I needed to go. It was the program for me. All those other options just kind of… disappeared. I forgot about them. I didn’t even apply anywhere else. It’s interesting – when I ended up at the U as an undergrad – it was kind of the same experience. I was going to go to BYU – and then didn’t even apply. Someone DEFINITELY doesn’t want me at BYU. Well hey, who am I to argue? Thus, as of Fall 2009 – I get to start LIVING again. Or at least – having purpose and direction again.

Eventually of course, I will get my PhD in English Literature (not at BYU, right?) and settle into a Professor’s life. Maybe if I ever get married and have babies, Professoring can be something to work towards for the “golden years” the “all the kids are in school” years – but for now – I’m in the MPA Program baby! So totally in.

Even Hoops and Yoyo Have Upped Their Prices. Stoopid Economies.

I arrived at work today and went about my usual “morning” business. I turned on my computer and walked away (letting it “warm up” for oh – a good 25 MINUTES) to get some Weight Control Cinnamon Oatmeal. I’ve mentioned this oatmeal before haven’t I? Have I? Anyway… it’s the greatest stuff. I bought it by accident on one Albertson’s trip – and at first didn’t like it’s rather extra sticky, extra goopy, extra "bleeeeaaahhh" texture and the way it didn’t taste quite “right.” However, after polishing off an entire box of Brown Sugar and… er (glance at box).. oh MAPLE and Brown Sugar Weight Control Oatmeal and finding that if I consume said sticky stick goo around 9:00am – I am completely full and warmly satisfied until 12:00 - I warmed up to the stuff you could say. It controlled my "candy bowl" needs - which I guess is the point. So that's good. And I’ve gotten used to the “not quite right taste” too. Thus, after a couple weeks “just pushing through” so I could buy “real” oatmeal, I found myself voluntarily finding the Weight Control stuff in MULTI-Flavors (cinnamon and banana nut now), and happily purchasing it to keep in my “food storage” drawer at work. What’s awesome – is I fill up my Styrofoam oatmeal bowel with the auto-hot faucet in the break room and the smell wafts throughout the entire office. Peggy, who sits at the front desk, told me one day that people would walk by and ask her who was making pancakes. Most of my co-workers smelt the joys of weight control oatmeal, hoping for pancakes, rushing “casually” to the break room, only to discover a great concentration of delicious breakfasty smell, but alas, no delicious breakfast. Peggy cracked the case, however, and let everyone know it was that short girl with the Styrofoam bowl who tortures everyone’s mornings with false promises. Suckers.

After filling up my stryo-bowl this morning I wandered over to my cube buddy, Michele’s, cubey. We like to have our little morning “hellos” while our computers anciently try to begin functioning for the day, and our conversation turned to something or other that made me make a “Squee, blaaah, daaaahhh” noise. No, it wasn’t a bad noise, it was an “I’m excited and sometimes act like a weird cartoon and make nondescript sounds” noise. Don’t be frightened. Well, I can see if you are a little frightened. You had to have known I was a little off by now. Anyway – I made some “la la la” excited animal noise and Michele exclaims to me, “You are just like Hoops and Yoyo!” OH! The nostalgia! Fo real. Exactly a year ago – I was hired at BYU Independent Study. One of the most memorable (and sadly short) months of my life. At BYU IS I discovered the hilarity of Hoops and Yoyo. Ya’ll know what Hoops and Yoyo is right? Don’t you? They are cartoony crazy Hallmark card characters I become borderline obsessed with and made sure that everyone at BYU IS had the opportunity to enjoy so HELP ME!!! I had somewhat forgotten about my Hoops and Yoyo joy until Michele mentioned I acted like one of them. Now, if you know me, this could probably be true. If you don’t know me, this will be a rather excellent insight into my rather, er, “animated” reactions and “noises.” Yes.
Of course, I asked Michele if she had ever experienced the Hoops and Yoyo daily office cards. I was shocked when she said she’d never heard of such classics as; Spastic Colon Sunday, Mondays, and Sarcastic Wednesday. What!??! Oh my friend you’ve never LIVED! I immediately rushed with my weight control oatmeal to my cube with the express purpose of sending her Hoops and Yoyo Office Cards Sunday-Tuesday. It had been, wow, I don’t know, 9 months or so since I’d enjoyed those classics? I forgot what joy they brought me. What lifes. What simple enjoyment. Yes. I would relive the joy on this most appropriate week: what would’ve been my one year Anniversary at BYU IS (tear… moment… okay…).

Hallmark.com. Select E-cards. Find Hoops and Yoyo. Find Hoops and Yoyo Office Fun. Find Spastic Colon Sunday (“Ohhhhhh noooooo.” Snicker).

GASP!

What?

NO!

This can’t be!!

Every Hoops and Yoyo Office Fun card, once free for all, is now priced at $.99 each. I… wha… who… why… NO! Suddenly, I watched all my “that awesome girl in Cube 6 who sends those freaking hilarious Bunny cards” dreams dwindle away. I have to PAY!!!??? NO! I’ve never had to pay. It was free joy! Free joy for all! Sigh… alas. Today was the day I truly felt the economy crisis. Shore I watch the news and see employment rates drop. Shore I’ve felt the strain on my own finances. Shore our future America is becoming more and more bleak. But Hoops and Yoyo? Really? Wow. Reality check. The economy is really hurting that bad. Bad enough that they’ve taken away the one thing I could utilize to spread joy and smiles throughout my office. You may be thinking to yourself “Well gee it’s just a dolla” Just a DOLLA? Have you NOT been watching the news? Our economy is doing pretty bad. And now we don’t even get to find some release in the ridiculous antics of the beloved Hoops and Yoyo. Sigh. Sucks.

(author's note: My internet sucks. I tried and tried to google image some Hoops and Yoyo pics for you and couldn't do it. SO! I have a link over on this side of my blog------------> Serious. They're hilarious. Check 'em out.)

Book Ratings: A Matter of Literary Morality

I’m an English major. I’ve probably mentioned that once are twenty times here on ye old blog. This subject is very much an “English Major” moment. It’s a matter of literary morality; or lack thereof.

I just finished reading “Teacher-Man” by Frank McCourt. There are many brilliant things to be said about this autobiographical novel about an Irish immigrant who taught in the New York public school system for 30 plus years. You’ve probably heard his name attributed to the Pulitzer Prize winning novel, “Angela’s Ashes.” No I’ve not read it – it’s on the list. Of course I, being not only an English major (which McCourt was) and having gotten my teaching certificate (as McCourt did), and having a passion for education (which McCourt might), this novel immediately snagged my interest. What I expected was surpassed. It was real, enlightening, beautiful, and enthralling. McCourt details the grit of teaching in the public school system and less than paints himself as the ideal teacher. I think that's why I liked it so much - it was the teacher's journey - always growing, reflecting, changing, asking himself "what went well, and what could I do better?"

However…

When reading something like this, something that is “real” and intense and even autobiographical, you’ve got to expect to be thrown out of your comfort zone; most especially if that comfort zone is carries religiously attached moral principles of what “of good report and praiseworthy” should look like, ha rather, should “read” like. You think I’m going to say that McCourt’s book was somehow amoral or immoral or, gasp, inappropriate. Well… it was crude, crass, and just exactly how it all happened for McCourt. It was, in point of fact, real. The language, the “life scenarios”, the learning and growth and experiences, all stem from one mans life. It’s how it was. It’s how it happened. And that’s how he wrote it. If you don’t want to read it – well don’t.

Now listen, having been an English major at the U, I became acquainted with some rather “colorful” literature. Personally, very personally, I’m sensitive to a lot of media material that most folks find common place. Certain words make me jump, certain scenarios make me squeamish, and some things are just plan uncomfortable, unnecessary, and yes, inappropriate. I don’t watch R rated movies because I don’t like the material. It doesn’t… uplift me in any way but rather… makes me feel as if I could've spent my "entertainment" time in a much more productive way. It’s hard to explain to a world where watching head explosions and explicit sex scenes while hearing language and conversations that would make your grandmother turn in her grave or a sailor blush is common place, that I just don’t like to see, hear, or accept those sorts of “real life” scenario’s as “common place” “acceptable” “free-thinking” or “just how things are – grow up.” I’ve been called old-fashioned, traditional, prudish, and uptight because of my personal moral choices. I just don’t want certain material in front of my eyes, in my ears, or playing through my mind. That's just my choice. And if some can choose to watch those sorts of things, then I can choose not to. Right? Yes.

Which brings us back to the idea of literary morality. McCourt’s novel really is one of brilliance, though, there is hard language, adult themes, and sexual promiscuity laced throughout. All things that I, personally, don’t like to voluntarily put into my head. I realize that description sounds like the fine print explanation below a movie rated PG-13. But there in lies the point. I would like to know what I’m getting into when I start reading a novel just like I know what I should expect to see when I go to a movie. How does Hollywood let viewers know what to expect? If they should take their kids to see a movie or not? Hollywood RATES their movies so the viewers can make an INFORMED decision.

Likewise, I feel that novels should have a system of the same; a rating system of you will, to warn, or rather, let the reader make a more informed decision as to what lies ahead, so they can decide if it’s something they want to experience. Doesn’t that seem fair? I would’ve liked to known that when I started McCourt’s novel (or any other number of novels I've read throughout my major and beyond) that there was going to be strong language, thematic discussions, and some sexual content. Then, I could’ve made a decision before purchasing and investing time in this novel to see if I really wanted to read it. I’ve started many books that I’ve put down or thrown away. Many times I’m frustrated because I would’ve liked to of known what I was in for before I had to find out for myself. It’s like seeing a preview for what looks like a children’s cartoon, only to find that you’ve just brought your 5 year old to an animated porno. Too bad you had to find out after paying for the films and then sitting through the opening scene. Damage is done. Reading the back cover or sleeve of a novel only gives a generic outline of what the book is about, not what it contains. I’d like to know – for my own reading pleasure – what I can morally expect from the novel I’m considering investing my time in. It’s a form of entertainment isn’t it? Movies and now TV shows have carried a rating with them for years now - it’s time novels did the same.

Don’t get me wrong, authors/writers should be able to write and publish what they want. They should be able to tell their stories and the stories of their characters how it happened or how they imagine it happening, to create a “good” story. I don’t think books should be banned or burned. NO no no no no. Oh the thought makes me hurt inside. No burning. No banning. As a reader, I just want to have the opportunity of making an informed decision.

So what to do. Well – I’ve decided to create a little blog. A blog to rate books. It’s called the “The Cautionary Librarian” and I’d like your help in this “rate that book” pioneering endeavor. Now remember – this isn’t a “rate that book with 5 stars if you liked it and 1 star if it totally sucked.” No. I’m interested in the “morality” of the book. Turn the book into a movie and think to yourself – what would this be rated? I’m going to start adding books and books and books. Then you, the reader, will add your votes. I want you to tell me first, what you feel the book should be rated based on the MPAA standards of rating (so G, PG, PG-13, R), and why you give it that rating. It will be put to a vote and as democracy has taught us, majority wins.

There are more instructions on the blog – and though it is still “under construction” suggestions and ideas are welcome. Ya know, especially considering I’ve not read every novel ever written… yet. If you are an avid reader, or would like to be an avid reader, or KNOW and avid reader, and perhaps have the same “literary moral” concerns that I have, I think this site will be extremely useful. Let me know if you feel this is a BRILLAINTLY EXCELLENT IDEA OF AWESOMENESS – and I will let YOU know when it’s ready for the big debut.

Again – “The Cautionary Librarian.” Coming March 2009. Family friendly...always.

Oh and McCourt’s book – PG-13. And I probably would’ve still read it. Maybe... could've done without a few... "things."

I really should find something better to blog about than my weekends... am I right?

WELL! I had a good weekend. Eh? I went to another friend’s concert – this one in Provo. I seem to have a lot of musically inclined friends yet, don’t have a great deal of musical inclination myself. I mean – I’ve mentioned before that I like it, I participate in it on an amateur level, I find it an attractive quality, and I’d like to have my posterity involved in it, yet here I am, average musical ability, but most definitely a professional at music appreciation. Honestly! Next weekend I am going to go see yet another friend in HIS band. Should be rockin. 3 Weekends. 3 bands. 3 Friends. Not too bad a’tall.

I also made some delicious banana bread which I distributed at work today for the (hopefully) delight of one and all. Tasty taste taste. Sometimes I just get a baking bug and have to bake my guts out. There’s an image! Mmmm. Baking guts.

I was thinking of something today. Oh yes, the waiting game. Do you know what I’m sayin? The game of waiting and waiting for life’s “things” to happen. I guess that phrase could encompass a lot of life’s little happenings we’re always waiting for – turning 16, graduating High School, graduating College, getting married, waiting waiting waiting. Meh. I hear it’s best to enjoy the times you have and not keep focusing on tomorrow – you’ll end up with a lot of empty yesterdays. Too bad it’s the old folks that learn those things. Uh, a little LATE don’t you think? What does that song say “Oh I wish that I knew what I know now – when I was younger?” Ironic we only appreciate youth when we’ve lost it, love when we don’t have it, $5 when we lost thousands, friends when they’re gone. I guess you really don’t know what you’ve had until you’ve lost it. On the same token, you probably learn to appreciate those things a little bit more once you get them back – IF you get them back. Go ahead – try and get them back. You might as well. It works sometimes. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Right? Right?!??! Maybe not.

My waiting game includes waiting to hear about my acceptance (or denial) to the UofU MPA program. Yup yup. I was all over those admissions requirements and completely done with them a MONTH before the due date. Sigh. Which means I feel like they’ve had PLENTY of time to decide if I’m a good candidate for their program – however – they also aren’t even going to BEGIN reviewing applications until the deadline has passed. February 15th was that deadline. I just read on the UofU website that we “will be notified 1-2 MONTHS” after the DEADLINE of our “acceptance or denial”. 1-2 Months? What? Bohhhhh – maaaaaan. I hate waiting. Especially if it’s “sorry you’ve worked so hard – but you still suck and we don’t want you. Go to BYU or something (snicker).” Lip quiver. THEN what? School is the light in my listlessly darkish and boring life. Well, more boring than dark. It’s a pretty happy life – I just said dark because of the whole “light and dark” analogy. Anyway, school will make me seem like I have “things” ya know? “Oh wow I’m sorry I can’t – I have a thing.” It will also make me feel I’m working towards something of value and importance again. I love that feeling. Value. Importence. Contribution. Motivation to excel. YES!

Though, can I tell you of my complete lack of motivation? Alright – not entirly true. I have motivation for school, work, and… er… exercising lately. I’ve lost motivation to be single. Ha. True. I don’t do “singles” things really. I mean, I DO because I AM single and therefore everything I do, by my single nature, could be considered a “singles thing”, but I don’t really jump on those things that most singles jump on in the hopes of NOT being single anymore. Meh. I just don’t care. Oh, and by “jump on” I mean “get involved in” activities and scenarios that are blatantly set up for “match-making and mingling” purposes. I do whats I want dag-nab-it! I seriously think I over-killed in my old Singles Ward and then again in Provo – where being single is akin to having a big red letter A stamped across your chest. Oh come on – the Scarlet Letter? Tell me some of you caught the allusion. Well, it’s not good. It means there’s something (lowering voice) “wrong” with you. Shush! Someone might thing there’s something wrong with me! And there isn’t… there isn’t… right? Gasp! Maybe a few things ;) I call it “personality.” I just have a… unique personality.

Anyway, I’m pretty happily single and not really “in the mood” to attend all those ridiculous functions held in “get married” pressure cookers. I figure I’m a social little bug, I like people, I tend to have a normal to oppotomistc personality, they can find me. Right? Shore! Let them come! And until then, I’m going to wait for my ACCEPTANCE (or denial) letter form the UofU. I’m also going to wait for Spring so I can plant flowers, and for this day to end so I can go eat some dinner. Wait wait wait.

I hope you found those random thoughts useful or at any rate – a self-esteem boost. It doesn’t get more pathetic than that. Eh? Maybe I should stick with blogging about my weekends. At least there are things to mention and on really lucky weekends – things to mock. I’m always game for a good mocking.