Wednesday, September 30, 2009

I feel it. Feel it real good. I hate waiting.

Oh, The Temptation from Steve V on Vimeo.

"In this reprise of a now-classic Stanford psychological experiment from the 1960s, kids are put in a room with a marshmallow and told they can either eat it immediately or wait until the researcher gets back, and they'll be given a second marshmallow. Hilarity ensues as the kids suffer marshmallow temptation!

But the consequences go deeper: In the New Yorker article "Don’t!" from May that detailed the very same experiment, it turned out that the ones who passed the marshmallow test enjoyed greater success as adults. Said Walter Mischel, the Stanford professor of psychology in charge of the experiment, "What we’re really measuring with the marshmallows isn’t will power or self-control... It’s much more important than that. This task forces kids to find a way to make the situation work for them. They want the second marshmallow, but how can they get it? We can’t control the world, but we can control how we think about it.”

Monday, September 28, 2009

I'm putting off homework... and finding infamy in unexpected places

I really don't want to start my homework and I know I HAVE to... alas... here I am posting on my blog when there are mounds of texts and assignments for the "getting to." I will tell you another reason I am putting off doing my homework - it's because I already did half of it and it was LOST! Seriously, technology is a large LOSE sometimes. I big fat fail. On Friday, being a very studious little grad student, I did a good portion of my homework for one of my classes. As part of this class we have to write something called "micro themes" to outline our opinion on certain bits of our weekly (500 pages of doom) reading. WELL! Granted these micro themes only need to be 100-150 words long, they still have to encompass some rather meaty topics and at least give the semblance of "grad school" level understanding. This is were I'm glad I was an English major and can many times make it sound like I know what I'm talking about when really... ahem... well anyway.

POINT! My BRAN NEW WORK COMPUTER had itself a bit of a crash Sunday night for no reason other than to torture me (I'm sure of it) and anything that was saved from 5:00 on Friday night until Monday when I reconnected to the network at work was lost. So! Micro-theme? Gone. Alas. It could be much worse than a 150 word summary, but it's still hella annoying to have to duplicate work. Especially about chapters describing bureacratic structures and discpline theories. Awesome.

So it's being put off...

And while putting it off I have checked the Facebook rounds, my bank account (still there - wahoo!), and then proceeded to my blog to see if any sad little BYU fans had commented on my video (evil grin insert here). Well, no comments (MWA hahahaha!), but in my procrastination efforts to GET to my blog, I typed my addy in the search engine portion and BING pulled up some interesting websites. Come to find, I am rather famous on a few websites for my remarks upon a little post I wrote around this time last year about the Mormon Muffins calendar coming out... er... sometime. Shrug. Glazed look... when WAS that supposed to come out? I'm sure we'll hear ALL about it when it finally does and rest assured - me and all my "friends" (sarcasem here) will be there to voice our opinions. I did find however, that that post was not only a topic of comment on my own blog, but in fact, made the "headline" for many other blogs, many of which are specifically created to bash Mormons and Mormon ways and bring up all bad experiences ever had with a member of the Mormon church and about how Mormon dogs are terrible too, etc, etc. This concept always blows my mind slightly. Why someone would establish a blog for the sole purpose of slamming on other people's beliefs. I mean SURE, it's one thing to post our own opinion on our own established little blogs because we have something to say about this, that, or the other. But as a personal opinion I've always found it strange that folks specifically establish blogs for the gathering together and discussing how much they hate other people's belief systems. Meh. Free country. I realize just because I don't get it doesn't mean it's wrong or anything. Naw. Just strange... and to me kinda a waste of time and energy, yes? Perhaps.

At any rate, it was not only my Mormon Muffin opinion (i.e. somewhat of a rant because it really pushed a button for me...) that was discussed and added to the list of "why we hate Mormons and their ways, dogs, faces, lawns" but a number of other posts I've stated my opinion on a variety of "heated" issues between the LDS church and a variety of groups. Shrug. Who knew? I don't mind them discussing my outlook on things and if they utilize it to fuel their hate, well that's too bad. But if not me, there would be other fuels for that fire. Folks with so much hatred find ways to fuel it. It's like Joseph Smith said, people can leave the church, but they can't leave it alone. How true that is. I truely wonder if some folks spend their days searching the Internet for more evidence to support their personal vendetta's against a religion they don't even belong to anymore. Or they wait in the shadowy corners of the blogosphere for that "chick who blogged about that calendar" to post again so they can scream "YOU SEE! THIS IS WHY I HATE YOU! ALL OF YOU! YOU ALL JUDGE ME!" I just like Lion House rolls man... calm down. I guess "best in the world" can't really be proven but they are pretty stinking good! The real irony is many of them started their posts about MY post saying "she probably won't even post this comment... GRAH!!" when actually, being one who will post opinions for or against issues I talk about because I do feel all sides should be heard, DID post MANY of their comments... unless they were exceptionally crude or pathetically lame... ya know like the "your mom is a muffin!" sort of thing. Believe me, I'm doing YOU a favor for not posting those. Next time don't check your brain power at the door... bring 'er on in.

Alas, now that I have posted yet possibly one more topic that can be made infamous on those particularly negative against the LDS church sites, guess I'll get to my homework... again. Honestly, some of the above sass is probably attributed to my annoyance about having to re-do homework. In fact, I'd say about 90% of the sass is contributed to that... the other 10%? That's just me. :)

Sunday, September 20, 2009

This weekend I shamelessly flirted with a 21-year-old

I am 25, practically 26 (October 12th), and this weekend during a huge stake service project, I met a young strapping lad with whom I passed the morning with happily. There were about 300 people present at said event from our Stake, and we were divided by respective multi-colored wrist-bands that indicated what service we would be providing for the surrounding community that day. I, having a yellow wrist-band, joined the "painting group" and commenced painting a lovely little house in the Rose Park community with other happy singles. On the roof of this house is where I found this strapping boy, about 6'3 respectively (for some reason I've been into the "tallish" ones as of late... I'm sure it will pass) reaching the "hard to reach" places with his little paint brush. I climbed the ladder leaning on the house near his roof perch and we began interacting as singles tend to interact... personal jabs, clever little remarks, and all smiles. Oh and naturally when there is paint involved, it's an easy way for dudes to utilize the opportunity to put paint on you. How coy. ;) The dances we dance.

So, upon some interaction with boy I first thought he might be around 23 or 24 - which was fine and dandy with me. In fact, besides the "tall" factor, I've started to prefer fella's my age or a "little younger" when it comes to the dating. I know that seems a little weird (aka non-traditional), and there's no pattern in my dating life that would indicate any sort of cougar-esque tendencies (QUITE the opposite) but for some reason, younger seems better. That does seem to be the trend these days... the cougar part. Though I might add if any of you dare call me a cougar I will of course, think you are referring to that team down south and will subsequently hunt you down with my Ute SPEAR! You have been warned.

Anyway... a few cheesy and pukey paint fights and shameless flirtatious remarks later, I find that this young boy with innocence gleaming from his eyes is, in fact, 21 years old and has been of "the mish" for 5 months. Alrighty then. 21. Immediately my mind pounces on three facts:

1. I have a little brother older than him
2. I have a second little brother his same age serving a mission now and
3. I have a third little brother who's as close to his age as I am.

Wow. I'm gross.

Upon further interaction it was very clear his age fit him. Example: he still has a continued zeal for life and the mucho energy to be such a flirty little monkey. And really, it was awesome. Lets be honest, it was a nice refreshing reminder of how fun it used to be to date and be around the opposite sex. Remember those days? When we used to ENJOY the game? When it used to be fun to spot a nice looking boy with his heavy backpack, cherub cheeks, and missionary haircut sitting in his little corner of the Institute building working on his Math 1050 homework? Aw. Those were the days... alas. Now I differentiate ages by tense.. "what is your major" vs. "what was your major." Oh like undergrad? Yes... he asked me my current major. Well son, in Grad school it's a little different. How about you? Undecided? Ah well... you're only a... cough... sophomore. Plenty of time. Yeah I think minoring in the language you served your mission in is a super great idea (... ... ... ...).

But again, it was refreshing to meet a cute little fellow who still has his "find a girl-dar" activated and in essence, TRIES. In my own "age-bracket", well, here comes my honesty again, every woman is bitter and every dude is set in his ways (aka going nowhere fast). Ha. Alright. Not EVERY woman nor every man 25 and older is in the afore mentioned general categories, but many are. And many start getting that taint at about... well... 25! As for myself, I'm working very hard to NOT become that girl with the "I already hate you because you're a man and men are tools" look lasering from my eyes. And what better way to keep myself young and full of hope then shamelessly flirting (no really... it was sort of sickening and almost pathetic) with a cutsey little 21 year old fresh of his mish? Eh??? Nothin! It was fun. He was a nice boy, and I'm a short girl that probably looked about 21 too. He even said I was cute and funny. Aw. I've not heard that I was cute and funny... well... I can't remember when (or if) I've been told I was cute or funny (to quote "the funniest girl ever!") in a long time... or ever.

Lesson learned: young boys still like girls - and aren't tainted by them. And I would wager it's the same on the other end - young girls still like boys - and aren't embittered towards them. We all want a little love... but how can you expect to get some love with that ugly scowl on your face sister? Or by not asking anyone out... EVER, Mr. "Cool"? Seriously. Sometimes we seriously sabotage ourselves. Though of COURSE I know it all "gets old" and we all grow weary of the game and the bad experiences, but be of good cheer! Smile! Dare to have that hope again like you did as a young fresh-faced 21-year-old and even then if you don't find the eternal companion of your heart, I bet you'll feel better anyway. Go ahead! Flirt with the 21 year old!

As for me, I'm not ashamed to stand up and say "This weekend I shamelessly flirted with a 21-year-old... and I'll do it again!!!" Well... maybe when I turn 26 I'll shamelessly flirt with a 22 year old. That doesn't seem as pervy. And dudes, anything with "teen" in the age is ALWAYS too young and forever unacceptable. That needed to be made clear in case any of these words come back to haunt me ;) Double standard? Sure a little - but maybe the trend will shift from cougars back to pervs again soon. You never know.

Friday, September 18, 2009

10 Ways You Know You Are Back in School

10. You are always tired.

9. You are always hungry.

8. If you remember to eat... you eat this.. 7. You drink a lot of this

6. You regret everything you eat and drink

5. You start talking to yourself out loud - mumblings and some twitching even.

4. You snap at people who by all accounts don't really need to be snapped at(i.e. the Library attendant or grounds maintenance guy), because you don't know "why the hell THEY'RE SO HAPPY!!!"

3. Your eyes tear when you see someone sipping their cooling beverage and enjoying a novel... sniff.. a NOVEL in the park that they CHOOSE to read for entertainment and not for extensive analysis and critical review.

2. You walk slightly hunched even without your backpack on and hiss at people walking by in case they're getting any funny ideas about talking to you while you're trying to STUDY! Dammit! My corner! Find your own hole!

And the number 1 way you know you're back in school...

1. You can fall asleep in any position, on any piece of furniture or slab of carpet, at a moments notice, no matter what time of day, where you are, and who might be sleeping in the library lounge chair next to you.

Saturday, September 12, 2009

4 Days in San Diego - Sigh - Let's go ahead and call it "this years" San Diego trip

A belated post about a little vaca I took to San Diego last week. Well, almost last week. My good chum Heidi and myself found some ridiculously "do not pass this up fools!" round trip tickets to San Diego a few weeks ago for $140 round trip respectively (compliments of Southwest). That awesomeness coupled with a free place to stay near La Jolla and a 4-day Labor Day weekend preeeeeetty much solidified that much needed, but "sure feeling it now", vacation. Sold. Done. Purchased. We left last Saturday morning, and returned last Tuesday.

In between there was much beaching, and also some beaching, and we also went to the beach. Those activities were interspursed with eating, and then some more beaching... and a little shopping. Yes. I have just described the ultmate chick vacation and oh my, I love chick vacations. There was only ONE little draw back - turns out Grad school is a lot harder (and MUCH more demanding) than my undergrad. That, and I'm still in the "done at 5, do what I want on the weekends" mentality instead of "oh gee sorry awesome friends and cool ideas, I can't participate in that sweetness because I have frakking homework and reading and an MPA to acquire" mentality. Psh. Stupid transition. Regrets? Me? Well... we'll see when it's all said and done. I would like you to know that I DID read my textbooks on the beach and subsequently submitted an assignment from a Barnes and Noble WiFi connection (of course we hung out in Barnes and Noble on vacation... you act like that's weird) late Monday night. Sigh. Homeworking and not being able to read a novel on the beach were the only "kinks" in the relaxing San Diego Vaca 2009. I add 2009 in the hopes it will start a pattern... an annual pattern. Mmmm, annual patterns. Oh, the other unpleasentness was the $&^%*@ truck driving flooosey girl who pulled many a ridiculous traffic antic that ended in some very unlady-like but completely justified hand (finger) singals from both Heidi and I (on Sunday no less. Gasp! Worse!). Listen all states but Utah; "everyone" knows that Utah is always complain central for driving. Apparently we (cough, Utah county) fail at driving. But I might happily add California on the list after THOSE 4 days of cruising around the 5, the 163, and the 15. It was like a bunch of escaped monkeys were driving cars! Bleachy haired leather skinned truck driving escaped monkeys at that! Grumble...

But lets not talk about San Diego coupled with homeworks and idiot monkey drivers... but rather...

Might I just say? Next San Diego trip, I shall spend at Coronado the. entire. time. Seriously. Beach cruised on some beach cruisers (logically) around the island. Picturesque all-American diners complete with the world's greatest oreo shake, and a non-crowded, sandy beach for the basking, romping in the waves, and body surfing.

And naturally...

Speaking of body surfing. I had been doing said activity for about 30 minutes and as any of you body surfers (or attempters) might know, there's much of being tossed about by waves and laying on your stomach on the board. Well... I had a little strapless swim suit that day and though I had secured the "removeable" halter strap as a precaution, one or two beach goers may or may not have gotten a bit of a show from me at one point. Whoopsy! One of the ladies may have slipped a little more than half-way out the top of my suit. Even little mosquito bites are a bit scandelous when exposed. Te he he... blush blush.
So... this might be a good time to post THIS picture... and prove I really am a good "covered" girl! Ima good gurl I am!Alas, though I love my SLC and adore my Utah, I think I could find a place in my soul reserved for San Diego always. Or at least... annuallly. Cheers to San Diego Vaca 2010 and hopefully, a little more discretion when it comes to the homeworking (mumble, stupid, mumble, crappy, %&*#^, grad school...), and the body-surfing swim suit choice. Ahem...

Friday, September 4, 2009

Lila and the Curious Case of the Wall-Poo

I would like you to look at a picture:
Do you see those little brown blotches on the upper corner of my wall? Here, let me zoom.

Do you see now? Do you see those little brown patches and smear of what seems to be... could it be?
YES IT IS! It's poop! Cat! Poop! And HOW - might you be wondering at this moment - did little cat poops happen to find themselves almost 6 feet up my wall? WELL! I've asked myself that EXACT same question over the last few days.

Picture if you will, a lovely evening at home vegging in front of the tube. It's been a time since you just sat for a hour in your apt mulling over what current media has devised to entertain you. I believe I was watching something like, "America's Got Talent" when I started to smell a smell of what my roomie and I have deemed "atomic poo." Lila, bless her furry little heart, once in a great while, produces an atomic poo. This poo is so rancid, so fraught with death and destruction, one wouldn't be surprised to witness tangible green fumes rising out of her litter box to poison all who come within 3 blocks of our apartment building. It's that strong. Happily this does not happen often and I'm not sure what changes that makes her "atomic poo" every couple of months. All I know is she does and oh my, it's the kiss of death.

SO! Back to the wall-poo. I start to smell the atomic smell and begrudgingly get up to scoop the offender from the box and take it directly outside. I get under the sink and grab her designated poop bags, grab the scoop, and walk towards her box. Upon arriving at her box, I notice something glistening on the ground just outside her box on the carpet. Yes. It is a piece of atomic poo. On the carpet. WHAT? Sigh. I figured she must've been a little sicky in the tummy and had an accidental escapee before making it to her box. We can all empathize right? Right? Ahem. So I scoop that and wipe it down with a Clorox wipe first... all the while trying not to breath... at all... for fear of retching at what now is starting to feel like toxic gas wafting into my nostrils. I then turn my attention to the box. And... sift around with the scoop a bit. Huh. Nothing. I had JUST cleaned her box not 2 hours before anyway, so there wasn't any "leftovers" and... no atomic poo. Could that tiny little carpet squirt have been the only culprit? That's a serious smell for one squirt.

As you know... this was not the case. I stand up, glance up (for no reason then to glance) and see those two offending poos happily sitting almost 6 feet up on the wall. My jaw hit the ground in unbelief. Immediatly I start going through every possible scenario in my head. If you look at the pics carefully, you will notice there are no pieces of furniture high enough for her to climb and subsequently butt-squirt. There's nothing she could have done, in this world of gravity and logic, to have put her poo on that wall. Unless of course (theory #1), she began by jumping from the back of our couch located a solid 4 feet away from her box, stopped mid-air, turned about so her furry butt was facing the wall, squirted, THEN (here comes the REALLY weird part) turned back around facing the wall, turned the corner inside the closet frame, did another 180, squirted TWO MORE atomic poos around the CORNER 6 feet up on the wall (true story), and subsequently land strait into her box. Uh-huh. Weird.

So... there's THAT impossible possibility, OR there's this (theory #2). Do you see the "tail-end" of the framed picture seen in the above picture #1. Do you see the latter half of a framed white cat with its tail sticking up? WELL! The wall-cat could've launched that poo nicely onto the wall. Could have! It's got the angle. Yes, I am aware it's a picture, but that would only leave me to accept theory #3.

Theory #3: I have a phantom poo'ing cat living in my apartment. Clearly ghost-cats could float in the air and pretty much do anything a human ghost can do. And if a ghost-cat wanted to poop on the wall (or take REAL poops from a litter box and place them on the wall as ghost-cats would logically have ghost-poo), they totally could! There's more evidence to support my theory of having a ghost-cat. A week prior, I was fluffing in the bathroom and Nik was in her bedroom, and we suddenly hear this CRASH! BREAK! I come out to the main area to see what it was, and a vase had fallen from the top of our bookshelf and landed with amazing accuracy on the bottom edge of the bookshelf, smashing it to pieces. Why is this weird? WELL! As I glanced up the bookshelf to see which book had fallen over and knocked that vase to the ground (aka "the reasonable explanation), no book had fallen. All was in its right place. I know the vase had been pushed towards the "middle" of the shelf and thus well away from the edge (clearly to prevent such a happening). And yet... ahem. We of course chose to ignore this instance, picked up the pieces, and never spoke of it again. Until... the curious case of the Wall-Poo. Given these two happenings, I feel a ghost-cat is the more reasonable explanation than having an embodied poo-flinging super-cat flying around my apartment squirting walls with her butt. Honestly, if you have anything else by way of reasonable suggestions - please - by ALL means. In the meantime, I maintain that we have a phantom-cat living in our apt. Though, I'm still going to choose to ignore these two instances and never speak of it again. If you ignore it, it goes away. Right? Right. Scooped. Wiped. Trashed. Forgotten. So let it be written...