Showing posts with label Word Vomit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Word Vomit. Show all posts

Monday, March 26, 2012

Things that Must Go Part Deux

Around this time last year, I posted a little rant entitled "Things that MUST Go." You are now having the opportunity to enjoy "Things that MUST Go Part Deux." What joy!

We all have pet peeves and I feel, most of these pet peeves tend to be a matter of perspective depending on your past experiences, or perhaps attached to some childhood incident that grated on your pre-pubescent nerves so severely it's like fingernails on the chalk board of your life, or because we live in a world of obnoxious things that none of us would be too loathe to do without.

Thus, without further ado, here are 5 MORE things that MUST go.

1. Negativity for the Sake of Negativity. See also - overt pessimism. I've believed for a long time that the mere fact I live in America should create some sort of gratitude within my first world soul in recognizing that single privilege. Yes, I understand that tragedy still happens in America; there is abuse, poverty, and struggles. It's something none of us can escape and if you think you have, keep a weary eye on that horizon. All in all, however, I feel most of us average folks have it pretty good. We have food in our bellies (one might argue TOO much food sometimes), clean water coming out of our taps, and miraculous little switches that flood our homes with artificial light on the darkest of nights. Thus, I feel overt pessimism and negative outlooks on every single event or non-event or tiny hiccup in ones day MUST go. What really makes my eye twitch is to hear those who have had something truly excellent happen to them - a real blessing you could call it - and SOMEHOW they find SOME WAY to turn their sunny day into a rain storm on the sad state of their wo-is-me lives. Pull it together and maybe go spend some time in a thatch roof hut with a dirt floor where your kids have to drink out of puddles and THEN whine to me day in and day out how your bran new Lexus isn't the exact color you wanted and you don't know why you have it so hard. I ask you.




2. Having to Walk on Eggshells. This is one of my things that absolutely MUST go. What tries my patience most is having to pick through my words with a fine toothed comb because Sensitive Sally is always on the brink of a proverbial melt down. In fact, forget the proverbs - she is ALWAYS ON the brink of a meltdown. Now, I'm not the most sensitive of people and I know this. I am aware that has always been an area I need to work on. But I tell you this, having to beat around a bush and nicely present constructive criticism or try and pad whatever opinion I might have on business matters because someone may take it as a personal affront to their souls, their mamma's life, and their dead ancestors ten generations back is something I GREATLY struggle with and it MUST MUST go. It's not personal, it's business. Pull up your big girl (or boy) panties and recognize no one is trying to offend you - just trying to get the job done. 

3. Sidebusters. Do you know what I mean by that? Well HERE's what I mean by that. Say, you are having a conversation with a person - any person - about something like movies or books or hotels or lobster and someone NOT involved in said conversation decides to add their know-it-all opinion when they actually may not have any idea what you're talking about what so ever but because THEY have a well versed opinion on everything in the world - they MUST tell you their thoughts and suggestions. THIS, is sidebusting. It's rude; and it MUST go. Mind your own business, thanks. No one asked.

4. The Eff Word. What? I don't like it. And it must go. Such a terrible word. Though I will conceded that I can appreciate a well placed eff. But an Eff for eff's sake? Eff'ing no. Must go.



5. Movie Theaters Providing Full on Meals to Patrons, MUST go. This weekend I saw Hunger Games (LOVED! LOVED! ACCOLADES! ACCOLADES!) in the D-box seats (waste of money) at the Centerville Megaplex. As we strolled into this monstrous movie edifice we were bombarded by a barrage of "concession" items that included your standard tub of popcorn, vat of soda, ice cream cones, Philly cheese steak sandwiches, full on pizzas, and quesadillas with various dips and chips.... er... What the?!? Since when did movie theaters start providing full on steaming greasy meals for movies? Do I want to smell your cheesy steak and cheese sandwich and hear you mouth-breath over your fried potato wedges throughout an entire 2 hour film? NO! I most certainly do NOT! I saw many a person lumbering in with their gargantuan trays loaded with tubs, lards, vats, and now steaming meat substances while we took our seats; a reguler size popcorn (oh, because they don't sell smalls... just regular (which is huge), huger, mega huge, and super jumbo mega huge) between two of us. What I did notice, however, is that said patrons couldn't make it much farther than five stairs until they had to wedge in between the rows of chairs and select a place to plop... arm rests up thank you. Tiiiiimbeeeerrrrr!!! I found some sort of sick and twisted joy in these patrons masochism along with being incredibly saddened that America will continue to be obese and its because we insist on selling 16 inch pizzas with chicken finger poppers and nachos as standard movie going fodder. Naturally, all refillable. Because you'd need to refill a 10 gallon tub of butter with popcorn. Right? Psh.



And there you have it - another 5 things that MUST go. So go one then, what are your pet peeves? What simply MUST go? The rant is open for comment.

Monday, January 30, 2012

Polygamist for President? Who's YOUR nominee?

I have always cultivated an interest in politics and even go against my historically apathetic age demographic and vote once in awhile. So stick that in your pipe and SMOKE IT!

However, the current presidential push has not only cultivated my interest, but also inspired my greater artistic abilities; adding yet further purpose (a purpose?) to the political realm for moi. 

I present, A Polygamist for President? Who's YOUR nominee?

"Mr. Gingrich spent much of Sunday promoting the endorsement late Saturday by Herman Cain, a former rival for the nomination and the former chief executive of Godfather’s Pizza."



"Newt Gingrich said Tuesday that his past marital issues make him more relatable to most Americans and said it makes him seem "more normal" than a person who "wanders around seeming perfect"... Gingrich has been married three times and admitted infidelity; his second wife suggested last week that Gingrich sought an "open marriage" arrangement involving her and Gingrich's current wife, a claim the former House speaker denies...."So I think in that sense it may make me more normal than somebody who wanders around seeming perfect and maybe not understanding the human condition and the challenges of life for normal people," concluded Gingrich."


As for me, I guess I'll go with the abnormal one. 


[Romney's] tendency to only have sex with the woman he's married to is a bit bizarre. He probably needs to find a couple of mistresses and divorce a couple of sick wives before he can really understand "normal people."


Thursday, January 26, 2012

Fly me to the moon, Newt

If there's one thing a crazy person is good for - it's inspirational cut and paste artwork. Am I right?


“Speaking to a yet another massive crowd in Cocoa Beach, on Florida’s space coast, Gingrich ditched his stump speech and offered his vision of an ambitious new space program. ”By the end of my second term,” Gingrich said, prompting the crowd to erupt in applause, “we will have the first permanent base on the moon and it will be American.”

When he was in the House, he authored a bill that would allow a lunar colony to apply for statehood once it reached 13,000 residents.

I met a gentleman in the audience who told me he had worked on Gingrich’s Congressional staff and helped with the bill, which was called a Northwest Territory Ordinance for Space.  The man told me the bill would have allowed space colonies with over 20,000 people to apply for recognition as a US territory.”


I think the scariest part of this whole thing is he may actually have a chance. Really? THIS is who we see leading the free world? A vote for Obama (or Romney, or Paul, or Santorum) is a vote AGAINST moon colonies. So think through that... think through it very carefully.



Newt or Schrute?

VIA: 
http://news.yahoo.com/blogs/ticket/office-actor-rainn-wilson-finally-admits-looks-newt-174532667.html

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Why I don't blog like a regular blogger

So come to find, I don't blog like a regular blogger. What does that even MEAN?!?! Well, I guess it means I'm either a non-conformist or completely out of touch. I'm going with the latter on that one seeing as I'm usually the last to know anything (see: not knowing Amy Winehouse had died until a few months ago or figuring out that DIY means Do It Yourself, like, a month ago) or last to jump on already brimmingly full cultural bandwagons (see: any popular TV show in general, capri's (which I still refuse), and Twitter. I don't tweet. I don't understand the point of tweets. And I think it's weird when people say, "I read this tweet..." or "I tweeted" You... WHAT?!?! Ew.

I only noticed my irregular bloggery because I've finally (FINALLY) noticed a pattern with most bloggers I like to read/peruse. Or just most bloggers in general I suppose. I've noted before, I only follow 4 or 5 blogs fairly consistently and mostly, it's because I can endure their writing. Nay, it's because I actually ENJOY their writing. And who follows blogs because of the WRITING?? I'm going with slim to no one considering everyone thinks they're a writer and only about 5.25% actually include words in their blog entries. And abut 4.653% of THOSE can construct a meaningful paragraph... that even KNOW how to "paragraph." Yes, I just made "parapgraph" a verb; "She paragraphed as if each thought she had was transitory yet related..." If I were merely enduring what I was reading, then you can be certain I would've stopped that ridiculousness ages ago - though I'm sure still well behind everyone else who stopped enduring dangling participles and blatant neglect of the Oxford comma. I won't give it up I tell you! The flag is red, white, and blue! Not red.... .... .... whiteandblue! Shudder.

There's also the blogs I like to look at because I am inspired by their creativity (cough, Roxy Marj, cough). In fact, I will go so far as to say "dangle your participle!" because your modge-podge would have even Monet shopping for sponges. You modge podge with sponges right? These things:
Anyway...

Here are some patterns of bloggery I've noticed are fairly consistent (i.e. "regular) with most high profile-type blogs that I rarely if ever do on my own blog. Why? Most of it has to do with pure unadulterated laziness. Oh, and the narcissistic concept that all you need is my writing to enjoy my blog. Ha ha ha! Riiiiiight.

1. DIY projects (that's Do It Yourself... to the slow person). I don't think I've ever been described as "crafty." Creative perhaps. I can plan one hell of a themed party! But crafty? I've recently dipped my proverbial toe into craft-land and find I very much enjoy it. Never the less - there's no bloggery about it. It just seems to produce a useful "How-to" list complete with pictures and steps seems like doubling the work of an already painstaking craft. I MADE a Halloween banner. What more do you WANT?!? Figure it our your damn self, Sherlock. 

2. Trips. Alright -I HAVE blogged about trips and I enjoy writing about them. But they have to be rather significant trips... or really trips at all. I find a lot of bloggers discuss their recent jaunt to Trader Joe's (not in Utah, so how can I even blog about that? Huh! How?!?), or their weekend sabbatical in "insert location 20 minute away from their home town" and though I like reading about these things, I don't blog about them often. Maybe I should, "Today, I while buying Tostitos as Smith's, I saw a frozen coyote in a shopping cart." 

Aside: so that's an actual story that happened to my brother at the Price, Wal-Mart. I mean, of COURSE it happened at a Price, Wal-Mart. Maybe if I start blogging about interesting things I will tell you that story. But it is not this day.

3. Products. I don't mention products or make-ups or tasty things I've eaten and so must YOU or things I've recently tried and regretted. I probably should. I mean, for the 2 or 3 people who glance over my blog, at least they'd get an opinion about a product they've been considering from someone who has no clout. And I do want to help people! It's the philanthropist in me. Here's a start:



I like the scoops myself as it allows you to balance your salsa to chip ratio much more effectively. I'm also a pico-de-gallo fan more so than your basic salsas. I like the chunks without the runs. There's clearly a 12 year old boy joke in there somewhere. Poop allusions are funny. 

4. Pictures. And that's basically what it all boils down to. Pictures. People like to see them; and I don't ever take them. So I guess I mean "real life" pictures. That's because you can't google those, "Me eating Tostitos scoops" and get what you expected. You can, however, google "Daniel Craig is sexy" and have a myriad of options right at your finger tips. Mmmm... Daniel Craig at your fingertips. Sure, you'll get a blurry phone photo of Zooey or little Carter now and again I guess. That's as real life as I get. I think if I added real life pictures to whatever nonsense I attempt to describe, it might help me look more bloggery. But then again, I am an Ar-teest! And my art is in my writing. Why would I muddle such beauty with something as silly as pictures? I ASK YOU!

5. I also don't have kids. That's the old fail safe blog post isn't it? I've not blogged in awhile, so here, look at these 93 still shots of my kid smearing carrot puree all over his face. Riveting. That creates a nice irregular bloggery hole in my blog world I'd say. One I hope to never fill. Not because I don't want kids, cause I do, but because carrot puree makes me gag. 

6. Cooking. Do I cook? Yeah, sure I do. In fact, I've been subsisting on a vat of homemade chicken noodle soup for a solid week now. HOMEMADE! CHICKEN NOODLE! I also bake. I'd say I bake a lot. Over that same chicken noodle week I've been ceremoniously supplementing said meal with a delicious chocolate crunch brownie. But just like the crafts, I don't care to document the experience in painstaking technical writing complete with attempts at "arty-food" pictures. 

BRIGHT IDEA ALERT! AKA RIDICULOUS TANGENT!

Perhaps I could blog about the brownie making process as if the brownie were an actual character in a story. Example: 

As Hershey Cocoa rested comfortably divided evenly among 3 Tablespoons, awaiting her turn in the rotating bowl of doom that was at this moment creaming together 2 sticks of butter, 2 cups of sugar, and 1 teaspoon vanilla, she glanced over at the oven temperature and noted it read 350 degrees respectively. She usually tried not to do this as it was like looking into the furnace of her own death - but this time - she looked - along with the 1 cup flour and 4 eggs waiting in line with her. The flour glanced at her with resignation and the eggs, well, the eggs just grinned and clucked among themselves. Eggs. They were always so smug what with their white shells and gooey centers. They never even see the inevitable coming. No, they just fluff and preen and coagulate the rest of us together - patting themselves on the back for creating a sense of "community" among the other ingredients. It's not until we're all spread evenly in a greased 9x10 glass cake pan and starting to feel the sting of 25-30 minutes or until the center isn't gooey, do they start to panic.  

What do you think?... Eh?.... EH?!??!.... erp.

So that's what I DON'T blog about that makes me a not so regular blogger. What I DO blog about is contained basically to a few random trips, commentary on social issues, Zooey and/or Carter, self-reflection, life lessons, and random things I find funny, inspirational, or addicting (see: Downton Abbey... X-Files... Tostitos Multigrain Scoops). I also enjoy a good lament or rant once in awhile. 

I'm glad I figured this out - that I am not a "regular" kind of blogger. Why? Shrug. So I could irregularly blog about it. Oh snap. Did I mention I like to blog in "sass" and "irony." Yep, just made those writing genres. What of it.

Monday, December 19, 2011

The Worth of You

Recently, I’ve had some close friends who have struggled in negative relationships that have made them question their self-worth and lower their standards and expectations. To this I say, STOP! Stop doing this to yourself.

It saddens me that these beautiful, smart, inspiring women that I have the privilege to interact with feel they must accept poor behavior and mediocre treatment simply because they desire love and companionship. I too desire these things. As a 28 year old single female living in Utah, you better believe I very much desire these things. You could say it’s the greatest desire of my heart. But I have learned, very much the hard way, that such a good desire can blind us to some very bad things. Things that perhaps our close friends and family can see because they are emotionally removed from the situation that we simply choose to ignore in the name of love. Things that will not lead to that happiness we envision, but instead, find us curled up in our bed crying and praying, “Please God, why won’t this just work out?” Love is blind. So perhaps find yourself some trusted friends and family with the eyes to see what you refuse to. 

It’s the Dumb girl (or guy... it slices both ways!) disease. We’ve all been that dumb girl or guy. Glance back at your life and pick out that time or two (or three) where now, because you can look back and see how you’ve progressed and grown and hopefully learned what a wonderful person you truly are, wonder why you ever wasted your time with a relationship and situation that only ever brought you personal pain and heartbreak. The scales of love-blindess will fall from your eyes and instead of begging God for "things to work out", you thank him for not letting you continue in a situation that would have never lead to any sort of happiness. Or, perhaps examine a relationship you are in now; what is your ratio of happiness to negativity? Are they even? Is one far outweighing the other? And for heavens sake, how long has it been this way? Of the 6 months you’ve been dating, have 5 of those months only ever been drama, negativity, tears, and confusion? And yet, all we can think of and all we remember is that one month where things were really great. Or, perhaps, we keep hoping for the tomorrow’s that continue to never come. You can’t change him. You can't change her. Only he can change him. And why would anyone have an impetus to change if their bad behavior is constantly reaffirmed by you, dumb girl or guy, that continues to lower your standards and self-worth simply to be around this person. 

Self-reflect. When you are around them, how do you feel about yourself? Does she make you feel like a hero? Does he make you feel like the most beautiful, interesting woman in the world?  Are all those good things about you amplified? Do you have a desire to progress and be your best self? Note - this is different than feeling guilt and shame of changing your wonderful you to be the person they want you to be - rather - it is a healthy confidence and desire for doing good things that should make you feel uplifted and able - not down-trodden and unsatisfactory. 

Some might say, “Well, not all things are roses. There are always hard times.” And we are all realistic enough to understand that in every relationship , there will be challenges. However, I submit to you that I know some very smart women who make some really dumb decisions in the name of “well, every relationship faces challenges.” To me, challenges are my husband losing his job and though he is working hard to find another one, things are going to be very tight for awhile and we will make it through. Challenges to me are caring for a sick or disabled child, together, as companions. Challenges to me are learning to share your life with another person and understanding that there must be MUTUAL sacrifice and patience if you are going to make it through. Challenges to me are facing rough patches in a very long road of happiness shared together. Challenges are allowing each other to have bad days, of getting over your OCD tendencies and just accepting he has no concept of "put your nasty socks in the hamper", or her chronic lateness. Challenges are pit stops, not the entire journey. To me, challenges come and go but your overall love and respect for each other won’t diminish and in fact, should continue to grow. Disrespect, verbal abuse, emotional manipulation, and selfishness are NOT challenges. These things demean, diminish, and disrupt the goodness that companionship is intended to bring. To me, companionship isn’t the key to happiness, it is the key to an enriched life. A life already being lived. A relationship to add to your already existing happiness and elevate your life to something more fully lived.  If a relationship is not more enriching than it is “challenging”, particularly in the first few months of dating, I submit to you that perhaps you should rethink that relationship before it’s too late. Before you are so blinded for your good desire for lovely things, that you continually dress the wolf in sheep’s clothing yourself. The wolf that everyone else can see is dragging you away from the happy, active, wonderful person you once were. 

I also want to shout from the rooftops to all the women (and men too!) that I know: YOU. ARE. WORTH. IT! You are WORTH dates. You are worth forethought and planning. You are WORTH your doors being opened and you are WORTH physical boundaries and limits. Guys you are WORTH honesty. You are WORTH respect. You are WORTH time and energy and trust in the good you and potential you have. You are worth fidelity. You are worth loyalty. You are worth commitment and you are worth his/her undivided attention. You are worth someone being fully invested.

Ladies and gentleman, your time, your life, your interests, and what you do ARE important and YOU are worth seeking after. Someone who doesn’t believe that isn’t the someone for you.  And though it is always easier said than done to let go, not necessarily of the individual, but the perceived chance at companionship, your individual worth and ultimate happiness is far too high a price to get “sorta” what you want now instead of having patience for a little while longer and getting what you truly deserve later. 

Ladies particularly, truly, you deserve it all. Stop selling yourself short and believe it. Become the good woman that the good man you deserve will seek out. And good men WILL seek you out if you are being your best you while still accepting that we are all a work in progress. So stop wasting your time with the ones who don’t see your worth and prepare yourself for the one that ultimately will.

As for myself, I would truly live a happier life as a single person (gasp! The horror! The horror!) then locked into a life-long unhappiness with someone who I’m constantly having to prove that I’m worth more than what he sees. If you have to constantly remind him (or her) you are worth it - then he's DEFINITELY not worth it and its time to start setting your sights for what is right instead of what is available at the moment. 

End Rant. 

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

The Spirit of the Law

I was shown an article today outlining the banning of skinny jeans from BYU-Idaho campus. Yes, you heard me. The banning of skinny jeans. Don’t believe me still? Enjoy:


First and foremost, this isn’t a rant about skinny jeans propensity for immodesty and what the benchmarks and standards are for what is “too tight… too form-fitting... too “skinny””. What I’d like to bring up is something that has always… what’s the word…. “irked” me about certain rules and restraints upon grooming and dress standards inherent to BYU campuses. Also, this is not a rant about BYU, rather, a discussion on the spirit of the law vs. the letter of the law and what it actually means to choose to adhere to principles vs. being forced into compliance by rules.

What irks me most is the lack of individual accountability (intricately connected to agency) that many of these regulations discount. Some of these regulations I see as flirting with the line of “force” vs. “choice.” I understand as a religious institutions, the BYU’s (Provo, Idaho, and Hawaii respectively) they must uphold religious precepts and therefore, cannot very well support or accept lack-luster standards of their student body. Nor can they very well afford to implement regulations without subsequently enforcing such regulations. This I like about the BYU’s and their Honor Codes. Not only are these honor codes rather audacious albeit conservative when it comes to “societal standards” but these standards are not swayed by the whims or fancies of fashion, media, and other “moderninities.” As VP Henry J. Eyring says in the article, “fashions will come and go.” BYU’s student body, for all intents and purposes, actually looks pretty upstanding most of the time. As to what that translates into when you reach into the cockles of the heart or even more simplistically, into the recesses of a dorm room is a different matter. But that’s life… that’s people… no one is perfect. The institution must uphold what it upholds because it's representing a belief system the the world, and I for one admire them for doing so despite the fools who mock.

That said, this lack of personal accountability for your own thoughts, actions, and perceptions of adhering to regulations of the institution you have agreed to be a part of has, once again, gone beyond the realm of self-governance and independent religious commitment and into the realm of force that’s completely based on the personal ideas and standards of whomever happens to be working in the testing center that day. THIS is what I have issue with. What is a standard of “too form-fitting” and how does one decide what is form-fitting and what is not? Who is the ultimate judge of whether a woman’s butt curvature is too accentuated by her jeans that she may not take a test for a class? Should it not be the woman’s decision as to what she feels is appropriate and adhering to the regulations she so agreed to when she became a BYU student? When are the students themselves given the freedom and ability to interpret these standards for themselves? Joseph Smith once said, “I teach them correct principles and they govern themselves.” Some regulations are not allowing for self-governance and I find this stifling to the spiritual growth and strengthen of beliefs.

I feel that there are instances, much like this skinny jean scenario, where adherence to correct principles goes beyond logic and reason and accountability and essentially, the spirit of why BYU asks its student to dress appropriately. Rather, the letter of the law is blinding the spirit of the law. 

And here is the law via BYU-Provo

 “Immodest clothing includes short shorts and skirts, tight clothing, shirts that do not cover the stomach, and other revealing attire. Young women should wear clothing that covers the shoulder and avoid clothing that is low-cut in the front or the back or revealing in any other manner."

I feel this is a reasonable standard to set for students that attend these institutions, and furthermore, I think that students who sign the honor code should be expected to take personal responsibility for such. 

Here is BYU-I's Honor Code for grooming standards for women:  

A clean and well-cared-for appearance should be maintained at all times. Clothing is inappropriate when it is sleeveless, strapless, backless, or revealing. It should not have slits above the knee or be formfitting. Dresses and skirts must be knee-length or longer (even with leggings worn).

Pants, slacks or jeans should not be patched, faded, frayed or torn and must be ankle length—no capris or shorts may be worn on campus. Hairstyles should be clean and neat, avoiding extreme styles and unnatural colors. Caps or hats should not be worn in buildings. Excessive ear piercings (more than one pair) and all other body piercings are inappropriate. Shoes should be worn in all public campus areas. Flip-flops and other casual footwear are inappropriate on campus.

They are basically similar in every way. However, the difference here lies with institutional interpretation being forced upon students or allowing students to interpret this standard for themselves.

There needs to be a line where the institution gets involved and where it is left up to student accountability. In the case of BYU-I, I feel flip flops, overalls (though let’s be honest… no problem there), shorts (at all), and apparently now skinny jeans is institutionally over-stepping the line of self-governance and forcing their students to apply their understanding of the rules “their way.” I recall a little council in heaven where there were two individuals offering to fulfill a heavenly plan and one was about CHOICE while the other was about FORCE. Mull that over. Naturally there will be those students who roll into the Creamery with cleavage up to their eyeballs and attempting to pass of their boy-cut panties for shorts exclaiming, “This is how I interpret the Honor Code!” In such extremity, clearly, the institution is without question required to address such instances. But again, I’m not talking about the black and white – I’m taking about the gray that encompasses self-governance simply because individuals think, feel, interpret, and apply principles differently. And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. Then again, I went to the University of Utah.

I think this would also be an appropriate time to point out the difficulties of trying to adhere to strictly to a grooming code given the mirage of body types that make up college campuses. I am containing most of my comments to females as grooming standards tend to effect them more so than men. Something that may seem revealing or low cut on a woman who, say, is very busty, and has significant butt curvature may look completely acceptable on a woman who perhaps has little curves, a small bust, and no butt. The later woman may wear a simple boot-cut jean while the former could get away with strait up leggings. The “tightness” factor could by all accounts and purposes be the same, but it is the body shape and difference that can make a pair of skinny jeans (or a t-shirt, or a skirt) look very different from one body to the next – from one booty to the next. Some women will always look curvier than others and they should not have to adhere to a different standard, in my opinion, for something that was bequeathed upon them by genetics. I only ask they be self-aware. In fact, I was told once because I was short, I should wear crewneck t-shirts because taller guys might be able to look down my shirt.

What?

My response, “Well maybe they shouldn’t try to look down my shirt regardless...” I’m not dressing like a marm simply because men taller than me (read: that would be 98% of men) have wandering eyes.

I’d like to give you some more real life examples of similar double standards I experienced while spending time on a campus.

#1 - I was involved at BYU-Provo campus for some time and in that time, I quickly learned that things I had not noticed living outside of the “Honor Code” I had to start taking notice of very quickly. Like 5:00 shadows. Can I tell you how my male employees would take advantage of my “beard” ignorance  and wander in with their stubby faces because they knew it wouldn’t even register with me? Imagine their surprise when I started remembering and sent them home for a shave. Scally-wags!

Anyway…. Better example:

I run in running shorts. What? Yes. My running shorts aren’t long shorts, but they aren’t short shorts really. They are running shorts hitting me probably about mid-thigh. Now, as standards dictate on campus, students are asked not to wear short shorts and skirts. Of course I knew this, but it didn’t compute to running shorts for me. I don’t know why. Probably because I’d never had to think about it before as I attended the secular school up North (or any other school in the nation) where showing significant butt cheek out the bottom of your Daisy Dukes was common classroom attire. I was reminded very quickly of this “no short shorts fact” though as I had to leave from running the BYU outdoor track (with another girl who was doing so in a sports bra and shorts only – just pointing it out) through campus for something. As I was walking on campus, I noticed I was getting some curious looks. One such fellow almost tripped over himself, gave me a gawking up and down, and then shook his head and “passed by on the other side." It was then, when I followed his gaze, it hit me. I was wearing “short shorts”. Now, I’m 5’1 and don’t boast a lot of “leg”, but never the less, they were shorter than probably is customary for campus wear. I blushed and felt ashamed. That shame, however, turned to annoyance when, as I watched this pimpled sweet spirit walk away, I noted that he in fact was wearing flannel teddy bear PJ bottoms, an old “BYU Basketball 1997” t-shirt with holes, and fuzzy slippers. I REPEAT, flannel teddy bear PJ’s, a wholly old t-shirt, and slippers. If I might now QUOTE from the BYU Honor Code: “A clean and well-cared-for appearance should be maintained... Shoes should be worn in all public campus areas. Flannel teddy bear PJ’s. Perhaps Mr. PJ’s and I should’ve thought twice before venturing on campus in our attire. But the thing is, I was the only one getting side glances. I was the one who was breaking the rules. And though I won't deny that in my ignorance I probably was breaking the rules, so was this gentleman. But I also know if someone were to report us - the PJ boy wouldn't have even caused an eye to bat. Why? Because no one things "sexy" about flannal pj's... and that's really what it's about. Sex.


#2 - Student complains of unseemly ankle bearing. I once had a student email the department I was housed in complaining that he could see the ankles of a woman on one of our posters. I was silenced mid-scoff by the faces of colleagues who were actually considering his complaint as legitimate. Ankles?!? As professionally as I could muster, I offered the following logic, “If this student is getting off because of women’s ankles, might I suggest he has bigger problems then our small marketing department should be encumbered upon to address?” Call me devil's adovcate.

Which brings the accountability discussion full circle. Immodesty is a “women” thing. Is it not? Societal standards, the nature of women, the nature of men, it all coagulates together upon the fact that men are more aroused through visual stimuli than women and women’s bodies are generally the object of that arousal. I get it and I agree that as a woman, I have a responsibility to not be the proverbial “Potiphers wife”… displaying my womanly wiles for all to partake. But I do not think that my responsibility to be aware of my womanly effect on the male gender also encompasses their responsibility (or lack thereof) to maintain self-control. They are accountable for their thoughts, feelings, and “triggers” and therein lies my biggest irk of all. Men and women are both responsible for the image they project, but also how they internalize an image that will inevitably be projected upon them; skinny jeans being the lesser of those projected images I expect. Mr. Ankles email was somehow justifying a thought or (assumption here) action or pattern of actions he was involved in and instead of taking personal accountability for a human weakness, placing blame upon a woman's ankles. I perish the thought of this poor fellow ever living anywhere else but Utah, or turning on the TV, or going to the grocery store or hey, even going to church. I assume if it ever came down to mandating burkas on campus, he'd sounds the rallying cry.

BYU-I campus cannot keep their student body from viewing skinny jeans, flip flops, skirts, cleavage, ankles, and any other fleshy or curve hugging fashion, trend, or natural endowment that is rampant in every other corner of the world. They can ask their students not to partake, and they can ask their students to adhere to these standards, but they cannot keep them from, at some point in their lives, dealing with “the world” as it is. As Elder Holland so aptly put it (and I paraphrase) we must live in the world, just not of the world. We still must live IN the world. We must adapt and build up resistance and learn to make choices and uphold standards when our environments tell us we’re ridiculous or archaic. I admire BYU’s for upholding that standard – but only to the point where it still allows student agency and speaks to the spirit of “why” rather than the paternal “because I said so, that’s why.” We must still take accountability for our choices, thoughts, actions, and apply those principles and concepts we are taught through prayer and individual interpretation. We are taught correct principles, and we govern ourselves.  

Now don’t misread me here. It’s not that I think BYU (or any religious institutions) student bodies consist of only drones that can’t make their own choices and govern themselves. They can. Regardless of institutional codes and regulations, I know there is still personal choice to follow those regulations when no one is watching, when your boyfriend keeps trying to push your limits, or when you are home alone with a computer and internet connection. I get that. But for me on a personal level, attending such an institution didn’t appeal to me simply because I wanted to make sure I was making those choices, setting those limits, and following those standards simply because it was how I chose to live my life; not for fear of punishment, being caught, or being shamed. I also realize, because I was born and raised in rural Utah, I felt an even greater need to do that. Make sure my identify and convictions were what they really were beyond my parents house rules, and my cultural surroundings. I could only do that by not going to a school where they were similarly enforced through crime and punishment. Weird logic, but it works for me. And makes sense too - as most BYU students are NOT from Utah and thus, have likely already had their spiritual mettle tested many times through out their life.  I wanted to learn to govern myself and I’m glad I get to wear skinny jeans and date bearded men while I do it. That's all I'm sayin.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Monday, November 14, 2011

H& M Brings Me One Step Closer to Perpetual Cat Ladyery (ladery?) and Puts a Few Things Into Stark Perspective

H&M opened this weekend at Fashion Place Mall (HURRAY!). Now, as a country bumpkin - I generally don't like large crowds; particularly if those large crowds consist of crazy eyed self-proclaimed fashionista's with huge strollers and nothing pressing them for time at 2:30 in the afternoon on a weekday. Stereotype so established. Thus, I wasn't planning on visiting my now very LOCAL H&M until several months after its "grand opening" to avoid such crowds (and reinforcing stereotypes ;)). In fact, I didn't even visit the Cheesecake Factory for easily a year AFTER it opened in SLC because the lines are atrocious and I couldn't understand "what the big deal was." Well, I'm so happy I found out because that place is freaking delicious! Lines? What LINES??? I will wait as long as it TAKES to pay $17 for the most delicious plate of garlic pasta I've ever EATEN!!!

Back on topic.

SO! I don't like large crowds particularly if its brimming with the a fore mentioned stereotypes, thus effectively putting my H&M Utah plans on hold until after the holiday season. BUT, I suddenly had an internal conflict with this plan this weekend as I am ALSO a very good daughter. Didn't you know? And my mom came to visit me for some mother/daughter shopping, eating, and ballyhoo time and of course, OF COURSE, we had to go Fashion Place Mall - it easily becoming the best mall in the state with such additions as the afore mentioned H&M, Crate and Barrel, Anne Taylor Loft, Apple Store, and the usual bought of awesomeness: JCrew, Banana Republic, and Nordstrom. I think I just salivated all over my keyboard. Shoppy shoppy nom nom! Spendy Spendy!

Yep, you guessed it. Being a good daughter won out and we went to H&M, opening weekend, as Christmas approaches. Madness! We had to stand in line for about 15 minutes to get in the store. Have you ever had to do this? You know I haven't because of my crowd aversion and general avoidance of "hype." It was pretty amazing how people eyed each other - making snap judgements about your worthiness to have a presence at such a grand opening. At least I'm spending my own money, Princess. Oh snap. Presence we were granted and upon entering the store - we were assailed with Club/Techno/Whippersnapper music BLASTING our senses and shaking the walls. Why do they have to do that? Why? I don't understand why the shopping experience must be assailed with BOMP! BOMP! BOMP! the entire time. UN-PLEASANT!

But what WAS pleasant was the 15 pairs of new socks (I only have work out socks... and they get eaten by Zooey periodically), scarf, and ridiculously "me" (dahling) dress and blazer I purchased amongst the madness.

OBSERVE!

You're asking yourself - what is that face you are making? It's a "did it take?" face. Phone cameras are sneaky little blighters!

Yes that's right. My dress is head to toe cats! And not just any head to toe cats - head to toe cats with BOW TIES! Cat-lady Andrea is well on her way!

Though I did purchase a few choice items and it was cool to go into the new store - it was also somewhat disheartening to see this middle and upper class American line to get into a moderately priced retail store; stomping and cutting (in line...not flesh... but I can see how it would've come to that eventually) and bumping and shoving and eying each other for a $20 blazer or $10 stripped socks. I had women edging me out of looking at a shirt or leggings simply because they must have thought I would take the last one... when it was clear we wouldn't have even worn CLOSE to the same size anyway. The passive aggressiveness rating scale was off the chart. And for what? Apparently one's true character shines through when sweater tights are on the line.

Now, don't get me wrong - I really like shopping. I like it a lot and if it's a good deal - I'm a sucker for it. But I couldn't help but have a small existential moment realizing that in America, where we stand in line for H&M's or the newest IPhones or midnight showings of Vampire Love movies; acting like children and  anxiously climbing over each other in angst - somewhere else in the world people are standing in line for their one meal a day, a crust of bread, or vaccines against diseases American children have enjoyed for decades. We reduce our character to shreds and curb our humanity for wool sweaters, or video games when fathers who have lost their jobs stand in unemployment lines and mothers go hungry again so their children will have enough to eat that night. And this doesn't happen in a country far far away - but in our own cities and neighborhoods.

To me, it's curious and even disappointing what we will stand in lines for sometimes. Is this really a good use of our time and resources? And for heavens sake, what happened to downright common decency? No, I don't think that standing in line for H&M makes someone a bad person. I don't think it's a bad thing to like to shop and enjoy some nice things if you can afford them. I just ask for a realistic amount of perspective and a polite "excuse me" now and again. I don't think waiting in line at an H&M provides justification for leaving your humanity at home so you can be the first one to use your stroller as a battering ram to the jeans section of a retail store. But maybe I don't get out enough.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Upon Writing: Some Definitions

There are times when I read things... and some stuff... but mostly things... where during said reading I get annoyed. I don't know why I feel this way. If the grammar is sound and the structure intact, and heck, if there are a few creative adjectives spirited throughout the prose then what's my problem? WHAT'S MY PROBLEM?!?!? WHY AM I SO BUGGED!!!!


I found out why today.

First, I am an elitist. But we knew that.


Second, it's because I can tell when the writing is contrived. 

Definition
Contrived: adjective obviously planned or forced; artificial; strained: a contrived story.

aka


The Kiss of Death in fictional story-telling... or writing anything in general.



It's a super power... spotting contrived writing.


No it isn't. Because you, you average citizen you, would feel the same way I did when reading something that annoys you for no other reason than you're just annoyed. And now, you have a reason. It's annoying reading something contrived.


Why am I talking about this?


Because I'm attempting to become a legitimate writer and I need to know if that's even possible. Legitimate writer as in... that's what I "do." It's my craft, my art, my "thing", it's what I want to be. It's like all those other struggling art forms; art, music, acting... where there is a rather small percentage of the population that are wildly successful practicing their "craft" without also having to juggle a 9 to 5 to pay the bills. How would it be to pay your bills with your passion? It would be like being Tom Hanks or Bono or J.K. Rowling. For every ridiculously successful ar-teest there are a thousand other suckers who attempt their whole lives to "make it" and never quite break through the teeming mists of critics, nay-sayers, and just plain old not having talent. That last one is the worst. How do you know you've got it? How much of that "it" factor is determined by societal shifts? (see increasing number of lusty vampire teen novels... gag). How do you know that you could be the next Steinbeck or Updike? We need a proverbial Simon Cowell to lay it strait for more than just angsty warbling teenage singing hopefuls. Open wide and take your medicine art people! You're very bad at what you love. Jagged pill.


Definitions
Legitimate: in accordance with established rules, principles, or standards.
Writer: a person who writes or is able to write;


Therefore; legitimate writer: a person who writes or is able to write in accordance with established (metaphorically, unspoken, or recorded) rules, principles, or standards.


Thus I've learned, some of the annoyance I have from reading some people's (ahem "writers" ahem), though well structured and even adequately crafted, prose is because it's contrived.... forced... artificial... and strained. Is it in accordance with established standards? Grammatically... you bet. But writing is more than the structure; it's the story. It's the idea. It's the conveying of an idea that allows your reader to say "I know exactly what you mean!" Leave the grammar to your editor, dear writer. Your job is to tell a story!


Stephen King said in his book On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft, that you should write the truth. It's a bed-fellow of the common writers guide: "write what you know." Someone can know a handful of things or a lot of things... but is it true? Is it true for you? Is it true for you character? Write what's true. I believe the lay-man/woman of all readers can spot an untruth... which is to say... you can tell when you're being suckered. It just doesn't sit well. I've read these contrived little things and may have even stretched my own writing to the point of annoying the hell out of some unsuspecting reader. And now that I know why a blunt pencil in the eye is preferable to contrived writing, I'm holding to ye old writer's precepts: Write what you know. Write the truth.

When writing fiction, you must write the truth.


Definitions
Fiction: something feigned, invented, or imagined; a made-up story: the act of feigning, inventing, or imagining.

Truth: the state or character of being true.

Lie: a false statement made with deliberate intent to deceive; an intentional untruth; a falsehood; something intended or serving to convey a false impression

You see the difference, don't you? Writing fiction truthfully without sounding contrived or a big fat liar. Fiction writers do it all the time - and they do it well. Did a boy possessed of magical ability truly survive a killing curse go on and attend a magical school with peers of similar magical abilities so he could then save his world from the evil devices of a sinister Dark Lord? Of course not. But that doesn't make it not true. In fact, it's a beautiful truth that speaks to us about things that are believable. Fiction is making your reader believe it could be true. 

So I 'm trying to become a legitimate writer by writing a little of what I know and always writing the truth... and mostly avoiding sounding contrived... because I'm not here to annoy anyone. Truly. 

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Turns out, it's because I only ever wanted a man

I thought this was worth a post vs. a passing FB shout out.

What I learned from this little editorial (below)? It turns out I've always wanted to date men and not boys. And I mean always... like since High School always. And in High School it's okay for boys to be boys because they are boys and it's okay for girls to date boys because they're girls. But I've always wanted to date men. My propensity for men was even manifest in the "celeb crushes" I had throughout high school. They weren't yourt your young strapping baby faced boys like Orlando Bloom (I guess he's more of a girl), Paul Walker (circa 1999), or Christian Slater (I'm a child of the mid-90's... clearly). Naw. I liked Russel Crowe or Harrison Ford or George Clooney. And now I can see it was because they represent a manly manness those "pretty" boys didn't have. They were something more adult and controlled and committed versus rowdy and pubescent. Sure I had my Jonathon Taylor Thomas phase - but really - I've always liked the idea of men.

THUS! I'm single at 28 because I had to reach an age where my expectations of dating men ( vs boys) was realistic and legitimate and not creepy (cause I'm not into the whole 18 year old and 35 year old... "thing"). How could I have expected that from an 18... 21... or even 24 year old? I couldn't. It wasn't fair. But NOW... NOW I can. I can expect man'ness from a 26, 30, or 32 year old. It's time! Time for men! Not men-children! The men-children tend to like the immature (different from young) ones like themselves. They're the creeper 35 year old scoping out the 19 year old freshman. I guess it makes sense cause their maturity levels are copacetic ( a great 90's term in my mind).

Speaking of...

I guess the rub is... there's a lot of 18 year old 30 year olds out there. A lot. And there are maybe a few 24 year old 35 year olds out there. A few. It really is a state of mind (and life and choices and emotional competence). I've gone out with a few almost 23 year olds over the last handful of months (my ward is swimming with them!) and truly, it's not the number, it's just where they are in life; somewhere I've already been. They are 23 year old boys and that's okay cause they're 23. I expect 23 year old mind sets and lifestyles and super jumbo nachos for dinner and sleeping in a heap of dirty clothes on a dorm floor. The 26 year old 18 year olds though? Mmmm... PASS. Of the 26+ I expect some leafy greens and a laundry basket.

Enough of my commentary - read the below. It's entertaining and makes a little bit of sense. And how many things during your typical work day do you read things that are entertaining and make a little sense? Yep, that's what I thought. You're welcome.

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The Office’s Mindy Kaling on Why You Need a Man, Not a Boy

The funniest woman on TV, The Office’s Mindy Kaling, serves up some astonishingly helpful relationship advice in this exclusive excerpt from her new book, Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? Where have you been all our lives, Mindy?

Mindy Kaling
Mindy Kaling is an Emmy-nominated writer and star of The Office. Her book hits shelves this month, click here to order a copy!

Sometimes I eavesdrop on people.
I could rationalize it—oh, this is good anthropological research for characters I’m writing—but it’s basically just nosiness. It also helps me gauge where I’m at: Am I normal? Am I doing the correct trendy cardio exercises? Am I reading the right books? Is gluten still lame? It was through eavesdropping that I learned that you could buy fresh peanut butter at Whole Foods from a machine that grinds it in front of you. I had wasted so much of my life eating stupid old already-ground peanut butter. So, yeah, I highly recommend a little nosiness once in a while.

Recently I listened in on two attractive thirtyish women talking over brunch. I heard the following:

Girl #1 (pretty girl, Lululemon yoga pants, great body): Jeremy just finished his creative writing program at Columbia. But now he wants to maybe apply to law school.
Girl #2 (tiny girl, sheet of black hair, strangely huge breasts): Oh, God.
Lululemon: What?
32D: How many grad schools is he going to go to?
Lululemon: I know. But it’s not his fault. No publishers are buying short stories from unfamous people. Basically, you have to be Paris Hilton to sell books these days.
32D: For the 10 years that Jeremy has been out of college doing entry-level job after entry-level job and grad school, you’ve had a job that has turned into a career.
Lululemon: Yeah, so?
32D: Jeremy’s a boy. You need a man.

Lululemon did not take this well, as I’d anticipated. I felt bad for Lulu because I’ve been Lulu. It’s really hard when you realize the guy you’ve been dating is basically a high schooler at heart. It makes you feel like Mary Kay Letourneau. It’s the worst.

Until I was 30, I dated only boys. I’ll tell you why: Men scared the sh*t out of me. Men know what they want. Men own alarm clocks. Men sleep on a mattress that isn’t on the floor. Men buy new shampoo instead of adding water to a nearly empty bottle of shampoo. Men make reservations. Men go in for a kiss without giving you some long preamble about how they’re thinking of kissing you. Men wear clothes that have never been worn by anyone else before.

OK, maybe men aren’t exactly like this. But this is what I’ve cobbled together from the handful of men I know or know of, ranging from Heathcliff Huxtable to Theodore Roosevelt to my dad. The point: Men know what they want, and that is scary.
What I was used to was boys.

Boys are adorable. Boys trail off their sentences in an appealing way. Boys get haircuts from their roommate, who “totally knows how to cut hair.” Boys can pack up their whole life and move to Brooklyn for a gig if they need to. Boys have “gigs.” Boys are broke. And when they do have money, they spend it on a trip to Colorado to see a music festival.

Continued (page 2 of 3)
Boys can talk for hours with you in a diner at three in the morning because they don’t have regular work hours. But they suck to date when you turn 30.
When I was 25, I went on exactly four dates with a much older guy whom I’ll call Peter Parker. I’m calling him Peter Parker because, well, it’s my story, and I’ll name a guy I dated after Spider-Man’s alter ego if I want to.

Peter Parker was a comedy writer who was a smidgen more accomplished than I but who talked about everything with the tone of “you’ve got a lot to learn, kid.” He gave me lots of unsolicited advice about how to get a job “if The Office got canceled.” After a while, it became clear that he thought The Office would get canceled, and by our fourth and last date, that he clearly thought it should get canceled.
Why am I bringing up Peter Parker? Because he was the first real man I dated. An insufferable yet legit man.
Peter owned a house. It wasn’t ritzy or anything, but he’d really made it a home. The walls were painted; there was art in frames. He had installed a flat-screen TV and speakers. There was just so much screwed into the walls, so much that would make you lose your deposit. I marveled at the brazenness of it. Peter’s house reminded me more of my house growing up than of a college dorm room. I’d never seen that before.

Owning a house obviously wasn’t enough to make me want to keep dating Peter. Like I said, he was kind of a condescending dick. But I observed in Peter a quality that I knew I wanted in the next guy I dated seriously: He wasn’t afraid of commitment.

At this point you might want to smack me and say: “Are you seriously just another grown woman talking about how she wants a man who isn’t afraid of commitment?” Let me explain! I’m not talking about commitment to romantic relationships. I’m talking about commitment to things—houses, jobs, neighborhoods. Paying a mortgage. When men hear women want a commitment, they think it means commitment to a romantic relationship, but that’s not it. It’s a commitment to not floating around anymore. I want a guy who is entrenched in his own life. Entrenched is awesome.

So I’m into men now, even though they can be frightening. I want a schedule-keeping, waking-up-early, wallet-carrying, picture-hanging man. I don’t care if he takes prescription drugs for cholesterol or hair loss. (I don’t want that, but I can handle it. I’m a grown-up too.)

I know I’m only marginally qualified to be giving advice. I’m not married, I frequently use my debit card to buy things that cost less than three dollars, and my bedroom is so untidy it looks like vandals ransacked the Anthropologie sale section. I’m kind of a mess. I did, however, fulfill a childhood dream of writing, producing and acting in television and movies. Armed with that confidence, alongside a lifelong love of the sound of my own voice, I’m giving you this bit of wisdom: When you turn 30—maybe even before—a fun thing to try is dating men. It’ll be like freshly ground peanut butter, times a million.

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Here's to men!