I've been trying to learn korean but I'm afraid that like most projects I undertake, I am running out of motivational steam. Mostly because, whine whine WHINE...IT"S HARD!!!! My sweet friend carolynn has been ushering me through a children's fairy tale about a princess weaver and I am SOOOOO frustrated because not only can I not understand a thing that I am "reading" in the anime style book, I can't really pronounce anything either and I DON'T EVEN LIKE WEAVER PRINCESSES! (By the way, the word only slightly means princess...it probably has 12 other meanings that I can't comprehend with my american pea brain...)
The other night C and I met at Salt Lake Roasting company and it took me 1 1/2 hours to read 5 lines. Not even a whole page. It's really and truly humbling to feel so completely inept at something that I've been so amazingly attached to my whole life. Words have created the bulk of my identity. When I was a gawky, socially retarded pre-teen, I drowned my sorrows in babysitter club books, saving up my money and buying 4 books at a time and reading them all within 2 days. I was the annoying kid who corrected your grammar and knew the meaning of the word "erudite" on standardized tests. I had(have?) a massively evil tongue and used words to fight, hurt, comfort, define...They have always been my main mode of power. And in a new, distant language I am powerless. I am quiet. I am small. I feel useless. I can't even tell you what happens to the weaver princess let alone write poetry and express my personality effectively.
I was walking home on South Temple reading the signs on buildings the other day and I realized that I have been taking all this reading for granted. In less than two months, I won't be able to easily read ANYTHING.
I realize that all this thinking about language is a luxury. There are millions who can not read even their first language let alone a second one. There are refugees who are thrust by violence into new cultures and new languages with new alphabets every moment. They learn because they must to survive. Mine is certainly not such a dire situation, but I have goals...I want to be IN korean culture as much as possible and that means learning the language. sigh. I guess it also means ingesting a huge piece of humble pie and adopting a more tenacious attitude about my linguistic pursuits... (it also means using as many of my big words as possible before being reduced to hand gestures and grossly exaggerated facial expressions to match my monosyllabic grammar..."must...have...drink...gim chi...is....make...me...dead!!!!")
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Monday, December 18, 2006
Playing House: The Talk
AKA The Talk I Gave In Sacrament Meeting Where I Voluntarily Discuss The Law of Chastity or "WHAT WAS I SMOKING?"
Every summer my mom created a playhouse on the back porch. It was practically real to a 6 year old. It had a kitchen, a bedroom and the piece de resistance…a “REAL” couch made out of cardboard and pillows. I spent the summers of my childhood hanging doll clothes up on the clothes line, washing pretend dishes and yelling at my brothers to go to work!!!! and make more money !!!!for our 3 crying children. It was heavenly. Sadly, the demise of the playhouse came when we forgot to clean up the lik-m-aid our “family” had for dinner one night and an ant infestation caused the health board, also known as my parents, to shut ‘er down.
Years later, I went to college far from home and settled into my first “REAL” apartment. I still remember how very grown up I felt when I put up my Depeche Mode posters and Christmas “mood lighting” for the first time. It felt real to me even if my furniture was still mainly made of crates and cardboard boxes. But on occasion when I would light an oven mit on fire while watching america’s funniest home videos or find a dust covered piece of clothing under the unmade bed, I would have the sinking suspicion that I was really only playing house.
Even now, over 10 years since that first apartment, I think often about the concept of playing house. Maybe you are like me when you read the proclamation to the world about the family and feel a little like we are faking it… just making due right now as we wait for the husband, the wife, the babies, the furniture not made of plastic…
One of my favorite scriptures is found in Alma “All is as one day with God and time only is measured unto men.” We are the only ones holding on to this artificial timeline for when our real lives begin. I’m sure that if we asked Heavenly Father he would tell us that we are already living REAL LIVES if we are working on our relationship with the Savior and moving closer to understanding our divine nature. But still there are some ways in which the analogy of “playing house” is helpful.
Have you watched kids play house? They are boundless, they have all power to do ANYTHING. They don’t limit themselves and their ability. Remember how when you played house you had a job, took care of 5 kids and could FLY??? The proclamation states “All human beings—male and female—are created in the image of God. Each is a beloved spirit son or daughter of heavenly parents, and, as such, each has a divine nature and destiny.” We are STILL boundless in our divinity as children of God. Our nature is powerful and divine and we can do all things that we are asked! If we choose too, we can tap into that power and energy now to work harder for the things of God. We do not need to limit ourselves or our missions. Play HOUSE! Acknowledge your innate capability as a child of Heavenly parents!
Another cool thing that happens when kids play house: They imitate the behaviors of those who are closest to them…If we believe that “Happiness in family life is most likely to be achieved when founded upon the teachings of the Lord Jesus Christ.” We must start to build or continue to build that foundation for our future happiness by choosing to let the Savior be a greater part of our current lives. We must learn to imitate or emulate Him in everyway. Want to be happy? Want to find peace and have joy? Play House!
When we were kids, playing house was sort of practice or preparation for the future. We can still prepare today… In the proclamation to the world we learn that “successful marriages and families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love, compassion, work and wholesome recreational activities.” I recently had an experience with a group of friends in which one friend revealed that she was struggling with some really deep emotional pain. We knelt down together and petitioned our heavenly father in unified prayer for relief and understanding and comfort for our sister and I knew at that moment that I was closer to my friends, closer to the savior and one step closer to being the kind of mother and wife that I hope to someday be. And here is the truth. We might not have kids yet, but all of the characteristics that are required for a happy future family life can be developed and practiced NOW as we “play family” in our personal relationships and friendships. Create families. Be a family. Play house!
When I get a little bummed that my mission companion has 4 kids and I have none, I think about how silly her husband is and if that doesn’t work, then I remember Goonies…You know that part in the wishing well when everyone wants to quit and get pulled up by Troy’s bucket and Mikey reminds them, “It’s their time up there…but down here…this is our time.” I testify that this is our time down here and it is a gift from a loving and wise Heavenly Father. A time to figure out who we are and how we fit into his plan. We will NOT HAVE TIME TO WASTE when our children finally come to us. They are the great ones. They will probably already know who they are and why they are here…they need us to be firm in our understanding of the Savior and the gospel so that we can guide them.
Thinking about future children reminds me that there are some dangerous ways that we can play house as single members of the church. The proclamation on the family is full of amazing truths and practical “how to’s” about building a righteous family in Zion. It also plainly clarifies misguided ideas about procreation and puts forth powerful warnings about the misuse of our procreative energy. “We declare that God’s commandment for His children to multiply and replenish the earth remains in force. We further declare that God has commanded that the sacred powers of procreation are to be employed only between man and woman, lawfully wedded as husband and wife. We declare the means by which mortal life is created to be divinely appointed. We affirm the sanctity of life and of it’s importance in God’s eternal plan.”
Elder Oaks quote “ The power to create mortal life is the most exalted power God has given his children. Its use was mandated in the first commandment, but another important commandment was given to forbid it’s misuse. The emphasis we place on the law of chastity is explained by our understanding of the purpose of our procreative powers in the accomplishment of God’s plan.
The expression of our procreative powers is pleasing to God, but he has commanded that this be confined within the relationship of marriage. President Spencer W. Kimball taught that ‘in the context of lawful marriage, the intimacy of sexual relations is right and divinely approved. There is nothing unholy or degrading about sexuality in itself, for by that means men and women join in a process of creation and in an expression of love.”
Outside the bonds of marriage, all uses of the procreative power are to one degree or another a sinful, degrading perversion of the most divine attribute of men and women.”
It is natural and OK to want the full benefits of married life. But just as we can trust heavenly father to be keenly aware of our righteous desire to create families…satan too understands and manipulates it in myriad ways. Telling us that we can’t really ever have the real thing…so we might as well accept the imitation while it’s still available. Give up. Give in. There is no other way. Settle for a couch made of cardboard boxes and lik-m-aid for dinner…
This train of thought can seem completely rational. I mean, we’ve watched an entire society embrace it, so it must have some power of persuasion… but it is not true.
BROTHERS AND SISTERS…THERE IS ALWAYS ANOTHER WAY. We believe in a Father in Heaven who provides for his children, who showers us with miracles if we’ll open our eyes to see. Moroni 7:27-29 Hopefully we are able to say as Nephi did “I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded for I know that he giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them.” WE DO NOT HAVE TO ACCEPT SATAN’s PATHETIC IMITATIONS. If you don’t have hope that something real exists for you, seek guidance from the one who knows you best…ask him to give you enough hope to sustain you. Ask him to help you understand the Atonement and Christ and your role in this great plan. Moroni 7:41
I am intrigued by the word PROCLAMATION. To Proclaim something means to announce it officially and publicly. The word comes from a latin root of Pro meaning forward and claim to cry out. Proclaiming is active! I’m sure there are some bad proclamations, but in this case, I like to imagine the heavens shouting for joy at the sanctity of family!
It’s Christmas, so of course I have been thinking about the Savior and his earthly family. I imagine that Mary and Joseph spent a great deal of time cultivating their personal relationship with diety in order to fulfill their amazing familial mission on this earth. No doubt Mary spent a few childhood hours playing house and practicing for her role as a mother. May we all think about the best and good ways to play house as we read the proclamation from our God to the world about families.
Every summer my mom created a playhouse on the back porch. It was practically real to a 6 year old. It had a kitchen, a bedroom and the piece de resistance…a “REAL” couch made out of cardboard and pillows. I spent the summers of my childhood hanging doll clothes up on the clothes line, washing pretend dishes and yelling at my brothers to go to work!!!! and make more money !!!!for our 3 crying children. It was heavenly. Sadly, the demise of the playhouse came when we forgot to clean up the lik-m-aid our “family” had for dinner one night and an ant infestation caused the health board, also known as my parents, to shut ‘er down.
Years later, I went to college far from home and settled into my first “REAL” apartment. I still remember how very grown up I felt when I put up my Depeche Mode posters and Christmas “mood lighting” for the first time. It felt real to me even if my furniture was still mainly made of crates and cardboard boxes. But on occasion when I would light an oven mit on fire while watching america’s funniest home videos or find a dust covered piece of clothing under the unmade bed, I would have the sinking suspicion that I was really only playing house.
Even now, over 10 years since that first apartment, I think often about the concept of playing house. Maybe you are like me when you read the proclamation to the world about the family and feel a little like we are faking it… just making due right now as we wait for the husband, the wife, the babies, the furniture not made of plastic…
One of my favorite scriptures is found in Alma “All is as one day with God and time only is measured unto men.” We are the only ones holding on to this artificial timeline for when our real lives begin. I’m sure that if we asked Heavenly Father he would tell us that we are already living REAL LIVES if we are working on our relationship with the Savior and moving closer to understanding our divine nature. But still there are some ways in which the analogy of “playing house” is helpful.
Have you watched kids play house? They are boundless, they have all power to do ANYTHING. They don’t limit themselves and their ability. Remember how when you played house you had a job, took care of 5 kids and could FLY??? The proclamation states “All human beings—male and female—are created in the image of God. Each is a beloved spirit son or daughter of heavenly parents, and, as such, each has a divine nature and destiny.” We are STILL boundless in our divinity as children of God. Our nature is powerful and divine and we can do all things that we are asked! If we choose too, we can tap into that power and energy now to work harder for the things of God. We do not need to limit ourselves or our missions. Play HOUSE! Acknowledge your innate capability as a child of Heavenly parents!
Another cool thing that happens when kids play house: They imitate the behaviors of those who are closest to them…If we believe that “Happiness in family life is most likely to be achieved when founded upon the teachings of the Lord Jesus Christ.” We must start to build or continue to build that foundation for our future happiness by choosing to let the Savior be a greater part of our current lives. We must learn to imitate or emulate Him in everyway. Want to be happy? Want to find peace and have joy? Play House!
When we were kids, playing house was sort of practice or preparation for the future. We can still prepare today… In the proclamation to the world we learn that “successful marriages and families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love, compassion, work and wholesome recreational activities.” I recently had an experience with a group of friends in which one friend revealed that she was struggling with some really deep emotional pain. We knelt down together and petitioned our heavenly father in unified prayer for relief and understanding and comfort for our sister and I knew at that moment that I was closer to my friends, closer to the savior and one step closer to being the kind of mother and wife that I hope to someday be. And here is the truth. We might not have kids yet, but all of the characteristics that are required for a happy future family life can be developed and practiced NOW as we “play family” in our personal relationships and friendships. Create families. Be a family. Play house!
When I get a little bummed that my mission companion has 4 kids and I have none, I think about how silly her husband is and if that doesn’t work, then I remember Goonies…You know that part in the wishing well when everyone wants to quit and get pulled up by Troy’s bucket and Mikey reminds them, “It’s their time up there…but down here…this is our time.” I testify that this is our time down here and it is a gift from a loving and wise Heavenly Father. A time to figure out who we are and how we fit into his plan. We will NOT HAVE TIME TO WASTE when our children finally come to us. They are the great ones. They will probably already know who they are and why they are here…they need us to be firm in our understanding of the Savior and the gospel so that we can guide them.
Thinking about future children reminds me that there are some dangerous ways that we can play house as single members of the church. The proclamation on the family is full of amazing truths and practical “how to’s” about building a righteous family in Zion. It also plainly clarifies misguided ideas about procreation and puts forth powerful warnings about the misuse of our procreative energy. “We declare that God’s commandment for His children to multiply and replenish the earth remains in force. We further declare that God has commanded that the sacred powers of procreation are to be employed only between man and woman, lawfully wedded as husband and wife. We declare the means by which mortal life is created to be divinely appointed. We affirm the sanctity of life and of it’s importance in God’s eternal plan.”
Elder Oaks quote “ The power to create mortal life is the most exalted power God has given his children. Its use was mandated in the first commandment, but another important commandment was given to forbid it’s misuse. The emphasis we place on the law of chastity is explained by our understanding of the purpose of our procreative powers in the accomplishment of God’s plan.
The expression of our procreative powers is pleasing to God, but he has commanded that this be confined within the relationship of marriage. President Spencer W. Kimball taught that ‘in the context of lawful marriage, the intimacy of sexual relations is right and divinely approved. There is nothing unholy or degrading about sexuality in itself, for by that means men and women join in a process of creation and in an expression of love.”
Outside the bonds of marriage, all uses of the procreative power are to one degree or another a sinful, degrading perversion of the most divine attribute of men and women.”
It is natural and OK to want the full benefits of married life. But just as we can trust heavenly father to be keenly aware of our righteous desire to create families…satan too understands and manipulates it in myriad ways. Telling us that we can’t really ever have the real thing…so we might as well accept the imitation while it’s still available. Give up. Give in. There is no other way. Settle for a couch made of cardboard boxes and lik-m-aid for dinner…
This train of thought can seem completely rational. I mean, we’ve watched an entire society embrace it, so it must have some power of persuasion… but it is not true.
BROTHERS AND SISTERS…THERE IS ALWAYS ANOTHER WAY. We believe in a Father in Heaven who provides for his children, who showers us with miracles if we’ll open our eyes to see. Moroni 7:27-29 Hopefully we are able to say as Nephi did “I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded for I know that he giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them.” WE DO NOT HAVE TO ACCEPT SATAN’s PATHETIC IMITATIONS. If you don’t have hope that something real exists for you, seek guidance from the one who knows you best…ask him to give you enough hope to sustain you. Ask him to help you understand the Atonement and Christ and your role in this great plan. Moroni 7:41
I am intrigued by the word PROCLAMATION. To Proclaim something means to announce it officially and publicly. The word comes from a latin root of Pro meaning forward and claim to cry out. Proclaiming is active! I’m sure there are some bad proclamations, but in this case, I like to imagine the heavens shouting for joy at the sanctity of family!
It’s Christmas, so of course I have been thinking about the Savior and his earthly family. I imagine that Mary and Joseph spent a great deal of time cultivating their personal relationship with diety in order to fulfill their amazing familial mission on this earth. No doubt Mary spent a few childhood hours playing house and practicing for her role as a mother. May we all think about the best and good ways to play house as we read the proclamation from our God to the world about families.
This Makes Me Happy Today
| Aussie comedy group Tripod performing their song "Make You Happy Tonight" at a Comedy Festival | |
Friday, December 15, 2006
Diet Coke Makes Me Kim Jong-ILL
I'm learning Korean! I can pretty much spell or write anything you throw at me. (Ask me what it means and we might have a problem) That said, I've found that there isn't really a sufficient "translation" for Diet Coke in the Korean alphabet. It comes out sounding something like "tyet g(k)awk" which doesn't really do it or me justice. But I've decided that this liguistical conundrum might actually be OK since I have essentially been off the devil's whiskey since sunday and will probably never utter the blasphemous name again once I am in my new country.
How does this tie into the mini-dictator of North Korea, you ask?
Well, I will tell you. People keep asking me if I'm scared to move to Seoul which is neighbor to unstable North Korea which is run by unstable puppet master Kim Jong-Il. The answer- YES. But not for the same reasons that you think I am scared. I figure if I happen to be in a scary place when scary things happen, I will either be protected by a secret forcefield OR I will die heroically trying to save the children of my school. Thus, I am unafraid of such things...but what I am afraid of is not being liked by Koreans in general. "But kaRyn!" you say incredulously, "Isn't your charm UNIVERSAL and thus INTERNATIONAL?" Oh yes, dear reader, I am sure it is. But so is the charm of Diet Coke (see! I told you it connects)and ipods both of which come from the same steeping ground as Ninny Beth. And both are probably beloved of evil N. Korean dictator (as reported on very reliable internet gossip site). But they do not stop him from wanting to explode Alaska with intense nuclear laser beams and show us what's what. So while my charm may be universal, it is no match for intense and gross cultural bias which could make me a constant outsider in Seoul. That will be a very scary and new experience for me. I will immediately be recognizable as a loud, fat, pushy american. At least in Australia nothing was different until I opened my mouth. In Asia, I will just LOOK different not to mention act different. What if I can't do it...what if I can't ever meld myself to the new culture?
Now, to play devil's advocate to my own argument...my fears about being unable to change to assimilate to Korean culture are somewhat countered by the fact that I also thought that I couldn't give up the firewater...and here I am 6 days and holding and when I did "accidently" taste some DC today I realized that I don't even really like the taste of it anyway. AND it's not like I have to completely give up who I am to be part of this new adventure...I just have to be willing to try new things and let go, right? Kim Jong-Il understands.
How does this tie into the mini-dictator of North Korea, you ask?
Well, I will tell you. People keep asking me if I'm scared to move to Seoul which is neighbor to unstable North Korea which is run by unstable puppet master Kim Jong-Il. The answer- YES. But not for the same reasons that you think I am scared. I figure if I happen to be in a scary place when scary things happen, I will either be protected by a secret forcefield OR I will die heroically trying to save the children of my school. Thus, I am unafraid of such things...but what I am afraid of is not being liked by Koreans in general. "But kaRyn!" you say incredulously, "Isn't your charm UNIVERSAL and thus INTERNATIONAL?" Oh yes, dear reader, I am sure it is. But so is the charm of Diet Coke (see! I told you it connects)and ipods both of which come from the same steeping ground as Ninny Beth. And both are probably beloved of evil N. Korean dictator (as reported on very reliable internet gossip site). But they do not stop him from wanting to explode Alaska with intense nuclear laser beams and show us what's what. So while my charm may be universal, it is no match for intense and gross cultural bias which could make me a constant outsider in Seoul. That will be a very scary and new experience for me. I will immediately be recognizable as a loud, fat, pushy american. At least in Australia nothing was different until I opened my mouth. In Asia, I will just LOOK different not to mention act different. What if I can't do it...what if I can't ever meld myself to the new culture?
Now, to play devil's advocate to my own argument...my fears about being unable to change to assimilate to Korean culture are somewhat countered by the fact that I also thought that I couldn't give up the firewater...and here I am 6 days and holding and when I did "accidently" taste some DC today I realized that I don't even really like the taste of it anyway. AND it's not like I have to completely give up who I am to be part of this new adventure...I just have to be willing to try new things and let go, right? Kim Jong-Il understands.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Big Ball of Sick and one happy thing
First, I have to have oral surgery at some point before I leave for Korea. I had this little root canal that refuses to stop being infected. I'll spare you the gruesome details of the surgery...but really the most gruesome part is that my dental insurance will cover most of it if I wait until the 1st of the year which could mean that my jaw will explode while I wait. Does my insurance cover face replacement? Or do I have to wait till next year for that too?
Second, Arthritis is vying for some attention. It mostly comes in the form of severe fatigue...the kind that forces me, FORCES ME to find the two swivel chairs in the breast feeding mother's lounge of our church and nap between Relief Society and Sacrament Meeting. That means that I miss sunday school. How much does insurance pay for the loss of one's soul?
Third, I've started doing yoga again. I'm now much more centered and much more sore. WAH WAH WAH!
NOW, for the good news. I got offered the contract at Creativy School in Seoul which means that I will have an actual job when I get there in February. But not just any job. I will be teaching kindergarten and afterschool programs...integrating music, theater, dance, painting and WORDS into my classroom. It's all very experimental for a Hogwan and perfect for a free spirit like me! I can't wait! They are interested in having me write and publish plays too...really too perfect. too too perfect. I think this is Heavenly Father's way of compensating for the fact that I have to learn to think backwards in order to speak Korean. Does insurance cover reversed polarity due to hangul?
Second, Arthritis is vying for some attention. It mostly comes in the form of severe fatigue...the kind that forces me, FORCES ME to find the two swivel chairs in the breast feeding mother's lounge of our church and nap between Relief Society and Sacrament Meeting. That means that I miss sunday school. How much does insurance pay for the loss of one's soul?
Third, I've started doing yoga again. I'm now much more centered and much more sore. WAH WAH WAH!
NOW, for the good news. I got offered the contract at Creativy School in Seoul which means that I will have an actual job when I get there in February. But not just any job. I will be teaching kindergarten and afterschool programs...integrating music, theater, dance, painting and WORDS into my classroom. It's all very experimental for a Hogwan and perfect for a free spirit like me! I can't wait! They are interested in having me write and publish plays too...really too perfect. too too perfect. I think this is Heavenly Father's way of compensating for the fact that I have to learn to think backwards in order to speak Korean. Does insurance cover reversed polarity due to hangul?
Saturday, December 09, 2006
KaRyea!!!
I'm moving to Seoul Korea...just in case you didn't hear. I've been keeping the secret bottled up for about 2 months now while I finished making the decision, but I finally put in my two month notice at work and I just bought some of those vaccum packing bags for my international suitcases. I'm on my way! Now do you see why I had to have an ipod????
I'll tell you all about it in the next post. It's really exciting stuff. Speaking of stuff...is there anything of mine that you would like to buy? It's all got to go...Carrrrrrazzzy KaRyn's liquidating!!!!
I'll tell you all about it in the next post. It's really exciting stuff. Speaking of stuff...is there anything of mine that you would like to buy? It's all got to go...Carrrrrrazzzy KaRyn's liquidating!!!!
Thursday, December 07, 2006
The Ladies of the Harem of the Court of King Caracticus
Last night was an adventure, but the kind you wish never really happened. We went on visits to new girls in ye old Relief Society which are always very fun since I love hearing stories. It's rare that I get to be IN a story during said visits but this time, Sarah and I almost purposely inserted ourselves into one. One of the girls (hereafter refered to as A) we were going to visit had a bit of a strange living situation that we were not quite sure about from the get go. When we called A to schedule the visit, she invited us to come to dinner with her "roommate" who was according to A, a millionaire of middleeastern descent who, according to A, gave her money if she introduced him to pretty girls. She said she could use the extra cash and would we help her? Uh...can you read the headline now???...RS presidency caught in SL pimping scandal. Needless to say, According to ME, we did not have dinner with solicitous wealthy roommate. BUt we decided that it might be a good idea to check out the situation for ourselves since it sounded so very odd.
And so the adventure began...The house was certainly in a wealthy neighborhood and when A let us in, she mentioned that she was in the act of moving THAT night to a location in ogden to stay with one of the women that she had introduced to wealthy roommate. She said that roommate had a sick father who was being picked up from the airport that night and so she had to be out so that the sick father had a place to stay (odd because the house had like 5 bedrooms). We talked for a bit during which time A told us some fantastical stories about her life and experiences all of which were soooo very dramatic and a little unbelievable and I sat in a chair that was the mother of all massage chairs.
just as we were about to leave, roommate came out of his room. HE was way normal. Like stunningly normal and goodlooking and it suddenly became clear that he was actually kicking A out of his house, although he was trying to be moderately polite about it and that he thought we were there to help her move. Sarah and i offered our help and then hightailed it out of the very strange, awkward situation.
Later that evening after other visits..I realized to my horror that I had left my purse at the creepy house. The situation was grim- if my suspicions were correct, A who was a pathological liar who was moving to realms unknown in ogden had found my purse and picked it up, never to be seen again. OR A complete stranger (wealthy roommate)had it somewhere in his house and I only knew which house was his, but nothing else. So I made my friend come with me and we set out to stalk wealthy roommate and his sick father by sitting outside his house. After about 1 1/2 hours, a car pulled up and stopped suspiciously before turning into the driveway. I jumped out and went up to his window and it was obvious that he did not trust me. I explained that I had left the purse in his house (we knew it was in there because my friend had called it and we heard it ringing through the front door)and could I just run in and grab it. Note: there was no sick anybody in the car with wealthy roommate. Just a cute boy who was much less suspicious of me than WR. WR looked at me as though I had a secret bomb strapped to my chest but finally agreed to let me get my purse when I said that I didn't even really know A...that I was simply an innocent church-going girl who got sucked into her web of deceit (I forgot to mention to him that i was prone to fits of unmitigated drama). Turns out that WR hired A to keep house for him (and who knows what else...) but that it didn't really work out for a few reasons, mostly that she is pathological. Thus the sick dad story to remove the Kato Kailin of Salt Lake from his basement room.
I drove away with purse in hand thinking how very much like a weird Robert Altman film this whole experience turned out to be. Strange lives interconnecting in strange ways through odd characters. We really do live in a movie.
And so the adventure began...The house was certainly in a wealthy neighborhood and when A let us in, she mentioned that she was in the act of moving THAT night to a location in ogden to stay with one of the women that she had introduced to wealthy roommate. She said that roommate had a sick father who was being picked up from the airport that night and so she had to be out so that the sick father had a place to stay (odd because the house had like 5 bedrooms). We talked for a bit during which time A told us some fantastical stories about her life and experiences all of which were soooo very dramatic and a little unbelievable and I sat in a chair that was the mother of all massage chairs.
just as we were about to leave, roommate came out of his room. HE was way normal. Like stunningly normal and goodlooking and it suddenly became clear that he was actually kicking A out of his house, although he was trying to be moderately polite about it and that he thought we were there to help her move. Sarah and i offered our help and then hightailed it out of the very strange, awkward situation.
Later that evening after other visits..I realized to my horror that I had left my purse at the creepy house. The situation was grim- if my suspicions were correct, A who was a pathological liar who was moving to realms unknown in ogden had found my purse and picked it up, never to be seen again. OR A complete stranger (wealthy roommate)had it somewhere in his house and I only knew which house was his, but nothing else. So I made my friend come with me and we set out to stalk wealthy roommate and his sick father by sitting outside his house. After about 1 1/2 hours, a car pulled up and stopped suspiciously before turning into the driveway. I jumped out and went up to his window and it was obvious that he did not trust me. I explained that I had left the purse in his house (we knew it was in there because my friend had called it and we heard it ringing through the front door)and could I just run in and grab it. Note: there was no sick anybody in the car with wealthy roommate. Just a cute boy who was much less suspicious of me than WR. WR looked at me as though I had a secret bomb strapped to my chest but finally agreed to let me get my purse when I said that I didn't even really know A...that I was simply an innocent church-going girl who got sucked into her web of deceit (I forgot to mention to him that i was prone to fits of unmitigated drama). Turns out that WR hired A to keep house for him (and who knows what else...) but that it didn't really work out for a few reasons, mostly that she is pathological. Thus the sick dad story to remove the Kato Kailin of Salt Lake from his basement room.
I drove away with purse in hand thinking how very much like a weird Robert Altman film this whole experience turned out to be. Strange lives interconnecting in strange ways through odd characters. We really do live in a movie.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
tragedy or comedy?
I saw the movie "Stranger than Fiction" over the holiday weekend when I was in portland. LOVED IT! it's been a long time since I've seen a movie that didn't make me feel stupider for having watched it...especially poignant because I came home from PDX and quickly rented "American Dreamz" during which movie I wished I were just a little bit dead. Stranger than Fiction however was literary, smart and well acted. I didn't even really mind will ferrell. That was a shock.
My favorite part of the movie was when Harold Crick was trying to figure out if he lived in a tragedy or a comedy...he took a notebook with him to work and tallied up the experiences that could lead him to believe that he was engaged in either genre. 1 comedy tally for a joke that he told to his love interest, 1 tragedy tally for the joke failing miserably and so on and so forth.
Here are a few of MY plot lines...are they comedy or tragedy????
Ninny's body in denile that it is really healthy. Fingers heading toward senile old lady arthritic claws. Can't get out of bed on time for the life of her. Eyes will not open. I think tragedy, but kind of comedy if you get to watch me groping around in the morning to hit my alarm.
Ninny can not have dairy products or artificial sweetners or REAL sweetners in an attempt to stop claw hand development. NO DIET COKE AT ALL. NOTHING EVEN REMOTELY YUMMY YESTERDAY. tragedy. tragedy. tragedy.
Ninny's new ipod goes missing. Thinks it has been left in the laundry room on Saturday while rushing around. Begins to weep and be pissy because she has waited so very long for said ipod and WHY GOD WHY??? Finds ipod in drawer right where it should have been after a full day of kvetching and dramatic angst. comedy. sheepish sheepish comedy.
Ninny and friend Scottish Mark (who you will recall receives free stuff at the underground subway) sing "Baby It's Cold Outside" at ward christmas party. They forget some of the words which normally embarrasses me (tragedy) but ended up being funny about it, so I think it came out COMEDY!!! in the end.
Ninny realizes that her teeth are flipping over on themselves, thus ruining the three years of painful surgery and braces to have the most delightful smile this side of the atlantic. Wearing retainer to bed becomes painful necessity. In the morning, Ninny wakes up with no retainer in her mouth and finds it unceremoniously thrown across the room, evidently rejected by her body in the middle of the night. She must now wear her retainer to work. comedy and tragedy all rolled up into one because will probably get own tv show called Ugly Ninny and it will be a hit.
My favorite part of the movie was when Harold Crick was trying to figure out if he lived in a tragedy or a comedy...he took a notebook with him to work and tallied up the experiences that could lead him to believe that he was engaged in either genre. 1 comedy tally for a joke that he told to his love interest, 1 tragedy tally for the joke failing miserably and so on and so forth.
Here are a few of MY plot lines...are they comedy or tragedy????
Ninny's body in denile that it is really healthy. Fingers heading toward senile old lady arthritic claws. Can't get out of bed on time for the life of her. Eyes will not open. I think tragedy, but kind of comedy if you get to watch me groping around in the morning to hit my alarm.
Ninny can not have dairy products or artificial sweetners or REAL sweetners in an attempt to stop claw hand development. NO DIET COKE AT ALL. NOTHING EVEN REMOTELY YUMMY YESTERDAY. tragedy. tragedy. tragedy.
Ninny's new ipod goes missing. Thinks it has been left in the laundry room on Saturday while rushing around. Begins to weep and be pissy because she has waited so very long for said ipod and WHY GOD WHY??? Finds ipod in drawer right where it should have been after a full day of kvetching and dramatic angst. comedy. sheepish sheepish comedy.
Ninny and friend Scottish Mark (who you will recall receives free stuff at the underground subway) sing "Baby It's Cold Outside" at ward christmas party. They forget some of the words which normally embarrasses me (tragedy) but ended up being funny about it, so I think it came out COMEDY!!! in the end.
Ninny realizes that her teeth are flipping over on themselves, thus ruining the three years of painful surgery and braces to have the most delightful smile this side of the atlantic. Wearing retainer to bed becomes painful necessity. In the morning, Ninny wakes up with no retainer in her mouth and finds it unceremoniously thrown across the room, evidently rejected by her body in the middle of the night. She must now wear her retainer to work. comedy and tragedy all rolled up into one because will probably get own tv show called Ugly Ninny and it will be a hit.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
The Sisterhood of the Fat Pants
My freaking pants don't fit. As I sit here, the week after Thanksgiving, attempting to work though my lungs are constricted by the lack of spandex in these jeans, I am dreaming of a new "casual workday" concept called "Fat Pants Friday". Since I work for a place where every day is casual day, I feel that the next step in helping a person like me really unwind is to allow me to wear my fat pants to work. I can see it now...Sauntering into work wearing the big navy blue sweatpants with PENN written down the side that expand comfortably due to a drawstring waist. The benefits are numerous:
1. when I have to go to the bathroom 40 times a day because I'm drinking more water than a dehydrated camel, I can swiftly remove the fat pants all the way to my ankles, thus reducing the chance of peeing my pants or acquiring a bladder infection from holding it while I undo a belt or buckle or what have you.
2. I will no longer have to wear disgusting maternity shirts to hide the unsightly suggestion of camel toes caused by pants that don't REALLY fit after lunch. This one is a toss up: Utilitarian fat pants vs. ugly maternity shirt and camel toe. I think we can see who the clear winner is...
3. I can eat more than soup for lunch.
4. I will not complain and stop working to write a blog about how my pants do or do not fit. Increased productivity. Less Whining. FAT PANTS WIN AGAIN!!!!
Girls, I know you hear me.
1. when I have to go to the bathroom 40 times a day because I'm drinking more water than a dehydrated camel, I can swiftly remove the fat pants all the way to my ankles, thus reducing the chance of peeing my pants or acquiring a bladder infection from holding it while I undo a belt or buckle or what have you.
2. I will no longer have to wear disgusting maternity shirts to hide the unsightly suggestion of camel toes caused by pants that don't REALLY fit after lunch. This one is a toss up: Utilitarian fat pants vs. ugly maternity shirt and camel toe. I think we can see who the clear winner is...
3. I can eat more than soup for lunch.
4. I will not complain and stop working to write a blog about how my pants do or do not fit. Increased productivity. Less Whining. FAT PANTS WIN AGAIN!!!!
Girls, I know you hear me.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Skinny Girls Eat Soup
It's that time of year FINALLY when I can drown my lunchtime sorrows in bowls and cups and ladles of delicious, nutritious, low calorie, high fiber SOUP!!!! YUM!!! well, it's kind of like, YUM for 5 minutes until the soup in my tummy converts into whatever it is that soup converts to when it stops filling your stomach and leaves you ravenously starving and drooling on your keyboard as you look at pop-up adverts for a $6 burger at Carls Jr.
Today's soup is from Trader Joe's...a corn and roasted red pepper bisquey type thing that is guaranteed to be worth every one of the five minutes that it will fill me up. Do you know about Trader Joe's??? It is hands down the COOLEST store in the universe...multigrain, organic, exotic, cheap food that has been tested by the employees to make sure it's good and free samples that compete competently with Costco. We're talking, double cream brie served with fair-trade grapes and tempura sweet potatos for SAMPLES, people. it's a revolution. It's a revolution that will NEVER come to Salt Lake City. Wah wah wah. So I am reduced to Portland shopping sprees at TJ's when I go home to visit the fam. I get all giddy at trader joes, the same way my dad gets giddy at Guitar Center and my mom nearly cries at a joanne's fabric and my sister pees her pants at Toys R Us. This time, I had an extra suitcase so I loaded 'er up with wasabi peas, multigrain tortilla chips, pirate's booty (don't ask), soba noodles, spinach simmer sauce, trail mix and of course SOUP SOUP SOUP!!!
Traders Joes and soup are my ticket to a smaller pant size before christmas. You know I'm not lying. Look around you...the skinny girls are all having soup for lunch.
PS.. I got an IPOD!!! a big one. It is a refurbished 20GB and it melts my heart when it plays morrissey for me.
Today's soup is from Trader Joe's...a corn and roasted red pepper bisquey type thing that is guaranteed to be worth every one of the five minutes that it will fill me up. Do you know about Trader Joe's??? It is hands down the COOLEST store in the universe...multigrain, organic, exotic, cheap food that has been tested by the employees to make sure it's good and free samples that compete competently with Costco. We're talking, double cream brie served with fair-trade grapes and tempura sweet potatos for SAMPLES, people. it's a revolution. It's a revolution that will NEVER come to Salt Lake City. Wah wah wah. So I am reduced to Portland shopping sprees at TJ's when I go home to visit the fam. I get all giddy at trader joes, the same way my dad gets giddy at Guitar Center and my mom nearly cries at a joanne's fabric and my sister pees her pants at Toys R Us. This time, I had an extra suitcase so I loaded 'er up with wasabi peas, multigrain tortilla chips, pirate's booty (don't ask), soba noodles, spinach simmer sauce, trail mix and of course SOUP SOUP SOUP!!!
Traders Joes and soup are my ticket to a smaller pant size before christmas. You know I'm not lying. Look around you...the skinny girls are all having soup for lunch.
PS.. I got an IPOD!!! a big one. It is a refurbished 20GB and it melts my heart when it plays morrissey for me.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Why I Deserve a Sports Car
I was in Florida this past week for work. Orlando to be exact. The home of the East Coast Disney dynasty. A place populated by small children running amok with fake mouse ears and funny hats. A place where you don't look twice at grown people sporting t-shirts, shorts and even shoes with drawings of crickets in top hats emblazoned upon them. The point is that the place is a tourist trap and I think I got a little bit taken.
See this red mustang convertible that I am sitting in? This was my rental car. I asked for a teeny weeny compact in the way of a Le Car or a ford fiesta. I'm what you'd call a compact kind of girl, after all. My Ford Focus hatchback or "The Go-Cart" as it is affectionately called has served me well and I have never needed more. But then they ran out of small cars at Payless Rental Cars. At least that was what they said when I went out to the parking spot where my compact was supposed to be and found a 15 passenger van with my name all over it. So they offered me a sweet upgrade...for an additional $40, I could drive away for a week in a convertible. Of COURSE I took it. And that was when I realized that I am much more of a red convertible kind of girl than I thought. OHHHHHHHHHH, the wind through my hair. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, the immigrant daylaborer catcalls. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh, the bass bumping orlando radio stations. It was delicious.
I was riding high in all my coolness for approximately 2 minutes before I figured out that having a cool car does not in anyway guarantee BEING cool. I cooly drove up to the toll gate on Florida state road 353(at least I think that's the name they were calling it the moment...florida roads have at least 3 different monikers that are changed at will). There were two lanes to choose from, one that said "receipts, change" and another that said, "exact change only". I had a crisp one dollar bill which I knew would amply cover the .75 charge. And in all my devil-may-care coolness, I decided to gift the Florida State Dept of Transportation with the additional .25 from my dollar. I pictured myself chucking the dollar at the machine and cooly saying "keep the change" as I sped away. As I moved into the "exact change only" line, I realized, with horror my mistake.
If you've ever taken a toll road, you know that they have a basket into which you chuck your exact change. Some magical gnome in the bottom of the basket counts your money and then signals the bar to lift and voila! you are released onto the highway of said DOT. The gnomes DO NOT EXCEPT DOLLAR BILLS. EVER. NOT EVEN A LITTLE BIT. And thus began the process of sweat and panic. Panic and sweat. How would I get out of this one? Oh, that's easy. BY GETTING OUT OF MY COOL CAR IN THE MIDDLE OF A CROWDED TOLL CENTER WAIVING A DOLLAR BILL IN THE AIR AND SCREAMING FRANTICALLY AT THE CARS BEHIND ME "Do you have change for a dollar???????!!!!" yeah. They didn't have change or if they did, they certainly weren't about to hand it over to the likes of me. Finally after looking desperate for what felt like an hour, the car behind me pointed to the toll booth operator 3 lanes of traffic over. I began my mad dash to the toll operator who obviously couldn't deal with me. I pounded on her window and finally she waved me away telling me just to go. GO! So I bounded over the 3 lanes of traffic, back to my idling car and sat with sweaty palms until the bar lifted and I was free to go. Another silly tourist in a rental sports car stealing money from the man. In a final fit of angst, I threw my dollar in the basket anyway as if to prove that I wasn't trying to get away scott free. I'm sure my bout of integrity was praised mightly by the 40000000 cars who got stuck after I jammed the machine with my honesty dollar.
Now. Am I or am I NOT a girl who deserves, nay NEEDS a sports car???
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Face it...I am your internet girlfriend
This was my halloween costume this year. Last year I was a pregnant prom queen. a few years ago I was a housewife on valium. Liz pointed out that all of my costumes have a similar contempt for and ironic mockery of all things suburban. That's right. Those claw bangs are ironic mockery of the quotidian.
Monday, November 06, 2006
driving myself crazy
Quick Lunchtime blog...
Did you know that this Friday is a paid holiday???? I just found out today that friday is veteran's Day! Happy Monday Surprise...and I just got back from the subway where Sharon actually said my name when I walked in the door. Granted, she called me Karen, but hey, it was some sort of recognition of my continual patronage.
This is the good news. The bad news is that I was driving and some guy got mad at me for no apparent reason. Ok, so I guess I was driving on the left side of the underground parking road. But his anger was unnecessary. As we both got out of our cars, he was muttering "shitty, shitty driver." over and over and over as he went into the dry cleaners and I went into subway. That's a very mean label to pin on someone when the only proof that you have of their poor driving is ONE isolated negative experience and 3 dents on the left side of the drivers car and a practically detached front headlight. I mean...really.
The thing that upsets me about this is how much this upsets me. I thought to say, "angry, angry mean guy" under my breath in retort but didn't think that would really make my point. I was in the wrong. So, should I have apologized? I wanted to be belligerent. His getting angry made me angry. Why couldn't it have transpired like a mentos commercial with him handing me a roll of delicious soft and chewy fruit candy and smiling as he shook his head in amazement at my ingenuity for driving on the wrong side of the road??? Well, anyway. I guess it comes down to knowing that you are a crappy driver doesn't make it any better when a total and complete stranger points it out to you. I wish I didn't care what other people thought about me. This is a pattern for me though, so it must be something I need to work on...I was at a party friday and a friend reminded me that people don't REALLY like it when you monopolize the conversation and interrupt everyone to tell YOUR story even though the other people you are talking to probably have great things to say. UGH. It makes me just want to hide. Stay in my house and off the streets and away from other people at parties. Then no one will get their feelings hurt...me or the angry angry man that I almost killed.
blah.
Did you know that this Friday is a paid holiday???? I just found out today that friday is veteran's Day! Happy Monday Surprise...and I just got back from the subway where Sharon actually said my name when I walked in the door. Granted, she called me Karen, but hey, it was some sort of recognition of my continual patronage.
This is the good news. The bad news is that I was driving and some guy got mad at me for no apparent reason. Ok, so I guess I was driving on the left side of the underground parking road. But his anger was unnecessary. As we both got out of our cars, he was muttering "shitty, shitty driver." over and over and over as he went into the dry cleaners and I went into subway. That's a very mean label to pin on someone when the only proof that you have of their poor driving is ONE isolated negative experience and 3 dents on the left side of the drivers car and a practically detached front headlight. I mean...really.
The thing that upsets me about this is how much this upsets me. I thought to say, "angry, angry mean guy" under my breath in retort but didn't think that would really make my point. I was in the wrong. So, should I have apologized? I wanted to be belligerent. His getting angry made me angry. Why couldn't it have transpired like a mentos commercial with him handing me a roll of delicious soft and chewy fruit candy and smiling as he shook his head in amazement at my ingenuity for driving on the wrong side of the road??? Well, anyway. I guess it comes down to knowing that you are a crappy driver doesn't make it any better when a total and complete stranger points it out to you. I wish I didn't care what other people thought about me. This is a pattern for me though, so it must be something I need to work on...I was at a party friday and a friend reminded me that people don't REALLY like it when you monopolize the conversation and interrupt everyone to tell YOUR story even though the other people you are talking to probably have great things to say. UGH. It makes me just want to hide. Stay in my house and off the streets and away from other people at parties. Then no one will get their feelings hurt...me or the angry angry man that I almost killed.
blah.
Monday, October 30, 2006
MY MUSIC
You've wanted to hear it and now you can.
go here: KaRyn's Artist Page on Soundclick
these are rough demo's that I recorded in my aunts basement. The official demo contains my cover of "Don't Think Twice" by Bob Dylan, and 3 of my originals "Ordinary Girl", "What if I" and "Learning Curve".
Tell me what you think, but only if you like it.
Free Ticket to the Underground Subway
So remember how I plowed into a kid on a bike a while ago? I don't think I mentioned how I wept openly at the bike shop where we were getting his wheel fixed and my victim's mother put her arm around me and said "it's ok, we're all just learning." (which is not true...I've been driving since I was 17, how much more learning can I do???) and the bike shop guy, concerned no doubt for the glass countertop on which I was violently sniveling asked, "dude, do you need a tissue?" When I got back to work, my victim unexpectedly showed up and handed me a card which at first I mistook for my credit card...I thought maybe I had left it at the bikeshop. But upon closer inspection, it was a GIFT CARD to subway. A 20 dollar gift card. MY VICTIM gave ME, his would-be-killer, a present because I was so pathetic (although he said it was because I was so nice.... I know what it was really about.) That has to be a first.
So now, I go to subway every monday and order the same thing. I get a veggie delight on whole wheat (4 points), 2 triangles of american cheese (1 point) and a packet of light mayo (1 point) in honor of the $550 monday, my victim and his mom. This would seem to be a rather unremarkable event except that the subway that I frequent is an apparent CIRCUS. It's in the avenues under-ground and you can never get in an out in less than 20 minutes even when you hit it well past the lunch hour. The reason: Shakey, skater-dude and sharon. This is the cast of characters behind the sneeze-guard. These are the people that I trust not to contaminate my veggies and put the correct amount of sub-points on my card.
Shakey has turrets or something and she's sweet and sometimes smiley but REFUSES to acknowledge that I am a regular who orders the exact same thing every time I come in. We start out the same way every time. The vacant look, the shakey hands of unsure-ness as she asks me YET AGAIN what kind of bread and cheese. Then she proceeds to push my sandwich toward skater-dude forcing me to ask YET AGAIN if I can have it toasted. sigh. Skater dude picks up from here. He's got to be no older than 20 and its obvious that he is just doing this for new trucks on his board. He's cute though, so I kind of have a bit of a sick old lady crush on him... I flirt a little and tell him that I want everything on my sandwich and point to the gross assortment of pickled peppers and say "except those" while coquettishly wrinkling my nose. He always reacts appropriately to my flirting which makes the fact that he puts about 400 pounds of salt and pepper on the sandwich somehow OK.
Then there's sharon. She generally takes my money and smiles all business-like and calls me Hon. She's the manager or owner as far as I can tell and she is consistently trying to teach skater-dude and shakey how to use the computerized register to which skater-dude often replies belligerently, "Yeah, I didn't catch that." as he walks away from her. I would like to feel sorry for Sharon since I'm sure it's not easy to rally these particular troops, but I don't mostly because my friend Mark told me that she often gives him a free cookie just because he is scottish. I GET NO COOKIE and therefore have NO PITY for Sharon the stately manager of the underground subway.
And here is the truth. I keep going back to this particular subway even though the customer service is terrifically slow. I go for one reason and one reason only : They do not charge me for extra spinach (when it has not been quarantined due to e-coli outbreaks). So shakey, skater-dude and sharon are a small price to pay for the best veggie delight in the Salt Lake Valley. Check it out and tell me if I am not right.
So now, I go to subway every monday and order the same thing. I get a veggie delight on whole wheat (4 points), 2 triangles of american cheese (1 point) and a packet of light mayo (1 point) in honor of the $550 monday, my victim and his mom. This would seem to be a rather unremarkable event except that the subway that I frequent is an apparent CIRCUS. It's in the avenues under-ground and you can never get in an out in less than 20 minutes even when you hit it well past the lunch hour. The reason: Shakey, skater-dude and sharon. This is the cast of characters behind the sneeze-guard. These are the people that I trust not to contaminate my veggies and put the correct amount of sub-points on my card.
Shakey has turrets or something and she's sweet and sometimes smiley but REFUSES to acknowledge that I am a regular who orders the exact same thing every time I come in. We start out the same way every time. The vacant look, the shakey hands of unsure-ness as she asks me YET AGAIN what kind of bread and cheese. Then she proceeds to push my sandwich toward skater-dude forcing me to ask YET AGAIN if I can have it toasted. sigh. Skater dude picks up from here. He's got to be no older than 20 and its obvious that he is just doing this for new trucks on his board. He's cute though, so I kind of have a bit of a sick old lady crush on him... I flirt a little and tell him that I want everything on my sandwich and point to the gross assortment of pickled peppers and say "except those" while coquettishly wrinkling my nose. He always reacts appropriately to my flirting which makes the fact that he puts about 400 pounds of salt and pepper on the sandwich somehow OK.
Then there's sharon. She generally takes my money and smiles all business-like and calls me Hon. She's the manager or owner as far as I can tell and she is consistently trying to teach skater-dude and shakey how to use the computerized register to which skater-dude often replies belligerently, "Yeah, I didn't catch that." as he walks away from her. I would like to feel sorry for Sharon since I'm sure it's not easy to rally these particular troops, but I don't mostly because my friend Mark told me that she often gives him a free cookie just because he is scottish. I GET NO COOKIE and therefore have NO PITY for Sharon the stately manager of the underground subway.
And here is the truth. I keep going back to this particular subway even though the customer service is terrifically slow. I go for one reason and one reason only : They do not charge me for extra spinach (when it has not been quarantined due to e-coli outbreaks). So shakey, skater-dude and sharon are a small price to pay for the best veggie delight in the Salt Lake Valley. Check it out and tell me if I am not right.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Things That Make Me Happy Today....
A wise internet blog-stalker turned darling friend from Texas once reminded me that everyday we have moments of goodness...those seconds that are just right even in a bad day when you are very sure that you are about to succumb to the sore throat annoyance of your yearly sinus infection. Today these moments are just pouring in my windows, literally. I've captured a few with my camera for your viewing pleasure. This is what perfect abundance is all about, no?
I now know the due date. October 25th!!! Babies make me happy today!
I now know the due date. October 25th!!! Babies make me happy today!
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
I didn't eat the greenbeans and you can't make me...
Today I had microwaved greenbeans with my lunch. I cooked them, seasoned them and brought them with me to my desk with the intention of eating them. I need 5 fruits and vegetables a day on weight watchers, but even my newly found re-motivation to be healthy could not entice me to consume those shriveled little green things coated in black pepper and toxic spray butter. Instead, I consumed approximately 40 baking chocolate chips...you know those big disc-y kind that should not be eaten a la carte? They weren't godiva, but they were better than greenbeans. So there.
Call me petulant, I don't care.
Do you know that I didn't even remember my best friend's baby due date? Alta is having little KaRyn in like a week and I thought it wasn't until NOVEMBER. PS. no matter how hard I try, she doesn't really plan to name the little nipper after me...and I am finally ready to give up because I don't deserve to be a namesake if I can't even pay attention to the due date. What a crappy friend I've been since I got back from the land down under. I mean, I'll admit that part of my charm is my general narcissism...you KNOW it's true or else you wouldn't be reading my blog. If I didn't believe that my life was dramatic and interesting and fabulous, then I wouldn't want to write about it and you wouldn't voyueristically be reading about it. But come on. At some point, I have to stop thinking about me and realize that people are living around me...people I LOVE are creeping up to insanely adventurous thresholds of LIFE. What can possibly be more exciting and adventurous than bringing a life into the world...one that you are solely responsible for shaping and molding and could truly screw up if you aren't careful???
The point is that I acknowledge my weaknesses. I acknowledge that I do not always succeed in getting past myself. I am too loud at church and say the wrong thing at the wrong time. I speak over people. I care too much what people think. I am petty and resentful. I eat the chocolate instead of the greenbeans. I avoid things that I don't want to deal with. I never shred my personal information before putting it in the dumpster. I tell everyone everything about my life and then regret it later. I have an overwhelming addiction to diet coke and fried chicken strips from Albertsons. I wash my hands after I touch your dog. I cry a lot and don't return your phone calls. I rarely follow through. But I'm trying to be better....I swear I'm trying and if I don't get it right before the baby is born...forgive me!!!!!!!
Call me petulant, I don't care.
Do you know that I didn't even remember my best friend's baby due date? Alta is having little KaRyn in like a week and I thought it wasn't until NOVEMBER. PS. no matter how hard I try, she doesn't really plan to name the little nipper after me...and I am finally ready to give up because I don't deserve to be a namesake if I can't even pay attention to the due date. What a crappy friend I've been since I got back from the land down under. I mean, I'll admit that part of my charm is my general narcissism...you KNOW it's true or else you wouldn't be reading my blog. If I didn't believe that my life was dramatic and interesting and fabulous, then I wouldn't want to write about it and you wouldn't voyueristically be reading about it. But come on. At some point, I have to stop thinking about me and realize that people are living around me...people I LOVE are creeping up to insanely adventurous thresholds of LIFE. What can possibly be more exciting and adventurous than bringing a life into the world...one that you are solely responsible for shaping and molding and could truly screw up if you aren't careful???
The point is that I acknowledge my weaknesses. I acknowledge that I do not always succeed in getting past myself. I am too loud at church and say the wrong thing at the wrong time. I speak over people. I care too much what people think. I am petty and resentful. I eat the chocolate instead of the greenbeans. I avoid things that I don't want to deal with. I never shred my personal information before putting it in the dumpster. I tell everyone everything about my life and then regret it later. I have an overwhelming addiction to diet coke and fried chicken strips from Albertsons. I wash my hands after I touch your dog. I cry a lot and don't return your phone calls. I rarely follow through. But I'm trying to be better....I swear I'm trying and if I don't get it right before the baby is born...forgive me!!!!!!!
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Today I wish I was a Brazilian- Asian 12 year old Rockstar
OH MY GOSH...Maren and Justin dragged me to possibly one of the best shows that I have been to in a long long time. I mean, it was so good that I was still hyper when I woke up this morning after only 4 hours of sleep. CSS opened (stands for something that I can't pronounce in Portuguese) for LADYTRON. Justin who is 40 times cooler than me described the music as something something electroclash something. Basically what that means is that they had 5 freaking synths and weird black 80's outfits and sang songs that had unintelligible lyrics and sounds that made your ears almost bleed. OH BUT YOU DANCED...and danced and danced...under the spell of Ladytron. And then you bought merch because they had very cool t-shirts. Even if I never own a ladytron album, I will have a cool concert T. Actually, it turned out that I knew some of the songs thanks to my Arthurmatic baby ipod which has music cooler than me on it...
Now, why do I want to be a Brazilian- Asian 12 year old rock star? Because the opening band CSS was hilarious and wild and their lead singer was adorable. I wanted to be her. All my dreams of folk stardom died when I saw her in her cute David Lee Roth-esque red leopard print spandex leggings and oversized janet jackson t-shirt that she probably picked up at DI. She flipped her shaggy hair all over the place and made love to the crowd like she was old enough to be on stage...We are pretty sure they were not legal and yet they were drinking and doing drunken things...that part, I wasn't so into, but the leggings...the leggings...
In my next life. Dear God. Asian. Brazilian. 12 year old. Rock star. Leggings. Thank you.
Now, why do I want to be a Brazilian- Asian 12 year old rock star? Because the opening band CSS was hilarious and wild and their lead singer was adorable. I wanted to be her. All my dreams of folk stardom died when I saw her in her cute David Lee Roth-esque red leopard print spandex leggings and oversized janet jackson t-shirt that she probably picked up at DI. She flipped her shaggy hair all over the place and made love to the crowd like she was old enough to be on stage...We are pretty sure they were not legal and yet they were drinking and doing drunken things...that part, I wasn't so into, but the leggings...the leggings...
In my next life. Dear God. Asian. Brazilian. 12 year old. Rock star. Leggings. Thank you.
Friday, October 06, 2006
WE ARE DOMESTIC GODDESSES
I went to Sarah's on Tuesday night and we picked apples from the trees in her yard and peeled, and peeled and boiled, and spiced and in the end we had APPLESAUCE! HOMEMADE applesauce. I will admit that I felt positively rustic and domestic and feminine. Every fall it seems that I go through a farming phase. I love the u-pick farm in Layton and just yesterday I stopped and bought like 5 different kinds of squash just because I could. Do I know more than one way to eat a squash? nay. But I bought them all anyway. Let the domestic experiments begin.
No wonder eve at the apple...
No wonder eve at the apple...
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
The Most Beautiful Day is EVERYDAY!
I'm not kidding when I tell you that today was the most beautiful day. I spent the morning at the preserve for work and the weather was delicious, the skies were the bluest blue, the plumes of the reedgrass were perfectly floppy and every shade of purple and green-turning-golden/rust. I sat for a few minutes just meditating among the tall plants of the wetlands and heard sandhill cranes perfectly migrating with their perfectly trumpeting sound like frogs with weird polyps on their vocal chords. I thought about the moment and I realized that I was in love with it.
I'm testing out this new theory of mine that every day is perfectly abundant...that my life is at any given moment, complete as the Lord would have it. I do not lack for the things that I do not have, I do not need. When God says that he clothes the lilies of the field and that they neither spin nor toil, he's talking about me. If I do not have an eternal marriage relationship right now, it's because I do not need it right now. If I am a little disatisfied with my job, it's because I need the struggle that accompanies the "life decision making process". THis new brain wave doesn't necessarily make life easier, but it does put it into perspective and it means that I don't have to be angry at God for not giving me what I want. I like that idea. A lot.
I've been kind of angry lately. In college I had a punching nun and a punching monkey. I loved to watch their ineffectual little fists mechanically hit the air. It's funny to watch a nun punch things with balls for hands. What's not so funny is feeling like a punching monkey. I flipped a guy off the other day for honking at me as I pulled into traffic. I'm tired of taking offense. General conference was awesome and elder bednar's talk about letting go of offense was pure genius or inspiration or a little of both. (If you're like Lumina and Adam and you have to wait until this weekend to find out whether the world is ending tomorrow, I'm sorry to ruin it for you...it's not...but pay attention to President Hinckley and Elder Hollands talks. POWER in words)
One of my coworkers asked if conference weekend was a relaxing experience...oh YES PLEASE!!! I would choose to listen to Apostles and Prophets and feel that spirit of truth, power and goodness every day if only I could force them to hang out in the conference center day in and day out for my own purposes. I am renewed and it seems that I am ready to open myself up to really living the whole PERFECT ABUNDANCE concept...at least this week.
Alie was concerned that I've been a little too open in my blog about my current malaise and thought that if all you did was read this, you might think I was a rejected, despondent depressive. In truth, some days I am...but you know what? My soul is anchored in hope. I am not bitter. I am not bitter. I am not bitter. I have black cherry vanilla diet coke, friends who invite me to can homemade apple sauce with them and an open mind, heart and soul. What more can a girl ask for????
I'm testing out this new theory of mine that every day is perfectly abundant...that my life is at any given moment, complete as the Lord would have it. I do not lack for the things that I do not have, I do not need. When God says that he clothes the lilies of the field and that they neither spin nor toil, he's talking about me. If I do not have an eternal marriage relationship right now, it's because I do not need it right now. If I am a little disatisfied with my job, it's because I need the struggle that accompanies the "life decision making process". THis new brain wave doesn't necessarily make life easier, but it does put it into perspective and it means that I don't have to be angry at God for not giving me what I want. I like that idea. A lot.
I've been kind of angry lately. In college I had a punching nun and a punching monkey. I loved to watch their ineffectual little fists mechanically hit the air. It's funny to watch a nun punch things with balls for hands. What's not so funny is feeling like a punching monkey. I flipped a guy off the other day for honking at me as I pulled into traffic. I'm tired of taking offense. General conference was awesome and elder bednar's talk about letting go of offense was pure genius or inspiration or a little of both. (If you're like Lumina and Adam and you have to wait until this weekend to find out whether the world is ending tomorrow, I'm sorry to ruin it for you...it's not...but pay attention to President Hinckley and Elder Hollands talks. POWER in words)
One of my coworkers asked if conference weekend was a relaxing experience...oh YES PLEASE!!! I would choose to listen to Apostles and Prophets and feel that spirit of truth, power and goodness every day if only I could force them to hang out in the conference center day in and day out for my own purposes. I am renewed and it seems that I am ready to open myself up to really living the whole PERFECT ABUNDANCE concept...at least this week.
Alie was concerned that I've been a little too open in my blog about my current malaise and thought that if all you did was read this, you might think I was a rejected, despondent depressive. In truth, some days I am...but you know what? My soul is anchored in hope. I am not bitter. I am not bitter. I am not bitter. I have black cherry vanilla diet coke, friends who invite me to can homemade apple sauce with them and an open mind, heart and soul. What more can a girl ask for????
Monday, September 25, 2006
The secret and $550 Dollar Monday
I hit a kid on a bike with my car today. This was 3 minutes after paying $432 for brand new tires after taking my car in for a simple tire balancing and alignment. This was shortly after waking up to what appears to be the Pink Eye Pox. This was 6 short hours after falling asleep crying.
Last weekend I watched this "motivational" video called The Secret. It's an instructional video that espouses the concept of an intelligent universe that is based on the law of attraction. In short, we live in a universe ruled by vibration. When we think positively and experience happy feelings, we are sending off positive vibrations and the universe responds by opening doors in the positive. When we are out of balance with ourselves and with our higher power (ex: feeling anger or hopelessness or despair), we send out negative vibrations which lead to more negative experiences which creates a downward spiral of negative negativeness culminating in ME MOVING UP IN THE RANKS OF WORST DRIVERS IN UTAH. I am now, thanks to The Secret, the 2nd worst driver in Utah. I can't say first, or the Secret and the universe will make it happen.
I think there is something to this, although, I think sometimes we just have a crummy morning or what have you...but today I definitely started out with the downward spiral mentality. I expected it. And boy did I get it. How do you change these days? Have you ever had a wake up with the pox day and seen it turn around through sheer positive mental prowess? I would love to hear about those times when you've made a bad day get better and what it was that flipped the switch. It will give me strength as I head to guthrie's bike shop to pay for the repairs to my victim's bike.
PS. boy on bike is uninjured. The go-cart (aka my car) is uninjured (unless you are counting the other dents from previous $550 dollar days). All is or will be well soon enough.
Last weekend I watched this "motivational" video called The Secret. It's an instructional video that espouses the concept of an intelligent universe that is based on the law of attraction. In short, we live in a universe ruled by vibration. When we think positively and experience happy feelings, we are sending off positive vibrations and the universe responds by opening doors in the positive. When we are out of balance with ourselves and with our higher power (ex: feeling anger or hopelessness or despair), we send out negative vibrations which lead to more negative experiences which creates a downward spiral of negative negativeness culminating in ME MOVING UP IN THE RANKS OF WORST DRIVERS IN UTAH. I am now, thanks to The Secret, the 2nd worst driver in Utah. I can't say first, or the Secret and the universe will make it happen.
I think there is something to this, although, I think sometimes we just have a crummy morning or what have you...but today I definitely started out with the downward spiral mentality. I expected it. And boy did I get it. How do you change these days? Have you ever had a wake up with the pox day and seen it turn around through sheer positive mental prowess? I would love to hear about those times when you've made a bad day get better and what it was that flipped the switch. It will give me strength as I head to guthrie's bike shop to pay for the repairs to my victim's bike.
PS. boy on bike is uninjured. The go-cart (aka my car) is uninjured (unless you are counting the other dents from previous $550 dollar days). All is or will be well soon enough.
Saturday, September 23, 2006
12 a.m. NOT WITTY
I just got back from a party. I socialized, I flirted, I befriended, I small-talked. And now, I'm home, alone and somehow it all seems so stupid. I went out with old mission companions for dinner and they of course, wanted to know everything about Adam and Australia. Thus, an entire evening of extolling his virtues was born. Do you want to know about my trip? It was wonderful. Adam held my hand in public. He treated me like I belonged with him. He kissed me goodbye when he went to work. This is all in addition to being my very best friend for 4 months.
I don't want to go to parties. I don't want one more person to tell me that I'm doing so much better than they would be if they were in my situation. I don't want to hear that I'm a rock and that I lived life and they think I'm brave for going to Australia. The brave part comes now. The brave part is tonight when I am so alone in this house, typing it all out on my computer and wishing I didn't have to be brave and trust and believe and hope. The brave part is letting go of something that I wanted more than I've wanted just about anything.
Do you know that once when I was 16, I auditioned for the Governor's school for the performing arts? My friend Amy got accepted to the theater program and told me all about the acceptance letter. One day, at about the right time for a response, I came home and there was a brown manila envelope just as Amy described it. I screamed and ran out into the street dancing. I had been accepted. Finally after all the celebration, I opened the envelope to find that it was something for my father and not me. Not going to governor's school meant that I had to move to South Carolina with my family. It meant that I had to leave my friends sooner than I wanted and it meant that things were not going to look the way I envisioned and planned them to be.
Knowing that I have received revelation about my relationship with Adam not being "right" for marriage is one thing...learning to redirect my hopes and dreams into the unknown is another. It's life after opening the envelope to find a tax letter for your dad instead of a governor's school acceptance letter. Tonight I feel vulnerable to being swallowed up in the disappointment. I have hope but it's tiny like a pen light instead of a floodlight.
I don't want to go to parties. I don't want one more person to tell me that I'm doing so much better than they would be if they were in my situation. I don't want to hear that I'm a rock and that I lived life and they think I'm brave for going to Australia. The brave part comes now. The brave part is tonight when I am so alone in this house, typing it all out on my computer and wishing I didn't have to be brave and trust and believe and hope. The brave part is letting go of something that I wanted more than I've wanted just about anything.
Do you know that once when I was 16, I auditioned for the Governor's school for the performing arts? My friend Amy got accepted to the theater program and told me all about the acceptance letter. One day, at about the right time for a response, I came home and there was a brown manila envelope just as Amy described it. I screamed and ran out into the street dancing. I had been accepted. Finally after all the celebration, I opened the envelope to find that it was something for my father and not me. Not going to governor's school meant that I had to move to South Carolina with my family. It meant that I had to leave my friends sooner than I wanted and it meant that things were not going to look the way I envisioned and planned them to be.
Knowing that I have received revelation about my relationship with Adam not being "right" for marriage is one thing...learning to redirect my hopes and dreams into the unknown is another. It's life after opening the envelope to find a tax letter for your dad instead of a governor's school acceptance letter. Tonight I feel vulnerable to being swallowed up in the disappointment. I have hope but it's tiny like a pen light instead of a floodlight.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
How Do I LEEEEEEEEEEEEVE Without Youuuuuuuuu????!!!!
Maybe you thought this title was in homage to Adam, but it's not!!! I'm surprisingly serene these days about my Australian (although I still miss him pretty rottenly...luckily we still talk and he says he misses me, so we're even)...and after all the heartbreak of foreign summer romances, it appears that DIET COKE is really the hardest thing to let go of..(I know I ended that with a preposition, what are you, the God of Good Grammar????)
Most of you have been with me for the journey, so you know that I started weightwatchers and found out that I had arthritis about the same time last year. Well, they are both still very much a part of my life and as such, I am plagued with joint stiffness while I am plying my body with all manner of artificial sweetners and foreign chemicals. You see, if you want to go low calorie but maintain your high calorie lifestyle, you have to switch to spray butter, snackpacs with splenda, microwave popcorn, cheese that doesn't require refrigeration and frozen dinners that contain the words, "healthy and delicious" in their title. Tip: Just like men who TELL you that they are the funniest guy you'll ever meet, frozen dinners that spell it out on the box should be approached with GREAT caution.
While I was in a foreign country that doesn't have a testimony of Lean Cuisines, I came to suspect that it might NOT be the very best thing to spray your foods with a yellow half-liquid that is one molecule away from plastic in order to say, "I can't believe it's not butter". I also suspected that all those chemicals as well as the fizzy deliciousness of my diet sody pop might be contributing to my increasingly crappy finger mobility (typing with pecking fingers makes blogging so much more difficult). So last week, I began a quest to curtail highly processed foods when possible and refined sugars and artificial sweetners always. HAHAHAHAHA. HA. HA. HA.
I lasted about 4 days before going on a Diet Coke binger that would make any self-respecting DC drinker cringe. I was able to stay away from the sugar for the most part and even the splendarific pudding snacks, but damnit all to hell...it's the diet coke that gets me. You would think that the potential claw-like crone hands of arthritic pain would be enough to deter the now increasingly vertical pile of empty diet coke cans sitting on my desk. But no. Evidently, the grip of caffeinated joy is stronger than the fear of disfiguration for the likes of me.
Oh well, at least I'll be a thin pretzel-twisted 29 year old.
Most of you have been with me for the journey, so you know that I started weightwatchers and found out that I had arthritis about the same time last year. Well, they are both still very much a part of my life and as such, I am plagued with joint stiffness while I am plying my body with all manner of artificial sweetners and foreign chemicals. You see, if you want to go low calorie but maintain your high calorie lifestyle, you have to switch to spray butter, snackpacs with splenda, microwave popcorn, cheese that doesn't require refrigeration and frozen dinners that contain the words, "healthy and delicious" in their title. Tip: Just like men who TELL you that they are the funniest guy you'll ever meet, frozen dinners that spell it out on the box should be approached with GREAT caution.
While I was in a foreign country that doesn't have a testimony of Lean Cuisines, I came to suspect that it might NOT be the very best thing to spray your foods with a yellow half-liquid that is one molecule away from plastic in order to say, "I can't believe it's not butter". I also suspected that all those chemicals as well as the fizzy deliciousness of my diet sody pop might be contributing to my increasingly crappy finger mobility (typing with pecking fingers makes blogging so much more difficult). So last week, I began a quest to curtail highly processed foods when possible and refined sugars and artificial sweetners always. HAHAHAHAHA. HA. HA. HA.
I lasted about 4 days before going on a Diet Coke binger that would make any self-respecting DC drinker cringe. I was able to stay away from the sugar for the most part and even the splendarific pudding snacks, but damnit all to hell...it's the diet coke that gets me. You would think that the potential claw-like crone hands of arthritic pain would be enough to deter the now increasingly vertical pile of empty diet coke cans sitting on my desk. But no. Evidently, the grip of caffeinated joy is stronger than the fear of disfiguration for the likes of me.
Oh well, at least I'll be a thin pretzel-twisted 29 year old.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Thursday, September 07, 2006
I Don't Need Anything...Except this Ashtray, the paddle game and the remote control..
Now that I have had an International adventure, I'm inconsistantly inconsistant. Somedays I wake up ready to take on the world. Other days I wake up tearful and nostalgic. Today is a tearful, nostalgic, whiney, stare at pictures and wish I was back in Adelaide sort of day. I may not have mentioned in my last blog that things went really well with Adam, but after three weeks, we just weren't ready to make any huge decisions about our future. So we've decided to remain friends but not pursue a "relationship", especially not a long distance one. Wah Wah Wah Wah Wah!!!!
We still talk, which is really important to me because we have such a wonderful friendship, but I'm finding something interesting in this mix. You may have noticed that I didn't write in my blog very regularly during the Adam months. The truth is that I saved all my best stories for him and now here I am feeling like I have no outlet for my stories...nowhere to put them but this sad, pathetic little blog. This is what happens when you date someone and it doesn't end with that wiping brow "dodged that bullet" feeling, I suppose. You turn into Navin Johnson (Steve Martin's character in "The Jerk"). Things don't work out the way you wanted or expected and so you try to be tough...well, *I* try to be tough. Remember that scene where Navin and Marie just broke up and he's leaving and he tells her that he doesn't need anything...but then he sees the ashtray and he picks it up and says, "except this" and then proceeds to collect a bunch of junk and say that he NEEDS IT? THat's me. Most days, I am tough KaRyn, She-who-has-been-alone-before and will be just fine. But on days like today, I'm running through the house with my pants around my ankles collecting my dreams and screaming, I NEED THIS!!! I NEED THIS!!!!
I have put a 2 month limit to my wallowing. Forgive me if I go over a little bit. Adam was really amazing and I don't think you get over amazing that quickly. Maybe I'm wrong. In the meantime, if you need to find me, I'll be under the covers blowing my nose and getting mascara stains all over my new down comforter.
We still talk, which is really important to me because we have such a wonderful friendship, but I'm finding something interesting in this mix. You may have noticed that I didn't write in my blog very regularly during the Adam months. The truth is that I saved all my best stories for him and now here I am feeling like I have no outlet for my stories...nowhere to put them but this sad, pathetic little blog. This is what happens when you date someone and it doesn't end with that wiping brow "dodged that bullet" feeling, I suppose. You turn into Navin Johnson (Steve Martin's character in "The Jerk"). Things don't work out the way you wanted or expected and so you try to be tough...well, *I* try to be tough. Remember that scene where Navin and Marie just broke up and he's leaving and he tells her that he doesn't need anything...but then he sees the ashtray and he picks it up and says, "except this" and then proceeds to collect a bunch of junk and say that he NEEDS IT? THat's me. Most days, I am tough KaRyn, She-who-has-been-alone-before and will be just fine. But on days like today, I'm running through the house with my pants around my ankles collecting my dreams and screaming, I NEED THIS!!! I NEED THIS!!!!
I have put a 2 month limit to my wallowing. Forgive me if I go over a little bit. Adam was really amazing and I don't think you get over amazing that quickly. Maybe I'm wrong. In the meantime, if you need to find me, I'll be under the covers blowing my nose and getting mascara stains all over my new down comforter.
Friday, September 01, 2006
I Come From A Land Down Under: The Lists
In order to inaccurately and incompletely catalogue my experience, I've compiled some lists. I will update them as necessary if I remember more. The trip was a raging success and I had an amazing time with Adam, Hannah, Memphis and the itinerant Steve. Pictures coming soon!
Cool Stuff that I saw or heard-
I saw Ben Folds walking across the street in Adelaide!
I heard Advertisements on the radio for discount funeral parlors! They have funeral parlors called “sensible funerals” and “Funerals R Us” …ok the first one is true but it seemed to me to be a little like our “ambulance chasers”.
Aussie musicians that just haven’t made it here in the US… Missy Higgins for one. Did you know that the Di-vynals are aussie?
HOWYRGOING? A common greeting which roughly translated means, What’s up?
Doco, sporto, arvo and any other manner of words shortened by slapping an “o” onto the first syllable and giving up on the rest of the word.
I heard teenagers swearing and trying out new American phrases like, Wicked Awesome. It was really funny because you could tell that they felt a little awkward/cool like any self conscious teenager. It’s like me saying something is “heaps good” and secretly smiling to myself at the proper usage.
Cool Stuff about Australia that I didn’t know before
-Adam told me that there was a political energy in the air, but I didn’t really think it would affect me. Everytime someone found out I was American, they wanted to chat it up about George Bush and American foreign policy. I quickly learned that even though I am educated, I am really really ignorant about many of the things that our country is party to. In an effort to sound moderately intelligent in future international bush bashes, I may start to read the news.
-At one point they tried to introduce Hershey’s chocolate, Dr. Pepper, A&W rootbeer and Taco Bell to AU, but evidently Australians just weren’t ready for the waxy goodness of Hersheys and the late night legacy of Taco Bell.
-We were successful (and I was thanked profusely) at introducing McDonalds, Burger King (known as Hungry Jack) and KFC…they love themselves some fried chicken…McD’s is conveniently nicknamed Macca’s. In the Maccas, there are McCafe’s with real desserts like cheesecake and tortes. They also have an Oz Burger that contains, you guessed it, egg and beetroot.
-There is no orange cheese in Australia. Except on Cheezles. But not anywhere else… I mean, what’s so hard about adding a little food coloring to your cheese so that it looks right? Whatever.
Cool Stuff I Did
Went to an Australian Rules Football Game and cheered for the Port Adelaide Power against some other team wearing black and white. Ate australia’s version of “nachos” and watched the power lose the game by 2 points because of Adam’s Curse.
Played at an open mic at the Governor HighMarsh Hotel which is a cool Adelaide Music Venue where famous people play. I brought the pool players in from the back and won over some heckling aussie barflys. They asked me to come back the next week and I did and some guy got up from the audience and played his violin with one of my songs. It was fabulous!
Petted a kangaroo, a koala, an emu and saw dingos, wallabies, wombats and a bat eating a mouse…I get that I could see a bat eat a mouse in the US, but would it have an Australian bat accent while eating the mouse? I think not.
Took the bus into the city, handed the driver my pirate money (HUGE COINS and LOTS OF THEM) and wandered the streets of Adelaide. Had my back thumped by a quadrapalegic homeopathic medicine student in the doorway of King William Street.
Bought $3AU diet coke every day at Woolworths and sat on park benches watching the parade of Aussie Fashion at Rundle Mall. Entertained myself by imagining that all of the teenagers in their respective school uniforms hovering in tight circles were actually gangs plotting to knife one another through their pleated tartan skirts.
Tried to get noticed for my foreign accent. Sadly, no one seemed to care even though I purposely spoke more than necessary when handing the cashiers my change when purchasing tim tams. When it was acknowledged that I WAS an exotic foreigner, I got asked if was Canadian. When I asked Adam what that was all about, he told me that Canadians get offended if you assume they are from America…thus it is safer to assume Canadia and be corrected by an American.
Went Ops Shopping, AKA thrift shopping. Found lots of cool stuff including a wicked awesome copper bracelet and Brisbane footy scarf. Heaps of fun.
Checked out a casino with pokies. There was no one there as it was a Monday night and the only people there were die hard nickel gamblers. I almost got kicked out because I was wearing flip flops. Evidently you can only gamble if your toes are not exposed in Australia.
Bought food at the Central Markets, wandered through the crowds, threw money into the hat of a family performing old country songs.
Participated in criminal activity: I snuck (sneaked) into a sold out concert with Adam’s help (forging hand stamps and using old ticket stubs) only to be sadly disappointed by the crappy band called the Audrey’s. Cool name, Cool concept, poor execution. Adam and I cursed the Audrey’s for the next week for tainting our very cool break-in by being crap. Shame on you, Audreys!
Walked on the beach at night under the stars.
Saw the southern cross.
Had my 29th birthday party with the “in-laws” at which we had pasties (traditional Aussie food) and a pumkin pie which I made as a novelty and Adam adorned with cheezles and a Cabbage Patch Kid birthday candle. We told the parents that in America, you eat the pumpkin pie with cheetos on top and they bought it. I couldn’t bear to let them actually do it in the end, but we did get the picture. Oddly enough, no one was in love with pumpkin pie. That’s ok, because I wasn’t in love with pasties but we all humored each other.
THINGS I ATE
(general note: Most things in Australia appear to be things we know and love, but when you eat it, you realize that there’s somethin’ just a little bit off…)
-pies, pasties (pronounced PAHstees), sausage rolls
-pie floater (meat pie doused in split pea soup covered in tomato sauce aka ketchup)
-tim tams & tim tam slam, accompanied by MILO…delicious of all deliciousness
-crumpets
-chickenshop hamburger = double decker hamburger with egg and beetroot
-BBQ food – meat, meat and more meat
-semaphore chips with chickensalt
-various candy bars including what at first glance appeared to be a kitkat, but upon closer inspection in my mouth was still a kitkat but with different chocolate
-passionfruit , passionfruit flavored soda
-vegemite
-meat flavored potato chips
- Tons of Indian, Japanese, Lebanese
- Lamingtons (sponge cake covered in sugar and coconut…pretty good although not spectacular)
Cool Stuff that I saw or heard-
I saw Ben Folds walking across the street in Adelaide!
I heard Advertisements on the radio for discount funeral parlors! They have funeral parlors called “sensible funerals” and “Funerals R Us” …ok the first one is true but it seemed to me to be a little like our “ambulance chasers”.
Aussie musicians that just haven’t made it here in the US… Missy Higgins for one. Did you know that the Di-vynals are aussie?
HOWYRGOING? A common greeting which roughly translated means, What’s up?
Doco, sporto, arvo and any other manner of words shortened by slapping an “o” onto the first syllable and giving up on the rest of the word.
I heard teenagers swearing and trying out new American phrases like, Wicked Awesome. It was really funny because you could tell that they felt a little awkward/cool like any self conscious teenager. It’s like me saying something is “heaps good” and secretly smiling to myself at the proper usage.
Cool Stuff about Australia that I didn’t know before
-Adam told me that there was a political energy in the air, but I didn’t really think it would affect me. Everytime someone found out I was American, they wanted to chat it up about George Bush and American foreign policy. I quickly learned that even though I am educated, I am really really ignorant about many of the things that our country is party to. In an effort to sound moderately intelligent in future international bush bashes, I may start to read the news.
-At one point they tried to introduce Hershey’s chocolate, Dr. Pepper, A&W rootbeer and Taco Bell to AU, but evidently Australians just weren’t ready for the waxy goodness of Hersheys and the late night legacy of Taco Bell.
-We were successful (and I was thanked profusely) at introducing McDonalds, Burger King (known as Hungry Jack) and KFC…they love themselves some fried chicken…McD’s is conveniently nicknamed Macca’s. In the Maccas, there are McCafe’s with real desserts like cheesecake and tortes. They also have an Oz Burger that contains, you guessed it, egg and beetroot.
-There is no orange cheese in Australia. Except on Cheezles. But not anywhere else… I mean, what’s so hard about adding a little food coloring to your cheese so that it looks right? Whatever.
Cool Stuff I Did
Went to an Australian Rules Football Game and cheered for the Port Adelaide Power against some other team wearing black and white. Ate australia’s version of “nachos” and watched the power lose the game by 2 points because of Adam’s Curse.
Played at an open mic at the Governor HighMarsh Hotel which is a cool Adelaide Music Venue where famous people play. I brought the pool players in from the back and won over some heckling aussie barflys. They asked me to come back the next week and I did and some guy got up from the audience and played his violin with one of my songs. It was fabulous!
Petted a kangaroo, a koala, an emu and saw dingos, wallabies, wombats and a bat eating a mouse…I get that I could see a bat eat a mouse in the US, but would it have an Australian bat accent while eating the mouse? I think not.
Took the bus into the city, handed the driver my pirate money (HUGE COINS and LOTS OF THEM) and wandered the streets of Adelaide. Had my back thumped by a quadrapalegic homeopathic medicine student in the doorway of King William Street.
Bought $3AU diet coke every day at Woolworths and sat on park benches watching the parade of Aussie Fashion at Rundle Mall. Entertained myself by imagining that all of the teenagers in their respective school uniforms hovering in tight circles were actually gangs plotting to knife one another through their pleated tartan skirts.
Tried to get noticed for my foreign accent. Sadly, no one seemed to care even though I purposely spoke more than necessary when handing the cashiers my change when purchasing tim tams. When it was acknowledged that I WAS an exotic foreigner, I got asked if was Canadian. When I asked Adam what that was all about, he told me that Canadians get offended if you assume they are from America…thus it is safer to assume Canadia and be corrected by an American.
Went Ops Shopping, AKA thrift shopping. Found lots of cool stuff including a wicked awesome copper bracelet and Brisbane footy scarf. Heaps of fun.
Checked out a casino with pokies. There was no one there as it was a Monday night and the only people there were die hard nickel gamblers. I almost got kicked out because I was wearing flip flops. Evidently you can only gamble if your toes are not exposed in Australia.
Bought food at the Central Markets, wandered through the crowds, threw money into the hat of a family performing old country songs.
Participated in criminal activity: I snuck (sneaked) into a sold out concert with Adam’s help (forging hand stamps and using old ticket stubs) only to be sadly disappointed by the crappy band called the Audrey’s. Cool name, Cool concept, poor execution. Adam and I cursed the Audrey’s for the next week for tainting our very cool break-in by being crap. Shame on you, Audreys!
Walked on the beach at night under the stars.
Saw the southern cross.
Had my 29th birthday party with the “in-laws” at which we had pasties (traditional Aussie food) and a pumkin pie which I made as a novelty and Adam adorned with cheezles and a Cabbage Patch Kid birthday candle. We told the parents that in America, you eat the pumpkin pie with cheetos on top and they bought it. I couldn’t bear to let them actually do it in the end, but we did get the picture. Oddly enough, no one was in love with pumpkin pie. That’s ok, because I wasn’t in love with pasties but we all humored each other.
THINGS I ATE
(general note: Most things in Australia appear to be things we know and love, but when you eat it, you realize that there’s somethin’ just a little bit off…)
-pies, pasties (pronounced PAHstees), sausage rolls
-pie floater (meat pie doused in split pea soup covered in tomato sauce aka ketchup)
-tim tams & tim tam slam, accompanied by MILO…delicious of all deliciousness
-crumpets
-chickenshop hamburger = double decker hamburger with egg and beetroot
-BBQ food – meat, meat and more meat
-semaphore chips with chickensalt
-various candy bars including what at first glance appeared to be a kitkat, but upon closer inspection in my mouth was still a kitkat but with different chocolate
-passionfruit , passionfruit flavored soda
-vegemite
-meat flavored potato chips
- Tons of Indian, Japanese, Lebanese
- Lamingtons (sponge cake covered in sugar and coconut…pretty good although not spectacular)
Friday, August 04, 2006
It's Australia Eve 1987
I'm leaving for Australia tomorrow night at 9pm. I fly from SLC to LAX to MEL to ADL.(Now that I'm a world traveler, I can refer to all airports entirely by their code and only other world travelers will understand my itinerary...it's part of being a cool world traveler...someday you'll understand) I've decided (with the help of my darling internet stalker BFF Susan of TX) that tonight is AUSTRALIA EVE 1987. Do you know why???? Because I feel the same way I did on Christmas Eve when I was 10.
That was the year that ALL I wanted for christmas was a Milli Vanili Tape. (come on, I was 10 and didn't know any better...blame it on the rain.) Imagine, 4th grade Ninny, anxiously unable to sleep with the fear that she won't get what she wants and excited by the prospect of what ELSE might be under that delightfully fake, Star Trek decorated Christmas Tree (more on that another time...) That's me with this trip.
What I want is to fly to Australia and have everything that I've thought could possibly happen come true. I want three months of everyday phoned-in emotional intimacy to translate in the flesh. I'm a romantic with a serious fantasy streak and for good or for bad, so is Adam...we make a mean imaginary duo. And therein lies the danger of this trip. Reality. Waking up to a pair of underwear instead of the musical genius of dreadlocked, shoulder-pad wearing frenchmen. It's entirely possible and I've mentally tried to plan for it, but I think we all know that you can't really steel yourself against that tide. So, I'm just going to live in the other part of Australia Eve which is...WHO KNOWS WHAT"S UNDER THE TREE!!!!
Isn't that so exciting? I could fall in love. I could get stopped by customs and thrown into an Australian prison for smuggling baked cheetos into the country and then my internet boyfriend could bail me out ala mr. darcy. I could bring a wallaby home in my suitcase. I could find an inner calm about myself and my place in the universe. I could discover strength that I didn't know I had. THe outback is a wide open place with more deadly spiders than people and I'm going there to explore and come out conquerer.
Australia Eve 1987 is the beginning of the neverending adventure of my life. I think I should have a sign that says, "Will travel for growth" because it's true.
That was the year that ALL I wanted for christmas was a Milli Vanili Tape. (come on, I was 10 and didn't know any better...blame it on the rain.) Imagine, 4th grade Ninny, anxiously unable to sleep with the fear that she won't get what she wants and excited by the prospect of what ELSE might be under that delightfully fake, Star Trek decorated Christmas Tree (more on that another time...) That's me with this trip.
What I want is to fly to Australia and have everything that I've thought could possibly happen come true. I want three months of everyday phoned-in emotional intimacy to translate in the flesh. I'm a romantic with a serious fantasy streak and for good or for bad, so is Adam...we make a mean imaginary duo. And therein lies the danger of this trip. Reality. Waking up to a pair of underwear instead of the musical genius of dreadlocked, shoulder-pad wearing frenchmen. It's entirely possible and I've mentally tried to plan for it, but I think we all know that you can't really steel yourself against that tide. So, I'm just going to live in the other part of Australia Eve which is...WHO KNOWS WHAT"S UNDER THE TREE!!!!
Isn't that so exciting? I could fall in love. I could get stopped by customs and thrown into an Australian prison for smuggling baked cheetos into the country and then my internet boyfriend could bail me out ala mr. darcy. I could bring a wallaby home in my suitcase. I could find an inner calm about myself and my place in the universe. I could discover strength that I didn't know I had. THe outback is a wide open place with more deadly spiders than people and I'm going there to explore and come out conquerer.
Australia Eve 1987 is the beginning of the neverending adventure of my life. I think I should have a sign that says, "Will travel for growth" because it's true.
Monday, July 03, 2006
I reached level 60!!!!
OK, that was a lie to suck in all the WOW afficiandaoiasdfoin (I can't spell that foreignish word). Although I am not a level 60 elfdwarfprincess on WOW (YET), I have reached a new blog level....MY GRANDMA READS MY BLOG!!!! Welcome Grandma.
When I was in highschool, my grandma played the organ for sacrament meeting in our ward in South Carolina. She was a crusader of speed...constantly trying to get things moving on some of the more funeral dirge-like hymns. You'd think you were going to die from the slowness of "Come Come Ye Saints" and the next thing you know, the organ would step up to the plate and get us going at like 150 MPH. No toil nor labor fear...Grandma Daley is here! And so we gave her a superhero name equivalent to her stature in our Greenville III ward society. SPEEDY G...(speedy grandma in case you couldn't figure it out). I don't think she knew that we dubbed her that...but I think it's appropos now that she's reading the blog to share the glory that is my grandma. Most Grandma's are knitting crap and watching Lawrence Welk, and while I don't know much about her Laurence Welk habits, I can tell you that my grandma ain't knittin' NOTHIN'. She and Ralph (her second husband affectionately also known as Ralph, the Southern Baptist) are off to see the world, kicking it tech style and reading my little ole' blog.
I've always admired my Grandma Daley. She is intelligent and literary and stylish. And fast. Speedy. She had a laptop before anyone else and I think she had the first digital camera. May you all enjoy a Speedy G experience in your life!
When I was in highschool, my grandma played the organ for sacrament meeting in our ward in South Carolina. She was a crusader of speed...constantly trying to get things moving on some of the more funeral dirge-like hymns. You'd think you were going to die from the slowness of "Come Come Ye Saints" and the next thing you know, the organ would step up to the plate and get us going at like 150 MPH. No toil nor labor fear...Grandma Daley is here! And so we gave her a superhero name equivalent to her stature in our Greenville III ward society. SPEEDY G...(speedy grandma in case you couldn't figure it out). I don't think she knew that we dubbed her that...but I think it's appropos now that she's reading the blog to share the glory that is my grandma. Most Grandma's are knitting crap and watching Lawrence Welk, and while I don't know much about her Laurence Welk habits, I can tell you that my grandma ain't knittin' NOTHIN'. She and Ralph (her second husband affectionately also known as Ralph, the Southern Baptist) are off to see the world, kicking it tech style and reading my little ole' blog.
I've always admired my Grandma Daley. She is intelligent and literary and stylish. And fast. Speedy. She had a laptop before anyone else and I think she had the first digital camera. May you all enjoy a Speedy G experience in your life!
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
How Much Time Does a Rock Star Take If A Rock Star takes up time
I played at Mo's again last night...This time it was for singer/songwriter night. The battery in my guitar: DEAD AGAIN. I had to stop the song so that my new found friend Trenton McIan (very talented SLC songwriter guy) could set me up on his very expensive guitar. BUT an amazing thing happened...I WAS not nervous even after a little debacle! I played decently, nobody booed and Terrence Hansen who hosts the singer/songwriter night invited me to come play as his "intermission" act during one of his regular Thursday night gigs. I was elated...and kind of perplexed.
It's taken me over 3 years to get out there and play and now that things seem to be picking up, I'm left wondering how much time I should really spend doing this. It's heady. And fun. And easy to get very sucked up. I want to be a rock star (or alt/country/folk star as the case may be...especially since someone said that I look like a Dixie Chick in my publicity photos! WAH WAH!) It has been my contention since day one of my "enlightened performer" days post mission, that I have to be careful about how much energy I put into being on stage. There is real work to do. I've got homeless people to feed, children to save and relief society visits every thursday night. Where exactly does self-gratification and crowd adulation fit into the plan of salvation for me?
Obviously, I'm taking this to an extreme. I'm a balanced person with a healthy sense of fun and wacky mayhem...but we've all seen fame rear its ugly head in the form of Paris Hilton and other B list celebrities who have no day job and just spend their time in pursuit of fame. I just wonder at what cost? And how easily could that become me? ok, minus the thousands of dollars of plastic surgery and multi-million dollar hotel empire, probably not that easily...but it's a thought.
It's taken me over 3 years to get out there and play and now that things seem to be picking up, I'm left wondering how much time I should really spend doing this. It's heady. And fun. And easy to get very sucked up. I want to be a rock star (or alt/country/folk star as the case may be...especially since someone said that I look like a Dixie Chick in my publicity photos! WAH WAH!) It has been my contention since day one of my "enlightened performer" days post mission, that I have to be careful about how much energy I put into being on stage. There is real work to do. I've got homeless people to feed, children to save and relief society visits every thursday night. Where exactly does self-gratification and crowd adulation fit into the plan of salvation for me?
Obviously, I'm taking this to an extreme. I'm a balanced person with a healthy sense of fun and wacky mayhem...but we've all seen fame rear its ugly head in the form of Paris Hilton and other B list celebrities who have no day job and just spend their time in pursuit of fame. I just wonder at what cost? And how easily could that become me? ok, minus the thousands of dollars of plastic surgery and multi-million dollar hotel empire, probably not that easily...but it's a thought.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Tim Tam BAM!
Did you know that there are these cookies in Australia called Tim Tams? Did you know that people in Australia talk about them as though they are the equivalent of the ambrosia of the Gods? I finally got to try one and it WAS delightful. There is one problem that i can foresee with my new found love of Tim Tams...the caloric information is in metric. HOW WILL I EVER KNOW how many weight watchers points to count? I suppose if something is in metric we can just consider it "free", right? I asked adam to procure or invent some sort of converter for the metrically challenged. I don't do math and especially not for a cookie (I mean biscuit).
Thursday, June 15, 2006
I had a moment...it was just a moment
And in that moment, I wished that I was an introvert. This happens occasionally, kind of like a gag reflex right before I barf up way more information about my life than any normal passerby on the street should be privy to. It's like the car has started and when I'm just about to hit 200 mph, I think ...I wish I could slow down. Yeah.
Most recently, I have this fantasy: Instead of telling everyone everything about my relationship with Adam and the consequent regret that comes from inadequately communicating how I feel about him and our situation...I quietly take a second job, earn 2000 dollars quickly and quietly and quietly fly to australia to see if we quietly work out. But the truth is that nothing about me is quiet. I throw parties to announce to the world that I am taking a risk. I do it big. I say it loud and hope that I can handle any bad PR when it's all said and done. Am I an optimist because I am an extrovert or am I an extrovert because I am an optimist?
I guess it's very common to wish you were something other than what you are but that's not really the point of this blog. I like me. And on most occasions, I don't even hate that I am that girl who runs around with marshmallows stuck to her chin and chocolate on her teeth at Sarah's party saying "I just want to be loved!!!" It's the same part of my personality that makes me fall in love easily and truly and deeply. It's the same part of my personality that makes me magic. It's so deeply a part of my subconscious now that my only wish is for a little more forethought. And now, I have to go practice for the BYOIB.
OH and PS!!! Adam is going to call and thank everyone for donating to the cause. I adore him and his willingness to be a part of my madcap extroverted adventures. How does a girl get this lucky?
Most recently, I have this fantasy: Instead of telling everyone everything about my relationship with Adam and the consequent regret that comes from inadequately communicating how I feel about him and our situation...I quietly take a second job, earn 2000 dollars quickly and quietly and quietly fly to australia to see if we quietly work out. But the truth is that nothing about me is quiet. I throw parties to announce to the world that I am taking a risk. I do it big. I say it loud and hope that I can handle any bad PR when it's all said and done. Am I an optimist because I am an extrovert or am I an extrovert because I am an optimist?
I guess it's very common to wish you were something other than what you are but that's not really the point of this blog. I like me. And on most occasions, I don't even hate that I am that girl who runs around with marshmallows stuck to her chin and chocolate on her teeth at Sarah's party saying "I just want to be loved!!!" It's the same part of my personality that makes me fall in love easily and truly and deeply. It's the same part of my personality that makes me magic. It's so deeply a part of my subconscious now that my only wish is for a little more forethought. And now, I have to go practice for the BYOIB.
OH and PS!!! Adam is going to call and thank everyone for donating to the cause. I adore him and his willingness to be a part of my madcap extroverted adventures. How does a girl get this lucky?
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
FAQ's about Adam, Australia and the BYOIB benefit concert this saturday 6/17
FAQ's
What is the BYOIB Benefit Concert?
A benefit to benefit ME! I'm going to Australia and I need to raise money. It was either this or a cardboard sign outside of Temple Square.
Why are you going to Australia?
I'm going to Australia for a delightful adventure. Ok, I'm also going to see my internet boyfriend, Adam Bevan.
So you really are going to Australia, and you really are going just to meet a guy?
Yes, and well, yes. I got over being embarrassed about this whole thing a while ago. I mean, if you boys would have asked me out on one of those proper dates during one of our Sunday School dates, then maybe I wouldn't be driven into the arms of a foreign man on a completely different continent. As it is, I will gladly trade Matchbox 20 for Men at Work and Inxs (with or without michael hutchins, thank you) and I've never been outside the continental US. AND I'M OLD! don't you think it's about time?
Where in Australia does this Adam Bevan live?
Adelaide. It's in the southern middle of the country in a state called South Australia (no one ever said they were creative). It's a smallish city about the size of Salt Lake but with a lot more sass.
Does Adam have a hot Australian accent?
UH< OF COURSE! and he calls ME a foreigner!!!! isn't that adorable? He says things like "people mover" instead of van and "I'm going to chop you up and put you in the basement with the others" instead of "I think you're really cute."
OH MY GOODNESS...Will he really chop you up and put you in the basement?
I don't really know! But my theory is that the guy I meet at the Munch and Mingle could be an axe murderer too...a tie means NOTHING. I guess we'll see when I get to the shores of a completely strange country to meet a complete stranger. Don't worry, I've been running at the gym. I'm getting much faster.
What do you like about Adam?
oh sigh. Everything. Here is a short list of his very best qualities:
Funny, like laugh out loud, pee your pants, bantery funny
dramatic and silly (in a good funny good way)
tells stories!!!!!
brilliant in traditional and unconventional ways
spiritual AND committed to the gospel (I mean, he took himself to church from the age of 13, people!)
imperfect and willing to admit it
risk taker and poet and musician and individualist and vegetarian and hipster and people lover and believer and optimist and fighter and father and
OH OH.AND....he likes me!
Do you talk on the phone?
Every day! sometimes twice. Best part of the day.
What if you don't have any chemistry in person?????
Good question!!!! It's entirely possible. Luckily, I think I could have chemistry with a potato and adam is definitely much cooler than a potato. We are both aware that there could be no chemistry. It's a risk worth taking. And hello, did I mention the part about how I get to go to Australia?????
What are you wearing right now?
an eye patch and fishnets.
What is the BYOIB Benefit Concert?
A benefit to benefit ME! I'm going to Australia and I need to raise money. It was either this or a cardboard sign outside of Temple Square.
Why are you going to Australia?
I'm going to Australia for a delightful adventure. Ok, I'm also going to see my internet boyfriend, Adam Bevan.
So you really are going to Australia, and you really are going just to meet a guy?
Yes, and well, yes. I got over being embarrassed about this whole thing a while ago. I mean, if you boys would have asked me out on one of those proper dates during one of our Sunday School dates, then maybe I wouldn't be driven into the arms of a foreign man on a completely different continent. As it is, I will gladly trade Matchbox 20 for Men at Work and Inxs (with or without michael hutchins, thank you) and I've never been outside the continental US. AND I'M OLD! don't you think it's about time?
Where in Australia does this Adam Bevan live?
Adelaide. It's in the southern middle of the country in a state called South Australia (no one ever said they were creative). It's a smallish city about the size of Salt Lake but with a lot more sass.
Does Adam have a hot Australian accent?
UH< OF COURSE! and he calls ME a foreigner!!!! isn't that adorable? He says things like "people mover" instead of van and "I'm going to chop you up and put you in the basement with the others" instead of "I think you're really cute."
OH MY GOODNESS...Will he really chop you up and put you in the basement?
I don't really know! But my theory is that the guy I meet at the Munch and Mingle could be an axe murderer too...a tie means NOTHING. I guess we'll see when I get to the shores of a completely strange country to meet a complete stranger. Don't worry, I've been running at the gym. I'm getting much faster.
What do you like about Adam?
oh sigh. Everything. Here is a short list of his very best qualities:
Funny, like laugh out loud, pee your pants, bantery funny
dramatic and silly (in a good funny good way)
tells stories!!!!!
brilliant in traditional and unconventional ways
spiritual AND committed to the gospel (I mean, he took himself to church from the age of 13, people!)
imperfect and willing to admit it
risk taker and poet and musician and individualist and vegetarian and hipster and people lover and believer and optimist and fighter and father and
OH OH.AND....he likes me!
Do you talk on the phone?
Every day! sometimes twice. Best part of the day.
What if you don't have any chemistry in person?????
Good question!!!! It's entirely possible. Luckily, I think I could have chemistry with a potato and adam is definitely much cooler than a potato. We are both aware that there could be no chemistry. It's a risk worth taking. And hello, did I mention the part about how I get to go to Australia?????
What are you wearing right now?
an eye patch and fishnets.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Weird Neighbors and Death to UPS
I'm so annoyed and it has everything to do with UPS and weird neighbors. I'm waiting for my birth certificate so I can get a passport so I can fly to australia so I can meet my internet boyfriend. I ordered it and paid extra money to have it sent "superfast". The problem is that they made me have it shipped to my home address instead of my work. And the problem with that is that my apartment is like some sort of mail fortress...if you've ever tried to send me anything larger than a postcard, you know that it rarely makes it to me...and forget a UPS package.
So I called UPS and asked them just to hold it at their customer center. Easy. Done. HAHAHAHAH RIGHT! The package was already on the truck, so they told me that the driver would attempt to deliver it and then when I wasn't home (which I wouldn't be because I have a JOB which allows me to pay extra money to have birth certificates delivered via UPS) they would put it back safe and sound at the warehouse where i could then pick it up. So I lalallala drive to the customer center only to find that the birth certificate is not there...evidently, driver lady delivered it to someone named Langley in apartment #9. WHO THE HELL IS LANGLEY IN APARTMENT #9??????? Bad enough that they willey nilley deliver the certificate that indicates that I was born to some total stranger who just happened to step out of his door yesterday at 11:20 am and say that he would sign for it...I realize that #9 is the apartment of the weird guy who sometimes knocks on my door and just stands there all weird and stoic and weird. Did I mention weird? So weird guy has proof of my existence somewhere in his apartment. For all I know, he's a paranoid schizophrenic and took the package and created a van gogh-esque paper mache replica of my head out of it which he is crushing as I type this today. Never mind the implications of that, it's really all about the fact that now I can't get my passport and I'm out $30 for a birth certificate that may never arrive.
So now, the driver, me and crystal are all knocking on #9's door to try to "recover" the package. At the risk of sounding like a pirate (which may actually be the only way I can get to australia at this point) ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!
So I called UPS and asked them just to hold it at their customer center. Easy. Done. HAHAHAHAH RIGHT! The package was already on the truck, so they told me that the driver would attempt to deliver it and then when I wasn't home (which I wouldn't be because I have a JOB which allows me to pay extra money to have birth certificates delivered via UPS) they would put it back safe and sound at the warehouse where i could then pick it up. So I lalallala drive to the customer center only to find that the birth certificate is not there...evidently, driver lady delivered it to someone named Langley in apartment #9. WHO THE HELL IS LANGLEY IN APARTMENT #9??????? Bad enough that they willey nilley deliver the certificate that indicates that I was born to some total stranger who just happened to step out of his door yesterday at 11:20 am and say that he would sign for it...I realize that #9 is the apartment of the weird guy who sometimes knocks on my door and just stands there all weird and stoic and weird. Did I mention weird? So weird guy has proof of my existence somewhere in his apartment. For all I know, he's a paranoid schizophrenic and took the package and created a van gogh-esque paper mache replica of my head out of it which he is crushing as I type this today. Never mind the implications of that, it's really all about the fact that now I can't get my passport and I'm out $30 for a birth certificate that may never arrive.
So now, the driver, me and crystal are all knocking on #9's door to try to "recover" the package. At the risk of sounding like a pirate (which may actually be the only way I can get to australia at this point) ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!
Monday, May 22, 2006
The Enchanted Calling
I'm now in the Relief Society Presidency in my ward. I think I got the calling because one day after the President emeritus (who is a good friend of mine) announced that the presidency had ONCE AGAIN fasted and prayed and gone to the temple for the sisters in the ward, I told her that I hoped I was never in the RS presidency because I could never fast that much...
And here I am. Let the fasting begin (OHHOHOHHH! I just realized that this can only help my weight watchers!!! there is a god!) I'm the second counselor over Enrichment which is also known as "The Enchanted Calling" because the last two 2nd counselors got engaged while in the calling. Enchanting.
Now, if I am indeed enchanted by this calling, I've decided to take this as YET another reason why I SHOULD go to Australia to meet Adam of Adelaide, my latest and greatest internet boyfriend. I've been in lalalalalalala land ever since we started talking and at the risk of sounding crazy, I'm crazy about someone 26,768 kilometers (see I've already converted to metric...it's official) away. I actually have no idea how far away australia is as I only just learned to locate it on the map about 3 weeks ago, but A is very patient and doesn't mind answering questions like "Do you know Crocodile Dundee?" and "Are there birds in Australia? Because I'm a birdwatcher now...so...."
At any rate, I am going to australia soon to check out my foreign destiny. I know you'll think I"m crazy, but luckily, this time I don't really care. Adam is honest, brave, true (wait, do they HAVE boyscouts in australia?) oh forget it...I can't capture him here in this blog. He's got an accent. That should be enough for you to understand. Sigh.
And here I am. Let the fasting begin (OHHOHOHHH! I just realized that this can only help my weight watchers!!! there is a god!) I'm the second counselor over Enrichment which is also known as "The Enchanted Calling" because the last two 2nd counselors got engaged while in the calling. Enchanting.
Now, if I am indeed enchanted by this calling, I've decided to take this as YET another reason why I SHOULD go to Australia to meet Adam of Adelaide, my latest and greatest internet boyfriend. I've been in lalalalalalala land ever since we started talking and at the risk of sounding crazy, I'm crazy about someone 26,768 kilometers (see I've already converted to metric...it's official) away. I actually have no idea how far away australia is as I only just learned to locate it on the map about 3 weeks ago, but A is very patient and doesn't mind answering questions like "Do you know Crocodile Dundee?" and "Are there birds in Australia? Because I'm a birdwatcher now...so...."
At any rate, I am going to australia soon to check out my foreign destiny. I know you'll think I"m crazy, but luckily, this time I don't really care. Adam is honest, brave, true (wait, do they HAVE boyscouts in australia?) oh forget it...I can't capture him here in this blog. He's got an accent. That should be enough for you to understand. Sigh.
Friday, May 19, 2006
Bird Nerd
I only have a minute. I'm on my way to the Great Salt Lake Bird Festival. I would tell you that it's a work thing and that I probably won't have fun, but that might be a lie. I've discovered recently that I actually LIKE birds. The way other lonely, single girls LIKE cats, I LIKE birds...ok, it's really not that bad, but a few weeks ago, I did stop the car to pull out a pair of binoculars because an American avocet was coming in for a landing at the Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge. Maybe we can chalk this up to my amazing ability to become passionate about whateverI do, but I also consider it a sort of conversion.
Anyone who knows me well knows that I have a physical repulsion to the talking animal movies. You know the ones I'm talking about..."the bear" "milo and otis" "cats"...they generally make me want to die a slow death rather than watch the rest of the movie. Part of my persona, part of the brand that is KaRyn is wrapped up the idea that I don't enjoy animals...and while it IS true that I would rather have a baby than a dog or cat, I think I'm finally ready to shed that falsehood. I love animals. There, I said it. When my family dog had a flea problem, I was the one who came home everyday and scrubbed her down with flea wash to give her a little relief. I can not stand suffering in any shape and that extends to furry, barking, meowing, mewling creepy crawlies. I love animals. I don't want to necessarily TOUCH animals...but I do love them.
I love my job too...does it really get any better than hanging out with 4th graders and seeing the spark of discovery in their eyes? This world is beautiful and amazing and we're so lucky to have it or for it to have us. I'm not quite ready to proudly wear a name tag that says "Bird Nerd" but I'm getting there.
Anyone who knows me well knows that I have a physical repulsion to the talking animal movies. You know the ones I'm talking about..."the bear" "milo and otis" "cats"...they generally make me want to die a slow death rather than watch the rest of the movie. Part of my persona, part of the brand that is KaRyn is wrapped up the idea that I don't enjoy animals...and while it IS true that I would rather have a baby than a dog or cat, I think I'm finally ready to shed that falsehood. I love animals. There, I said it. When my family dog had a flea problem, I was the one who came home everyday and scrubbed her down with flea wash to give her a little relief. I can not stand suffering in any shape and that extends to furry, barking, meowing, mewling creepy crawlies. I love animals. I don't want to necessarily TOUCH animals...but I do love them.
I love my job too...does it really get any better than hanging out with 4th graders and seeing the spark of discovery in their eyes? This world is beautiful and amazing and we're so lucky to have it or for it to have us. I'm not quite ready to proudly wear a name tag that says "Bird Nerd" but I'm getting there.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
My Very First Open Mic Night
One new year's resolution down, 28 years worth of unaccomplished resolutions to go. I finally played at my first open mic night this past Monday. I've been telling my friends that I was going to do it for at least 3 months now and Mo's Bar and Grill finally got what it asked for. I was sooooooo nervous, but I think being sort of dumped by my latest pre-boyfriend gave me the adrenaline boost needed to seek approval, love and validation from a room full of complete strangers. It actually wasn't too bad!
9:05 we arrive at mo's where Quinn, the completely adorable and apparently high "host" of the open mic was playing some of his own stuff. He is very good and plays with soul. I immediately need to pee just looking at the stage, but then realize that there are only 3 people in the joint besides me, my 2 friends and the waitstaff. And of the three people, one is probably a homeless man and the other is a guy who still has the old navy sizing sticker on his new pair of jeans. They will certainly not boo or hiss if I forget the words to "The Great Divide" right? Right. I start to feel moderately relaxed.
9:10 Quinn and I exchange pleasantries. He attempts to help me calm my nerves (which despite the low traffic in the place, remain insanely active). My aunt Pat who is a musician in Boise, ID told me to make nice with the host since he is the one who controls the floor. Luckily, I was the only person who wanted to play, so I probably could have been a raging psychotic and still been allowed to manhandle the microphone. One other girl says that she will play. Her name is Snow and she is from Alaska. I wonder if she is related to Jewel.
9:30 ish (I don't really remember the time because I was too busy not vomiting). I get up to play. We have to mic my guitar because I DIDN"T REALIZE THAT THERE WAS A BATTERY IN MY GUITAR and it is apparently dead. Did YOU know that guitars have batteries?????
The crowd responds well to my weak performance of my Bob Dylan cover. Normally, I rock at this song, but the combination of arthritis and nerves made it a little less than brilliant. Then I play "All Fiction" and "Love Song"...the crowd is definitely reacting well...I get a few hollers and such and it makes me sort of brave. I say I'm done and they say, "ONE MORE!!!!" so I attempt to play "The Great Divide". True to my premonition, I forget the words to the second verse and end the song early, but it isn't bad. I'm just learning.
9:45 We stay for everyone else because I don't want to be rude at my first open mic. Snow sings. She has the voice of black lesbian woman. I don't really know how that is any different than a normal black woman, except that her songs were all about loving yourself and the woman child inside you and her loving her lover. She was cool and fearless. I liked her and let her use my guitar even though I'm pretty sure her legs were hairy and she wasn't related to Jewel. Everyone else was kind of non-descript. I played again later after one rotation and it was a little more relaxed. I'm getting there. Quinn said to come back and I offered to sing back up for him on a few of his cover numbers.
My general impressions were that most people who want to write songs, write them and play them even if they are no good. Quinn was probably the best singer/songwriter there and I was encouraged to realize that I wasn't the crappiest. I guess I just get nervous because we live in a world where american idol is the hottest show. We love the delusional people on that show because they are horrible but THINK they are amazing. What if I'm the Songwriting equivalent of that William Hung guy? In any case, things went well and I'm going to do it again. You should come hear me next time.... I promise to work on remembering the words to Great Divide.
9:05 we arrive at mo's where Quinn, the completely adorable and apparently high "host" of the open mic was playing some of his own stuff. He is very good and plays with soul. I immediately need to pee just looking at the stage, but then realize that there are only 3 people in the joint besides me, my 2 friends and the waitstaff. And of the three people, one is probably a homeless man and the other is a guy who still has the old navy sizing sticker on his new pair of jeans. They will certainly not boo or hiss if I forget the words to "The Great Divide" right? Right. I start to feel moderately relaxed.
9:10 Quinn and I exchange pleasantries. He attempts to help me calm my nerves (which despite the low traffic in the place, remain insanely active). My aunt Pat who is a musician in Boise, ID told me to make nice with the host since he is the one who controls the floor. Luckily, I was the only person who wanted to play, so I probably could have been a raging psychotic and still been allowed to manhandle the microphone. One other girl says that she will play. Her name is Snow and she is from Alaska. I wonder if she is related to Jewel.
9:30 ish (I don't really remember the time because I was too busy not vomiting). I get up to play. We have to mic my guitar because I DIDN"T REALIZE THAT THERE WAS A BATTERY IN MY GUITAR and it is apparently dead. Did YOU know that guitars have batteries?????
The crowd responds well to my weak performance of my Bob Dylan cover. Normally, I rock at this song, but the combination of arthritis and nerves made it a little less than brilliant. Then I play "All Fiction" and "Love Song"...the crowd is definitely reacting well...I get a few hollers and such and it makes me sort of brave. I say I'm done and they say, "ONE MORE!!!!" so I attempt to play "The Great Divide". True to my premonition, I forget the words to the second verse and end the song early, but it isn't bad. I'm just learning.
9:45 We stay for everyone else because I don't want to be rude at my first open mic. Snow sings. She has the voice of black lesbian woman. I don't really know how that is any different than a normal black woman, except that her songs were all about loving yourself and the woman child inside you and her loving her lover. She was cool and fearless. I liked her and let her use my guitar even though I'm pretty sure her legs were hairy and she wasn't related to Jewel. Everyone else was kind of non-descript. I played again later after one rotation and it was a little more relaxed. I'm getting there. Quinn said to come back and I offered to sing back up for him on a few of his cover numbers.
My general impressions were that most people who want to write songs, write them and play them even if they are no good. Quinn was probably the best singer/songwriter there and I was encouraged to realize that I wasn't the crappiest. I guess I just get nervous because we live in a world where american idol is the hottest show. We love the delusional people on that show because they are horrible but THINK they are amazing. What if I'm the Songwriting equivalent of that William Hung guy? In any case, things went well and I'm going to do it again. You should come hear me next time.... I promise to work on remembering the words to Great Divide.
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