I leave for my giant new adventure tomorrow...and I have NO idea what I'm getting myself into.
It finally hit me tonight - the nerves. Someone asked me what I was going out to DC for, and my answer was, "Currently? I have no clue." I don't plan on starting school until Spring, I have no job prospects yet (though that will hopefully change when I'm there), I don't know anyone really. I have a cousin there, but shoot, I barely know him. All I'm clinging to there, is the email promise that he would take good care of me and be my friend. Which I'm very grateful for.
But overall picture: I'm going to an unknown place I've never been to before, to live with 2 girls I've never met, and hopefully do something really good with my life out there, though I couldn't tell you what that good will be.
Needless to say, I'm absolutely stoked about moving :).
It's been an interesting process leading up to this. Nothing has really been holding me here in Utah. Everything in my head has been screaming "LEAVE! TRY SOMETHING NEW!" And so I dove into this decision with enthusiasm and excitement.
Then I went to a little goodbye shindig for me tonight, where I played my last game of sand volleyball for the summer with great people, and so many of my friends came out to make sure they could say goodbye (or to play/watch some volleyball and get treats, but we'll pretend they all came for the former reason), and I became really sad that I'm leaving! I was impressed with how many people came out tonight to stop by and say hi/bye. I really appreciated everyone.
I've made some really awesome friends out here, and they're rather irreplacable. And when I think about it that way, I've made a stupid decision to leave my favorite people on the earth just to go try something new.
So I've stopped thinking about it that way. It's easier for me then.
Honestly, I am really pumped to explore and experience something completely new and adventurous for me. The funny thing is, the part I'm most nervous about is not finding a job or figuring everything out for school. It's the idea of making new friends. And tonight reinforced that nervousness in me. I've got some pretty high standards based on the friends I have here - these DC/Arlington people are gonna have to step it up if they're going to even compare!
But I'm optimistic for them. I'm not expecting them to actually make it up the standard I hold - my friends are, after all, an elite group in the world. But I'm hopeful they'll be great, too, in their own way.
And at any rate, they've got a good week to prepare for my friendship - because though I'm leaving Utah, DC won't get me for another week+. I've got a palooza to attend first. And that makes leaving my friends a little more bearable, when I'm heading right to Party Central. It's the main event of the Summer, and I can't pass that up.
Barlowpalooza 2010, here I come! Wisconsin or BUST! (Hopefully not bust...I'd rather not bust...)
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
His & Hers: Creepy Stalker Songs
I always thought the whole idea of writing "His" and "Hers" on towels and robes was weird - the 3rd person reference is what messed me up. I want to use my towel, not her towel, so I'd prefer if it said "Mine" on my towel. I recognize that would become confusing if both his and my towel said "Mine" on them, though, so I say skip the whole thing.
Luckily, that's not really my main point of discussion today.
Instead, I've included a much more useful "His & Hers" item today - fun stalker songs for him and her! I was listening to a song yesterday that I really like, but I realized mid-song how creepy it would actually be if someone was actually doing this. Then I thought of another song a friend had introduced me to that's rather more obviously stalker-ish, but made me laugh while also squirming in my chair. Let's begin with that one, the "His" stalker song:
InsideOut - Stalker Song: Obviously, it's rather obvious about it's intentions, but still. A friend (a boy) introduced another song from InsideOut to me awhile back that is cute and fun, but then a different friend (a girl) played this song for me, and we laughed rather uncomfortably as the lyrics sunk in more and more. It's when he takes the cat hostage in order to get a date that makes the song a little too possible in my life for me. It still makes me laugh though, thinking about someone taking the time to write this song - and to have it go to the tune of "Happy Together" is pretty genius in its irony as well.
"Hers" stalker song:
Mindy Gledhill - Crazy Love: Maybe this is a double standard, but this is actually one of my favorite songs right now, and it's not nearly as creepy as the outwardly stalkerish quality of "His" song. It's got a much happier, bouncy beat to it, which makes it much less unnerving. Perhaps that's fitting - girls always are a little more smooth and quiet in their activities than boys. This song comes from Mindy's newest CD, which is full of non-creepy, fun songs, and as this song appears at the beginning of the CD, followed by love songs and mother/daughter dedicated songs, it would seem her way of getting the guy worked out - good for you, Mindy! But...in the end, she's still a girl hiding in a tree, watching a guy she likes in his apartment. Try as you might, it's still a song about a stalker.
As I'm writing this, it's occurring to me that both of my stalker songs of choice come from LDS musicians. I guess this must be part of the curriculum for BYU's "dating & courtship" and "interpersonal communications" classes. Scary.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Playing in Sprinklers
I played in a sprinkler in my backyard yesterday, for the first time in roughly 13 years.
It. was. AWESOME!
My sister Abby has been here the past week, and her two oldest kids, a girl and a boy, spent a couple minutes each of the first few days playing in the fountain on our back patio, so we decided a fun afternoon of playing in sprinklers and running around our tiny backyard would be a total hit.
And it was a hit. Just not as much with the people we were expecting it to be a hit with.
My niece hadn't been feeling her very best all morning and was rather lethargic, so she spent most of the time sitting grumpily on a chair in the shade. When she did venture out to the water, we'd get a smile for a second, and then some crying or stomping off about something that wasn't how she wanted it. It's hard being 4 with a stomach ache.
My nephew loved playing in the sprinkler, but quickly got distracted by another hose that had a jet stream of water poring from it. He kept trying to fill a little cup full of water, which would be knocked out of his hand when the jet hit it squarely at the bottom of it. He'd make a fussy noise, pick it up, and start trying again. All the rest of the world around him did not exist, and nothing else mattered. The only time we even existed for him was when we'd try to help him - he didn't much care for any help - or when we had to yell at him not to drink the water - he only kind of listened to that, but Weber water is not really what you want a child drinking. But he had fun, and eventually remembered the fountain and went to play with that, soon realizing how fun it was to dump cups of water on sitting adults' legs. He's a goof, that little one.
But the sprinkler was mainly a hit for me. And Abby. But more for me. While Abby and mom sat on the patio, I was running through the sprinkler with the kids, then with myself when they stopped playing with it. Soon Abby and I started doing leaps over it as well (side note: when I was 6 and in ballet class, we practiced our leaps by saying, "Jack be nimble. Jack be quick. Jack jump over the candlestick" and leaping over an imaginary candlestick that got higher and higher as we went on. I don't know how we knew where it actually was at when we couldn't see it getting higher, but I'm pretty sure I got burned a few times...).
Our leaps were pretty. Our hurdle practice was a little shaky at first - I haven't actually hurdled since high school track times, so my form was a little weak. But we worked on it until I eventually cleared the hurdle, without clipping my heel on the water hurdle at all. Then I moved on to tornadoes.
Tornadoes are a weather phenomenon I don't appreciate studying very often, but the technique of water tornadoes is rather simple. Just jump over the sprinkler, spinning your body in a cyclone-like manner through the water. The tricky part is keeping your eye on your target landing, so you land cleanly, without any injury. But the trickiness isn't even really tricky, which is why it's such a great resource to go to when you're playing in sprinklers. The best part is that you can choose how to use your arms - you can tuck them to your chest, holding them in, or you can twirl with them out, letting them fly with the motion of the cyclone twist. They feel free and get a kiss of water droplets with this alternative, but you get a stronger cyclone motion with the arms tucked. It's really up to how you want to execute this fun maneuver.
While our tricks and games were fun, I have to admit that I spent most of my time just standing in the sprinkler's wake, letting the water splash on me, looking down at it, watching the individual droplets come up, just to fall down again (we had the water pressure set low for the kids to enjoy it a little more), seeing how the water settled on my legs and hands when I stood in different places. Just being in the water on a hot Summer day was enough for me. I stood with my back to the water most of the time, talking with Mom and Abby, watching for bees and other flying monsters.
Mom was the only one not in her swimsuit, so she stayed relatively distanced from my nephew and the sprinklers, but her legs got some good water from the fountain as well, as my nephew couldn't help but target anyone sitting. But she eventually joined in the fun as she got up to water the plants. She sprayed me once or twice when Abby and I tried to flick water at her from the sprinkler. Then she came back to sit down and stay clear of the water fun...but quickly jumped back out of her seat when she found herself more wet sitting down on the patio than standing in the yard.
I booby-trapped her seat. I was really proud of the idea. Abby and I laughed for a good 5 minutes about that one. As soon as she had first gotten up, I quickly sat down on her seat, my swimsuit and shorts rather soaking wet, and then Abby and I kept making sure the seat stayed wet by sitting there for a few seconds when Mom's back was turned every couple of minutes. Even now, I'm still laughing at the perfect plan and execution of that one! I was glad that we could all be in on the water fun on such a hot afternoon.
Abby and her kids left today, but I considered pulling out the sprinkler anyway and running through it - I didn't really need the kids to play in it with me yesterday, so why today? But there's something about being all by yourself that makes it a little less exciting.
So, anyone want to come play in the sprinklers with me?
It. was. AWESOME!
My sister Abby has been here the past week, and her two oldest kids, a girl and a boy, spent a couple minutes each of the first few days playing in the fountain on our back patio, so we decided a fun afternoon of playing in sprinklers and running around our tiny backyard would be a total hit.
And it was a hit. Just not as much with the people we were expecting it to be a hit with.
My niece hadn't been feeling her very best all morning and was rather lethargic, so she spent most of the time sitting grumpily on a chair in the shade. When she did venture out to the water, we'd get a smile for a second, and then some crying or stomping off about something that wasn't how she wanted it. It's hard being 4 with a stomach ache.
My nephew loved playing in the sprinkler, but quickly got distracted by another hose that had a jet stream of water poring from it. He kept trying to fill a little cup full of water, which would be knocked out of his hand when the jet hit it squarely at the bottom of it. He'd make a fussy noise, pick it up, and start trying again. All the rest of the world around him did not exist, and nothing else mattered. The only time we even existed for him was when we'd try to help him - he didn't much care for any help - or when we had to yell at him not to drink the water - he only kind of listened to that, but Weber water is not really what you want a child drinking. But he had fun, and eventually remembered the fountain and went to play with that, soon realizing how fun it was to dump cups of water on sitting adults' legs. He's a goof, that little one.
But the sprinkler was mainly a hit for me. And Abby. But more for me. While Abby and mom sat on the patio, I was running through the sprinkler with the kids, then with myself when they stopped playing with it. Soon Abby and I started doing leaps over it as well (side note: when I was 6 and in ballet class, we practiced our leaps by saying, "Jack be nimble. Jack be quick. Jack jump over the candlestick" and leaping over an imaginary candlestick that got higher and higher as we went on. I don't know how we knew where it actually was at when we couldn't see it getting higher, but I'm pretty sure I got burned a few times...).
Our leaps were pretty. Our hurdle practice was a little shaky at first - I haven't actually hurdled since high school track times, so my form was a little weak. But we worked on it until I eventually cleared the hurdle, without clipping my heel on the water hurdle at all. Then I moved on to tornadoes.
Tornadoes are a weather phenomenon I don't appreciate studying very often, but the technique of water tornadoes is rather simple. Just jump over the sprinkler, spinning your body in a cyclone-like manner through the water. The tricky part is keeping your eye on your target landing, so you land cleanly, without any injury. But the trickiness isn't even really tricky, which is why it's such a great resource to go to when you're playing in sprinklers. The best part is that you can choose how to use your arms - you can tuck them to your chest, holding them in, or you can twirl with them out, letting them fly with the motion of the cyclone twist. They feel free and get a kiss of water droplets with this alternative, but you get a stronger cyclone motion with the arms tucked. It's really up to how you want to execute this fun maneuver.
While our tricks and games were fun, I have to admit that I spent most of my time just standing in the sprinkler's wake, letting the water splash on me, looking down at it, watching the individual droplets come up, just to fall down again (we had the water pressure set low for the kids to enjoy it a little more), seeing how the water settled on my legs and hands when I stood in different places. Just being in the water on a hot Summer day was enough for me. I stood with my back to the water most of the time, talking with Mom and Abby, watching for bees and other flying monsters.
Mom was the only one not in her swimsuit, so she stayed relatively distanced from my nephew and the sprinklers, but her legs got some good water from the fountain as well, as my nephew couldn't help but target anyone sitting. But she eventually joined in the fun as she got up to water the plants. She sprayed me once or twice when Abby and I tried to flick water at her from the sprinkler. Then she came back to sit down and stay clear of the water fun...but quickly jumped back out of her seat when she found herself more wet sitting down on the patio than standing in the yard.
I booby-trapped her seat. I was really proud of the idea. Abby and I laughed for a good 5 minutes about that one. As soon as she had first gotten up, I quickly sat down on her seat, my swimsuit and shorts rather soaking wet, and then Abby and I kept making sure the seat stayed wet by sitting there for a few seconds when Mom's back was turned every couple of minutes. Even now, I'm still laughing at the perfect plan and execution of that one! I was glad that we could all be in on the water fun on such a hot afternoon.
Abby and her kids left today, but I considered pulling out the sprinkler anyway and running through it - I didn't really need the kids to play in it with me yesterday, so why today? But there's something about being all by yourself that makes it a little less exciting.
So, anyone want to come play in the sprinklers with me?
Thursday, August 19, 2010
It's Spiderman!
I was just watching an interview with a director of a recent comic book, superhero movie, where the two people were discussing how everyone is into superheroes. Everyone wants to be a superhero at some point in their life.
It reminded me of a little boy I passed by the other night. I was riding my bike with two of my friends to another friend's house, a sporadic trip on a Thursday night. We made it the mile or so to his neighborhood and we were leisurely gliding down his street to his home when out of the shadows of the night appeared Spiderman!
What danger and adventure lurked in our friend's neighborhood, we knew not, but we understood that something exciting and scary must be afoot. Spiderman's brooding, emotion-sticken alter ego always made me a little hesitant about him as a superhero, so my surprise at seeing him around contained more than a hint of nervousness.
The idea of seeing a superhero sounds really good, until you recognize that you only see superheroes when villains are near.
I cried, "Oh my, it's Spiderman!" My two friends gasped and squealed as well - being boys, they were totally starstruck.
He was staring at us, his eyes bearing down on us, either as a warning to flee before danger struck, or to decide if we were part of the danger. I wasn't sure which.
He ran a little ways with us, as we gawked sideways at him, unsure if we should wave or flee.
Suddenly, he stopped. He grasped at his mask, pulled it above his eyes, and shouted, "I'm not Spiderman - I'm just a kid!"
We'd been duped. My curiosity at his shortness had previously been quelled by remembering that Spiderman was short (that was really why he was one of my lesser favorite superheroes, my memory recalled). But it turns out, the mysterious webslinger was just a young boy, roughly 6 years years of age.
Or so he made us believe.
What a 6 year old boy in full Spiderman garb was doing wandering alone around his front yard at 9:30 at night was beyond me. But we expressed our relief at the real Spiderman's non-appearance with sighs and a "thank goodness" breathed through our lips as we pedalled on. Just in case we hadn't heard him, he hollered to our disappearing backs, "I'M A KID!!" My friend made sure our relief was heard by him this time as well, as he yelled, "OH GOOD, THANKS FOR TELLING US!" Then we biked off, leaving Spiderman to do his work alone, pretending to believe his cover story while he dropped some mean "BAM" and "KA-POW" action on the bad guys behind us.
Apparently the kid was not at a point in his life where he actually wanted to be a superhero. Rather than trying to make us believe he actually was Spiderman, he wanted to make sure we knew he was actually a kid. Which maybe means he really is a superhero - aren't superheroes always trying to convince the people around them they are merely ordinary people? While my nephew is constantly trying to sell me on the fact that he's really Batman, the resident Batman of Centerville City is constantly trying to sell me on the fact that he's just a normal billionaire.
Well, I'll tell you what, I'm watching out for that kid everywhere I go now, just in case...
It reminded me of a little boy I passed by the other night. I was riding my bike with two of my friends to another friend's house, a sporadic trip on a Thursday night. We made it the mile or so to his neighborhood and we were leisurely gliding down his street to his home when out of the shadows of the night appeared Spiderman!
What danger and adventure lurked in our friend's neighborhood, we knew not, but we understood that something exciting and scary must be afoot. Spiderman's brooding, emotion-sticken alter ego always made me a little hesitant about him as a superhero, so my surprise at seeing him around contained more than a hint of nervousness.
The idea of seeing a superhero sounds really good, until you recognize that you only see superheroes when villains are near.
I cried, "Oh my, it's Spiderman!" My two friends gasped and squealed as well - being boys, they were totally starstruck.
He was staring at us, his eyes bearing down on us, either as a warning to flee before danger struck, or to decide if we were part of the danger. I wasn't sure which.
He ran a little ways with us, as we gawked sideways at him, unsure if we should wave or flee.
Suddenly, he stopped. He grasped at his mask, pulled it above his eyes, and shouted, "I'm not Spiderman - I'm just a kid!"
We'd been duped. My curiosity at his shortness had previously been quelled by remembering that Spiderman was short (that was really why he was one of my lesser favorite superheroes, my memory recalled). But it turns out, the mysterious webslinger was just a young boy, roughly 6 years years of age.
Or so he made us believe.
What a 6 year old boy in full Spiderman garb was doing wandering alone around his front yard at 9:30 at night was beyond me. But we expressed our relief at the real Spiderman's non-appearance with sighs and a "thank goodness" breathed through our lips as we pedalled on. Just in case we hadn't heard him, he hollered to our disappearing backs, "I'M A KID!!" My friend made sure our relief was heard by him this time as well, as he yelled, "OH GOOD, THANKS FOR TELLING US!" Then we biked off, leaving Spiderman to do his work alone, pretending to believe his cover story while he dropped some mean "BAM" and "KA-POW" action on the bad guys behind us.
Apparently the kid was not at a point in his life where he actually wanted to be a superhero. Rather than trying to make us believe he actually was Spiderman, he wanted to make sure we knew he was actually a kid. Which maybe means he really is a superhero - aren't superheroes always trying to convince the people around them they are merely ordinary people? While my nephew is constantly trying to sell me on the fact that he's really Batman, the resident Batman of Centerville City is constantly trying to sell me on the fact that he's just a normal billionaire.
Well, I'll tell you what, I'm watching out for that kid everywhere I go now, just in case...
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Announcing Barlowpalooza 2010 - tickets available now!
I am T minus 2 weeks until I move to DC...and I CAN"T WAIT! I'm so excited, I can't really think straight these days.
To be exactly accurate, I'm actually 3 weeks away - but I'm leaving for a grand old week in Wisconsin before heading all the way across the country from here, and that's making me as excited as anything! I haven't been back to Wisconsin since my parents moved, at the beginning of 2007. Technically, the last time I was home was actually winter semester of 2006, my off-semester in college. So it feels like forever.
My oldest brother, Chris, has been setting up Barlowpalooza 2010 for the week(end) I'm there, because my other brothers, Ben and Zach, will be coming up with their families as well. Unfortunately, Abby can't make it, which keeps us one family away from a perfect sibling attendance record, but she's here with me in Utah this week, so at least I'm getting to see her for a bit. But the boys will be around, and I can't wait to meet the newest little Barlow, Libby - even if it's been a few months since she joined us.
Chris sent a text to us Barlowpalooza attendants the other day, asking what things were imperative to this party weekend. I have a small list of things I'd love to do while in Wisconsin, but my only requirements were: Kopp's frozen custard and Culver's custard and mashed potatoes (not together Silly, that'd be gross). I gotta get the Dairy State back in my blood, so I don't get all hoity-toity in DC. Not to mention, the main event will be the County Fair - the 161st annual County Fair, no less - so I have a good feeling about this trip.
I haven't been able to get to sleep the last few nights, just thinking about the family fun coming up, as well as trying to imagine how I'm possibly going to move across the country, with just 2 suitcases...but I've done it before, when I moved to Idaho for school, so I can do it again! DC is a little different than Idaho (from what I hear, of course. I haven't actually been to DC, so who knows, it might be the same...or completely different - I'm betting on the completely different), but the moving to a new, unknown place, with only what I can carry, is the same, so I think this will be a success.
To be exactly accurate, I'm actually 3 weeks away - but I'm leaving for a grand old week in Wisconsin before heading all the way across the country from here, and that's making me as excited as anything! I haven't been back to Wisconsin since my parents moved, at the beginning of 2007. Technically, the last time I was home was actually winter semester of 2006, my off-semester in college. So it feels like forever.
My oldest brother, Chris, has been setting up Barlowpalooza 2010 for the week(end) I'm there, because my other brothers, Ben and Zach, will be coming up with their families as well. Unfortunately, Abby can't make it, which keeps us one family away from a perfect sibling attendance record, but she's here with me in Utah this week, so at least I'm getting to see her for a bit. But the boys will be around, and I can't wait to meet the newest little Barlow, Libby - even if it's been a few months since she joined us.
Chris sent a text to us Barlowpalooza attendants the other day, asking what things were imperative to this party weekend. I have a small list of things I'd love to do while in Wisconsin, but my only requirements were: Kopp's frozen custard and Culver's custard and mashed potatoes (not together Silly, that'd be gross). I gotta get the Dairy State back in my blood, so I don't get all hoity-toity in DC. Not to mention, the main event will be the County Fair - the 161st annual County Fair, no less - so I have a good feeling about this trip.
I haven't been able to get to sleep the last few nights, just thinking about the family fun coming up, as well as trying to imagine how I'm possibly going to move across the country, with just 2 suitcases...but I've done it before, when I moved to Idaho for school, so I can do it again! DC is a little different than Idaho (from what I hear, of course. I haven't actually been to DC, so who knows, it might be the same...or completely different - I'm betting on the completely different), but the moving to a new, unknown place, with only what I can carry, is the same, so I think this will be a success.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Potty Mouth Weekend!
Why is it that stupid, potty humor has gotten funnier the older I've gotten? I remember rolling my eyes when people in high school made silly jokes that I was almost crying about last night, I was laughing so hard!
My best answer to that is an answer I use for a lot of things - because I know the people using that humor have higher senses of humor and they are able to be mature and grown-up funny, too, so they are allowed to use lower senses of humor now.
My dad really hates - like, he HATES - the word "pee." And I was talking with my parents about how we were going to get Cat out to Zach in St. Louis. Dad mentioned that Zach and Jamie had found a good place to live, but the homeowners they'd rent from didn't allow cats, for obvious reasons. Mom decided to clarify that the obvious reasons had to do with the fact that cat pee is hard to get out of carpet.
My dad's noise instantly wrinkled.
We went on a little longer with this, though, until my dad couldn't take it any longer. So Mom and I subsituted any other word for "pee" that we could think of, but picky Dad could not contented. So we discussed how suprising it is how many people use the word so openly and easily. Then Mom tried to explain to Dad that she agrees, it's gross to hear people speak like that, but talking about cat pee was different. The explanation didn't get very far.
So we moved on.
Then my sister Abby and her family finally made it to our house Friday evening - they're staying in Idaho (from Arkansas) for the month, so they're visiting Utah for the week or so - and of course, I had to explain the whole predicament we had earlier.
Abby and I are really cool. We're lots of fun, and we have too much fun together these days. We lived this up.
All the potty humor came out, and our cute Dad took it like a champ!
We also had a nice dance party in the car yesterday on the way to and from the Zoo - we're really good car dancers - and once again, Mom and Dad made it through the car ride with us, as we blasted Neil Diamond and Flo Rida. Interestingly, it's kind of hard to get "low, low, low, low, low..." in a car, but that part of Flo Rida's song is really cute when your 4 year old niece is singing it. Also interesting, Taylor Swift's "Love Story" is really cute when the same niece sings all the words and hits all the notes exactly. Nice job Elle Bean, awesome singing yesterday!
Barlow game night was also a success last night - Mom won all the games, as usual. She was also the score keeper, as usual, so... Barlow game night is always a party, though. We had makeshift banana splits with chocolate syrup that only Mom was willing to say actually tasted like chocolate syrup, and Mountain Dew Turbo, which I personally think looks like Smurfs pureed, but which was a hit with everyone else around the table.
Overall it was a fun-filled night (aside from when Dr. Devn operated on my nail-punctured foot - no nail pieces left behind, but there was a some flip flop remains in it, gross, huh?) that didn't end until around 1:30am. And I don't know what it was - Abby's blaming the ginseng in the Mountain Dew, I'm blaming our wit and style, and our extensive knowledge of The Emperor's New Groove - but I was laughing so hard last night that I about p-d my pants!
My best answer to that is an answer I use for a lot of things - because I know the people using that humor have higher senses of humor and they are able to be mature and grown-up funny, too, so they are allowed to use lower senses of humor now.
My dad really hates - like, he HATES - the word "pee." And I was talking with my parents about how we were going to get Cat out to Zach in St. Louis. Dad mentioned that Zach and Jamie had found a good place to live, but the homeowners they'd rent from didn't allow cats, for obvious reasons. Mom decided to clarify that the obvious reasons had to do with the fact that cat pee is hard to get out of carpet.
My dad's noise instantly wrinkled.
We went on a little longer with this, though, until my dad couldn't take it any longer. So Mom and I subsituted any other word for "pee" that we could think of, but picky Dad could not contented. So we discussed how suprising it is how many people use the word so openly and easily. Then Mom tried to explain to Dad that she agrees, it's gross to hear people speak like that, but talking about cat pee was different. The explanation didn't get very far.
So we moved on.
Then my sister Abby and her family finally made it to our house Friday evening - they're staying in Idaho (from Arkansas) for the month, so they're visiting Utah for the week or so - and of course, I had to explain the whole predicament we had earlier.
Abby and I are really cool. We're lots of fun, and we have too much fun together these days. We lived this up.
All the potty humor came out, and our cute Dad took it like a champ!
We also had a nice dance party in the car yesterday on the way to and from the Zoo - we're really good car dancers - and once again, Mom and Dad made it through the car ride with us, as we blasted Neil Diamond and Flo Rida. Interestingly, it's kind of hard to get "low, low, low, low, low..." in a car, but that part of Flo Rida's song is really cute when your 4 year old niece is singing it. Also interesting, Taylor Swift's "Love Story" is really cute when the same niece sings all the words and hits all the notes exactly. Nice job Elle Bean, awesome singing yesterday!
Barlow game night was also a success last night - Mom won all the games, as usual. She was also the score keeper, as usual, so... Barlow game night is always a party, though. We had makeshift banana splits with chocolate syrup that only Mom was willing to say actually tasted like chocolate syrup, and Mountain Dew Turbo, which I personally think looks like Smurfs pureed, but which was a hit with everyone else around the table.
Overall it was a fun-filled night (aside from when Dr. Devn operated on my nail-punctured foot - no nail pieces left behind, but there was a some flip flop remains in it, gross, huh?) that didn't end until around 1:30am. And I don't know what it was - Abby's blaming the ginseng in the Mountain Dew, I'm blaming our wit and style, and our extensive knowledge of The Emperor's New Groove - but I was laughing so hard last night that I about p-d my pants!
Friday, August 13, 2010
Crying, Books, and Seeing Like a Child Again
I really dislike crying.
Maybe it's because I'm no good at it. I find crying to be a talent, a skill I wasn't blessed to have. So instead of having a good cry every now and then, I end up with a pounding headache and a throat that feels like it's closed in on itself. I get the unpleasant side effects of crying, without releasing any tension through tears. If anything, I've just built the tension up even more.
I think laughter is the only way to let the tension out of me. I laugh about the fact that I want to cry, and about the fact that I'm physically unable to. I laugh at the strength of my eyelids to keep the tears contained. I laugh at how stupid it is that I can't cry. I laugh at how much I hate crying.
Sometimes I also really dislike books.
That feeling usually comes from a really good book that pushes me emotionally, and then taunts me for not being able to show it. I just finished reading The Book Thief this afternoon, and at one point, I wanted to cry so badly for the girl in the story. Tears welled up in my eyes, wanting desperately to roll sympathetically down my cheek. I felt the anguish the girl felt, but I could do nothing but laugh at my headache to show the emotion. That made me even more sad, and all I could do was smile about it.
But let me tell you, this book was worth the emotional confusion. I loved the unique writing, and the girl, the main character, was so real to me. I wished I could go back to being 11 and thinking, seeing, describing so creatively. To see things as a child does, and then to be able to put words to it as a child - and then to continue to do that as an adult, what a gift that would be. I'm pretty good with words in general, I like to think. But when the time comes for it, I feel I often lose the ability to describe things beyond their basic appearance.
I was walking home from the gym yesterday, as the sun went down. I've seen some absolutely brilliant sunsets this summer, and yesterday, I thought a little about the beauty I was seeing. I realized, though, that I'm rather opposite of other people. Where some can wax poetic in the midst of Nature's beauty, I become silent, and even my ever-spinning mind quiets down. I view the scene with a definite appreciation for what I'm seeing, but no words make their way to me. It's like I know I can never give the sight enough words to truly acknowledge what I saw. Words let me down, so I shoo them away.
Maybe there's something about how children combine all the senses together when they speak that makes their descriptions so much better. Flowers smell like sunshine. Watermelon tastes of coolness. Grass feels like laughter. Things and emotions tangle up and twist into each other, one no different from the other.
And then it's beaten out of us, as we learn to compartmentalize these different properties. Tangible objects are tangible objects. Emotions are abstract - they can't be tasted, smelled, or touched. But why not? Objects and activities become so much more real in description when we describe them as we actually experience them. Emotions, feelings, actions - all these things are necessary parts of our experiences, that of course chocolate can taste like happiness and water sings the sound of Summer. Every Spring, I smell track season in the freshly cut grass. It makes the season, and the grass, that much more real to me.
That's the beauty of words - they can breathe life into moments another person didn't experience, and into inanimate objects. I loved the book for its exploration into the power or words - good or bad. The great destructive force and the wondrous building strength words can have.
And that's why I sometimes I dislike books. Because the words can do so much to me; they move me, they ask me to do more or be more, and sometimes they can even make me almost cry. And I really dislike crying.
Maybe it's because I'm no good at it. I find crying to be a talent, a skill I wasn't blessed to have. So instead of having a good cry every now and then, I end up with a pounding headache and a throat that feels like it's closed in on itself. I get the unpleasant side effects of crying, without releasing any tension through tears. If anything, I've just built the tension up even more.
I think laughter is the only way to let the tension out of me. I laugh about the fact that I want to cry, and about the fact that I'm physically unable to. I laugh at the strength of my eyelids to keep the tears contained. I laugh at how stupid it is that I can't cry. I laugh at how much I hate crying.
Sometimes I also really dislike books.
That feeling usually comes from a really good book that pushes me emotionally, and then taunts me for not being able to show it. I just finished reading The Book Thief this afternoon, and at one point, I wanted to cry so badly for the girl in the story. Tears welled up in my eyes, wanting desperately to roll sympathetically down my cheek. I felt the anguish the girl felt, but I could do nothing but laugh at my headache to show the emotion. That made me even more sad, and all I could do was smile about it.
But let me tell you, this book was worth the emotional confusion. I loved the unique writing, and the girl, the main character, was so real to me. I wished I could go back to being 11 and thinking, seeing, describing so creatively. To see things as a child does, and then to be able to put words to it as a child - and then to continue to do that as an adult, what a gift that would be. I'm pretty good with words in general, I like to think. But when the time comes for it, I feel I often lose the ability to describe things beyond their basic appearance.
I was walking home from the gym yesterday, as the sun went down. I've seen some absolutely brilliant sunsets this summer, and yesterday, I thought a little about the beauty I was seeing. I realized, though, that I'm rather opposite of other people. Where some can wax poetic in the midst of Nature's beauty, I become silent, and even my ever-spinning mind quiets down. I view the scene with a definite appreciation for what I'm seeing, but no words make their way to me. It's like I know I can never give the sight enough words to truly acknowledge what I saw. Words let me down, so I shoo them away.
Maybe there's something about how children combine all the senses together when they speak that makes their descriptions so much better. Flowers smell like sunshine. Watermelon tastes of coolness. Grass feels like laughter. Things and emotions tangle up and twist into each other, one no different from the other.
And then it's beaten out of us, as we learn to compartmentalize these different properties. Tangible objects are tangible objects. Emotions are abstract - they can't be tasted, smelled, or touched. But why not? Objects and activities become so much more real in description when we describe them as we actually experience them. Emotions, feelings, actions - all these things are necessary parts of our experiences, that of course chocolate can taste like happiness and water sings the sound of Summer. Every Spring, I smell track season in the freshly cut grass. It makes the season, and the grass, that much more real to me.
That's the beauty of words - they can breathe life into moments another person didn't experience, and into inanimate objects. I loved the book for its exploration into the power or words - good or bad. The great destructive force and the wondrous building strength words can have.
And that's why I sometimes I dislike books. Because the words can do so much to me; they move me, they ask me to do more or be more, and sometimes they can even make me almost cry. And I really dislike crying.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Who Leaves Nails Just Laying Around? Honestly?
I stepped on a nail tonight. And not just any nail - it was a giant nail. I did not enjoy that sensation much at all.
It was a good day overall. Starting off with some apple cinnamon pancakes, I spent most of my day enjoying the beautiful, breezy Summer weather while reading on my back patio, occasionally cooled off by the wind kindly peppering me with water from the fountain next to me. I then took my evening to the gym and managed to stay on the elliptical for a good 45 minutes. I also managed to work somewhat hard for 30 of those 45 minutes. My parents were gone all day and evening, enjoying the canyons in Park City for their anniversary, so I felt at my leisure to do what I wished. I felt that tonight would be a good night for ice cream, and it was decided that I would take a quick after-workout walk to Arctic Circle for a small shake once it got a little darker and I had eaten some real dinner. Then I would busy myself until 2am or so, followed by a little star-gazing to see if I'd be able to catch some of the Perseid meteor showers despite the poor viewing conditions of a suburb.
My friend Nate has impeccable timing sometimes, and tonight was one of those nights. He called just as I finished eating dinner and said he was feeling Arctic Circle tonight, so we decided to go a little earlier than I had originally planned. Nate biked to my house and then we took a short walk to AC for our nighttime snack. I went in craving a strawberry shortcake shake and ordered a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup shake. What can I say? My chocolate cravings are sudden and over-powering at best. We sat and ate and talked, and 15 minutes after Nate had finished his shake, I finally finished mine (I'm a very slow ice cream eater). So we headed back to my house. We cut through the parking lot of the apartment complex across the street from my house, where AC is located, and as we passed a car, I felt a sudden force hit my rubber flip flop. I thought I'd stubbed the front of my foot on something, but when I looked back, there was not speed bump, car stop, or anything of the sort where I had just stepped. I also shook my flip flop a little to dislodge the rock I had felt come under my foot. I stepped again. The rock had not budged. I took my flip flop off and when I pulled it up - having shaken it once for good measure to get that pesky rock out - I saw a giant nail poking through, having come in at a 45 degree angle.
I was quite surprised at the sight, you could say.
I pulled the nail out and wondered what to do with it. Nate said to take it home and throw it away, which was the obvious answer, but to be honest, I wanted to be done with it then and there. I didn't want to carry the blasted thing back with me, after what it had done to me! But I clutched it between two fingers, checked if my foot was bleeding or punctured at all - it was not bleeding, thank goodness! - and then made the walk home, pain quietly searing my foot. The whole time Nate kept putting my mind at ease with his vocal hopes that I didn't get tetanus. Each step was a little more painful with every reminder that I very well could get tetanus - so hopefully I didn't actually get it. Thanks Nate.
In my surprise by the sight of that very unwelcome visitor, the rusty nail, I was having a hard time making my key work to unlock our front door, and finally my mom came to my rescue and opened the door. Before she could finish her question of "where've you been?" I thrust the pesky nail between us and said, "I stepped on a nail!" I didn't really feel like beating around the bush regarding the incident. It seemed better to just say it like it was. I stepped on a giant nail. It wasn't pleasant. The ball of my left foot was throbbing slightly on the left side, under my pinky toe.
After we concluded that my foot was not bleeding, my parents sent me to wash my foot off and see if we could make it bleed. I didn't particularly care for that to happen, but I trusted them to know what was best. I washed my foot, and then brought it back out for them to look at. It continued to stubbornly remain dry, and I realized that this was actually better. Than perhaps dad would not send me to the doctor for a tetanus shot. We had decided I must have gotten one in high school at least, so the 10-year limit on the shot must still be valid. But I brought my foot to my mother to look at, and a small, gray spot that hurt when she pushed against it, next to it, around it, on it, made her wonder if it was a sliver. So handy daddy busted out a needle and his clippers, sat down on a chair, propped my foot up on a pillow - the rest of me lay on the floor, covering my eyes, flexing the right foot in sympathy for the left - and went to work digging around the spot with the needle to loosen the skin and get the "sliver" out. Cat came and rubbed his head on mine, staying close as my comfort.
After 10 minutes of little progress and one more foot bath, we decided the best action right now would be to throw some neosporin on the pained, slightly punctured skin, cover it with a bandaid, and see what tomorrow brings.
So here I sit, a bandaid on a foot that stings a little when I step on the ball of it, rather frustrated that I had to step in the exact spot of that nail, hoping I don't have tetanus, mildly impressed at how it entered my shoe and that I'm not more wounded. To be perfectly frank, it sucks, stepping on a giant, rusty nail, and my foot hurts. But if I want to look at the bright side, which I think I will (life is easier when you end thoughts on a more positive note), it could be quite a bit worse. The nail could've gone straight up through my foot, it could've punctured my skin a lot more, and I could have much less competent parents who do nothing for me. The fact remains, despite the needle dad kept rubbing slightly painfully around my wound, my foot got a tiny little massage tonight as well, so that's gotta count for something, right? Hopefully everything will be alright, but I'll definitely let you know if I end up getting my foot cut off or something. Because that seems like a big enough event to write about.
It was a good day overall. Starting off with some apple cinnamon pancakes, I spent most of my day enjoying the beautiful, breezy Summer weather while reading on my back patio, occasionally cooled off by the wind kindly peppering me with water from the fountain next to me. I then took my evening to the gym and managed to stay on the elliptical for a good 45 minutes. I also managed to work somewhat hard for 30 of those 45 minutes. My parents were gone all day and evening, enjoying the canyons in Park City for their anniversary, so I felt at my leisure to do what I wished. I felt that tonight would be a good night for ice cream, and it was decided that I would take a quick after-workout walk to Arctic Circle for a small shake once it got a little darker and I had eaten some real dinner. Then I would busy myself until 2am or so, followed by a little star-gazing to see if I'd be able to catch some of the Perseid meteor showers despite the poor viewing conditions of a suburb.
My friend Nate has impeccable timing sometimes, and tonight was one of those nights. He called just as I finished eating dinner and said he was feeling Arctic Circle tonight, so we decided to go a little earlier than I had originally planned. Nate biked to my house and then we took a short walk to AC for our nighttime snack. I went in craving a strawberry shortcake shake and ordered a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup shake. What can I say? My chocolate cravings are sudden and over-powering at best. We sat and ate and talked, and 15 minutes after Nate had finished his shake, I finally finished mine (I'm a very slow ice cream eater). So we headed back to my house. We cut through the parking lot of the apartment complex across the street from my house, where AC is located, and as we passed a car, I felt a sudden force hit my rubber flip flop. I thought I'd stubbed the front of my foot on something, but when I looked back, there was not speed bump, car stop, or anything of the sort where I had just stepped. I also shook my flip flop a little to dislodge the rock I had felt come under my foot. I stepped again. The rock had not budged. I took my flip flop off and when I pulled it up - having shaken it once for good measure to get that pesky rock out - I saw a giant nail poking through, having come in at a 45 degree angle.
I was quite surprised at the sight, you could say.
I pulled the nail out and wondered what to do with it. Nate said to take it home and throw it away, which was the obvious answer, but to be honest, I wanted to be done with it then and there. I didn't want to carry the blasted thing back with me, after what it had done to me! But I clutched it between two fingers, checked if my foot was bleeding or punctured at all - it was not bleeding, thank goodness! - and then made the walk home, pain quietly searing my foot. The whole time Nate kept putting my mind at ease with his vocal hopes that I didn't get tetanus. Each step was a little more painful with every reminder that I very well could get tetanus - so hopefully I didn't actually get it. Thanks Nate.
In my surprise by the sight of that very unwelcome visitor, the rusty nail, I was having a hard time making my key work to unlock our front door, and finally my mom came to my rescue and opened the door. Before she could finish her question of "where've you been?" I thrust the pesky nail between us and said, "I stepped on a nail!" I didn't really feel like beating around the bush regarding the incident. It seemed better to just say it like it was. I stepped on a giant nail. It wasn't pleasant. The ball of my left foot was throbbing slightly on the left side, under my pinky toe.
After we concluded that my foot was not bleeding, my parents sent me to wash my foot off and see if we could make it bleed. I didn't particularly care for that to happen, but I trusted them to know what was best. I washed my foot, and then brought it back out for them to look at. It continued to stubbornly remain dry, and I realized that this was actually better. Than perhaps dad would not send me to the doctor for a tetanus shot. We had decided I must have gotten one in high school at least, so the 10-year limit on the shot must still be valid. But I brought my foot to my mother to look at, and a small, gray spot that hurt when she pushed against it, next to it, around it, on it, made her wonder if it was a sliver. So handy daddy busted out a needle and his clippers, sat down on a chair, propped my foot up on a pillow - the rest of me lay on the floor, covering my eyes, flexing the right foot in sympathy for the left - and went to work digging around the spot with the needle to loosen the skin and get the "sliver" out. Cat came and rubbed his head on mine, staying close as my comfort.
After 10 minutes of little progress and one more foot bath, we decided the best action right now would be to throw some neosporin on the pained, slightly punctured skin, cover it with a bandaid, and see what tomorrow brings.
So here I sit, a bandaid on a foot that stings a little when I step on the ball of it, rather frustrated that I had to step in the exact spot of that nail, hoping I don't have tetanus, mildly impressed at how it entered my shoe and that I'm not more wounded. To be perfectly frank, it sucks, stepping on a giant, rusty nail, and my foot hurts. But if I want to look at the bright side, which I think I will (life is easier when you end thoughts on a more positive note), it could be quite a bit worse. The nail could've gone straight up through my foot, it could've punctured my skin a lot more, and I could have much less competent parents who do nothing for me. The fact remains, despite the needle dad kept rubbing slightly painfully around my wound, my foot got a tiny little massage tonight as well, so that's gotta count for something, right? Hopefully everything will be alright, but I'll definitely let you know if I end up getting my foot cut off or something. Because that seems like a big enough event to write about.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Pardon the last post...
A Quick Note: Please pardon anything in the previous post that seemed random, had missing letters/words, or didn't make any sense at all. I started falling asleep near the end typing it - it had been a very long day/week, and I surprised myself at how quickly my mind and body shut down on me. In all honesty, I'm not sure why I even started writing a blog post - the night is a bit blurry - but I think it came from the desire to celebrate my last day of work on my actual last day of work. One of those "must be written on the day" things, to mark the holiday. Don't judge me by what I said. Instead, celebrate that I even thought about the faxt that I have a blog, and that I wanted you to be joyful with me.
And now on to bigger and better things.
Actually, I don't really have anything bigger or better to talk about. But I felt like I was neglecting my little blog, after having been really good at writing in it for a little bit (kind of), and I wanted to get back to it with full force. So let's see, how to recap the last few days:
1. I gave a talk on Sunday at church. I actually think it turned out decently - better than I anticipated. I made my mom read over it first, to make sure I didn't sound insane, or like my last blog post. She could've lied to me and said it sounded good, and that would've been enough for me to go in with a little confidence booster. But she sounded sincere enough as well, so that was nice. Then mom and dad came to hear me speak, and my bishop's wife later spent 10 minutes talking with my mom about random things, namely how wonderful I am - I love people like that. Who think you're great based on their first impressions of you, and never take the time to update their opinions. I appreciated her kind words.
2. I helped mom and dad plan my grandma's 90 birthday bash at our house Monday. I went shopping with mom, made the table all lovely and inviting. The table setting skills would've made any cotillion teacher glow with pride. I helped skewer shrimp (which look like maggots before they're cooked, by the way. Who originally decided those translucent buggers would likely be good to eat?! Blegh). I cleaned the bathroom, and I dusted to Neil Diamond's Jazz Singer and ABBA. It was a good day. Then the guests came over, and I quickly cleared out after saying hello to well-known and long-lost aunts and uncles alike.
3. I played volleyball through Monday night, while the party continued at my house. I've been playing sand volleyball at least once a week for this 2nd half of the Summer, and it's been a blast. And might I say, I'm pretty good. I play with a pretty fun, rotating crowd, and we have a lot of fun with it. Though the rules are not always known/played by, which sometimes affects the lightheartedness we generally play with. But overall, when someone isn't dunk/spiking it or stealing a hit clearly called by another play, it's fun. On Monday, I made a motion that 2 boys who were playing can never be on the same team again (they make each other play worse, which is no good, since they didn't start very high), and that I never have to play directly next to one of those boys - because if I do stand by him, I never get to play at all. But enough with my little rants - it was fun, so why complain?
4. I slept in late this morning, woke up to an empty house, and spent the majority of my afternoon reading on our front porch. I started reading on our back patio, but a hovering hornet forced me from my luxurious setup near the fountain. I'm pretty sure that hornet hates me - I swear he's always around, and he hangs out really close to my legs, daring me to shoo him away. I'm pretty sure I wasn't smelling like a flower or anything - I hadn't showered yet today - so I don't know where he comes off thinking he can stalk me like that. Bah, stupid bugs. Speaking of, I have far too many mosquito bites right now, and yet I still find it hard to complain since this has been a much better summer for me and mosquitos than any I ever spent in Wisconsin. Maybe one day I'll learn to like bug spray. But probably not.
So that's been the life so far. I sure do enjoy spending Tuesdays like they're Saturdays. And I'm looking forward to spending Wednesday the same way. I love long vacations!
And now on to bigger and better things.
Actually, I don't really have anything bigger or better to talk about. But I felt like I was neglecting my little blog, after having been really good at writing in it for a little bit (kind of), and I wanted to get back to it with full force. So let's see, how to recap the last few days:
1. I gave a talk on Sunday at church. I actually think it turned out decently - better than I anticipated. I made my mom read over it first, to make sure I didn't sound insane, or like my last blog post. She could've lied to me and said it sounded good, and that would've been enough for me to go in with a little confidence booster. But she sounded sincere enough as well, so that was nice. Then mom and dad came to hear me speak, and my bishop's wife later spent 10 minutes talking with my mom about random things, namely how wonderful I am - I love people like that. Who think you're great based on their first impressions of you, and never take the time to update their opinions. I appreciated her kind words.
2. I helped mom and dad plan my grandma's 90 birthday bash at our house Monday. I went shopping with mom, made the table all lovely and inviting. The table setting skills would've made any cotillion teacher glow with pride. I helped skewer shrimp (which look like maggots before they're cooked, by the way. Who originally decided those translucent buggers would likely be good to eat?! Blegh). I cleaned the bathroom, and I dusted to Neil Diamond's Jazz Singer and ABBA. It was a good day. Then the guests came over, and I quickly cleared out after saying hello to well-known and long-lost aunts and uncles alike.
3. I played volleyball through Monday night, while the party continued at my house. I've been playing sand volleyball at least once a week for this 2nd half of the Summer, and it's been a blast. And might I say, I'm pretty good. I play with a pretty fun, rotating crowd, and we have a lot of fun with it. Though the rules are not always known/played by, which sometimes affects the lightheartedness we generally play with. But overall, when someone isn't dunk/spiking it or stealing a hit clearly called by another play, it's fun. On Monday, I made a motion that 2 boys who were playing can never be on the same team again (they make each other play worse, which is no good, since they didn't start very high), and that I never have to play directly next to one of those boys - because if I do stand by him, I never get to play at all. But enough with my little rants - it was fun, so why complain?
4. I slept in late this morning, woke up to an empty house, and spent the majority of my afternoon reading on our front porch. I started reading on our back patio, but a hovering hornet forced me from my luxurious setup near the fountain. I'm pretty sure that hornet hates me - I swear he's always around, and he hangs out really close to my legs, daring me to shoo him away. I'm pretty sure I wasn't smelling like a flower or anything - I hadn't showered yet today - so I don't know where he comes off thinking he can stalk me like that. Bah, stupid bugs. Speaking of, I have far too many mosquito bites right now, and yet I still find it hard to complain since this has been a much better summer for me and mosquitos than any I ever spent in Wisconsin. Maybe one day I'll learn to like bug spray. But probably not.
So that's been the life so far. I sure do enjoy spending Tuesdays like they're Saturdays. And I'm looking forward to spending Wednesday the same way. I love long vacations!
Saturday, August 7, 2010
I'm Done!!!
Today was my last day of work! Woohoo! After just over 20 months of working at my job, having put in my 2 weeks notice 10 months ago, I have come to the end of my run at Northwestern Mutual. I leave with an increased respect for the company that helped raise me, and a greater appreciation for the awesome reputation held by the company I grew up with. I'm glad I could add my story line to "the family business."
But I'm also glad I'm out of the family business. I learned a lot from working as an administrative assistant to two financial representatives. I learned all about the different kinds of life insurance, disability insurance, and old person insurance (formally known as long-term care). I understand so much more about investments and all the different types of accounts you can set up. But I also learned I hate dealing with money - namely, other people's money. I hate customer service jobs. I don't like having my phone ring, just to hear that someone needs me to do something, which I generally don't know how to do in the first place. I learned I don't like the financial arena. It's all very important, and I'm glad to have learned it, but I don't want to deal with it daily.
Ultimately, I didn't feel the satisfaction of a job done well like I wanted to. I'd get excited about things - a case that finally got completed, a form that came in after months of tracking, etc. - but I didn't feel accomplished or like I played any part in the successes we had in our office. I did play a part, but it didn't hit me the way a well-written paper I would submit did. Call that selfish or self-centered, that's just how I work.
But I did enjoy it there, and I worked with some really fantastic people. Today was a fun day - we went to lunch at Thai Lotus (sooooo deliciouss~) - and then I spent the afternoon working on cleaning my cubicle. It felt like the last day of school! I was cleaning out my space (locker), and I ended up staying later to move everything back to co-worker Elizabeth, and saying hi/bye to people. It was such a wonderful feeling!
I'm so excited about these next few weeks! I'm sleeping in and going to be late...like tonight! But first things first. My job is now over. Time for job two - church. I better go write my talk for Sunday...I just found out I was speaking Wednesday, so this is going to be interesting. And my talk is on patience...awesome. What do you say about that? Well, I guess I'm at least lucky that I've perfected the skill of patience over those last 8 months as I waited to decide when to go back to school, when to move, if I should move. If that doesn't show patience, I don't know what does.
Any good ideas beyond Elder Uchtdorf's great talk on patience? Because I could use some good ones!
3 weeks vacation, here I come!
But I'm also glad I'm out of the family business. I learned a lot from working as an administrative assistant to two financial representatives. I learned all about the different kinds of life insurance, disability insurance, and old person insurance (formally known as long-term care). I understand so much more about investments and all the different types of accounts you can set up. But I also learned I hate dealing with money - namely, other people's money. I hate customer service jobs. I don't like having my phone ring, just to hear that someone needs me to do something, which I generally don't know how to do in the first place. I learned I don't like the financial arena. It's all very important, and I'm glad to have learned it, but I don't want to deal with it daily.
Ultimately, I didn't feel the satisfaction of a job done well like I wanted to. I'd get excited about things - a case that finally got completed, a form that came in after months of tracking, etc. - but I didn't feel accomplished or like I played any part in the successes we had in our office. I did play a part, but it didn't hit me the way a well-written paper I would submit did. Call that selfish or self-centered, that's just how I work.
But I did enjoy it there, and I worked with some really fantastic people. Today was a fun day - we went to lunch at Thai Lotus (sooooo deliciouss~) - and then I spent the afternoon working on cleaning my cubicle. It felt like the last day of school! I was cleaning out my space (locker), and I ended up staying later to move everything back to co-worker Elizabeth, and saying hi/bye to people. It was such a wonderful feeling!
I'm so excited about these next few weeks! I'm sleeping in and going to be late...like tonight! But first things first. My job is now over. Time for job two - church. I better go write my talk for Sunday...I just found out I was speaking Wednesday, so this is going to be interesting. And my talk is on patience...awesome. What do you say about that? Well, I guess I'm at least lucky that I've perfected the skill of patience over those last 8 months as I waited to decide when to go back to school, when to move, if I should move. If that doesn't show patience, I don't know what does.
Any good ideas beyond Elder Uchtdorf's great talk on patience? Because I could use some good ones!
3 weeks vacation, here I come!
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