Vegas baby, Vegas

We stayed at the Monte Carlo, on the 31st of its 32 floors. When we first got up there the whole floor was vacant, all the doors were open and our room had some rubble beneath a wall mirror illustrating that it had just been hung. This could have been kind of creepy, like couldn't anyone sneak in and stay there? But I saw this as a great opportunity. I mean, when else can you run naked up and down the hotel floor hallway?* Yes, but can you do it sober? That's what I thought.

At the bowl game we had incredible seats. We were on the 3rd row in the corner behind BYU's end zone. When it was clear they would win, 8 seconds left in the game, we all jumped down and stormed the field. After the game Tyler and I and his brothers and sister Billy, Alana, and Bobby all went to some Mexican restaurant that was mostly empty, right across the street from ESPN zone on the strip. We were so excited about the game that we had to order a celebration drink and unfortunately, may have gotten Billy drunk.*

Tyler and I went to the fashion show mall the next day. It really didn't feel so much like Christmas in Vegas, maybe I'm too used to cold-weather Christmases, but these "ornaments" hanging in the mall looked incredible. Later we went to see a comedy show at the Riviera. Out of 3 performers, I loved Doug Benson's "marijuanalogues." He was hilarious.

It was a fun trip, but it was a huge relief to finally get home when we did. The last few weeks have seemed even busier than normal and so I hope to just relax this week.


*I wasn't quite naked and Billy didn't really get drunk, but can't those details stay in Vegas, so I can make up what happened there?

Missionary Expenses

My first car ever was my dad's old car. Actually it was his dad's car before it was his. My dad "lent" it to me when I moved to Washington, but once I moved and had a subsequent car wreck, it became mine. He fixed it up with a new bumper, and some bungee cords and pins to hold the hood down. The bumper was white and the car maroon, and there was no grill on the front. Bea Dean called it my Tijuana special.

When that car finally got donated to the kidney foundation, I bought a car from a fleet of missionary cars. Like rental cars (I used to work for Avis), missionary cars get some rough handling, but also get regular service so I bought a missionary car, also priced a lot lower than the low bluebook and only 3 years old.

It's a 2000 and recently seems to have begun its breakdown. We had the rear brake cylinders fixed 2 weeks ago and then the heat broke last Tuesday morning. Last week Tyler and I were driving down to Vegas for the BYU bowl game and surprisingly, found this never before seen piece of paraphernalia.

Given that a credit card was included, and we had to replace 2 tires on the car in Beaver, Utah on our way back from Vegas, I was really tempted to use the card for "missionary expenses." I mean, I did use the car to support the BYU cougars didn't I? It's really too bad for me that the card was expired.

Fidelity

Love this song by Regina Spektor called "Fidelity" She has such a unique sound, its sweet and rocks too.

the PMBA program

PMBA is supposed to stand for professional master of business administration--I like to call it the Pain in My Butt Administration.

I'm not sure that I learned all that much, except how to manage time better? But here's the "other things" that went on in my life since I started my program at the end of August '04:

I ended a relationship
I started a relationship
I moved
I got married
I became a stepmom
my twin sister moved away and moved back
my oldest brother got married
I changed gyms twice
I filmed 2 football seasons of games
I changed jobs
I lost contact with some friends and got back in touch with other friends
My husband and I remodeled our kitchen (he did most of the work)
I got 2 sinus infections
I quit yoga
I worked 2 Sundance Film Festivals
I went to California twice
I visited Montana once
I went to Vegas once (and again in another week! go BYU!)
I went to Nebraska for my first time (for bro's wedding)
I spent a hellish week in Denver for my job
and I made a number of camping/vacation trips in Utah
and I went to a number of concerts and movies

Thank you to all of my supporters and loved ones for helping me get through this program and still have some fun too!

Apocalypto

I loved it. But I'll never watch it again. They should have a surgeon general's warning: "If you have heart problems, please consider carefully before watching this movie. Your heart will pump at its maximum rate throughout without reprieve. Second, if you have ever had a child, please consider carefully before watching this movie, the fear and pain may be more than you can bear."

Between Term-inal Illness

I woke up feeling sick this morning. It's not that surprising given that it's December, it's cold, and most predictively--it's almost finals week. I can't really call it "finals week" because I only have one final to take and I'm taking it on Saturday. But all the symptoms exist. Much to my chagrin, I seem to always get sick between terms. It was much more extreme during my undergrad, but it has persisted throughout. So after having this crazy dream last night during which me, my sister, my college friend Meagan Koscinski, and two of my sisters-in-law Krystal and Randa were in huge trouble with my mom at my old house in Montana, I woke with a sore throat and headache, and feeling generally weak. I guess this is the last time around that I can blame it on my body holding out all semester through the late nights, early workouts, work hours and study hours to give in at the end and get sick. I won't miss it.

Cabbage Fest

When I was in Japan one of my students gave me a box of 20 heads of lettuce for Christmas. The other teachers and I all ate some, but we had no idea what to do with the rest. Why didn't I think of doing something like this?

The pic is from Germany's cabbage festival.

layers and heroes

I know how to wear layers. I grew up in Montana. It seems that I"m always reciting to others all the layers that I have on--usually because I'm still cold despite the layers and I just want someone to understand. Like at the last football game for Tyler's team I wore a pair of "hot chilli's" (a tights-like layer, thanks to Bill who got tired of my complaining every time we are camping) beneath a pair of flannel pants beneath my jeans, not to mention my underwear as well.

Well, I recently finished reading the book "Long march to freedom" written by Thomas Hargrove about his 11 months of being held by Colombian guerillas in the mountains. The book is a compilation of the diary entries he made while kidnapped. He often talks about how cold it is there. Here is one particular excerpt:

from day 125—
....I wear three socks, three trousers, one shorts, two shirts, jacket, ruana, two ski masks, two heavy, three light blankets over me, one under, plus some sacks I found. I don’t sleep under covers, I wrap it around me. Still; so cold, I hate to move.

That entry just broke my heart. I remember actually feeling cold while reading "fire of the covenant" about the handcart companies of Mormons on their way to the Salt Lake valley. These stories humble me. There's probably nothing I fear more than being so cold, I hate the cold, but it seems strangely that many of my favorite inspirational and heroic stories involve braving the cold. Perhaps because their challenges seem the most difficult to face. My sister April introduced me to two heroic stories that are among my favorites--that of Ernest Shackleton's plight in his attempt to reach Antarctica and also that of the South American rugby team that got trapped in the Andes and had to walk out. I can't imagine having the courage and strength necessary to survive, much less to play a role in the rescue of my friends. I admire these people greatly.

I just keep thinking of these stories lately. They inspire me so much. I like how they are just regular people and able to do such extraordinary things. It makes me wonder what we are really capable of and it makes me feel so responsible to do the most I can with my life.

Gilgal Revealed

I've been to the sculpture garden numerous times, almost all after dark, often requiring me to climb a fence. Once I had to stand on a garbage can to get over the top of the gate. I love the place. It's eerie and yet inspires me to think about God. Last time I went the brochures were actually in stock and it was all explained for me.

For those who are unaware of Gilgal Garden, it is to me the most interesting and unique thing to see in Salt Lake City. Some Mormons could easily find it disturbing rather than provoking. There's a sphinx with Joseph Smith's head on it. There's scriptures and poetry carved all over the stones. Most of the scriptures are from the Bible--the Old Testament, my favorite. I especially love the installation art piece for the second chapter of Daniel. It's placed on the side of a hill with different stones cut to represent the pieces of Nebuchadnezzar's dream (a rock cut out of the mountain, a tall warrior strewn about in pieces--the helmet, the breastplate, the leg, the feet).

Another favorite is a small "cave" that represents a verse from Malachi, about how the hearts of the children will turn to the hearts of the fathers--in the cave are 2 hearts, one white (for the dead) and one red (for the living).

I like it because symbology is always fascinating. I took several classes on Maya art, theology, culture, and architecture at BYU. I loved learning how their sarcophaguses were painted red on the inside to represent the womb and therefore rebirth into heaven.

I also like it because this man was unafraid to make this art. He was a bishop for 19 years and starting scultping as a hobby when he was in his 50's. It may sound stupid that I admire his unabashed artistic expression, but it seems to be that a lot of Mormon artists may feel limited in the kind of work they can do. I of course can't speak for them, but I've steered away from a lot of Mormon fiction because the characters just didn't seem real at all--they never doubted, questioned, or struggled (there are exceptions of course). I've found that a lot of classic novels are far more religiously inspirational while at the same time they allow for the full exploration of faith and obedience.

But at Gilgal I kind of liked not knowing what all of the things stood for. I mean, sometimes I'd rather experience things purely sensually. It's fun to know how movies are made or who all the players involved really are--but what's most important is the experience it gives to me. I'm a fan of Whitman's poem "when I heard the learn'd astronomer"--because he spends an evening listening to an astronomer talk about the stars but doesn't really get much out of it until he just goes outside and walks beneath them.

Isn't that what's most important about people too? Not where they work, or what they've done, not their hobbies, but how they make you feel and how you make them feel? I love learning about others interests, but even if we have common interests, what matters is how they make me feel and how I make them feel.

Going to Gilgal garden makes me feel more in touch with the universe. I love to bring other people there, in hopes that they will feel the same thing.

and so it begins

I would bet that each of the kids in my family has at one time or another wanted to be a writer. I know I still think about it a lot, but I suspect my youngest sister might make it. I don't know anything about her writing, but here are my thoughts on her prospects.

In talking about growing up, as bad as I thought it was, I always had my twin sister. We would go to our room and spend the whole rest of the night crying and talking after bad times. My older brothers shared a room as well. So more often, I find myself worrying about my younger siblings. I think about them all of the time. I feel close to them, but sometimes out of touch at the same time. I'm proud of my little bro because he's making something of himself already. He's so involved and has lots of friends. He is writing now too. I was such a loser in high school.

My little sis is still quite young. I wonder what is ahead of her really. I worry about her a lot. I joked with my twin about how our youngest sib will probably end up being the successful writer.

That's because all good writers have had very traumatic lives it seems--and the best spent time in either prison or boarding school.

[side note here--my high school sophomore English teacher went to a Catholic boarding school. She told us about when one of the old nuns retired. None of the girls liked her because she was a very cruel teacher. Well as she was walking off of the campus, the girls all sang out of the dorm-room windows the song from Wizard of Oz "ding dong the witch is dead." A very weird story, but interesting.]

Anyway, I fear that my youngest sister's life may be very hard because she doesn't have someone else close to her to talk with. So I've joked about how she'll make the best writer. So I went to see my little bro's high school play this weekend and while sitting next to my little sister, she tells me that she has started to write a book. And so it begins. I hope the best for all of my siblings.

Death of a human

I say “a human” because he really understood what life was about—what it meant to be human, to think and feel like a human. Clifford Geertz died on October 30. He was my favorite anthropologist. That may sound funny, but I studied many. During my undergrad we read many influential theorists such as Ruth Benedict, Margaret Mead, Malinowski, Geertz, Marx, Hegel, Darwin, Frazer, Lamarck, Levi-Strauss, etc.

Geertz’s book “local knowledge” was my favorite—it was about how knowledge that may seem universal varies from locale to locale. He was always trying to make anthropology more human—he originally wanted to be a writer, studying English and philosophy before anthropology. He was interested in symbology and in not creating gross-overgeneralizations about cultures, but about about finding meaning in basic human interactions.

I admired Geertz first because of his story about running from a cockfight in Bali. He went there to study the people. He had lots of experience as an ethnographer, but had never experienced such resistance from the people to open up like he did when he first arrived in Bali. He soon discovered that cockfights, although illegal, were hugely popular. He talks about how the nation’s pastime reflects their culture—their values, their beliefs, their joys, their sorrows. While attending his first cockfight the police show up to break up the show and arrest attendees. Geertz takes off running along with the other observers, following a couple of young men all the way to their home in the village and sitting down at their table as if they had been there all along. When the police stopped by houses in the village, he was still there enjoying a meal with the family who embraced him completely. Following that event he had no trouble at all getting the people of Bali to open up to him, thus he concluded that nothing can forge a bond like running from the cops with someone.

If you want to get in some trouble with me, let me know.

Barracuda

My older brother just made the new Texas state record for Greater Barracuda caught on a fly rod. He loves fishing and seems to have been able to structure his life around what he loves most. Why is it that most of us rarely do the thing we love the most? We get so caught up in the have-to's and feel like our time is overbudgeted, but if it was important, if it was what we loved, wouldn't we arrange the have-to's so we can get away as much as possible? Maybe I'm not making sense, but what's so good about having the status quo if you're not enjoying it? If it isn't the thing that brings you joy?

anyway, good for Dave! It's awesome that he caught that fish!

Caiden's scoreboard

Caiden keeps track of his wins and losses in a video game on this whiteboard. He just turned 7, he's in the first grade. It was so cute when he showed me that I just haven't been able to have him correct it yet.

dove evolution

I love this ad--the whole campaign is pretty good, or it has good intentions anyway

a perfect sonnet

This is a song by the band "bright eyes"--the singer and writer is Conor Oberst. Ty and I saw him last November--it was a really powerful show. I like this song a lot.

Lately I've been wishing I had one desire
Something that would make me never want another
Something that would make it so that nothing mattered
All would be clear then
But I guess I'll have to settle for a few brief moments
And watch it all dissolve into a single second
And try to write it down into a perfect sonnet
or one foolish line
'Cause that's all that you'll get so you'll have to accept
You are here then you're gone
But I believe that lovers should be tied together and
Thrown into the ocean in the worst of weather
and left there to drown
Left there to drown in their innocence

But as for me I'm coming to the final chapter
I read all of the pages and there is still no answer
Only all that was before I know must soon come after
That is the only way it can be
So I stand in the sun
And I breathe with my lungs
Trying to spare me the weight of the truth
Saying everything you've ever seen was just a mirror
And you've spent your whole life sweating in an endless fever
And now you are laying in a bathtub full of freezing water
Wishing you were a ghost

But once you knew a girl and you named her Lover
And danced with her in kitchens through the greenest summer
But autumn came, She disappeared
You can't remember where she said she was going to
But you know that she's gone 'cause she left you a song
That you don't want to sing
We're singing I believe that lovers should be chained together
And thrown into a fire with their songs and letters
And left there to burn
Left there to burn in their arrogance

But as for me I'm coming to my final failure
I've killed myself with changes trying to make things better
But I ended up becoming something other than what I had planned to be
Now I believe that lovers should be draped in flowers
And layed entwined together on a bed of clover
And left there to sleep
Left there to dream of their happiness

After Everything

We love each other. And I am stubborn. I am not going to leave him. If I say it out loud, where other people can hear and see, it definitely won't happen. That's because I take pride in doing what I say I'm going to do (or not doing what I say I'm not going to do).

I never thought leaving was an option, but I also hadn't anticipated things being so difficult. When leaving becomes an option because you feel it may be the only answer, you start to feel almost weak if you don't do it. Like leaving will result in some badge of honor, like "Hey, I'm a modern woman and I know what I want and I refuse to stay in a relationship that is less than that." But that's stupid, because the more rewarding thing to do is to stick with it.

I envy couples that get to start off clean. That get to start without exes and away from family and in a new place. I feel jealous of people that get to truly just be lovers for a while. I thought this fall would be better than last, I changed my job so I could have less hours and less stress and I also cut back on my school classes, but it didn't seem to help. I've run out of things that I think I can do to make things better and can't stop thinking that I just need some time away. For all of this I've felt discouraged and helpless lately, like nothing I can do matters.

But there is one strength that I have and that is determination. Tyler is the only man I ever dated that I wanted to see everyday, no matter what kind of day it was. The man that tells me he loves me even after I've shown him how pathetic and fragile and insecure I can be. That's the man I want to stay with.

"But as for me I'm coming to my final failure
I've killed myself with changes trying to make things better
But I ended up becoming something other than what I had planned to be
Now I believe that lovers should be draped in flowers
And layed entwined together on a bed of clover
And left there to sleep
Left there to dream of their happiness"
from Bright Eyes song "A Perfect Sonnet"

gourmet grilled cheese

I made these sandwiches before Ty and Caiden and I went to Nightmare on 13th Thursday night. I really thought they were perfect, it's hard to go wrong with grilled cheese but this was really right, it was dark already and cold out and we were ready to go out. The grilled cheese had caramelized apples, brie and cheddar cheese on them. I also added a little brown sugar (I like it on all of my grilled cheese sandwiches). I can't wait to eat another one.

once we get to Tir Asleen

Remember the movie "Willow"? When Madmartigan feels gravely disappointed because Willow kept telling him that all they needed to do was get to Tir Asleen and there would be an army there to help them. Then they make it there and everyone has been turned to stone. Madmartigan bitterly imitates Willow saying "Everything will be alright when we get to Tir Asleen."

This is my greatest fear with finishing school--believe me I want to be done--but I'm afraid that my life won't be easier, or better, or happier just because I finished school. Before I started my MBA program I was equally busy, but much happier. Maybe because the things I was doing were more fulfilling and enjoyable. I lived in a house downtown Salt Lake City with 3 other girls and had a hyperactive social life. I took night classes--community ones for fun and got ready to start my MBA program. I loved my life as it was so as I dated, I only stayed in relationships that made me even happier and my life more meaningful. Hence the arrival of the HB whom I'm absolutely crazy about despite what you're about to read.

For anyone who has ever cracked open a relationship book--especially one geared towards those looking to get married or find their match--one of the first things they tell you is that others are attracted to people who are already fulfilled with their lives.

The HB and I were looking at books to make our marriage better the other day and I just happened to open one about finding your match that said that very thing--men are attracted to women that are happy without them.

It made me mad. I was mad because I knew that already and because I felt this bitter voice inside me say "of course, but then they marry you and you aren't able to do the things you used to anymore because of your combined schedules and so you don't have your own life anymore to feel confident and independent about and then they're upset when you wonder if they still love you even though you're not you anymore, and you also wonder because you don't love you anymore."

I felt guilty for even having that thought but I did. It's not his fault that I don't feel like I'm into the things I'm doing right now or that I wish I could be doing other things right now. I obviously don't have time for those fun community classes right now and with the closing of my gym I can't go to my yoga classes anymore and without girl roommates it's hard to fit in girl-time. So everyone and everything says to find joy in what you do have right now, or what you are doing. I like getting into football with Ty and I love being a stepmom. I just wish I could still feel like something was mine. Like some part of my life belonged to me. Does that sound ridiculous? Who am I to complain right? I just can't turn off my feelings and I can't stop trying to make sure I'm getting the most out of my life. I've always been determined to get everything I can from life--I learned that you have to fight for it because if you don't, it will never happen. But with that comes the knack for making things hard for myself, by trying to do so much or by being disappointed at an occassional lack of passion in life.

And I'm sure it puts strain on the HB when I'm not happy. I'm sorry I'm so difficult baby. I love you.

Vanilla

After camping at Joe's Valley Reservoir, Tyler and I had to reward Caiden and his cousins for jumping off the rock cliffs into the water as we had promised. If they jumped off a certain rock, they would get a milkshake, and they all did it. So we stopped at Little Acorn at the mouth of Spanish Fork canyon where you can get good milkshakes but the world's slowest service. Caiden ordered a vanilla shake. I couldn't believe it--who orders vanilla out of all the flavors? I like exotic flavors, if I"m going to binge on the calories, it might as well be worth it. If I buy ice cream I'm going to buy something with caramel and fudge and brownies, etc., not vanilla.

But when it comes to regular yogurt, the kind I eat for breakfast every morning, I honestly have to say that I think I like vanilla the best. The best mix is vanilla yogurt with grape nuts and some honey.

Mining snake skin

I went to see the Sundance Institute's new offices in Park City on Thursday. They recently moved from their downtown Salt Lake City office and I wondered if they were ready to have an open house, but I guess they had to do it before they were too busy getting everything ready for the festival.

When I got directions, I was told to go to the second gray building at the orange construction fence. What I saw when I first arrived were 2 tin-looking buildings, boxes basically, made of the corrugated metal that everyone uses for tool sheds. But it was very aged, faded into different shades of gray.

The buildings were old mining buildings from when Park City was first built for mining. They had been completely gutted and rebuilt inside, but used some of the old wood on the counter and door frames. Inside they were very modern in design.

I thought the juxtaposition of the aged and historic shell with the modern interior was beautiful, in concept and in execution. I love thinking about how things change and what really makes up identity of anyone or anything. If we change the outside does it change the inside? If we change the inside does it change the outside? What degree of change makes an old thing new? And I especially love the idea that everyone and everything leaves a story behind it.

I love Dave Eggers book "A heartbreaking work of staggering genius." In one part he talks about how people change and how they should or shouldn't feel about who they used to be. "These things, details, stories, whatever, are like the skin shed by snakes, who leave theirs for anyone to see. What does he care where it is, who sees it, this snake, and his skin? He leaves it where he molts. Hours, days, or months later, we come across a snake's long-shed skin and we know something of the snake, we know that it's of this approximate girth and that approximate length, but we know very little else. Do we know where the snake is now? What the snake is thinking now? No. By now the snake could be wearing fur; the snake could be selling pencils in Hanoi. The skin is no longer his, he wore it because it grew from him, but then it dried and slipped off and he and everyone could look at it."

Curve

Every once in a while in the mornings I will get home from the gym just moments after Tyler left for work. And every once in a while of those times I'll smell his cologne once I walk in the door, right there in the doorway will be his scent. It makes me wish I could crawl into bed and he would be there and we could stay there all day.

Monochromatic

the HB and I rewatched Jet Li's "Hero" tonight. I've always loved really colorful art, it's full, it's vivid, it's alive. I really love bright red because it seems the most expressive, the most alive, the color of blood. the Maya used to paint the inside of the sarcophagus' in red, to resember the inside of the womb. In the movie "Hero" most of the scenes are monochromatic and that is what makes them so powerful, so breathtaking. All the characters in each scene will be wearing the same color from top to bottom. The surroundings are often the same color as well.

A while back I saw a photo on the internet of the bedroom I want to have some day. I love platform beds and I want the bedroom to be very simple, with minimal furniture. I fell in love with this red bedroom--just with the idea of it being all different shades of one hue and the bed sort of set back a little to isolate it more. I have trouble sleeping and have heard you should make your bedroom very simple--only using it for activities you do on a bed. I'd almost rather have my dresser in another room too I think. Either way, the monochromatic idea is definitely one I'll use someday when the HB and I get settled.

Diet Coke

I love Diet Coke. I never used to drink soda at all. My parents never drank it growing up and so only on holidays would my mom buy some 2 liters to chill outside on our deck (we lived in Montana, so if the fridge was full, our second fridge was the deck). Since then I kind of became a healthy food freak, so I didn't drink soda until I started my graduate program. Now I'm addicted, I really am and kind of hate that I am, I mean I stress out about it, but then I tell myself--who cares? I like it, so what? I made the HB take me to the Coke museum when we went to Atlanta where his company is based. It was fun to taste the different flavors offered in different countries and look at all of the old advertisements.

I just bought this shirt on e-bay and I keep wearing it because it's so soft!

sectional healing

this is from a T-shirt sold on the website www.nostarclothing.com

The house I used to live in with 3 other girls had a sectional. Despite it's missing foot and resulting unsteadiness, and revolting fabric, I do have to say that it provided a lot of "sectional healing."

"i must access my attack pack"

I went to the San Rafael Swell this weekend with April, Bill, Lanik, and Lanik's Buzz Lightyear toy. Needless to say, we all listened to all of Buzz's sayings countless times. Having an attack pack though doesn't sound too bad instead of a backpack. Of all the things to forget, I forgot 2 of the most crucial--toilet paper and a flashlight/headlamp. I blame this on the fact that Tyler didn't come because had he come I'm sure we would have had more supplies than ever imaginable. But of course April and Bill covered my butt.

This time around we took their Montero so instead of getting stuck, we actually pulled someone else out of the sand. (who cares if just moments later we thought the Montero wouldn't start again). We hiked Ding canyon and Little Wild Horse canyon, hiked all over Goblin valley so we could make it to the other side and to the top to collect some agate and view "the nothing."

The next morning we went to Black Dragon Canyon to view the rock art, one of which really resembled the Wily Coyote to me.

There are just a few things that would have made the trip better.
1.--If I'd actually brought some cash to buy Ty and Caiden some of those cool Goblin valley t-shirts.

and 2.--If instead of filming my walk through the narrow, twisting, Little Wild Horse canyon sideways to capture the narrowness I would have realized that we'd have to watch it sideways too.

And 3.--it would have been better if some of the little pools had hot springs inside of them so I could warm up before I got in my tent at night.

If only I could take home the papasan chair I found in Goblin Valley!

"Lucy's little sister"

Found. In Ethiopia not far from the original skeleton named "Lucy" after the song "Lucy in the sky with diamonds" by the Beatles. The most complete skeleton of an Astralopithecus afarensis, living 3.3 million years ago. A 3 year old girl. To me, this is really exciting!

Studying archaeology at BYU made this kind of discovery really controversial. Are we really made in God's image? Why didn't early humans look like we do today? I read a number of different theories on the subject and loved to read the most outlandish of them all because we all know that truth can only arise out of wrong guesses--if you're afraid to guess, you'll probably never find the truth. I would always rather be moving in some direction than none at all.

i have a favorite spoon

it's the one in our entire collection that the handle isn't a big round plastic encasing, if that makes sense. you know the cheap set we all got when we went to college or moved out, with the fat round plastic handles? my favorite spoon is the one that actually has the regular thin, metal handle.

meatloaf and cereal

Last night I made meatloaf. My husband loves it and I've never made it for him so I really wanted it to be good. I had it almost done when he got home from football practice, I just needed to take it out of the oven, spoon off the grease, put the sauce on, and cook it for 10 more minutes. Right when he came over to me I was sort of pouring off the grease and half of the meatloaf fell into the sink. I was mortified. I was really really embarrassed. Nevertheless, he ate it and he liked it.

I have a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Monday is my "office" day for work and since my office is at home, and my work is usually done by 2 or 3, my Monday afternoons are fairly free. So the one day that I scheduled something else in the afternoon my boss happened to call me needing something and I was up in Park City.

Another time a few years ago I was living with an older couple in Washington state. They had a rule about eating only in the kitchen and I totally respected any rule they had, they were so loving that I would have locked myself in my room for a month if they'd told me to. But one morning I had this uncontrollable urge to sit on the living room floor with the milk jug in front of me and 4 different boxes of cereal lined up to choose from and read the boxes while I ate. Right as I was sitting down the wife walked in. She never even said anything, just look surprised. but I felt so guilty. Because they were sooooo good to me.

This is what it's like to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

quilting

We went to the fair over the weekend. I was working there sort of, just checking up on my company's van as I was responsible for it even though other people were actually "working" it. I haven't been to the fair since high school. In Missoula there are 2 things that everyone in the entire city and surrounding area seem to come to each year--the fair and the homecoming parade for the U of M. I loved both. The fair was the chance to see friends I hadn't seen all summer, and to maybe run into a boyfriend and make out for a few minutes as we weren't allowed by our parents to be seeing any of these people.

There's nothing romantic about the fair. It's cheap, dirty, hoky and a rip off. So why is it full of lovers?
And why does it make me feel more loving?

This year I'd say it was because I looked at the quilts. Because part of me wants a simple life. A pure life. An unadulterated life. Because in that life I know who I'm supposed to be. But in this one I don’t. I want to be so much.

I made a quilt once. I loved doing it. I listened to books on tape while I stitched it together. I want to make more quilts. I feel like I have a purpose when working on something like that. But why am I not the type for this? It feels like you have to committ to a certain way of life to be able to make quilts for a hobby. I alreaday have enough hobbies that I never have time to do anything with, why start another? Maybe what I need is something grounding. I think that's what Tyler does for me, he's grounding. I love that he loves regular things and regular life. Sometimes I wish he wanted more and maybe he does in different ways than me. I don't think I want an extraordinary life, but just to feel like life is extraordinary for me.

Quilts are the ultimate juxtaposition. They can be ancient or modern. But they are always sort of calm—not because of the colors or patterns used, it's just the object itself. Could I make a quilt that wasn’t calm? That would be interesting.

Hey nostradamus!

Douglas Coupland wrote this book called "Hey Nostradamus!" I just finished it and I loved it. I didn't enjoy high school at all and that's where this book starts out. But it does remind me of all the emotions of high school and of any troubling time in my life. In a way that doesn't depress me though, for some reason it made me feel like the world was even more beautiful. I used to go to group counseling for a while. I absolutely loved it. I felt more alive then. I felt more like part of the universe when I heard other people talk about their pain or their joy or their love. The book is in 4 parts--an ongoing story told by 4 different people involved in the story. First, a teenage girl who dies in a school shooting, second her boyfriend (secretly her husband) later in life, then his girlfriend later in life, then finally, his father. I would love to see a movie made of this book.

on the green

One time just after high school my distant cousin took me golfing. I hardly remember it--I don't remember how long it took or how hard it was, but I remember looking for my ball a lot. I've never been since then. Last week my boss paid an unexpected visit. He arrived in town Thursday and he and my co-worker discussed going golfing on Friday morning. The conversation went like this:

boss: "do you think Alene wants to go golfing with us? She's never really been before."

coworker: "Alene will go. She'll do anything. Remember when we had that meeting in Dallas just after she got hired and we played broom hockey on that ice rink? She played so hard out there, she loved it."

boss: "You're right, I'll be she'd do it."

And I did it. And I wasn't that bad either. Maybe they were just being nice, but both boss and coworker told me that I did very good for my first time.

I love trying new things, but I honestly had been a bit nervous about it. Mostly because it was with my boss and I hadn't had a chance to even hit some balls before he came. I sort of think I need to be decent at it since it's the game of the business world, but that also makes me hate it. Why golf? Why not rock-climbing or something? Studies have proven that fit leaders are better leaders. Why are we a society of lazy sports?

coconut lime lips

the HB and I went to Oktoberfest at Snowbird this weekend. We enjoyed some yodeling, some german chocolate cake, and I picked up some coconut lime lip gloss. Not only is the smell incredible, it honestly makes me feel more alive. Too bad Mollycoddle Soaps doesn't have an online store. She only sells her homemade stuff at fairs and such. I love this kind of stuff. I feel like I'm supporting my community and also love to see people's handiwork. Having shops all around feels like a sort of foreign country and its relaxing and inspiring to insouciantly stroll by and see what other people are doing with their lives.

Before I started my MBA program I got a BA in anthropology. There's not much you can do with it, but I thought if I also had the business degree I could go into work with one of those microloan programs. The ones where you go down to Ecuador, or Panama, etc. and loan a woman $100 and that's all she needs to get her own business on its feet with her hand-made crafts. It's a tiny amount of money, but one after another these businesses eventually stimulate the whole economy. I want to go on a crusade someday. A modern one, like what Dr. Paul Farmer is doing, or what Peace Corps, Unicef and all sorts of volunteers are doing around the world. People think it's too hard to do, or that you need to be independent, but I believe that if you really want to do something, you'll find a way. I'm still looking for my way, but I'll find it.

inevitably football season

This is from Shakira's "Inevitable"

"To be true I must confess
Making coffee I'm a mess
Don't know anything about football.
Been unfaithful once or twice
Cannot even win at dice
As for watches, I don't use one.
To be completely honest,
No one thinks of you
Quite the way I do...
It's all the same to you now.

"To be true I must confess
I never sleep at twelve or less
Never take a bath on Sundays.
Since I'm telling you so much
I cry in earnest once a month
When the weather turns to freezing.
With me nothing is easy
Only you can tell
You know me so well...
Without you everything's a bore."

I actually really love football. Last fall I could have hardly told you anything about it. As a woman, you only learn about the sports that your dad or brothers are into, and then eventually what your boyfriends are into. I never learned about football. My senior year at BYU I bought season tickets with my roommates and we went so we could paint out faces and hang out. I liked it, but had never been introduced to it in high school or anything. So last fall I got thrown into it and started getting it about halfway through the season. This may sound stupid, or you may wonder how I could have enjoyed it before then? But it's like going to a foreign festival or something and enjoying the atmosphere, but understanding very little.

I love being at the games. I'm still struggling with watching them on TV because the energy is what I like. I need a party at my house to get way into it. I tried to keep the energy up last night by making the HB play rounds of speed with me during commercial breaks.

Last fall I went to a women's clinic put on by the coaches at BYU. We got to meet some players, do some drills, learn about the game, hear from the coach and a referee. That was cool. I loved the whole clinic, but got kind of annoyed by all the women that were there because they wanted to understand and support their husbands better. I'm not too good for that, I do want to, but sometimes when I witness it in the masses I get disgusted that you never see a man at any quilting clinic. What's with that?

paperbacks and peaks

the HB prefers hardcover books because they last longer and still look nice. He would love to have shelves full of collections of hardback books someday. I prefer paperback books because you can bend them. And when you're done reading them they look used, but they also look loved. I like that things break down and decay. I like it when things get overgrown by other things. I like that species become extinct--not when sped by human action, but when it naturally occurs--and when new species or existing ones' population grows to fill the gap, thus altering the ecosystem again to create other extinctions and flourishes (I just finished reading “Cod” and the fictional “children of men”—both great stories of population growth and decline).

What's cool is that the HB and I both love old buildings. He's into history and I think the decay is plain romantic. This weekend we backpacked up to Emerald Lake with April and Bill and then summitted Mount Timpanogos. There’s an old shelter by the lake that’s been vandalized. I don’t think it gets used much now but I wish I could see it when it was thriving. When Tyler and I went to San Francisco in July we got to explore the ruins of an old bath house by the coast and then compare it to the poster picture of what it must have looked like. That was awesome.

Tyler is the shiz. He hiked up by himself to meet us at the lake Saturday night after his football team’s scrimmage. It was dark by then and a long hard hike with a pack, especially on a trail he’d never been on before. I was so worried about him and probably drove him crazy by continuously calling him on his way up. Then I hiked down a ways to meet him and show him our campsite. Bill built some chairs out of rocks and our site looked really awesome. In the morning I couldn’t wait to show Tyler the area and to get up to the top with him. It was cool to hike to the peak together and then all the way back down even though I thought the last mile or two was going to kill me. When we got down we both grabbed a 32-ouncer at the gas station, for me, a vanilla Diet Coke, woohoo!

Birthday incidents

I got the haircolor taken care of yesterday. Now I have a very defined stripe of red going up my hair from the bottom. It's cool.

Yesterday was April and I's birthday--Happy Birthday April! We went to the Macaroni Grill. Later last night when Tyler and Caiden got home from football and I got home from the hair salon they surprised me with a chocolate cake. They are the shiz.

This weekend we'll go camping for our birthday trip. This is a sort of informal, assumed tradition. We both love camping and go often during the summer, but dont' always do a "birthday camping trip." April and I have a bad history of having accidents or incidents every time we take a trip together. Two years ago on our birthday camping trip we went to the San Rafael Swell. We got my car stuck on a shrub and I spent some time (at least a good hour) laying in the dirt hacking at the shrub with a shovel. I also briefly got lost on that trip. It was awesome though.

Here's us at my parents on Sunday.

hair-steria

I get bored with my hair sometimes. I don't want to cut it short because I had it that way before and hated it. But this time I thought I'd put in a red streak for the HB's football team--he's coaching the East high freshmen and their jerseys are bright red. It was an excuse anyway to do something fun. So the pic on the left is what I got and the one on the right is a bad sketch of what I wanted.

It's not so much that I didn't get what I want, but that I didn't feel listened to. I get my hair done at the beauty school because it's cheaper and I'm not a perfectionist. But it drives me crazy how I can sit on my butt for 3 1/2 hours and pay $60 and still not get what I asked for! Sitting on my butt for that long is honestly painful for me. It's hard to make it through a movie, so anything less entertaining can seem hellish. And time is very valuable to me. I don't want to spend that kind of time and money again to get it re-done.

So I was frustrated. I don't think I come off as indecisive, so it bugs me when it seems I should have been more assertive in this case. And it's my own fault for not being adamant, and picky, but who wants to be a disliked customer? Is it possible to be very particular and still be nice about it so they don't hate you? I thought that was what I was doing.

Keen Newport H2's

April picked these sandals up for me yesterday. She called me first thing in the morning when she received the "dirt cheap" email from Out N Back. They were selling their remaining pairs for just $45 (regularly around $90).

They are the Keen Newport H2's and are sooooo comfortable and perfect for hiking in because they breathe, they hug your foot, they're waterproof, and they protect your toes from rocks. I wore them the rest of the night after I got home from work.

Much to the chagrin of the HB, they were out of his size.

Twin sisters are the shiz. April and Bill are the experts when it comes to getting the right camping gear and getting the right price for it. And Bill knows the San Rafael Swell like the back of his hand.

Here's April and I on our most recent camping trip.

Moby Dick

A few years ago I had a friend who started to read Moby Dick while he was staying or living by the beach. When he came back to Utah, he could never bring himself to read it again despite trying. I thought that was cool because for him it was being by the water that made reading the book meaningful. It wasn't about finishing the book.

I was sort of envious of his ability to really live in the moment. I like to think that I live that way too, but in the case of reading I'm the type of person that when only assigned certain chapters of a textbook for class feels so guilty for skipping the others that I usually try to read them too.

Then the other day I was telling the HB about the book Elizabeth. About how Queen Elizabeth's cousin Mary kept trying to kill her and Elizabeth would put her in prison and then eventually let her out and Mary kept trying to kill her. He asked if Elizabeth ever ended up deciding to kill her cousin or not and I couldn't even remember! The book was great, but isn't it weird that I couldn't even remember the resolution to the predominant conflict of the book? I felt proud of myself for not needing to remember how it all worked out in the end, but just that it did.

Worst dream in the world last night

How can I forget it? I feel devastated, but know it's not real. I feel weird.

Men's vs. Women's Health

I'm talking about the magazines here. Before I begin though, lest you get the wrong impression--I am not any kind of butch chic. I rarely lift weights, but keep my muscles toned through yoga and other exercises almost daily. I do however, take my cardio very seriously--I do about 45 minutes to an hour every single day of the week. I've been doing this for almost 8 years. Also, I get daily email tips on health, health foods, etc. I don't have any sort of degree in nutrition, but I can tell you what food to eat for which vitamins and benefits. I get stuck in routines like everyone one else, but still love new ideas and appreciate a magazine that takes this seriously. So now, on to my diatribe.

Men's health is the greatest magazine I've ever read. I have always been a sort of subscriber by proxy--that is through my boyfriends' or now, the HB's subscription. I was excited when Women's Health premiered because nothing else comes close to men's health for a girl serious about health. But the women's version too fall's short, not only did they dumb down some workouts, but the sex articles have titles like "how to get in the mood" versus the ones I like in Men's health such as "How to get what you want." Don't they know that the only thing keeping a healthy, active woman from being in the mood is an unhealthy relationship?

The funny thing is that I read the sex articles in the men's version, somewhat out of curiousity, but also to make sure the female sex is correctly being represented here. And for the most part it is correct and I applaud it for being so accurate and for recognizing that women do know what they want and do enjoy sex. I want to make sure the HB gets the right information, and though we talk openly about what we want, it's nice to have backup. You know, I won't use an explicit example, but let's say I suggested that sometime we go for a romantic walk. It's one thing for me to suggest that, but it's another thing if he's read it in a men's magazine, or if a friend of his suggests the same thing in a way that says "if you do that, she'll go crazy."

So now, all that's left for the magazine to work on is to get men to trust our suggestions as much as they do their friends' suggestions.

Half Nelson

I saw this movie at the Sundance Film Festival and I think it just opened in the big cities this weekend. It's not out in SLC yet, but I wanted to mention it because I heard the director on NPR for a quick interview yesterday. It's a great movie about the unlikely friendship of a teacher and student. He teaches history and seems to be quite good at it. He's into dialectics and I think that's cool. But he has an addiction to cocaine and so for audiences we have to see if this friendship is acceptable to us or not. I loved it. It's really light on plot, but the artistry and emotion is great, and the soundtrack is all done by the band Broken Social Scene.

you're only as loud as the noises you make

The thing about the picture is that it is so much more intimate than it looks. For me anyway, because the idea of my lover watching me tweeze my eyebrows or something would make me feel a little self-conscious I think. And I don't know why. Why are we so ashamed of our bodies? Why are there so many things that we don't talk about--bodily or not?

Today I had my first session of laser hair removal. Call me silly, but only the HB knew I was doing it. There are a lot of reasons I didn't tell anyone, but I like to pretend like they're not a big deal, I just didn't mention that I was having it done.

I guess first because I feel guilty about the amount of money it costs to have laser hair removal. Secondly, I think I may have been embarrassed about having hair. That sounds stupid, but girls think they shouldn't have hair anywhere except on their heads (maybe I shouldn't have read that book "the aquatic ape" by feminist Elaine Morgan in my college days).

Anyway, I have sensitive skin and get skin care updates in my email almost daily. One day I entered a contest to win laser hair removal and it turns out that I won $300 toward any treatment package. This is not a large amount considering the price of treatment, but enough to help if you want to start with a small area.

So that's what I did. After consulting about possible areas (bikini comes first to mind of course) I ended up deciding on my lip. NOT that the hair on my lip is so prominent, but it was affordable and a "good place to start."

The reason I talk about it is not that anyone cares about hair above my lip, but because why is it so damn hard to talk about?

I can only get as close to people as I allow, but I WANT to be close to people, so why do we stop ourselves by not sharing our silly insecurities?

50 things about me

random preferences and things that make me who I am today

1. I hate censorship.
2. I hate anything done half-heartedly and therefore often hate myself because half-hearted is all I can do sometimes.
3. My heart beats 44 beats per minute, as of age 27
4. I think I’m good at writing, but I rarely do it and am probably not so good because of that.
5. I LOVE live music.
6. I love dancing, but am not that good at it.
7. I cried the first time I got stitches, age 26.
8. I always worshipped my older brothers and wanted them to like me.
9. I was a great college roommate except that one time I borrowed one of my roommates’ skirts and it got a rip in it and I never told her.
10. I’ve always wished I was as happy and beautiful as my twin sister.
11. I love to travel alone. I love the idea of traveling with my lover.
12. I’m in love with Rachel Weisz.
13. I compulsively look for jobs, even when I’m happy in my current occupation.
14. I once rented a car to Fred Savage.
15. I loved doing karaoke when I was in Japan
16. I was a toe-head when I was a kid and continued to dye my hair blonde until I was 24.
17. I love black. My mom never let me wear it growing up. I don't know if that's why I love it, but I do.
18. I don’t like hot chocolate.
19. Summer is my favorite season with fall close on its heels.
20. I’ve never cared much about going to Hawaii or the Caribbean, but would love to go somewhere in Africa or South America or Siberia.
21. I find hearing the F-bomb really refreshing sometimes.
22. I made out with my next door neighbor the day after breaking off a 4 year relationship—it was so liberating!
23. I love being woken up for sex.
24. I love cemeteries and empty playgrounds—they are both so romantic because of the memories there.
25. After I saw the movie “road to perdition” I wished I could puke it up.
26. The healthiest I ever felt was during a summer I spent living in a tent showering once a week—covered in sweat, dirt, bug spray, and suncreen.
27. The thing I'm most proud of in my life is the baby boy I placed for adoption when I was 18.
28. I wish I didn’t work so hard sometimes so people wouldn’t expect so much of me
29. I love exploring abandoned or halfway built or halfway ruined buildings
30. I hate eating with my coat on.
31. I used to drive in just my underwear to visit my out-of-town boyfriend and then get dressed just before arrival—I didn’t have AC.
32. I love being bitten on the back of the neck.
33. Michael Ondaatje’s poem “the cinnamon peeler’s wife” is the sexiest I’ve ever heard.
34. I made a stained glass rendering of Dante's "The Inferno" for my high school senior English project. I'm not much of an artist so I'm really proud of it, I thought it was very interpretive.
35. I smoked cigarettes and joints in my dorm room during my first semester of college.
36. I am addicted to lotion, if my hands feel dry enough it will wake me up in the middle of the night for lotion.
37. At the Dead Sea I covered my whole body in mud and then washed it off and never felt so soft.
38. I love blood and passion, I mean Bible stories and mythical stories full of ferocity and characters so full of passion for their beliefs.
39. I can’t stand the feel of sleeves when I’m in bed.
40. My twin and I have had several “twin” experiences where we showed up wearing the same ankle bracelet or found out we’d both taken pregnancy tests the same day and were both negative.
41. I have a vampire slayer mole—it’s on my chest close to my left shoulder.
42. This American Life talk radio program is my favorite.
43. When I first graduated with my bachelor degree I got turned down for a job that pays nothing—the Americorps.
44. I love the magazine Wired even though I’m not a techie because the ads are so modern and they always have a new music recommendation.
45. My day hasn’t begun until I have broken a sweat.
46. I probably cry about 5 times a week.
47. I worked at Taco Bell for 30 minutes until on the verge of fainting I ran out of the door and vomited.
48. I'm a Mormon and it's a constant struggle to define what kind.
49. I can recite the Muslim call to prayer.
50. I’m recently graduated with my MBA and still wish I could get paid to explore ruins, go to concerts, and help impoverished and violated communities.

Let's reborn, I love Vivre!

Vivre was the name of the closest mall to where I lived in Japan. Right outside the mall was this billboard that said, in English: "Let's reborn, I love Vivre!"

It makes me smile whenever I think of it.