Nov 23, 2010

I Cannot Go To School Today (Again)


I woke up today and the light was already seeping under my curtains. I laid there for a while and felt guilty about waiting for my mom to come wake me up for seminary when I knew it was time. When I finally did get up I walked about half way down the hall and met my mom who informed me that I was staying home from seminary and school today. I went promptly back to bed and stayed there for an hour and a half.

Bless the mothers of the world.

My mom was tired of her family being sick, so she sentenced us all to a sick day. Ever since the cultural celebration my dad, Mei and I have been lazing around with various symptoms. Headaches. Throataches (it should be a word). Stomachaches. Heartaches. Any aches that will get us out of being functioning human beings, those are the aches we have.

Around this time of year, with finals approaching, months of studying behind me and the looming idea of Christmas shopping ahead, my body and mind have this annual conversation that varies only slightly from year to year.

Mind: We need to go talk to the people at my school's office about why four semesters of Chinese have somehow not managed to get onto my transcript, memorize Mozart's Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, which is getting truly annoying, and write three essays.

Body: I don't wanna.

Mind: We have to! If you don't apply for college you won't get into college and if you don't get into college then you'll never get a good job and if you don't get a good job then you'll have to work at McDonald's and then you'll eat their caramel sundae every day and get really fat.

Body: I don't care.

Mind: You should! I care. Come on. We're going.

Body: You act like you have the last word on this. Watch. Watch this. I'm just going to get sick. Now what are you going to do. Huh? Huh?

The conversation deteriorates from there. I'll spare you the worst of it. In any case, the argument generally ends with Mind pushing Body for several weeks and Body crashing at the end of it in retaliation. This usually comes around Christmas, but the cultural celebration knocked me over the edge early this year and here I sit in my flannel pajama bottoms, trying to six weeks in China into two hundred words for the admission's office.

Even just doing that my body is rebelling. It takes me several hours to get anything done. I sit there, waiting for inspiration to strike, for energy to appear, for my mind to clear, but no. Waiting does not help. I'd like to just be sick without having to do anything, but I'm either too responsible to let the opportunity be wasted, or too much of a slacker to ever be that far ahead.


Nov 21, 2010

Crazy, In The Best Sense


This weekend was crazy, in the best sense of the word.

Mei and I were involved in a cultural celebration for the rededication of our temple. Last night we preformed for our prophet, earlier that afternoon we preformed for half the town, the night before that we were practicing until eleven and the previous two nights we practiced until ten.

Last night when I got home I sat down and, still sitting in my mom's wedding dress which I'd worn for the closing (on a side note: there are reasons people don't wear wedding dresses every day) I opened my email and found this:

This is a photo taken from Brother Ford's phone on Friday night. I'm not sure what time it is, but I assure you that I was asleep, despite the noise of almost screaming their heads off in support of Tonga, Samoa, some awesome dancing with brooms or just in an effort to say something to the person next to them. Loud.

I'd show you pictures of the celebration but I don't have any. I don't really know what to tell you about the production. It was amazing what was pulled off, the leaders rocked and the kids did great. I'd never been with that many youth before. I stood maybe two feet from the prophet.

It went well and I'm happy to resuming a usual schedule which involves me going to bed some time before ten and being able to go to the Harry Potter film whenever I want. And, somewhere in between sleeping and movie seeing, I hope I'll manage to make a lemon tart for Thanksgiving and finish applying for college.


Mei, mom and Elle just finished reading Wives and Daughters and aren't sure what to read next. Suggestions? Anyone?

Nov 14, 2010

We NEED A Little Christmas


The universe is conspiring against me.

Dramatic? Me? Nah.

In any case, it does seem like people, nature and commercial industries are doing their utmost to make me think that it is already the Christmas season.

For example: My dad has been playing Christmas music since he got back from Boston. And not just every now and then. Every day. Every time he sits down to his computer up comes the youtube fireplace, complete with crackles, and Pandora radio makes it's appearance. Christmas classics, (often annoying) country, (almost always annoying) pop... So far, no Bing Crosby, though. That's is where I put my foot down.

It's also raining. Pouring actually. The drops are big and they come down hard, greying up the sky and letting the air de-humiditize. (I can make up words if I want to.) Where I live rain is kind of equal to snow. Not completely, of course. We get rain in the summer and everything, but winter here is the rainy season. And this is winter rain.

Last but not least, commercial industries have once again demonstrated their inability to read the calendar. I've been seeing Christmas decorations up in stores since before Halloween. In Ross yesterday Mei and I got into this huge argument about reindeer vs. snowman. (Back me up here, guys, reindeer, right? See, Mei? My blogger people from Germany think so too.)

Just as I was about to move on to other topics my dad sat down and started suggesting movies to watch. Among them White Christmas, The Bishops Wife, and Miracle and Thirty Fourth Street...

I don't want to be a partypooper. I like Christmas as much as the next girl. Maybe even more. I am way, way ready for Christmas. If it were Christmas I would be making lemon curd. I would be done applying for college and would be trying to appease the scholarship gods instead. I would wear socks because my feet were cold without feeling absurd. I would not be worrying about my grade in IPB. I would be shopping for Christmas presents, playing holiday music myself and decorating Christmas trees. I want it to be Christmas too, but it's not and that's it. Let's just let it go. Move on. Wait and be patient and...

Oh, whatever. If you can't beat them join them, right? I've got a proposition. Why don't we just make it Christmas? Couldn't tomorrow be December 10th? We can do Thanksgiving, finals and applications after the new year. I think this pretty brilliant. Who do I appeal to? Is this a presidential decision?

We need a little Christmas. Right this very minute. So I'm going to finish up and wish you a

Don't be surprised when you wake up tomorrow and it's December 10th. Anyone know the White House's phone number?


Nov 7, 2010

A Thought For Admissions People


There are a lot of things that I kind-of, sort-of, really hate about applying for college. (I know, I complain a lot on here. It's where I come when I'm irritated. You should be honored. You're the cyber shoulder I come to cry on. What, other people read this blog? Nuh-uh. Who are you kidding. It's just you and me here.)

One of the things hate is that it makes me feel stupid. I think, Why didn't I just get an A in that class? It wouldn't have been that hard. If I'd knocked a few hours of sleeping out I could have still done it and everything else. Who needs to sleep? (Totally not true, there are some classes that the only reason I didn't get an A in them is because I refused to respect them or do the work. Am I proud of it? Erm... no. Would I do it again?... Don't ask me hard questions!)

I also don't like that I have to sit for multiple four hour exams which boil down eighteen years of learning into a number unfortunately distant from 36 or 800. I am not a number! I am smart! Sometimes...

It is possible, though, that what I hate most are their essays. I don't like when they're bad questions that plead for stereotypical answers (What does the world need right now? World Peace (and harsher punishment for parole violators... Name that movie)). But it might be even worse when they ask good questions and then expect you to answer it in less than 500 characters. What? They want me to talk about something I'm passionate about and how I pursued it in 500 characters? They're kidding, right? This post is already 1,192 characters. And I haven't mentioned a single thing that I'm passionate about. Well, unless you count world peace.

It does get to the point where I want to sit all admissions people down and explain to them that even if I spent the next century trying to communicate the whole of my person in 500 characters, all they would know about me is that I get frustrated easily. And then I'm tempted to just submit a list of words. Carefully chosen ones! Words like chandelier, gazebo, goulashes, sleet and flamboyant. Or write them a short fairy tale where the prince gets chewed up by a dragon. But that might be a bit too morbid.

Don't you think the admissions people must get bored? After reading countless essays about world peace and student's dedication to __________. Wouldn't they rather read about what I think clouds taste like? Raise your hand if you would rather read what I think clouds taste like.

OK. I feel better now. Thanks for sticking around and listening to me vent. Anytime you need a shoulder to cry on, you know where to find me.

Clouds taste like cotton candy, but only at sunset.


P.S. This post is now 2,187 characters.

Nov 3, 2010

Yeah, This Is What I Think About


Hey guys, guess what?

It rained today. And I just had a bowl of the worlds best pineapple. And now I'm smiling inside. (And not failing Gov.) It's the little things, you know.

Today my completely amazing Lit teacher tried to convince me to apply to Stanford... Until today I thought it was spelled "Standford." Stanford, in terms of an actual place, is a little bit little bit like the moon, or maybe Wonderland in my head. You know, Alice and Neil Armstrong get to go there and I... I go to Utah, probably. (Nothing against Utah, guys. I like Utah, even if it's mountains aren't as pretty as mine.)

So I thought about it for a while. And then, when I was at the bus stop, I remembered that I have B's and I would have to take the SAT or ACT again and subject tests. And that it is extremely likely that when I go to college I will have a major meltdown. I will turn into a pathetic puddle of pathos and poor roommates will have to walk around me or, if they are extremely kind they'll throw me tissues from a safe distance. The bus stop is a place of crushed cigarettes and crushed dreams, I guess.

In California (or Washington, Rhode Island or Vermont) a major meltdown would be a complete disaster. In Utah I have family an hour from campus and they're much more likely to throw me tissues than I imagine roommates would be.

I actually had no intention of writing a post on this. I was going to tell you about how the jack-o-lanterns around my town are starting to mold over and cave in and how I ate breakfast this morning to White Christmas. "You know," I told my dad, "ethically you're not allowed to listen to Christmas music until after Thanksgiving dinner."

"I thought of that," he said, "but then I remembered how thankful I am for Christmas."

I was going to tell you my dad got back from Boston on Sunday night and brought us back red and gold leaves and holiday-ish aprons. Which was a big improvement on the snickers bar he brought me from the New York airport and the shampoo bottles he brought back from California.

I was going to tell you about how cute my little sister was as a flower on Halloween, how I helped her glue-gun petal-shaped material onto the brim of a witch's hat, which she'd cut away from the point and put her face through, and the amazing green scarf she used for her stem.

I was going to tell you about how I made a total fool of myself in Peace Building again. No surprise but surprisingly disappointing. Obviously I can't be a mediator because I get irritated with how difficult people in conflict are and I can't keep a straight face. Brother Ford quoted What About Bob and I've had the misfortune of seeing that movie many times. How are you supposed to not laugh when your professor explains that there are two kind of people in this world, the ones who like Neil Diamond and the ones who don't?

I was going to, and I guess I already did. That's good, because I have homework, and I should be exercising right now.


Nov 1, 2010

Rainbows... Can You Say Cliche?


You know, today wasn't a bad day, but it was long and hard. And it was a day off. If someone had asked me what I wanted today to be like I would have said, "Lazy." Or maybe, "Calm," "Relaxed," or "Quiet." It was none of the above. The end of it is, when I got home to day my mood was dark. Cloudy. Grey. A little bit evil. I swear, I'm not in a bad mood all the time. I just blog a lot when I'm in a bad mood.

Anyway, life was not making me happy. Then my mom kicked me off the computer so that we could skype with my grandparents, to have Family Home Evening. And, of course, the Family Home Evening lesson was on gratitude. Can you say Ensign?

Mom was kind of jumping the gun on Thanksgiving (I guess I am too), but she had us all go around and say what we were thankful for about the person next to us, thankful for that we hadn't been at first, so on. And you know what? I am really thankful for rainbows.

Rainbows are a little like hearts in the that the world has gotten all the symbolic milage out of them they can take and they are now reduced to cliches. Saying your thankful for rainbows is like wishing for peace on earth when you have the good fortune to see a falling star. The correct response is Really? Seriously? You couldn't come up with anything better?

But I am thankful for rainbows. Every time I see one I think, God loves me. I know that everyone around me can see the rainbow, but it does seem like it's just mine. It feel like the worlds awash with God's watercolors just because I don't feel happy. I saw one walking home today and my shoulders felt lighter.

I am grateful for rainbows, that my parents love each other, that my little sister loves the world so much, for washing machines, for playlists, conditioner, cool hats, dimples and thick cream. I am grateful for Jane Austin and pianos and stained glass windows. And I am really grateful for rainbows, despite the cliche.

Sometimes, though, I forget.

Why do I do that?