Must we? Really?

I didn't have time for my usual "breakfast" (with soy milk! Hooray for protein!) and grabbed a banana instead. Now, you'd think that a banana would be a good idea because it's mild (part of the B.R.A.T. diet) and easy to chew and thus won't trigger my gag reflex or any related nausea.

Not so.

NOT so.

As soon as that thing hit my stomach, I experienced a quite unpleasant wave of nausea. It's still waving, 10 minutes later. I am not pleased. I can handle just about anything, but nausea is my Kryptonite. All I want to do right now is go home and go back to bed until it's over. I hate this. Please bless that I don't actually hwarf on anything.

Go here.

Click!

Reunion.com can bite me.

For those of you not on Facebook, I'm copying and pasting a brief but highly descriptive rant about why I deleted my Reunion.com account.

Here is why I'm deleting my account. I will provide commentary later, I'm sure.

1. Subject: Nice Girl

Body: HI

YOU ARE GIF OF GOD
WELCOME TO US

BYE BYE

2. Subject: Nice Girl

Body: Hi Heidi

I am Happy Talk to you
you are angel of god
I would like meet wich you
any time Call me ***-*******

bye bye

my angel

3. Subject: Hmm!!!! shot at love

Body: I met a fredia long time ago in hounduras? You look so much like her' but she has passed away now.So i know its not her' but you are pretty and i was ust kidding about the shot at love thing.I heard on the tv show and thought it would funny to ask a girl that.

take care.

4. Subject: Nice pic!

Body: I don't know you but I thought I would drop a line and say hello!

5. Subject: hello

Body: Hi,

My name is M_____ Brown, I am a new person in this site, I'm a fun and energetic guy looking for someone to spend time with and hopefully grown with into a relationship. People say that I have a sense of humor and that I'm fun to be around. I love to laugh, and I love making people laugh. I consider myself a good listener and enjoy great conversation. My family and friends are very important in my life, and I spend time with them whenever I have the opportunity. My music taste is very eclectic, ranging from alternative and classic rock to 80's music and current pop. I love sports, both watching on TV and going to games, but I'm also a guy who loves sappy, romantic movies. I like going out on the town and also love quiet times at home.

I'm looking for an honest and beautiful lady, who has a passionate heart and a kind soul -- someone with a rugged side, who's still in touch with her emotions. I love a great sense of humor, but need someone who can be serious too. Basically, I'm looking for a lady who knows who she is, loves life and wants to share her life with a guy who has so much to give.

You need trust to love, but first you need to love in order to trust, Love is not about finding the right person, but creating a right relationship. It's not about how much love you have in the beginning but how much love you build till the end. If it is meant to be, our hearts will find each other when we meet.

I will lovely to know more about you and you can send your reply to me (____guy_@yahoo.com) or you meet me online for yahoo messenger for instant chatting, I will be very glad to hear from you soon.

Thanks

6. Subject: Hello,

Body: AM MARK FROM NEW YORK, I REALLY LIKE YOUR PIC, I DO NOT KNOW IF YOU CARE FOR A CHAT? I REALLY WANT TO BE YOUR FRIEND AND KNOW YOU BETTER, THIS IS MY ID M***********_100@YAHOO.COM

........HOPE TO HEAR FROM YOU SOON...CHEERS.

7. Subject: lets chat

Body: Hi Freckles.. Your picture cought my eye. I saw that you were single. Im single too, I work long hours in the feald of constrouction between that and two boys 18 & 20 it does`nt leave much time to find someone special.. being a little shy dosent help things. hope to hear from you..Nick

8. Subject: hello

Body: hello heidi,

i find you to be a very attractive woman and you have lovely smile so i thought i would drop in to say hello and to leave my email address :) if you would like to chat i would like to hear from you.

m******@freestylephoto.biz

michael

9. Subject: Hello

Body: Hello,i saw ur pics and profile on here and i think yu are cute and nice,i will like to hear from you so we can know eachother better....Steven

GAH. Are you people KIDDING ME?!

cha-ching

I'm doing my usual Saturday morning routine, which involves not eating breakfast until I've balanced my budget spreadsheets. Today, I think I've done some math wrong (or Excel has done some math wrong, which can't be the case) because I have $200 more in my spreadsheets than I do in my actual bank account. I can't figure out why. I just went over my original worksheet and it's all right. All of it. This is SO weird.

Well. If all else fails, at the end of the year I'll either deposit or withdraw from my savings until I get an amount in my checking account that matches what's on my spreadsheets. This shouldn't be so annoying, but it is. I can't figure out where I messed up, or if it's just a result of my credit union not clearing things as soon as they happen. I know exactly what I make every month, I know I can roll over what I don't spend, but I don't know why I'm $200 off and it bothers me.

One and only political statement:

Love her or hate her, Sarah Palin did something none of us have. This "soccer mom" became the vice presidential nominee of arguably the most powerful nation on earth. Any self-proclaimed feminist who asserted that Palin shouldn't have been nominated, that she should have stayed in her home state, that she shouldn't even have been a governor, that she should have kept her lipsticked mouth shut, that she should have stayed home with her children, has effectively put feminism back 50 years.

By saying that Palin was somehow inadequate for the job because she is a mother of a disabled baby and a pregnant teenager, you are also saying that YOU are inadequate for any job of this level. By saying that her personality was somehow inappropriate, you are also saying that YOUR personality quirks are not good enough for a position of power.

By saying that no "soccer mom" (Palin or Clinton) deserves to be in the White House, you have effectively told the entire world that women are still inferior and aren't good for anything but looking pretty and having children.

Thank you. Thank you for your hypocrisy. Thank you for telling the world, though your cruel commentary, that the United States, much as it fights for civil rights, does not respect its own female population. Thank you for negating the status of women even further by, within weeks of her nomination, making a pornographic film about her bid for Vice President. Thank you for making fun of her clothes and condemning the GOP for spending money on new clothes in the same breath.

Thank you for setting hundreds of years of feminism and the fight for equal opportunities on its ear. Thank you for telling women that they are still not good enough. It will take a long time to recover from this, and I hope not to hear any complaining about your proportionally lower salaries, your frustration about being judged only by the brand names you wear or your breast size, and your lack of representation in our nation's capital.

As a post script, I may not have liked Hillary Clinton, but I certainly respected her efforts and was disappointed when she lost the Democratic presidential nomination. I wonder what would have happened had she been nominated? Would she have come under the same level of criticism as Palin? Would the purveyors of pornographic filth have made a series of films about her? Would she have been applauded or condemned for spending money on clothes? I think, unfortunately, that we can answer "yes" to all those questions. It makes me very sad.

I don't really want to smell like a Spanish rose.

I do not think deodorant should make you smell. I really don't. But have you any IDEA how hard it is to find unscented women's deodorant? HAVE YOU? It's nearly impossible.

I do not think it should take trips to four different grocery stores in order to find something that actually works and doesn't just come in a pretty package with all manner of egregiously false claims on it. Yeah, I'm SURE that the "satiny tropical" scent is going to get me a promotion/man/new car when I raise my arms after the nervous sweats I get at an audition or during a confrontation. SURE it is. What does tropical satin smell like, anyway? Knowing satin (and I do...) and the tropics, I can imagine it's not a nice smell. Number one, satin isn't known as a fabric that breathes, and the tropics are moist. You slap "satiny tropical" on a deodorant and I'm not going to be thinking about Rio in the 1930s films of Betty Grable. What I'm thinking is that it probably smells like Carnivale on the 3rd night. ESPECIALLY after you've already started sweating. Not pretty.

Dead serious, kids, this is a partial list of the scents available for your smelling pleasure, from drugstore.com:

the aforementioned satiny tropical
powder fresh (what?)
powder (what kind of powder?)
Asian pear (ok...)
cucumber-grapefruit (um)
jasmine orient (first thought: opium den or stripper name)
fresh (what does that even mean?)
African violet (you mean I get to smell like my grandma's window o' plants, mixed with sweat? nice...)
sheer powder (because powder is sheer, apparently)
woodspice with hops (just say it to yourself in context and TRY not to gag a little)
green tea (will it make me lose weight?)
lemongrass (at least it's not a trendy table planter)
morning fresh (people are so fresh in the mornings that there's no need to shower, apparently)
original clean (say what?)
cool and clean (what does cool smell like? Does it smell like Old Spice? Is that what the cool people wear?)
totally fresh (oh, so this one combines morning and powder)
honeysuckle rose (doesn't sound so bad, but when mixed with body oder? ugh.)
spring breeze (sometimes Spring breezes bring Lake Smell. yum!)
waterlily and freshmint (are you KIDDING me?)
spring fresh (so like spring breeze plus totally fresh?)
apricot (?!?)
active sport (have you SMELLED athletes? have you?!)
marathon fresh (I have no words)
fruity melon (FRUITY MELON?)
vanilla chai (I...just...my brain hurts)

OK, I need to stop and I'm only halfway through the list. Wow. That's just frightening. Now, I would like most of those in a body wash or shampoo or body spray, but not in deodorant. Where is the unscented? Where? Where is the magic bullet that won't make me smell like a theater dressing room after a show?

*sigh*

NaBloPoMo

Yes, I'm finally jumping on the wagon. At the very least, this will help me from being bored during the slow days at work!

I'll post on one of my blogs every day, and I can make no guarantees that the posts will be coherent, relevant, or worth reading, but there you go. Maybe I can use this to do some personal history and creative writing, which would be great.

And this officially counts as my first post of November!

PLEASE

Silk is a FIBER that can be woven into many kinds of FABRIC. To say you have a dress that is "silk and satin" is only correct if PART of it is silk satin and the OTHER part of it is polyester satin. To say "silk and satin" is very redundant otherwise, unless you have no idea what you're saying. Which seems to be the case most of the time. Something can be silky without being silk, yes, but I always assume that "silky satin" actually means the satin is made from silk...because I'm a weird fiber person who assumes people talking about fibers have done some research. Silk can be woven into satin (charmeuse, peau de soie, duchess, bridal), taffeta, velvet, gabardine, chiffon, bengaline, georgette, brocade, dupioni, organza, faille, gauze, tulle, and netting. Another thing! Silk isn't always made into something shiny! We have silk noil, linen-weave silk, silk twill, silk batting, tussah silk. We also have a plethora of blends--silk bamboo, silk cotton, silk wool, silk linen, silk alpaca (really quite lovely), silk rayon. Not to mention the various momme weight linings and art silks!

So, you see, you eBay and Etsy sellers, it really annoys fiber people when you advertise something as "silk" when, upon closer examination, it is actually polyester or acetate. If I wanted acetate taffeta that will water spot and crease like mad and probably spontaneously combust, I'd BUY acetate taffeta (incidentally, I have a great dress made out of an awesomely good acetate taffeta, but that is not the point)!! Don't destroy the hopes you raised when you advertised a "vintage SILK dress" that is really rayon. Don't mess with my high aesthetic values by trying to sell me a "SILK antique piano shawl" that is really ugly mass-printed polyester. Don't assume I'm an idiot who can't tell the difference between a silk 50s prom dress by Ciel Chapman and an acetate 50s prom dress by Sears.

HONESTLY.

It's just as bad as typing "sequence" when you meant "sequins" or "satan" when you meant "satin".

Things I would love to say:

Inspired by the client sitting impatiently on the couch this morning. Well, inspired by several instances over the last few months, but this one may be the final straw:

• When I said she wasn't in yet, I meant it. Don't say "don't you want to check and see if she's in yet?", because I know she isn't and when she IS, I'll be sure you're the first to know.
• No, ma'am, I can't tell you anything about your child's meetings with his or her counselor. Your child is a university student and is protected under FERPA and ADA laws, which means that unless he or she has signed a release, I can't even confirm he or she is registered with our office. Don't yell at me, yell at the laws that are in place to protect your child's privacy.
• Do you see the policy sign that says "no same-day appointments or walk-ins"? It's there for a reason. The more you nag me about it, the less likely I am to want to work with you.
• I am not the information desk.
• No, we don't provide transportation for your son from car to class and back. We also don't have golf carts for such situations.
• We provide wheelchairs only for emergencies and not for weekends. Rent a wheelchair if you have long-term need. Honestly.
• We can't do anything about construction on city streets. If it's making you late, maybe you should leave your house earlier instead of complaining to me that the city is trying to improve traffic flow around campus.
• Please don't get upset when I tell you that I can't fix the elevators but will instead transfer you to the facilities manager who CAN...
• Just because "somebody told you" we do psychological or LD testing does not mean we actually do. Please don't take it out on me.
• Related to that, just because "your professor told you" that all you need to do is call us and we'll give you a letter telling them to do everything you want, does not mean we will ever do that. There's a process and a protocol to this, and unless you meet them, we can't (and won't) help you.
• College is not for some people. Your child may be one. Please don't push him or her into an environment that will be destructive and detrimental more than helpful. Just because you think everyone has to have a college education doesn't mean it's true. Some students are better off in a less intense and stressful environment. PLEASE take that into consideration before insisting that your child really needs to be here. The last things we need are more nervous breakdowns or suicide attempts.
• Look. I don't care who you are. I will treat all students equally and fairly REGARDLESS of what their last name is or what you happen to do for a living. Don't yell at me for not bowing and scraping--I'll never get paid enough to do that.
• Hey, kid. I saw you sneak past my desk and into the counselors' area. Doing that isn't going to help you, because she'll just tell you to make an appointment.
• We are not an adult daycare. We are not obliged nor responsible to provide "peer tutors" or "mentors" for your child. This is not junior high or high school and we don't have enough staff (nor is it within the parameters of our position on this campus) to escort your child to and from classes and your car just so he or she can get some social interaction. We are a university, and providing such things will undermine the academic integrity of this campus.
• I understand that you want the best for your child, but we can't make the professors teach easier subject matter just for him or her.
• Don't get snippy with me if you missed your appointment and expect to be able to just go in and talk to your counselor. You WILL have to reschedule, because you are NOT the only person your counselor helps. Schedules get full, so don't take it out on me.
• Don't lean over my desk.
• Don't rearrange the stuff on my desk.
• No, you can't come behind the desk.
• No, well-meaning-girl-from-student-government, the phrase "so if you're handicapped or know anyone who is..." is NOT helpful. We try to build a relationship of trust and respect, and that phrase is not conducive to either. Please let me explain what our department does. I'm here 9 hours a day--give me some credit.
• Yes, professor, I understand you're worried about your student, but as I am not a counselor nor am I free from the constraints of FERPA and ADA laws, I can not and will not tell you if your student is in our database. I always assume that no release form has been signed and will treat you accordingly.
• Our office hours are clearly posted. We do not make exceptions. This also means that there is no one here after 6 PM or over the weekend. Don't leave angry voicemails at these times.
• If I have gotten 8 MILLION calls from your department over the last few months, it will be a struggle for me to be pleasant when I have to answer the SAME TWO QUESTIONS EVERY SINGLE TIME.
• No, you can't use my scanner. Even if I had one, I wouldn't let you use it. Or my computer. There's a reason I have a screen protector and a password-protected screen saver, and it's so YOU can't see anyone's confidential information. Besides, these computers are set so only department employees can log on.
• Yes, it's getting colder outside. Yes, I work right next to the outside doors. Yes, it gets cold in here, thanks for asking. Yes, I meant it when I posted the sign that says "if you don't need to use the automatic doors, please don't use them." You look perfectly capable of pushing a handle instead of a button.

You may think I'm kidding, but I'm serious when I say that I have personally dealt with all of these incidents, and have had to say some of those things. Good times.

bleaugh

Angst. Angst angst angst angst angst.

Add a dash of a weird, unsettled feeling.

Stir in 18 heaping tablespoons of the certainty that something is just around the corner, but not quite visible yet.

Mix with 2 cups of THIS IS MADDENING.

Beat together with two weeks of not-quite-enough-sleep.

Gently fold in 3 cups of "why am I so lucky?"

Sprinkle in 1 cup of "what the devil?"

Knead with a visit to the chiropractor.

Let rise for 150 crunches.

Bake at 85 degrees for the rest of the year.

Remove from oven, let rest with a good book for a week before serving.

Passion

I thought it was a secret ballot. I thought no one was going to malign, criticize, or try to force my decision. I once thought politics were not a topic for polite conversation.

This is why I will not discuss candidates or join political groups on Facebook or MySpace. I don't need people hating me, calling me stupid, saying I've been brainwashed, telling me I'm heartless, assuming that I can't possibly believe what I believe.

And I thought it was bad hearing those things about my choice of religion. . .

Don't you hate it when...

...you realize you've spent the better part of Sunday afternoon kind of moping when you could have finished crocheting your sister's afghan? The afghan you started in February? And then you also realize that all you've had to eat is a sandwich, which kind of explains the headache you're getting?

I totally would hate that to happen to me...

So, yeah.

After all of that positivity in my last post, I somehow don't want to go to bed. I don't want to read, I don't want to watch TV, I don't want to sew, I don't want to drive, and I'm also very tired...but I don't want to go to bed.

I blame October and my general shortage of fun lately.

I am a boring person because, right now, I kind of just want to sit in front of a fire and stare and think. It's probably time to plan another Autumnal Conflagration or something.

bleh.

Baffling

After the events of the last few days, you'd think I'd feel like ranting. But I don't. I'm not sure why, though. Maybe it's because I'm tired, maybe it's because my brain is mildly confused, maybe it's just because this is how things are and I can't do much about it.

I actually sat at my computer trying to come up with a rant, but I just can't seem to do it.

huh.

So.

Here I am, rantless despite circumstances that would otherwise rabidly demand a rant, and I'm ok with that. I think. I'm not sure yet, to tell you the truth, and there are things that, for my own health and safety, I shouldn't rant about at all...perhaps this last week is one of them.

Regardless of the ambiguous status of a potential rant, it's been a good week in many ways. I got to see Mark Zupan speak as part of a conference at work, I have a blind date lined up for sometime in the near future, I had a great (I think) audition for a show I love (status TBA...), I wore my bright pink leather gloves today, I got to see a bunch of fake blood (yay fake blood!!) on the back of someone who intrigues me, I got to have Italian with my Favorite Cousin, and I got to hang out with a few of my favorite people (hi, Emily, Julie, Julie G, Jeremy, and Kyle!). Like I said, it's been a good week in many ways.

HOWEVER.

The fact that I don't know if I should rant or not is kind of annoying.

new site

Since we haven't figured out how to fix heidiaphrodite.com, I've registered heidiaphrodite.blogspot.com. So go there for now! And help me pick a new template!

I am bad at computers

Or, more specifically, I'm REALLY bad at understanding code. I have another blog (about which you may have heard) hosted through WordPress. Now, don't get me wrong, I really like WordPress for the most part. However, I don't understand the code involved, which means I log in, write a new blog, and hit "post" and things usually go really well...until about two weeks ago. Suddenly, I can't log in. At all. I've searched the support forums, and all the advice I can manage to find involves going into my PHP files and deleting broken code. Let me be clear: I have no idea if I even HAVE PHP, let alone what code to look for in said files/tables. I am highly annoyed. According to my smart brother, it appears as though there is something wrong with the template I'm using and the only way to fix it is to log in and install a new template. But I can't log in and if I can't log in, I can't FIX anything.

I am so frustrated that I'm about ready to somehow back everything up (as if I know how to do that short of cutting and pasting into Word) and just delete my account with them. The support forums have been very unhelpful to a code-moron like me and my brother is busy with work and family and shouldn't be expected to solve my stupid blog problems.

Any ideas? I'm at my wits' end, which isn't that far from the beginning lately.

Michael Buble is DREAMY

I'm at work listening to my coworker's Pandora station and it's a lovely slow version of "Always On My Mind", which is one of my (confession) favorites anyway, but this one is by Michael Buble and it's DREAMY. As in "I could fall asleep listening to this song while someone played with my hair" dreamy. As in "slow dancing in the snow" dreamy. As in "hearing him say I have beautiful eyes he could get lost in and my freckles are perfect" dreamy.

NOT as in "wow, this client is awesomely hitting on me" dreamy. No. Not at all. Because A. that isn't dreamy and B. I actually did the "ring switch" under the desk. You know, the "ring switch", wherein a threatened female surreptitiously moves the ring she's wearing on her right ring finger to her LEFT ring finger in order to get someone to stop annoying her so much. I have done this before. It's easy for me because I'm always wearing a ring and have a vast array of sparkly rings from which to choose. [aside] This one time when I was engaged, my then-fiance didn't have any money or a job yet and so we used the pink sapphire and diamond ring I bought myself when I turned 30 as an engagement ring. [/aside] I don't remember the last time I actually did it, but I do remember that I started doing it when I was waiting tables many moons ago. I bought a cheap fake gold band and kept it in my apron pocket just to stave off people who creeped me out.

Now, bear in mind that I'm usually nearly completely oblivious to a man's efforts to hit on me and most of the time I don't really know someone is interested until he actually asks me out and even THEN I'm not sure for a couple of weeks what's going on. I only become aware of these things (Creepy Crushes, I call them) when something inappropriate happens (I had to pry a 14-year-old off me once), when someone points it out to me ("Strange Old Man stayed forever because he has a crush on you," she pointed out), or when the behavior turns a little confrontational ("Why HIM? Why can't you like ME that way?" he said). So something must have tipped me off about the most recent encounter with someone. Perhaps it was how, when he noticed me behind the desk, ponytailed hair and glasses and all, he said "well, heLLO there!" and kept going on about his awesome/different sense of humor ("I speak in rhyme") and how he was eyeballing me or something. Perhaps it was that. Perhaps. I got the distinct feeling that I really needed my Pretend Boyfriend (hi Josh!) to call me right then, or that I needed to have a visit from Ash (hi Ash!) or that I needed to (gasp) act.

Guess which slackers didn't get my Bat-signal? Yeah. THANKS, guys. I had to act, and act I did! I ring-switched and immediately did some character development that involved how My Husband and I met, what we did for our first date, how we had a fight about his crazy ex-girlfriend giving him a Christmas present, how we made up after that email from my crazy ex-boyfriend, how he proposed, what the wedding looked like, how the flower girls (so superfluous in LDS weddings) got sick eating cake all evening, where we honeymooned (Venice!), and how our apartment has a leaky faucet. Oh yes, friends, I had the back story all worked out before I was halfway through with the conversation.

This is how pathetic my life is.

If by "pathetic" you mean "super AWESOME"!! Who else gets awkwardly hit on by crazy old men and teenagers? Who else gets either blank stares, polite nods, or indulgent smiles when she tells people enthusiastically why she's going to New Mexico? Who else no longer gets a reaction besides a slight roll of the eyes from her family when she buys more jewelry? Who ELSE, I ask you, can pull out of her brain the year the metal eyelet was patented?

That's right, kids! The object of inappropriate adolescent and geriatric affection, that's who!

Yeah, I'm pretty awesome. :)

Humble Pie

You know, it tastes pretty good with some sugar...especially after you do some mental readjusting. :)

Now for the rant:

I can't log in to my other blog and I'm annoyed. I'm scared that I'll lose everything because (stupidly) I didn't back it all up. I'll do that tomorrow and hope it's not too late...

More than kind of.

Over the last 24 hours I've thought long and hard about something I wrote in my "Random Rantings", and I realized that I shouldn't have said anything. It has since been deleted, and I've spend the last day trying to reconcile things within myself. It hasn't been easy, but I know I need to apologize for hurting anyone's feelings. I learned long ago not to discuss politics or religion on a public forum, and now I've learned when to keep my big ranting mouth shut...

I apologize for turning into Mean Fran yesterday. I don't like Mean Fran, because she's not funny. She's not kind. She's bossy and opinionated in a bad way, not the usual funny way. I have strong opinions about a lot of things, but I figured out yesterday that some of them aren't worth sharing or even dwelling on.

Thanks for being patient with me while I work through some residual weirdness from the last 6 years. :) You are all pretty darn awesome!

Now I kind of feel bad...

Here. Clicky.

Random Ranting

Even if you wear a t-shirt under it, it's still a tube top and it's still usually ugly.

Nasty-a flip-flops aren't sexy, especially when you have nasty-a heels and eventually they give you nasty-a plantar fasciitis and possibly nasty-a fallen arches.

If you are not Pat Benatar or appropriately awesome, the "cuffed shorts/high heels/leg-warmers" look is something to avoid.

I thought trucker hats went out of style four years ago. Apparently I was wrong.

Sometimes facial hair doesn't make you look cooler, it makes you look weirder.

If you're over 40, you should probably avoid shopping at Charlotte Russe; bits and pieces here and there are fine, but your closet probably shouldn't look like their sales floor.

The sign says "no same-day appointments or walk-ins" and I MEAN IT.

Just because you can zip the pants up doesn't mean you should be wearing them.

Jocelyn Wildenstein is a walking horror and should have been in therapy instead of a plastic surgeon's office.

Do not illegally pass me on your stupid motorcycle at 35 MPH in a 20 MPH school zone. You're not sexy when you do that.

If your shoes hurt your feet so much that you're limping after only 4 hours at your DESK JOB, you should probably rethink them.

Cell phones should be turned to silent, not vibrate, if you have a front desk position.

Sometimes you should just put down the foils and step away from the color. Especially you in the quad. You there. Your hair looks like bad wig hair.

I will never understand the girls who bring a huge backpack AND a huge purse to school. I understand if you're a dancer or an actor, but for school? I just don't get it.

Slips are good things, especially when you're wearing a white or light-colored skirt and have your favorite flowered panties on. Not so cute.

Put shoes on your kid. Shoes and pants. Thank you.

Uggs. No. Unless they're the real shoes Uggs makes and not the glorified slippers...comfy as they appear.

If you're teaching a class and want to look professional, a corset top over a white button down shirt (with too many buttons undone) and a pleated miniskirt are PROBABLY not your best options to be taken seriously, unless you want to be taken seriously as a stripper. Then it's totally ok.

I am not impressed with your highly sexist beer t-shirt. Nor am I turned on by your highly sexist mudflaps. They don't make me think you're smooth and charming and sexy, they make me think you're a pig.

Don't buy into the "cute girls aren't very smart" nonsense. Either of you.

No, I am not the receptionist for the entire hallway. Look at the sign on the front of my desk and use your reasoning powers.

What makes you creepy.

This is something that needs to be ranted about, but I'm not sure how to compose it yet. I honestly hope feelings don't get hurt; I hope I can put some love into this so that hurt feelings don't happen. However, if they do, I sincerely apologize because it is not my intention to make anyone feel bad...unless you deserve it. Because, my goodness, I'd really appreciate it if someone told me I was being creepy.

More to come...

Tactful time intervals

You know how, sometimes, you're just dying to pull out the Lysol and disinfect because maybe someone with poor hygiene skills just came into your office and inflicted their very poor hygiene skills on one of the chairs? You know that feeling?

Well, how long do you wait after the Catbox Man leaves to soak the desk, chair, and carpet in Lysol? If you don't wait long enough, he'll come out and smell it and possibly be offended (but really, if you don't have the awareness to know you smell bad, is it going to occur to you to be aware of a distinct Lysol smell and therefore assume the catalyst for such a smell is you?), and if you wait too long, you eventually have to stop breathing through your nose and may pass out on your keyboard.

Poor Catbox Man. But maybe it's better to live in ignorance...too bad I have to deal with it.

Tips For Grown-ups

After posting something at least slightly amusing on my other blog, I think it's time for a rant.

Being a current member of the local LDS singles "scene" (if you can call me or it that, seeing as how I don't participate in sanctioned activities and the "scene" can be rather dismal), I do believe I have enough experience under my belt (three single adult firesides at which minute observation occurs counts as "experience") to post some Tips For Grown-ups. Now, I understand that not everyone is financially solvent, and not everyone places a high value on appearances, and not EVERYONE is guilty of the things I'm going to list, but I know some of us are, some of us do, and some of us are, including me.

Tips For Grown-ups:

1. Men. The general rule is that if you're dressing up, your socks should be as dark as your shoes or slacks. This means no white. You wear white socks with nice slacks and dark shoes, and I will automatically ignore you. Shallow, I know, but please. You're over 30--put some effort into finding something besides the white crew socks your mom bought you before your mission. Tan is totally appropriate with brown slacks and cordovan shoes.

2. Invest in good shoes. Save your money for a decent pair of shoes. All you need is one pair (this goes for men AND women) of nice dress shoes. If you can bring yourself to spend good money--believe me, I know how hard this is--on good shoes that will last more than a few months and actually be kind to your feet, it will be less expensive in the long run. Some quick math: $100 on good shoes (give or take) that will last for 5-10 years, if not longer, equals $10 a year over 10 years. $40 on cheap shoes, replaced at least every year, equals $40 a year, or $400 over 10 years. Think about it. Invest. Find your size at a pricey store, and check eBay or wait for them to go on clearance, if you can't afford them now.

3. Don't be "Brother Pays Attention By Nodding After Every Point the Speaker Makes". It's obnoxious and distracting. Likewise, don't be "Sister Laughs Too Loud". Now, if you just DO that without thinking about it, that's fine, but don't become affected because you think it's charming or flirtatious or reassuring or something. Be yourself. If you don't like yourself, figure out why and try to fix it.

4. I don't care if you still live at home (because who am I to judge?), but I really do think that by age 30 you should at least be working full time, if possible. Full-time can mean working part-time and raising kids as a single parent, or it can mean putting in 60 hours a week, or it can mean finishing school while working part-time, or it can mean working part-time at a crappy job while trying to find something better. Have a plan, have at least some education, and have marketable job skills. My degree doesn't really have a lot to do with my current job, but because I HAD the degree, I was able to get the job. And, for goodness sake, don't be a loafing moocher. Pay for utilities or groceries or whatever comes up.

5. Along with that, a car is a good thing to have. Have a car that runs well and is (mostly) paid for, unless you just barely drove it off the lot. In that case, have the means to PAY for said car. If we lived in New York or DC or some other huge metropolitan area with excellent public transportation, a car wouldn't really be a big deal, but here...it is. Please have a car.

6. Update your look every once in a while. I don't mean going out and buying stuff at Forever 21 (because most of it isn't really appropriate if you're over 100 pounds and/or 21), but I do mean keeping track of what's current, what's classic, what's trendy, and what's you. Take a friend shopping. Hire an image consultant. Read some books. Pay attention. Laura Ashley dresses of the 1990s are pretty, but very dated. Look for something similar that is a little more current. And, men, please. Experiment with ties and different suit cuts and shoe styles. You never know unless you try, right?

7. Once you find your style, wear it proud! If you're the only guy rocking a 3-piece suit (well-tailored, of course) and a fedora, you're going to get noticed in a good way. Own it, but don't let it wear you. There's a fine line between personal style and costume.

8. An earnest, two-hand handshake is fine if you're running for office, but if your hands are small and clammy, it's probably best to avoid such a gesture when trying to impress single, attractive women because it makes us feel icky.

9. Hygiene. Brush your teeth, wash your hair, shower. Please.

10. Being well-read can only help your cause. If all you've read in the last few years is the "Twilight" series, it's time to hit the library for something else. Branch out a little.

11. Hobbies. I cannot stress this enough. Scripture reading, while important, does not count. Learn new skills, find new interests. This world is full of things to learn and do--find something and learn it! You also meet new people and get out of your own head for a while.

12. Speaking of getting out of your head, it's so sad to me when women hit a certain age (such as 27, to pick a random number), haven't found "the right one" yet, and give up. They stop caring about how they look, what they eat, what they do for a living--they get old. Don't get old, not like that! It's not worth it! If you haven't found "the one", work on becoming "the one". Take a class, travel, garden, train for a marathon. Remember what you wanted to do as soon as you were old enough, and do it. Take that first step. Don't give up on yourself just because it seems the world has given up on you. Show the world how wrong it is.

13. Take care of yourself. Life is busy for everyone, but find a few minutes each day to go for a walk or lift some weights. Get regular hair cuts, wear some makeup every once in a while, use lotion. So much of attractiveness comes from attitude, and I think you have a better attitude about yourself if you're doing regular maintenance. Our bodies aren't perfect, and some of us will never read Adonis/Venus stature, and that's ok! Do the best you can with what you have, and love it.

Now, I know some of these sound trite, but it's so important to take care of our bodies, minds, and spirits. It's not like we can trade them in if they don't work the way we want them to. Sometimes I want to shake "older" singles and say "stop feeling sorry for yourself and DO something about it!" I recognize, however, that depression happens. Things go wrong. The only way I got through it was to just keep putting one foot in front of the other. Looking back, I'm glad I kept moving and I'm glad I found hobbies, took care of myself, got my degree, paid off my car, traveled, planned, dreamed, and planned some more. It's ok if plans go awry--at least you have plans! Plans change, and this life is a time to learn and plan and do and become. Don't waste it.

Weddings

Oh, there will be ranting in this post. BUT not yet--it's a placeholder until I can sit down and compose without offending anyone, because I really don't want to do that. :) This rant about weddings will be about what bothers ME, and not what other people should do. If you want to do the things I don't want to do, that's awesome! Isn't it great that we live in a place that allows us to do what we like? Yes, it is!

Stay tuned...

You know what?

It really shouldn't be THIS HARD to run three simple reports from my database. Unfortunately, it IS, because someone decided it would be a good idea to use student social security numbers instead of internal, randomly generated university IDs. Yes, it's true. I can GET to the report I need, but I can't change the SSN query for some stupid reason. I am not happy about this. I've been working on it for over an hour and I am not happy.

At least there are brownies in the fridge...

hahahahahaha!

So there's a city across the lake that is really a glorified subdivision of one of the cities north of me. I call it a fake city, because they don't have a post office or a Target or a mayor. Also, it ruins my daytime view across the lake. Don't get me wrong, it's a pretty place to live, but it's not a real city like it pretends it is and it is full of cookie-cutter stucco houses with no personality. Thus my vitriol.

Anyway, I just heard on the news that there's an infestation of spiders, which made me laugh and laugh. I both hate and fear spiders and I would not want to have an infestation of them in my house, so I kind of feel sorry for those people. On the other hand, why are they surprised and/or shocked? They moved into natural spider territory--how can they expect nature to conform itself to suburbia? Of COURSE there are going to be spiders! Just like there are probably coyotes and cougars in the (almost fake) city in the next valley over where people are complaining that there's not a guarded road for their kids to walk to school! YOU moved there, YOU wanted the "country" feel, and now YOU want the country gone! Freaks. The reason you moved there is the reason you're complaining! Do you not see this? Apparently you don't, and the irony is lost on you.

Man. If I ever moved out there, while I wouldn't exactly enjoy raccoons tipping over my garbage cans, at least I'd EXPECT it and do my own work to make sure my garbage cans didn't get tipped over instead of whining to the feds about it. I'd EXPECT coyotes and actually be pretty excited if I saw one, but I'd sure keep my pets indoors. I'd EXPECT hawks and not keep small rodent pets outside. I'd EXPECT spiders and use sonic bug repellers in my house. I'd drive my kids to school in the winter, or bundle them up really warm, install tracking systems in their heels so I could track their 1000 mile trek across the Great Divide on my high-def bigscreen.

Yeah. If I ran the world...

grrrr.

*scowl*

I really hate not knowing things sometimes. I also strongly dislike having to wait.

Kindness

Why is it that the people who most vehemently demand respect, consideration, tolerance, and freedom are the people who are the most unwilling to give others those same things? Why are kindness and courtesy in such limited supply? I can't be the only person in this world who feels this way. I do my best to be kind and patient and respectful of others but it often seems that my efforts are lost on those who belligerently insist that they be respected. I'm already doing that, and it would be nice to have some respect in return, even if it's only for a fellow-traveler on this journey through life. Those "share the road" ads are applicable in many ways here. We all go through doubt, pain, and fear; why do so many people feel the need to add to the doubt and pain and fear already around them? Words hurt. Physical wounds heal and scar over and you don't often feel the pain after healing. Emotional wounds, even under the thin disguise of jest, hurt for years. I believe that as fragile as our human bodies are, our souls are even more brittle. I wouldn't tolerate a physically abusive spouse, so how can I tolerate emotional abuse from others? Is it because I'm not as close to them? Is it because I've learned to give people more chances than they may deserve? Is it because I believe that kindness, religiously motivated or not, is a good quality that should be cultivated and cherished?

There are times and places for bluntness. There are even situations where rudeness is appropriate--if someone is breaking into your home, I don't think you should always invite them to have some cookies. But think of the times you've been wounded by someone's bluntness or rudeness. Remember that sting. Then look at what you've said today, to friends or strangers, and how that could affect them. Words have power that we take for granted. My dad used to recite this verse to us children when we said mean things to each other, and I wish I knew who wrote it:

Be careful of the words you say,
To make them kind and sweet.
You never know from day to day
Which words you'll have to eat.

I think there is a common misperception of the meanings of the words "nice" and "mean". My favorite definitions of the two:

nice:

• amiably pleasant; kind: They are always nice to strangers.
• characterized by, showing, or requiring great accuracy, precision, skill, tact, care, or delicacy: nice workmanship; a nice shot; a nice handling of a crisis.
• having or showing delicate, accurate perception: a nice sense of color.
• refined in manners, language, etc.: Nice people wouldn't do such things.

mean:

• offensive, selfish, or unaccommodating; nasty; malicious: a mean remark; He gets mean when he doesn't get his way.
• small-minded or ignoble: mean motives.
• low in status, rank, or dignity: mean servitors.
• troublesome or vicious; bad-tempered: a mean old horse.
  

("nice." Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1). Random House, Inc. 13 Aug. 2008. http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/nice; "mean." Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1). Random House, Inc. 13 Aug. 2008. http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/mean.)

Looking at and understanding the varied definitions of those two words, I realize that I want to be nice. I want to be tactful and careful and delicate. I want to be refined and pleasant. I don't want to be small-minded or vicious or selfish. I've been that, and I don't like that version of me. It made others uncomfortable or sad or even hurt, and I hate the knowledge that my words have (directly or indirectly) caused those feelings. I find that I'm much happier, genuinely happier, when I let people speak without refuting everything they say. I'm happier when I try to understand people by accommodating their viewpoints and life experiences. I am truly happier when I can tell I've helped ease someone's hard day.

There are people out there who think that "nice" is a dirty word that somehow doesn't have realistic application to this world. There are people out there who pride themselves on their logic. There are people out there who would rather be right than kind. There are people out there who abhor any discussion of something that can't be substantiated by a pie chart. Conversely, there are people out there who don't say anything if they can't say something nice. There are people out there who are humble but unwavering in the fight against discourtesy. There are people out there who would rather be wrong than mean. There are people out there who embrace the unquantifiable precisely because it can't be explained.

There are people out there who have hurt me badly, and there are people out there who have helped me heal by giving me a kind word. This life is hard enough without giving in to the urge to be selfish, petty, ignoble--mean. I'd rather make it easier, and I unquantifiably hope, in turn, that other people will help smooth over the rough spots on my path.

I am, apparently, a cranky old bat

Honestly. Who, in their right mind, thinks "let's make the kids put on swimming suits, load up the car, and drive to the local university quad where we can let our kids play in the recycled-water fountain"? WHO?!

Apparently, the women and kids who have been in the quad for the last couple of hours. Children in swimming suits playing in the fountain/waterfall. Blankets and food on the grass.

Now, keep in mind that I'm all for having fun with your kids. I really am. But would you let your kids play in the fountains at the mall? On purpose? Have you not heard of cryptosporidium or giardia?! Would you take your kids to the other local university and set them loose in the Fine Arts Building? Oh wait. I've seen that happen. I guess I'm one of those people who thinks public spaces are public for a reason, and that half a dozen kids in the fountain kind of detracts from it. I sound completely stodgy, I know...but I'd be the mom saying "honey, please don't climb in the untreated, recycled-water fountain. It's not a swimming pool and you could get very sick. If you want to go swimming, let's go to the city pool tomorrow after chores, ok?"

I must prefer it when things are used properly or something. I like appropriateness and respect for public property.

On the other hand, they're not hurting anything, it's really hot out today, and they were having a lot of fun. I must just be jealous that I'm stuck behind this desk...where's my giant cookie?

Going Private

I hate to do this, but I've realized that I should probably make this a private, permission-only blog...or not rant as much, especially about people. I'll let it simmer for a bit and have a decision by the end of the week.

Drink some water, for goodness' sake!!

Ok, this blog isn't really about drinking water, but I have to say that I can't STAND the sound of a soda can opening anymore. I really can't. Every time I hear it, I want to go up to my father, take the soda away, and say "drink some water, for goodness' sake!!" This is the man who once warned us all to be careful of aspertame, and now he stocks up on Diet Coke. *sigh* Water is just better for you; I don't care if the diet sodas don't have any sugar or calories anymore.

Vicious Cycles

Well. Here I am, after a pretty darn good day, feeling ranty again. Some of this was triggered by someone (hi Mom! I love you!) moving the relatively organized piles o' fabric and patterns off the cutting board so she could use it. Really, I'm ok with the moving of things. I really am. It's the idea that it had to be moved that really gets to me. I try to be organized, and I try to be motivated, and I go to Ikea in search of the perfect storage unit for miscellaneous craft/sewing supplies, and I look at other people's sewing areas, and I get all kinds of great ideas, and just when I reach the perfect combination of mental, emotional, and physical readiness, it all flies out the window when I realize that all my patterns are now a size too small (stupid weight gain) and in order to actually sew anything I'd have to alter nearly every pattern I own. So I get depressed about that, don't feel like sewing because of the extra work (I hate altering things), and things sit in the sewing room, lonely and bored, until someone who actually has motivation moves them in order to start a project she'll actually complete. This person is very rarely me. There is, in fact, a 14-year-old cross stitch (probably eternally) attached to a fancy embroidery floor stand and frame that my parents got me for my birthday over 10 years ago or something. It's pretty, but I'm bored with it, but I'm too stupid stubborn to give it away and cleanse my life of its dust. Its style is kind of not my thing anymore, either, considering I bought it shortly before my wisdom teeth were extracted in 1994. 1994!

I will only briefly mention other unfinished projects that wouldn't take much effort to actually complete but that thinking about depresses me:
The ribbon embroidery pillows for my sisters
The miniature quilt I started when I was 17
The throw quilt I still need to piece
The dollhouse furniture kits that need to be assembled
The DOLLHOUSE (hi--20 years ago? Can you please not use those colors on the inside? kthnx)
The sun/moon needlepoint
Good heavens, the crocheting
The unpicked dress that needs to be made into something better
The small but significant pile of mending, including my Isaac Mizrahi linen pants that I love

It is, quite honestly, getting ridiculous. If my stupid neck hadn't rebelled and pinched a nerve that left me with limited mobility and pain tolerance last week, this would not even be an issue. All my plans for reorganizing and culling were shot right to pieces by that, and two of my three days off were pretty much useless, not to mention how I was stupidly (and kind of randomly) depressed most of the 4th. Depressed about a person I never want to see again, no less! Go my brain! Go brain, go! Rah rah rah!

Anyway. I want a clean sewing room. I want to lose 15 pounds and get my waist back. (Yes, I know I'm not fat and therefore not allowed to complain, but give me a break and let me be annoyed that I can't use any of the patterns I currently own without wanting to stab my eye with my scissors because I hate altering so much.) I want to have cute clothes the motivation to actually wear them. I want to be DONE with the stupid insecurities leftover from my time with Ex Man (and even SAYING that makes me want to punch myself, because it's SO stupid that they're still there and I hate it). I want to stop buying pretty fabric that I'm afraid to sew because I might hate the dress made out of it. I want to stop being intimidated by other seamstresses/sewists/seamstrixes/whatever who are more creative/technically better/smarter than me. I want to stop being afraid to wear something a little "off" just because not everyone would appreciate it. I want to know what in the world happened to the creative person with a great eye for color and line!

Good thing tomorrow is project night and the WalMart has good prices on plastic bins.

"You're great, but..."

This post is a long time coming, something I've been thinking about for a while, triggered partly by my last audition and partly by years and years of being "such a good friend". This post is to list things I can't (or won't, in some cases) change about myself just so I can be more dateable/castable/hireable. This post is to remind myself that I am worth it, despite the shallowness with which I seem surrounded sometimes. This post is to remind myself to give people a chance when I normally wouldn't.

Thus it begins.

Over the last couple of years, I've realized that The List I made at 17 is mostly irrelevant. The things that mattered to me then don't matter as much--I've grown up and figured out that a certain shoulder width doesn't make a man better, it just makes him wider. Back in December at dinner with some castmates, we played a question game. One of the questions we all had to answer was "what are the top 5 things you look for in a potential spouse". I thought hard about it, because so much had changed, and my answers were these (edited 6/28 to be better, as per Tiffany's suggestion): 1. someone who honors his Priesthood (and doesn't that cover nearly all the bases, including "hard worker"?), 2. someone with a good sense of humor, 3. someone who is talented in some way, 4. someone who is as smart as or smarter than me (that makes reading kind of a given), and 5. someone who is not Ex Man. 5 was kind of a sarcastic throwaway, because Ex Man has qualities I still look for, but he was also critical and mean and shallow in many ways, so I amended 5 to be "someone who is not critical or cruel".

As we went around the table, some of the other answers surprised me, some of them dismayed me, and some of them made me almost want to change mine. I'm not totally dismissing physical attractiveness, but I've discovered that I'm physically attracted to a wide range of "types", and I don't have such strict requirements as some people I know. Eyes? I'm a sucker for blue eyes, but it doesn't really matter. Hands? Bigger than mine. How simple is that? Height? Taller than me and not intimidated when I'm wearing heels. Work? As long as he has a good steady job and works hard, I don't really care. I've matured enough to know that life isn't how you planned it and that you never know who you'll find--if someone embodies the qualities I listed, he's definitely worth a shot and I will try not to dismiss anyone because he doesn't have nice biceps.

So, understandably, I get a little annoyed when I get the feeling that a man is appraising me and thinking "she's smart/nice/funny/pretty, but..." Yes, it happens, and yes, I've been guilty of the same thing ("he's cute, but kind of stupid"), but golly. Can't a girl catch a break once in a while? This leads to the following list of things, as mentioned in the introduction, that I can't or won't change about myself:

Dude. I have freckles. Get over it. I won't bleach my skin just to make you feel more comfortable about dating a genetic mutation.

Freckles also mean I have pale skin. This will not change. First, I'd look weird with a tan; second, I know my odds of getting skin cancer all too well (having a scary mole removed will really cement things). I'm not going to get a tan and increase those odds.

I probably won't dye my hair as I get older and the silver hairs become more prevalent. I love my hair color and I am actually curious about what I'll look like as I get older. Copper supplements supposedly keep hair from going gray, and I might give that a shot, but do you really want to pay all that money every 6 weeks? I didn't think so.

I can't get shorter. I can appear taller by wearing heels, but I can't get any shorter, and I refuse to slouch. If you want to date someone shorter, don't date me. :)

I'm pretty smart. I make a concerted effort to not be critical of others who aren't as smart as me and I really try not to show off; I also am humble enough to admit it when I'm wrong, which is more often than you'd think. If my IQ bothers you, I'm truly sorry, but I won't play dumb just to help you be less intimidated. I'm not that kind of woman, and I can't stand those who are.

I'm in my 30s. I'm not going to dress like a 20-year-old. I try to remain current to a point, but there are some trends I'm just not even going to touch. I am also notoriously picky about my clothes, so shopping at the cutesy trendy stores is largely a no for me.

I have bad eyesight, and when my eyes are tired or itchy, I wear glasses instead of contacts. I try to choose frames that are flattering, but it would be very unsafe to go without them just because I'm "prettier" that way.

Sometimes I don't wear makeup at all (see above). I usually do a basic powder-eyeliner-mascara combination, but there will be times I either don't care or don't have the energy to do even that. If we're going out, I will make an effort, but if I'm cleaning at home, the mascara just isn't that important to me. It's unfortunate if that annoys you, but please don't tell me how to wear my makeup--that's just too controlling for my taste.

After years in retail, I much prefer comfortable shoes over glamorous shoes. I'd rather have an arch support and enough room for my toes than the latest shiny flats. You are more likely to see me in my Bass flats or my Danskos than anything else, because they make my feet happy. Happy feet = happy me. I love heels, but I won't wear them every day. Be assured, however, that I know how to dress for any occasion and will lay on the glam when appropriate. This is why I have useless clothes and shoes. :)

Speaking of physiological things, I have small breasts. I said it. I like them. They don't get in the way, it's not impossible to buy clothes that fit right, and they suit my frame. I absolutely REFUSE to get implants just to conform to some weird standard of beauty based almost entirely in fantasy. If that's the only thing you have to complain about, deal with it. The only time I ever want to go through that kind of invasive surgery is if I have to have a mastectomy and go the reconstructive route.

Even if I do lose the little bit of extra weight I've gained from my sedentary jobs over the last five years, I'll never be a size 6. If you want a really skinny girl who doesn't eat, date one. Don't date me. While I do have some food issues, I'm a pretty healthy eater and being less than 135 pounds is something I do not aspire to. I'll keep in shape, but I never want to walk that eating disorder line again. Please don't expect it of me.

There are some things that just aren't worth the time we spend on them. If you want a wife who can sew, cook, clean, paint, read; who loves the gospel and her family; who is a little nuts sometimes; who loves to laugh and learn and play; has substance; is tough when she needs to be and not ashamed to cry; who has her own tools and can change a spark plug if needed, give me a call. If you want a wife who is nothing more than a pretty accessory, don't even bother.

The funny thing is...

As much as we (and our political leaders) would like to believe that walking, biking, scootering, etc are going to help with high gas prices, it's not strictly true when you think about it. Sure, you'll be saving money by not having to put gas in your car as much, but where I live, it's nearly impossible to get any further than the library by bike--it's not a very bike-friendly town, you see. Also, I am kind of a pansy. We would like to believe these things, but we fail to take into account the vast dependence on petroleum byproducts, and I'm not just talking Vaseline Intensive care.

Here is a partial list pulled directly from my brain of things I use on a more or less daily basis that are petroleum byproducts:

• Polyester fiber--just looking around right now, I see two lampshades, a bedspread, curtains, three blankets, a tablecloth, "silk" flowers, fabric panels in my folding screen, a pink pompom, my slippers, and the majority of my messenger bag that have polyester in them. This is not to mention the shirts, pants, skirts, dresses, sweaters, underwear, and shoes that have some kind of polyester in them, and let us not forget the polyester fiberfill in my pillows and stuffed animals, which brings us to
  
• Nylon. I have at least two dozen pairs of pantyhose/tights/fishnets, forget about the socks. I have 5 nylon slips, various linings in various items of clothing, and a few bags.
• Lycra/spandex/silicone/rubber. You'd think it was made from real rubber, but real rubber is hard to find and mostly from endangered forest areas of the world. The substitute? Elastic manufactured from petroleum byproducts. Bras, workout clothes, my memory foam pillow, all the elastic in various waist/arm/neckbands, elastic cord in some of my jewelry, the elastic around my expandable file, the rubber in my hair ties and on the bottoms of my ceramic pots...
• Plastic. How much plastic am I looking at? My phone, my water bottles, the non-fabric part of my lampshade, my Chapstick, my desk organizers, computer monitor, keyboard, mouse, pens, folders, boxes, CDs, computer tower, plugs, fan, watering can, spiral binding on books, night light, various bottles, stereo, clock radio, garbage can liners, glasses case, GLASSES (polyurethane lenses? yup), push pins, drawers, hangers, curtain rod, little rings on the curtain tiebacks, tape dispenser, contacts, protractor, rulers, book covers, CD cases, outlet covers, speakers, surge protector, even the tips of my hair pins are covered in some kind of silicone or plastic. This does not include what's in the bathroom or the rest of the house--jars, spoons, plates, cups, bowls, Tupperware...

I'm overwhelmed, how about you? Thinking of all the things we use on a daily basis that are petroleum byproducts is startling, really. Should we insist on a pre-Industrial Revolution society? That will never happen. We're addicted to convenience and the thought of going back to a time where you'd raise, shear, wash, spin, and weave your own fabric is, quite honestly, repugnant to me. So, to all those people who think the simple solution is to stop driving big cars and conserve fuel, that's just the tip of the big plastic iceberg, but it's certainly a start.

Ugh

You know how you can have a relatively good week that turns into something entirely different by Friday night? Welcome to my weekend.

A longer rant is forthcoming, but for now I feel unwanted, unappreciated, ungraceful, and generally left out of everything. It's like junior high all over again and I want to make it different but I worry that forcing something to change will only make me look desperate and silly.

In any case, I wonder what in the world I have to do for people to SEE me, especially in auditions lately. I wonder what I did that offended someone or whether I'm seen as good filler but nothing to be excited about. Filler is great, don't get me wrong, but I'm tired of being the stuffing and not the fabric when I know I CAN be the fabric. I'm not getting any younger and I'm sick at the idea that people automatically write me off because of my biological age without taking into consideration how I look and what I can do. I fully remember how annoying it was to be in a management position at 21 and know that people didn't take me seriously because of my age...this feels like the same thing, but instead of being too young, I'm too old and I can't do much about that.

I'm trying very hard not to be discouraged. I'm trying very hard to take care of myself and focus on the positives. I'm trying very hard not to be angry at other people's choices. And you know what? It's VERY hard to do those things.

Work

It's really annoying when you truly like a job for the first four months, and then you suddenly realize that you are beginning to resent aspects of it.

I know I don't want to be here for the rest of my life, but can I please just like it enough to stick it out for at least the next six and a half months? I have great benefits! I have paid time off! I'm salaried!

*sigh*

Post-script:

I just realized that this does not include the bridal books I've read, and I know I've left off something about Asian and Native American clothing.

I really DO know more than you

How to begin? Abruptly, apparently.

I know a lot about clothes--the psychology, the sociology, the history, the construction. I know more than just about anyone I know, and that's being honest and not arrogant. I've never taken a class in costuming or clothing history but I seem to have a profound affinity for the subject. I can retain information about clothing like nobody's business (example: I know that the metal eyelet wasn't used on corsets until 1828), I can reason out a history of suspenders based on what I've read, and I can tell you all about calf-padding and bust improvers. At one time in my life, I had to shut up about clothing around Usurper because she insisted to the point of ridiculousness that she was right about everything and I didn't have the energy to argue with her. I don't know everything and I really need to get back into research-mode, but here is just a partial list, from memory with the help of Amazon, of books (good and bad) I've read or am familiar with:

The Encyclopedia of World Costume
The Corset: A Cultural History
In a Glamorous Fashion: The Golden Years of Hollywood Costume Design
Screen Style: Fashion and Femininity in 1930s Hollywood
Hollywood and History
The Language of Clothes
The Social Psychology of Clothing
What Clothes Reveal: The Language of Clothing in Colonial and Federal America
Women's Wardrobe (Chic Simple)
Men's Wardrobe (Chic Simple)
Chic Simple Dress Smart for Women: Wardrobes That Win in the Workplace
Dress For Success
Color Me Beautiful
Chic Simple What Should I Wear?: Dressing For Occasions
Work Clothes (Chic Simple): Casual Dress for Serious Work
Chic Simple Dress Smart Men: Wardrobes That Win in the New Workplace
Dressing the Man: Mastering the Art of Permanent Fashion
Sex and Suits: The Evolution of Modern Dress
How to be a Gentleman
How to be a Lady
Wardrobe Strategies for Women (12 volumes)
The Dress Doctor
The Universe of Fashion (not all of them, but several in the series)
Edith Head's Hollywood
Chromophobia
European Costume: 4000 Years of Fashion
Haute Couture
Costume of the Western World
20000 Years of Fashion
Fashions of a Decade (probably all of them)
The Art of Haute Couture
Historical Fashion in Detail
19th Century Fashion in Detail
Fashion in Detail: From the 17th and 18th Centuries
Costume in Detail: 1730-1930
High Fashion Sewing Secrets From the World's Best Designers
100 Years of Fashion Illustration
Style is Not a Size
50 Years of Fashion: New Look to Now
The Fashion Book
Chanel (Metropolitan Museum of Art Publications)
Couture Sewing Techniques
Fitting and Pattern Alteration (I helped with the second edition of this)
The Complete History of Costume and Fashion: From Ancient Egypt to the Present Day
Costume and Fashion: A Concise History
History of 20th Century Fashion
Fashion, the Mirror of History
The History of Underclothes
I Do: 100 Years of Wedding Fashion
Survey of Historic Costume: A History of Western Dress
Patterns of Fashion I and II
The Concise History of Costume and Fashion
Victorian and Edwardian Fashion from "La Mode Illustree"
Fashion and its Social Agendas: Class, Gender, and Identity in Clothing
Fashion Through the Ages
History of Men's Costume
Victorian and Edwardian Fashion: A Photographic Survey
English Women's Clothing in the Nineteenth Century: A Comprehensive Guide with 1117 Illustrations
Vanity Rules: History of American Fashion and Beauty
As Seen in Vogue: A Century of American Fashion in Advertising
Advertising to the American Woman
After a Fashion: How to Reproduce, Restore, and Wear Vintage Styles
The Costume Timeline: 5000 Years of Fashion History
Racinet's The Complete Costume History
Art and Fashion: The Impact of Art on Fashion and Fashion on Art
Fashion (A Crash Course)
Mirror, Mirror: A Social History of Fashion
The Medieval World
The Fine Art of Fashion: An Illustrated History
History of Fashion: A Visual Survey of Costume From Ancient Times
The Button Book
Shoes: A Celebration of Pumps, Sandals, Slippers and More
Handbags: The Power of the Purse
Hats
The Language of Fashion
The Visual History of Costume
The End of Fashion: How Marketing Changed the Clothing Business Forever
The Evolution of Fashion: Pattern and Cut From 1066 to 1930
Everyday Fashions. . . As Pictured in Sears and Other Catalogs (series)
Fashion in Costume 1200 to 1980
History of Costume and Fashion
Fashioning the Bourgeoisie
What Jane Austen Ate and Charles Dickens Knew
The Fashion Sourcebooks Series by John Peacock
The Culture of Clothing: Dress and Fashion in the Ancien Regime
The Culture of Fashion: A New History of Fashionable Dress
Art Deco Fashion
Dress Code: The Hidden Meaning of Women's Clothes
The Red Dress
Chronicle of Western Fashion
Encyclopedia of Clothing and Fashion (3 volumes I wish I had)
The Century of Hats: Headturning Styles of the Twentieth Century
Corsets and Crinolines
Inventing Beauty: A History of the Innovations That Have Made Us Beautiful
Fabulous Fit
The History of Hair: Fashion and Fantasy Down the Ages
Looking Good: A Comprehensive Guide to Wardrobe Planning, Color & Personal Style Development
Inside Out: A Brief History of Underwear
World Textiles: A Concise History

Quite honestly, I don't think this is all I've read, and I've read approximately 95% of this list. I'd have to look at the bibliographies of the papers I've written about clothing to get a more comprehensive list. I know I've read more but I can't remember titles right now.

Now, after going over that, do I really need to PROVE I know what I'm talking about? I started reading about clothes when I was 12, I went through an intense image management training when I was 27 (and had already read more on the subject that anyone else in my class), my senior thesis was all about the last 200 years of women's clothing and how our messed-up views of that have affected our current unrealistic physical ideal. . . and people still don't believe I know my stuff. Do I have to get a PhD to prove it? On the other hand, I don't think I have to prove anything. I know what I know and that's all there is to it. I'm perfectly willing to admit when I'm wrong, but so far very few people have "outsmarted" me when it comes to clothes.

It's annoying.

And oh yeah...

The crack on my windshield grew by 14 inches during work yesterday. I figured it would need replacing sooner or later, but I'm annoyed that it cracked nowhere NEAR the chips that have been there for almost two years. Go figure.

Unprovoked and Unspecific Ranting, Just Because it Feels Right Today

You know how there are women out there who are really really thin and tan and beautiful? And tall? Like models? Yeah. There are a couple of them in Amanda's ward, and I couldn't stop looking at them on Sunday. Seriously beautiful girls. REALLY thin. Like their biceps were probably not as big as my forearms. While I am glad that you can't count my vertebrae unless you are close enough to feel them, and that you really can't see my ribs, and that I have a womanly waist-to-hip ratio instead of that of an adolescent boy, I found myself alternately envying, pitying, hating, and admiring those girls. It really bothered me, both that I hated them and that I may have gotten a bit too complacent about my own shape.

I don't know ASL. In my current office, one of our counselors is deaf. She reads lips and can vocalize, but I still don't understand her all the time and it's hard. I feel like an idiot because I can't. My grandfather signed--he was the president of the Deaf Branch in Ogden for many years--and I regret never learning from him before he died. I would have taken a class over the summer, but it doesn't work with my Tuesday schedule, so (if I'm still here) I'll register for a class this fall. I'm picking up signs here and there, but I still feel really stupid sometimes.

I've gained weight. I've avoided talking about this because it's not really fair that the "thin girl" complains, and I haven't gained a lot, just enough for me to not be able to wear some of my clothes comfortably. I also am no longer the size I've been since 2001 when I finally lost the weight I gained having a desk job for a year. When you've been the same size for so long, being unable to wear your favorite lace skirt is very annoying. I don't overeat (despite my rabid sweet tooth) and I try to be active, but it's hard to find something I like that doesn't discourage me after three weeks.

Speaking of health issues, I'm 33. I need a bone density scan, a cholesterol screening, two moles removed (not urgent...yet), a sun damage screening, a visit to a podiatrist to check out some weird scar tissue from the time I stepped on a sliver of glass that Bethani had to pull out of my foot because I couldn't see it, not to mention new glasses and new fake teeth. I know I'm not THAT old, but I can feel bone loss staring me in the face. I've already had one scary mole removed and I anticipate there will be more, so I'm religious about wearing SPF 45 every day and using an AHA at night to combat whatever sun damage there is. Thinking about these things makes me cranky.

I have pretty dark red flats. They are shiny and have a wingtip detail, and velvet bows on the toes. But they give me blisters and I need to doctor them so I can actually wear them, and that annoys me.

My hair is past my waist. I love it, but it's too long to really do anything with. I mean, I can do fun braids and twists and that, but it mostly just hangs there. I'm ready for it to be gone...and I won't cut it until I know if I get cast in the film project I'm auditioning for in a couple of weeks. If they want really long hair, I'll keep it for a while longer. I have weird negative associations with the length because stupid Ex Man didn't like it as long as it was.

Speaking of Ex Man, I'm thoroughly annoyed that I still react so negatively when people mention him or when I see someone who looks like him. When does that end? When do I get to be indifferent? When does the wound heal? When does the scar tissue stop aching? I hate this.

I need a new bed, but I don't know what size to get. A twin fits oh-so-nicely in my room, but I sleep better on a double. This causes me stress, and when I'm under stress, my ability to make good decisions just flies right out the window. Good times.

Things I want to say to Little Miss Unfriendly: Whoever told you to completely line your eyes with dark eyeliner to make them look bigger was wrong. Cut your hair or condition it, but don't go around like your hair is so hot when it looks overdone and like straw. Black shoes with brown skirts are ok, but NOT brown boots with black skirts--common sense is more valuable than "What Not to Wear". Don't stare at me or look through me when I smile at you on campus. You've seen me before. Don't pretend I'm not there. But know that if I DO discover that you're related to or friends with someone I know and love, and we end up at a party or someone's house together, I will act as if you've never been unfriendly or rude to me, and you'll be the one who is embarrassed. Not me.

I have three loads of laundry to do (wah, I know) and about 10 hours of extra sleep to get before I'm completely caught up and fully functional. I am so tired that I can't leave my eyebrows alone, and that's always a very bad sign.

Well. I feel better now.

I got TAGGED

And you'll have to go here to read it, because it's not technically a rant. :)

Things I'd Rather Do:

Inspired by a thread on PlayersAnonymous.org about what kind of relationship you have with your exes, I wrote the list below. I find it rather amusing (say it "rawthuh", because it's more fun) because I imagine how the conversation would go:

"Hey, I see Ex Man is here. You wanna go say hi?"
"Heck no. I'd rather eat a bug."
or
"I ran into Ex Man the other day and he asked about you. Do you want me to say anything?"
"Heck no. I'd rather move to Alaska."

See? Hours of amusement.

This is all part of the grieving process and it's perfectly healthy and perfectly within my ranting rights, so I don't feel guilty about never wanting to see him again. ha.

Things I would rather do, given the choice between them and talking to Ex Man:

Eat a bug.
Shave my head.
Move to Alaska.
Have a mole removed.
Never wear jewelry again.
Read Madame Bovary.
Watch "Cats and Dogs".
Kick an old person.
Get raging drunk.
Remain single and celibate the rest of my life.
Watch "What Not to Wear".
Wear mascara on my bottom lashes every day.
Grow out my nails to a non-functional length.
Wear shoes that hurt my feet.
Burn all my flannel sheets.
Pull out my eyebrows.
Never sew again.
Live in a house with boring white walls.
Denounce Ray Bradbury as the anti-Christ.
Never eat candy again.
Never sing again.
Costume a production of Hamlet with a cast of 70 and a budget of $100.
Give up my Costco membership.
Wear ugly hats.
Touch a spider.
Bungee jump.
Spelunk.
Lose 15 IQ points. Ok, not really.
Bleach my freckles.
Punch someone.
Get a goiter.
Have cankles.
Grow hair on my back.
Poke my eye with a stick.
Break a bone.
Drive my car into a house.
Drink ham juice. (*hwarf*<---that's for you, Taylor. ;) )
Set my fabulous shoes on fire.
Catch a softball with my nose.
Swallow a penny.
Hopelessly tangle up my thread.
Poke needles into my arm.
Be allergic to wheat.
Be allergic to sugar.
Touch a chicken bone.
Jump into a pool full of big ugly fish. *shudder*
Never have a clean kitchen.
Lose a finger.
Act with He Who Shall Not Be Named (hint: he was in The Show That Must Not Be Named).
Read nothing but Buffy or X-Files fanfic for the rest of my life.
Get a tattoo on my forehead.
Be covered in gravy.
Go into early menopause.
Get toenail fungus.

There are probably more, but that gives you a pretty good idea of what I'd rather do.

Not-so-cranky Addendum to the Random Crankiness:

Mr. Mallard, about whom I feared the worst after his collision with the window and subsequent fall to the cement ramp, reappeared a few minutes after I published my last post. I sat there in shock, praying that he was ok, and then I noticed a fat little Mr. Mallard making his way onto the grass of the "amphitheater". He looked around as if he was dazed and disoriented and moved very slowly for a few minutes. I kept looking for signs of a broken wing or foot and when he began to waddle across the grass, I was very afraid that he was limping. Much to my relief, it was only his waddle in the uneven grass. After getting his bearings for a bit, I saw him call out to Mrs. Mallard, who was already in the irrigation/overflow ponds further on. She must have answered him because he waddled further across the grass, checked his angle of flight, spread his wings, and took off--nicely clearing the roof of the Hall of Flags and making it safely to the side of his little ducky wife.

I was quite happy and almost cried again out of sheer relief. I hate to see a happy couple, no matter what the form, break up for any reason.

Miscellanious Crankiness: A List.

• I am scared to death of the GRE. I really am. I know I'll probably do pretty darn well on every part of the GRE except Algebra, which is annoying. I can feel the walls closing in when I think about it and I want to curl up and eat ice cream until it goes away.
• On a related note, the whole grad school thing has me freaked out. I know I'm smart enough to do it, but my GPA is not so hot, so why even apply? Sure, I have an awesome writing sample and I can get some killer letters of recommendation, but they'll take one look at my B- in stats and write me off immediately. Even if the program has nothing to do with statistics.
• I have too much crap and not enough space to put it in. When I moved back home, I did not think for one minute that I'd be there as long as I have. It's a weird situation that works well for all of us, but I'm often frustrated beyond reason that I don't remember what's in my boxes and that I have no idea where my muffin tins are and that I never bought flatware and that I have no place to display my beautiful music boxes or my collection of useless decorative tins or tiny shoes and then my dollhouse isn't finished and I can't work on it because where will I put it because the sewing room is already 80% full of my stuff and there's no room for ANYTHING ANYWHERE.
• I have something like 38 pairs of shoes. Some of which need to go in a plastic bin marked "costume shoes", but where will I put the bin? I do not know.
• I hate my bed. It is old and a little saggy, but I can't decide if I want a full or a twin bed when I buy a new one. I don't have room for a queen (I know it's only another few inches, but a few inches makes a lot of difference when you're wall-to-wall furniture) and I don't know if I can sleep on a twin, so I've avoided even thinking about buying a new one. Except when I go to Ikea or something and fall in love with half the stuff there. *insert eyeroll here*
• I got rear-ended on Saturday, and it's taken five stupid days to even get a claim filed, let alone get any response from the insured. I just want my bumper straightened out and it would be most convenient to have my car in the shop next week when I will have free access to two other cars at any given time. How hard can it be to return a phone call?! I ask you.
• There is no satellite receiver for the TV in the sewing room and I am bored with all my movies and I can't sew in a vacuum. I need some kind of background noise.
• I listened to the first two parts of The Count of Monte Cristo on my trip to visit Lisa in Tucson a few weeks ago, and then I found out that there is a third part that didn't fit on my MP3 player, so I am left HANGING with Albert and his stupid friend Franz in stupid Rome watching the stupid execution from the stupid vantage point of the stupid Count's carriage or whatever. Or maybe it was the stupid Countess being afraid of the Count at the stupid ballet during which every stupid person talked instead of watching the stupid thing.
• Pressed, thin-sliced, chicken loaf is nasty and I ate some for lunch because nothing else looked remotely appetizing. *hwarf*
• I just looked out the window at the cute little mallard couple keeping house in the fountain, only to see the Mrs. take off followed by the Mr, who didn't have enough clearance and hit the windows of the Hall of Flags and fall down. I am completely freaked out that he's dead and I can't cry at work or I will make a spectacle of myself. Now I have to go out there and see if he's alive because I can't handle something dying and leaving his mate all sad and alone.
  

I am not a fan of this week.

Ah, Spring!

I love Spring. I love everything about it except the weather vagaries, the mud, the threat of flooding from the snow melting, and all the cute clothes in the stores.

Let me explain:

There are usually a multitude of pretty, airy dresses in lovely colors and fabrics that I really want and (now) can afford. However, most of these pretty, airy dresses are sleeveless, low-cut, and too short. It doesn't help that I have to buy longer lengths in most skirts and dresses, or that I need to have some kind of lining in sheer sleeves. I went outlet shopping over the weekend and found some dresses I just loved, but I knew that most of them would be too short so I didn't even give them a third glance. A second glance I couldn't help, because they were so pretty, but I had to look away after that. I found one that was long enough and light purple and had a decently high neckline, but the sleeves were sheer and there was no good way to fix them. My sister said "Heidi, is there anything here that you like that you DON'T have to alter in some way?" The answer was, of course, no. Unfortunately. I don't want to have to spend good money on a dress and then have to spend another $40-50 on a cardigan and a camisole just to make it wearable.

The obvious answer to this dilemma is to make my own dresses. Well, let me tell you, I'd love to! But finding fabric I like is hard around here (stupid fabric stores full of ugly fleece!), and finding patterns I like (and don't have) is also hard. Finding both patterns and fabric at the same time? Highly improbable!

The less obvious answer to this dilemma is to print my own fabric, learn draping and pattern drafting, and not be quite as picky about what I put on my body. ha.

The most logical answer is to just move to LA or New York--anywhere with better fabric stores.

I want pretty things, and I do get inspired, but then I get discouraged because I hate the fabric selection, the pattern styles, or the prices. So what happens is that I buy patterns that sit there just waiting for the right fabric, or I buy fabric that goes into storage for 10 years to wait for the right pattern. Either way, it's getting ridiculous and something must be done!

*sigh*

Etymology, or How My Train Wreck of Thought Works

Why must I have the urge to disprove "common knowledge" stuff like where "hysteria" comes from? Ok, in this case, it's not so much to disprove it (because I know it's right) as to justify it. Amanda says it's because I'm a snob.

Yeah. I kind of am.

But really, it makes SENSE to call it "hysteria" when you think about what the Greeks were coming from. Look at it. Once a month, women get all weird. And then, after having babies, they get depressed. THEN, when they get older, they get all hormonal and weird again.

Not to mention libido changes and being classified as the more emotional sex, which, let's face it, they are. So of COURSE the ancient Greeks are going to say "hey, so these women are different from us. What could be the reason? Oh right. They have uteri."

DING! Fries are done, and you get "hysteria", which wasn't actually coined until something like 1801.

This is what my brain does when confronted with things like this. It's just the process of my brain. Which isn't always logical, but I don't want to offend anyone. "No, I really DO know more about history than you!" sounds a little immature...

PS: While I agree that much of Freud's research was intrinsically flawed, I will still defend the man. Go ahead. Guess how I arrived at that sentence from the previous rant. I dare you!

FINE. Be that way!

Here's a funny thing: I have often wished for a private blog to gripe about my family, but I've never bothered to set one up because of the tedium in thinking of the perfect name that they'll never guess and coming up with a catchy theme for the thing. Since I can't post or write anything cranky about them without them somehow reading it or hearing about it, I just don't.

And, you know, I've discovered that I really don't have gripes about them at all.

Time. Not just an awesome Pink Floyd song.

Tuesdays are my early days, when I have to be awake at 4 AM and out the door at 4:40 at the VERY latest, so I make sure that I get as much done as possible before bed. Lately, because I have rehearsals Monday night and we often don't get done until after 10 PM, I've been turning the bed down, laying out my pajamas and clothes for the next day, making breakfast, and setting alarms before I go to rehearsal so all I have to do when I get home is take off my makeup, brush my teeth, and crawl into pjs and bed and pray for deep oblivion for the next 5 hours.

Last night, I set my two regular alarms and slowly fell asleep, anxious that I wouldn't get enough of it. My radio went off at 3:45, as set, but I was confused because I had set my beeping alarm to go off just before the radio did. My beeping alarm clock is 25 minutes fast, so I always have to do a little groggy math before setting it so it goes off a few minutes before or after my radio. When the beeping alarm goes off, I check the time on the radio to see how much time I really have left, and either turn over for five more minutes or get out of bed. This morning, however, when I checked Mr. Radio against Mr. Beepy at about 4, Mr. Beepy was suddenly 35 minutes slow--it said 3:25 AM, and my confused brain thought "how odd that it's suddenly 35 minutes fast the other way". I looked over to Blue Clock on the dresser, which said it was 3 AM. It took a few seconds to register that something was wrong. Very wrong. How in the world could Mr. Radio be going off at 4, but Mr. Beepy hadn't gone off yet and Blue Clock was still at 3 AM?

It made no sense to me. None. Until I got up and checked my cell phone. Yup. 3 AM. A full hour before I had planned to get up, and only 4 hours of sleep in my brain. I checked my phone twice, just to be sure. Somehow, I had set Mr. Radio an hour ahead. I have no idea how that happened, but I had the alertness to set it back to its normal time, reset the alarm on both Mr. Radio and Mr. Beepy, and go back to a fitful sleep until 4. I was still confused and worried that maybe Mr. Radio was right and the other three were wrong. I almost turned on my computer as well, just to be on the safe side, but I'm glad I didn't because that would have meant another 10 minutes of being awake. I'm barely functional on 6 hours of sleep, let alone less than 5. That extra restless sleep made a difference today, but not much.

I am anxiously awaiting leaving work and hitting the hay as soon as possible, and annoyed with myself for not being able to figure out what was wrong this morning. Let's be honest, I'm also annoyed that I couldn't leave rehearsal early last night...it'll pass. It practically has. But as long as I'm tired and my stupid eye keeps twitching and stinging, I may break out into tears at any given moment today.

Let that be a lesson to you! Always make sure you clocks ALL have the same time! Too bad setting Mr. Beepy to the right time will just be confusing... *sigh*

I'm dead tired.

Baby, it's Cold Outside!

A few things to preface this rant:

I live in Utah.
Winters are cold in this part of Utah.
Right now, it is 36 degrees outside, and snowing.
Snow is made of frozen water--little flakes of ice are falling from the sky.
Last week, temperatures at my house (according to my outside thermometer) were less than 10 degrees some nights.

With those things in mind, can someone please tell me why people (especially girls, it seems) don't dress for the weather and then have the nerve to complain about the cold? I see girls wearing jeans, spiky heels, cute lacey tops, and hoodies, trying to navigate parking lots covered with half an inch of ice. Or they're wearing those obnoxious, ubiquitous, cheap knit skirts with high-heeled boots that look neither warm nor non-slip. They might look good, but they also look cold and in peril of breaking an ankle or wrist. Then there are the guys--some of them still wear shorts and t-shirts and flip-flops. In the snow. When it's 20 degrees outside.

Then, with all of that, they complain that they're cold.

Where is the logical disconnect? Which synapses need repair? It snows in Utah. Snow is essentially frozen water. Frozen water is called ice. Ice is cold. When it's snowing, it's cold. When it's cold, you should probably wear a real coat and perhaps some practical shoes, fashion be damned!

Now, I'm not advocating wearing a grandma coat (although they made good coats back then, and you'd probably be pretty warm), moon boots, and an ugly hat, but sometimes, for your own health and safety, you should do what it takes to stay warm and non-frostbitten. My sister's colleague at BYU-Idaho told her about a girl whose ears got frostbitten during the five minute walk from her apartment to her class because she didn't wear a hat and it was below freezing outside. If water is going to freeze, human tissue will also freeze eventually. You can't just thaw your ears like you can a bag of peas--the damage is usually a little more permanent.

Please, for your own sake, invest in a decent coat and some gloves! There are some really cute coats out there that are not only stylish but WARM. I, for one, wish we hadn't given away the bright pink, knee-length, down-filled coat I had 15 years ago, because it was WARM. I hate wearing socks, but I also hate being cold, so I wear them nearly all the time in winter, just waiting for the average temperature to be above 45 for at least a week before I take them off for summer. My hands get cold, so I wear ski gloves. I don't like wearing a hood because it makes my hair staticky, but I hate it when my ears are cold, so I wear a hood. Sure, my coat isn't all Abercrombie cute, but it keeps me warm. I don't care if people look at me funny because I know I'm warmer than they are and will probably only get the flu once all winter.

And, you know, that makes up for looking a little dumpy in my down coat and practical shoes.