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.