Have you ever read the Book of Mormon while listening to epic movie music? I did that yesterday during my lunch break. Moroni was being a boss to Zarahemnah and....
Another post I started and never finished. I had completely forgotten about this though. I'll have to do that again because it was great.
Monday, April 22, 2013
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Just Because
I feel like posting something. It's been a few months and I always really like reading other people's new posts. But I don't actually want to write anything new... Here's something I wrote a while ago:
While in a strangely ponderous mood, Angela brushed her teeth; her brows slightly closer together than when relaxed. She stared past herself in the mirror, not quite sure what she meant to think about, but just feeling the thinking, if that makes any sense. She shifted around the bathroom a bit then stepped into the hallway and let herself sink to the floor, leaning against the wall. When her feeling thoughts were most acute, her brushing would slow. She thought of how brush bristles work, and how she brushed her teeth differently when thinking of the scrubbing of a bathtub. Her cat, Psycho, ever present in her get-ready-for-bed routine, wandered around her. Usually Angela found entertainment, or at least a way to pass the routine-time, in petting her cat, but in her present mood, she paid little attention. Psycho, ever constantly-fickle, pranced down the hall when she heard Angela's father escalating the staircase to come check that the front door was locked and to investigate the opening and closing of the door that Angela had not heard while in the bathroom. Her brother, Russell, had left for some reason: very strange him leaving at ten-o-clock at night. Psycho loved to have her belly scratched, strange for a cat, and she especially loved having it scratched by Angela's father. As previously mentioned, when she heard him coming up the stairs, she abandoned Angela in the light of a more enticing conquest. Angela's father was ever ready to oblige the scrumptiously soft and furry creature. He laughed at her as she plopped onto her side, inviting him to scratch away.
"Where is Russell?" He asked - Angela, not the cat.
While somewhat confused she replied, "I don't know. He was here a few minutes ago before I went in the bathroom."
"Why would he leave at this time of night?"
"I've no clue." At this point, Angela hadn't quite worked up enough toothpaste foam to make her speech very much altered. However, by the time her Father decided he was through with the cat, ready to go back downstairs to bed, she had worked up a big mouthful.
"I don't think you'd like that movie," he said. He and her mother had watched a Netflix movie without her. Again.
"Mom jusht tole me I woulh lahke it." She looked quizzical.
"There was about this much romance," gesturing about a quarter-inch between his fingers, "and the rest was a lot of..." "History stuff?" she attempted to help him with his thoughts..."yes, and political stuff..."
She interrupted again with "And oo sa" - slurp of toothpaste - "And whho sehs I cah," she had trouble with that much foam in her mouth (You try it sometime!) "cahn't appressiate anything buht romancshe?"
He thought for half a second and said playfully, "I guess I do." They both laughed a bit and he left saying his usual goodnight, which she returned, although somewhat unsettled by the interruption of her pensiveness, and surprised how easily her mood had lightened just enough to fit the conversation.
Well how about that? Weird, yeah? It's a true story. Don't doubt it.
While in a strangely ponderous mood, Angela brushed her teeth; her brows slightly closer together than when relaxed. She stared past herself in the mirror, not quite sure what she meant to think about, but just feeling the thinking, if that makes any sense. She shifted around the bathroom a bit then stepped into the hallway and let herself sink to the floor, leaning against the wall. When her feeling thoughts were most acute, her brushing would slow. She thought of how brush bristles work, and how she brushed her teeth differently when thinking of the scrubbing of a bathtub. Her cat, Psycho, ever present in her get-ready-for-bed routine, wandered around her. Usually Angela found entertainment, or at least a way to pass the routine-time, in petting her cat, but in her present mood, she paid little attention. Psycho, ever constantly-fickle, pranced down the hall when she heard Angela's father escalating the staircase to come check that the front door was locked and to investigate the opening and closing of the door that Angela had not heard while in the bathroom. Her brother, Russell, had left for some reason: very strange him leaving at ten-o-clock at night. Psycho loved to have her belly scratched, strange for a cat, and she especially loved having it scratched by Angela's father. As previously mentioned, when she heard him coming up the stairs, she abandoned Angela in the light of a more enticing conquest. Angela's father was ever ready to oblige the scrumptiously soft and furry creature. He laughed at her as she plopped onto her side, inviting him to scratch away.
"Where is Russell?" He asked - Angela, not the cat.
While somewhat confused she replied, "I don't know. He was here a few minutes ago before I went in the bathroom."
"Why would he leave at this time of night?"
"I've no clue." At this point, Angela hadn't quite worked up enough toothpaste foam to make her speech very much altered. However, by the time her Father decided he was through with the cat, ready to go back downstairs to bed, she had worked up a big mouthful.
"I don't think you'd like that movie," he said. He and her mother had watched a Netflix movie without her. Again.
"Mom jusht tole me I woulh lahke it." She looked quizzical.
"There was about this much romance," gesturing about a quarter-inch between his fingers, "and the rest was a lot of..." "History stuff?" she attempted to help him with his thoughts..."yes, and political stuff..."
She interrupted again with "And oo sa" - slurp of toothpaste - "And whho sehs I cah," she had trouble with that much foam in her mouth (You try it sometime!) "cahn't appressiate anything buht romancshe?"
He thought for half a second and said playfully, "I guess I do." They both laughed a bit and he left saying his usual goodnight, which she returned, although somewhat unsettled by the interruption of her pensiveness, and surprised how easily her mood had lightened just enough to fit the conversation.
Well how about that? Weird, yeah? It's a true story. Don't doubt it.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
2011
I don't know why this never got posted. It seems a little late now, but what the hey!
Too beautiful...
Monday, June 18, 2012
Terrible-Teens
I relate to my two-year-old niece; probably more than many adults. My parents say I acted like a teenager when I was two, and I think when I hit my teenage years I acted like/experienced what it is like to be a two-year-old. We were all in Provo at Aaron and Maren's for Scotty's baby blessing and we were heading out to church, but Annie didn't have her shoes. So I was telling her to go find them and many of the other adults in the room were telling her the same thing. She told me that her shoes were in her room, so I told her to go get them, while she was trying to say that the door to her room was closed and she couldn't open it. She couldn't quite get the words out to explain why she wasn't doing it and the whole room seemed to be pushing and pressuring her to do what she was told. So she threw a little tantrum... (which I have done lots of times, many of which when I was over the age of thirteen).
Tantrums aside, I realized after that I knew exactly how she felt in that moment when she couldn't communicate and nobody was listening and the pressure from them all just made it exponentially harder to say what she was trying to say and her mind and emotions couldn't handle it so she blew up!
Yep, I know exactly what that's like. In some ways I'm grateful to have gone through the terrible-twos as a teenager because I can remember it and was able to observe myself and learn what was happening that made it so difficult just to function in an emotionally-stable manner. I'm thinking maybe, just maybe, it will help me be a better mother someday. Most women probably don't need to have been a two-year-old-like-being while in jr high and high school in order to relate to their children and teach them, but maybe I did. And now when I do have kids, they may just be able to squeak by with a semi-good upbringing.
Tantrums aside, I realized after that I knew exactly how she felt in that moment when she couldn't communicate and nobody was listening and the pressure from them all just made it exponentially harder to say what she was trying to say and her mind and emotions couldn't handle it so she blew up!
Yep, I know exactly what that's like. In some ways I'm grateful to have gone through the terrible-twos as a teenager because I can remember it and was able to observe myself and learn what was happening that made it so difficult just to function in an emotionally-stable manner. I'm thinking maybe, just maybe, it will help me be a better mother someday. Most women probably don't need to have been a two-year-old-like-being while in jr high and high school in order to relate to their children and teach them, but maybe I did. And now when I do have kids, they may just be able to squeak by with a semi-good upbringing.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Surprise!
Surprise! I'm going to write on my blog! I think I don't post very often for maybe two reasons. 1) My life is not super exciting, so writing about it is not exciting either. 2) I feel weird just talking about myself when no one asked to hear.
Anyway, here's an update on my life (since the people who might read this don't already know):
I'm going back to school. Nothing fancy, just a few classes at SLCC. Now that I've decided to go and I'm registered and everything I just want to start already. I think I'm excited for it... to a degree. I'm going to take an Italian class, which I am excited for. At least I'm excited to learn Italian, maybe not to actually be in the class, but close enough! My one other class is Intro/Imaginative Writing. I haven't told very many people this, but apparently now I'm going to declare it to the world (of my blog). I felt an impression quite a while ago that I should become a writer. Crazy weird, right? Oh, but then Russell told me out of the blue that he thought I would be a good writer because I read so much. He had just read something by Steven King about what to do to be/become a good writer for a class, and one of the things Steven King talked about was reading a lot. Coincidence? I think not! Actually I have no idea, maybe yes, maybe no. :)
The thought of being a writer, of any sort, kind of freaks me out, but it also appeals to me. Someday I want to write a book about my experience with depression and what I learned. Maybe it could help someone somewhere. Also I like the idea of working on something, sending it out into the world, and then just letting it work for me. The possibilities seem so much greater and more exciting than having a job that pays me wages or a salary. So there are some pros. The cons: the road of developing my style and skill and learning to write when I don't feel like it seems incredibly long and painful. It scares me! ...that's basically it for the cons; they're all pretty much summed up in that sentence, at least all that I can think of are. I'm rambling. I tend to do that. Focus...
I'm still working, scanning and filing my little heart out. A couple weeks ago two of the people I work with were gone on vacation, so I was picking up the slack. I loved it. In that week or so they were gone, I had a purpose; I was needed; I was worth the 9.31 they're paying me every hour. It put me in a very good mood. Now they're back, and I'm a subordinate again doing the lesser jobs and going crazy from boredom. But I'm still grateful, at least I'm trying to be.
I'm helping wage the war against Goose going crazy--er. I've been taking her out to fly just about every day. She's really quite lovable when she likes you, just not good at making new friends. I've been getting a little bit of exercise myself when I take her out. I run up or down the street when she's flying and she follows circling around me. :) It's not much, but it is more, so that's good. Yay for mutually beneficial relationships!
What was that? You want to know if I'm going anywhere exciting over the summer? I've got a good answer for you. HAWAII! It is going to be awesome! No way? Dude, I am totally serious and totally rocking out in the awesomeness of that which is awesome. Believe it!
Well I'm out of things to ramble about, so how about that?!
Anyway, here's an update on my life (since the people who might read this don't already know):
I'm going back to school. Nothing fancy, just a few classes at SLCC. Now that I've decided to go and I'm registered and everything I just want to start already. I think I'm excited for it... to a degree. I'm going to take an Italian class, which I am excited for. At least I'm excited to learn Italian, maybe not to actually be in the class, but close enough! My one other class is Intro/Imaginative Writing. I haven't told very many people this, but apparently now I'm going to declare it to the world (of my blog). I felt an impression quite a while ago that I should become a writer. Crazy weird, right? Oh, but then Russell told me out of the blue that he thought I would be a good writer because I read so much. He had just read something by Steven King about what to do to be/become a good writer for a class, and one of the things Steven King talked about was reading a lot. Coincidence? I think not! Actually I have no idea, maybe yes, maybe no. :)
The thought of being a writer, of any sort, kind of freaks me out, but it also appeals to me. Someday I want to write a book about my experience with depression and what I learned. Maybe it could help someone somewhere. Also I like the idea of working on something, sending it out into the world, and then just letting it work for me. The possibilities seem so much greater and more exciting than having a job that pays me wages or a salary. So there are some pros. The cons: the road of developing my style and skill and learning to write when I don't feel like it seems incredibly long and painful. It scares me! ...that's basically it for the cons; they're all pretty much summed up in that sentence, at least all that I can think of are. I'm rambling. I tend to do that. Focus...
I'm still working, scanning and filing my little heart out. A couple weeks ago two of the people I work with were gone on vacation, so I was picking up the slack. I loved it. In that week or so they were gone, I had a purpose; I was needed; I was worth the 9.31 they're paying me every hour. It put me in a very good mood. Now they're back, and I'm a subordinate again doing the lesser jobs and going crazy from boredom. But I'm still grateful, at least I'm trying to be.
I'm helping wage the war against Goose going crazy--er. I've been taking her out to fly just about every day. She's really quite lovable when she likes you, just not good at making new friends. I've been getting a little bit of exercise myself when I take her out. I run up or down the street when she's flying and she follows circling around me. :) It's not much, but it is more, so that's good. Yay for mutually beneficial relationships!
What was that? You want to know if I'm going anywhere exciting over the summer? I've got a good answer for you. HAWAII! It is going to be awesome! No way? Dude, I am totally serious and totally rocking out in the awesomeness of that which is awesome. Believe it!
Well I'm out of things to ramble about, so how about that?!
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Vision
I made a "vision board" for the year 2012. For those of you who don't know what that is, I'm sorry, but I just don't want to try to explain... ok, I'll explain like this: my idea of it has been formed into the concept that things are created spiritually first, then physically. That's how God works; it makes sense that that is how his children would work, and this "vision board" is to pinpoint and concrete what you are going to "create" spiritually. So there you go...
This idea kind of makes me feel powerful, like I can make something happen just by envisioning it...not really, but you get what I mean. I've decided to envision going to Europe: picturing myself on a plane; imagining how scared, but incredibly excited I'd feel; where I would stay; how beautiful it would be; how there would be ugly parts as well, but how they make the beautiful parts even better; how I'd learn Italian or German or Spanish, etc. Maybe it will happen some day... (sigh)... Then the pessimist in me says, "Yeah, right," and I feel myself depress and try to resign myself to just working at my job, going back to school someday to study who knows what, having very little direction in my life, feeling bored, and, in short, living in "reality." Maybe it is this disbelief, this lack of faith, that makes up a large part of the difference between being mortal and immortal, human and god.
"I can dream." That's another thing my pessimistic self says... Dang it! I want to say, "I can create!" If I could do that, then the question would be, "What to create?" Aside from Europe, I can't think of anything I want, anything that would make me excited. I should figure out my career path. I should be more sociable and date more. I should improve my habits. But, while I would like all these things to come to pass, I have no excitement in working towards them; obligation, yes; excitement, no.
So here are my thoughts. Unfortunately, I have yet to draw a helpful conclusion from them.
This idea kind of makes me feel powerful, like I can make something happen just by envisioning it...not really, but you get what I mean. I've decided to envision going to Europe: picturing myself on a plane; imagining how scared, but incredibly excited I'd feel; where I would stay; how beautiful it would be; how there would be ugly parts as well, but how they make the beautiful parts even better; how I'd learn Italian or German or Spanish, etc. Maybe it will happen some day... (sigh)... Then the pessimist in me says, "Yeah, right," and I feel myself depress and try to resign myself to just working at my job, going back to school someday to study who knows what, having very little direction in my life, feeling bored, and, in short, living in "reality." Maybe it is this disbelief, this lack of faith, that makes up a large part of the difference between being mortal and immortal, human and god.
"I can dream." That's another thing my pessimistic self says... Dang it! I want to say, "I can create!" If I could do that, then the question would be, "What to create?" Aside from Europe, I can't think of anything I want, anything that would make me excited. I should figure out my career path. I should be more sociable and date more. I should improve my habits. But, while I would like all these things to come to pass, I have no excitement in working towards them; obligation, yes; excitement, no.
So here are my thoughts. Unfortunately, I have yet to draw a helpful conclusion from them.
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