Ela Woman

Celebrity.

2011-03-16T09:12:00.000-07:00

Ok, guys. This is what I look like, clearly:

These are the people I've been compared to:

I used to get Julia a lot. Seems pretty loose to me. I mean, we both have brown hair (at times) and brown eyes. Don't get this as much now.

I also don't get this one. But in fairness, the guy who SWORE I looked like Sandra was a little crazy.

My sister thinks I look "EXACTLY" like Rosamund.

My friend Audra thinks I look just like Rachel McAdams.

Ok. THIS one earned 9,000 points for the guy who told me this. Audrey always wins. And the best part is, he has NO interest in impressing me.

This is the most recent comparison, Emily Blunt. I'm down with that, also.

But, in reality, I think I look the most like Carey Mulligan.

What do you think?

Dressed in coffee bags

2011-03-01T20:56:00.000-08:00

When I was in college, I had this job where I made coffee. Every day. For hours. I would grind it. Brew it. Serve it. Refill it. Rinse and repeat. All of our coffee beans came in these cool burlap bags. I always admired them and then we'd just throw them away.

On my last day in the office, I had a brilliant idea to make a skirt out of them and stole a bag with a tree frog on it. (You know I love me a tree frog.) BUT.

THEN.

I never did anything with it.

The idea, and the burlap bag, just sat there. Through jobs. Through moves. Through trends.

And then, for some reason, this:

I finally made it.

Conversations at a Coffee House

2011-01-28T10:14:00.001-08:00

Octogenarian: "You guys writing a screenplay?"

Boss/Business Partner: "Excuse me?"

O: "Are you screen writers? You know, here for the festival?"

B: "Oh. Uh. No. We're just here doing some work. Planning. Talking about..."

O, mumbles: "If she were my wife, I'd listen to everything she had to say, too!" (grabs my arm briefly)

Boss, uncertain -- exactly -- what he said, makes some kind of joke.

The old man, feeling that the environment is safe (his test was successful) and he's not going to be taken out by a younger man, grabs my arm a little bit longer, a little more aggressively and pulls. Makes some other joke about having me around or my looks.

B: "You in the film industry?"

O: "Oh no. I'm worth about 2 billion dollars." (Glances at me.)

B: "Oh. Really?"

O: "I'm in the coal mining business."

B: "Good business to be in?"

You'll notice, that so far, he's been flirting with me THROUGH ANOTHER MAN!

O: "Well, I made my first half million that way. Then I struck gold. Made my first billion. Then found more gold. Made my second billion." Looks to me, pointedly, "So I have money."

Me: "Haha. Let's talk!" (Not sarcastic enough, I think.)

B: "I'd love to talk to you! What are we doing here?"

The Octogenarian, somewhat less than amused half-heartedly laughs, mumbles something, and wanders away (to come up with another plan of attack).

O, coming back: "Ok. One more thing, if you only had one vacation left in your life, where would you go?"

Clearly, I can't answer "St. John" or "Hawaii" or "Europe." Even "Australia" seemed too risky. So I go for one of my immediate top 3, ambitious enough for LAST TRIP OF MY LIFE: "Antarctica." Nothing says romantic interlude like that, right?

O: "What?"

E: "Antarctica."

O: "Antarctica??" Looks at boss questioningly and says, "And you?"

B: "Africa."

Of course, the Octogenarian brushes that off, looks at me and says, "How about Elko?"

E: "Elko... Nevada??"

O: "Yes. Nevada." Looks at boss: "There are gold mines," looks at me and points, "and whorehouses."

Yes. The whorehouse it going to seal the deal. You're pulling out the money shot, because when ACTUAL money doesn't work, prostitution always does. I'll pack up my stuff right now. See you later, boss!

B: "Gold mines and gold diggers! I'm with you. If she doesn't take you up on it, I'm climbing in your car right now."

O: "Well, I have three sons and they're watching EVERY DIME!"

The conversation petered out from there. When my boss got up to get some food and I was alone for a minute, the man came back for one last shot, "Does he beat you with that baseball bat?"

E: "I beat him."

And therein lies the end of his dreams. Poor man. Poor me -- literally. I'm second-guessing my role in life. Thinking about getting "Gold Digging for Dummies" and trying again.

This is why I do what I do.

2011-01-26T08:53:00.000-08:00

This is what marketing, branding and strategy are all about. I get emotional every time I watch this ad, for so many reasons. This is what the job is about. This is perfection.

And on Labor Day, she rested from her labors.

2010-09-07T10:46:00.000-07:00

And she called it good.

Sigh No More

2010-09-02T08:06:00.000-07:00

This song is making me so happy.

By Mumford and Sons.

Imagine snuggling up in this.

2010-08-30T16:27:00.000-07:00

I have a friend whose Mom makes quilts. Big, luscious, fluffy, handmade, beautiful quilts. And I love quilts. So. Much. I don't love quilting, but I should start loving it, because I want closets full of quilts.

So, given my love, it's no surprise that I've been begging for a quilt for years. Since before I graduated high school, I'm sure. I always got the answer, "My mom says she'll make you one when you get married." And yet? I persisted. What about for my 20th birthday? What about for college graduation? What about for my 25th birthday? What about for your wedding anniversary? What about a quilt celebrating my first house? None of these were successful.

And then, one day, not too long ago, my friend called out of the blue and said, "Ok. My mom said she'll make you a quilt now." And I died. Right then and there. I sent a few color palettes as inspiration and today, I learned that they're shopping for the fabric. AS I TYPE THIS! It won't be too long before I'm snuggled up in a quilt inspired by this:

(via Inspired Bride, but useful for quilts, too?? In fact, I love her color palettes for pretty much any reason. They're so... well... inspiring.)

Unless you walk...

2010-08-26T08:18:00.000-07:00

out into the unknown, the odds of making a profound difference in your life are pretty low.

-Tom Peters

Putting myself in foster care.

2010-08-23T23:31:00.000-07:00

For the last few weeks, I've been putting myself up for adoption, or at least out for foster care, during FHE. I've never really done FHE before, and I have to say, it's pretty great.

Week 1: Watched a movie about President Monson with an older couple in the ward. We were singing a closing song when -- right in between verses -- the husband says, "You can come back anytime. You don't look half as old as they said you'd look!"

Week 2: Roasted hot dogs and pineapple over the fire, went on a hike up the canyon, played "Mafia," sang every song that came to mind (including some dramatic acting and interpretations), and made S'Mores with Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. TASTY!

Week 3: Talent show. Seen here (and heard here, too, if you listen carefully):

All the sorrow and trouble...

2010-07-22T13:31:00.000-07:00

of this world is caused by unhappy people. The search for contentment is, therefore, not merely a self-benefiting act, but also a generous gift to the world.

~Elizabeth Gilbert

Maybe I'm just buying some self-justification with this quote, but I think it's a nice idea. And kind of true??

Above all...

2010-07-21T16:11:00.000-07:00

watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you, because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it."

~Roald Dahl

I'm loving this song for real.

2010-07-06T14:36:00.000-07:00

This is a song that is not embarrassing for me to have in my library.

Listen to it.

Immediately.

On repeat.

Also this song makes me happy.

(I guess the media player doesn't show up in Google Reader, so hop on over to the blog. You'll be happy you did.)

Euthanasia is my drug.

2010-07-02T07:20:00.000-07:00

At least, it will need to be if I hear this song again.

I detest it. There is absolutely nothing about it I like. I didn't even want to put the video on my blog, especially because STOP RUINING AFRICA WITH YOUR STUPID MUSIC.

Note: I have no idea what's in any of these videos, so don't hold me accountable. I know the Lady Gaga video is weird, because, well, it's Gaga -- so I did find another version for that.

Which I find confusing. Since I LOVE this song:

And this song:

I even pretty much like this song:

And, heck, I even sort of love this one:

Guilty pleasures? Maybe. But let's go on a road trip and blast them out the window, k?

Some days...

2010-06-03T09:49:00.000-07:00

when you walk out of your house, you convince yourself that you look better than you do, because you can't do anything to look better.

Such is the case today.

"Self, I know your skin is pale and your eyes are puffy and glazed -- yet simultaneously sunken hollows. I know your lips have a lost all color and you have somewhat of a gray pallor. BUT no one will be able to tell you're sick. Maybe they'll just notice your leopard print shoes, or your colorful earrings. Plus, makeup can totally help."

And then you walk into a room to join a conference call and the only other person in the room announces to the call, "Elizabeth looks like she's going to die."

I ALMOST DIED!

2010-05-25T13:07:00.001-07:00

I almost died at work today. A 2 foot x 4 foot slab of 1/2 inch thick plywood smashed to the ground. RIGHT. NEXT. TO. ME.

At first, I was like Chicken Little and ran around yelling, "The sky is falling! The sky is falling!" And then I looked up to see the hole in the sky.

That's when I realized it was a slab of plywood. A slab of plywood that was right above my head.

Fortunately, for some unknown reason, it fell to the left as it was falling. Because, no joke, I was standing right under it. Basically, I'm lucky to be alive. Whether or not you're lucky that I'm alive is a whole 'nother matter.

In memoriam.

2010-05-19T12:13:00.000-07:00

I used to have this planter in my front yard. But it was taken away. By a nameless Homeowners' Association. Seriously. I don't even know who to call about it. I didn't like it, but you can't just take my property! If they'd asked me, I would have happily said, "Sure. Take it away." Or planted some flowers. (I thought the jumped the gun a little, barely even gave me time to plant after the snow stopped falling. Don't most people plant Mother's Day weekend? Seriously.)

BUT.

They didn't take it before someone added this (please ignore the dead plants -- I mentioned it was still early in the year, right? -- and poor iPhone photo focus):

to the collection of lawn ornaments they added last year. Exhibits A and B.

Style for substance.

2010-05-16T13:00:00.000-07:00

Watch this video. It's of a woman who wore the same dress every day for a year (but still manages to make it look totally different through accessories and pairing and such) to raise money for kids to go to school. Coolio.

As seen on a bathroom stall just outside Nephi, UT.

2010-05-15T23:20:00.000-07:00

Sleep safe!

Sleep with a

~~SOLDIER~~

~~MARINE!~~

Mathematician

I got new glasses.

2010-05-12T16:03:00.000-07:00

I must confess: the change felt more dramatic than it is. Especially when I looked at these pictures side-by-side. (I can't really say that I knew exactly what I looked like in my new glasses, since I was blind and relied completely on two adorable friends to tell me which of the 200 options looked best.)

No wonder no one at the office noticed my lunchtime eyewear change. Note to self: For a major statement, should have gone for the green glasses.

OLD

NEW

I'll consider it a modern update to an old classic. What do you guys think?

From Gold's Gym

2010-05-07T12:47:00.000-07:00

I just got a birthday wish email from Gold's Gym -- giving me a coupon for a day of couch-potato-sitting, snack-eating, nap-taking revelry. That's different from every other day ... how? Thanks for the gift, Gold's.

I'm back; but wishing I could get away.

2010-04-29T22:18:00.000-07:00

You know what would be incredible? If in 2010, I got to go to my current top 10 list of new places to go. Sometimes I wish I was rich. It would be too much travel, since most these places are really far away -- and a trip to a far away place each month (or more often) would be really tiring. Even if I do have a secret desire to be a nomad.

I clearly stole all these pictures from the Internet, so thank you, Internet, for sharing all your pretty pictures. I know I should have credited people specifically. I'm sorry.

In no particular order:

The Great Barrier Reef, Australia

Kyoto, Japan (In March. Definitely. Cherry Blossoms all the way.)

Jerusalem, Israel

St. Petersburg, Russia (maybe as the final destination of a cruise through the fjords.)

Washington, DC

Antarctica (I clearly chose a picture that looks like heaven for all you people who think I'm crazy.)

Machu Pichu, Peru

The Taj Mahal (I should have just gone in March. But this gives me an excuse to go back to India!! Woot.)

The Grand Canyon

Amsterdam, Netherlands

Honorable mentions (there is not enough time in my life to go all these places!!):

Iguazu Falls, Brazil/Argentina

New Orleans, Louisiana

Chicago, Illinois

Prague, Czech Republic

Nairobi/Mombasa, Kenya

So... many... more... SOMEONE STOP ME BEFORE I HURT MYSELF!

With love.

2010-02-05T04:08:00.000-08:00

So, for the last little while, I've been waking up at like 3 in the morning. When I can't get back to sleep, I've discovered that it can be a good time to catch up on a few blogs!

While I was browsing (which is generally a skill in which I find myself lacking), I found this blog about my adorable niece, Annie. And so, reader, since it's the month of February, I'm going to introduce you to my family, and the reasons I love each one of them. I hope it's not too boring for you, but -- well -- you weren't getting anything from this blog for the last several months (years?) anyway.

This is Anne-Marie.

In some ways, she reminds me of how I imagine my younger self -- except more awesome. (Mostly just that she's kind of a little person with a little voice, kind of like I was. BUT she compensates by blowing everybody's mind with her intelligence, perspective, and determination. All. The. Time.)

I love Annie for having her photo face worked out at a young age.

I love Annie for her love of music and how good she is at creating it.

I love Annie for being strong enough to let people know what she wants when other people would be afraid or back down.

I love Annie for having things figured out when sometimes I don't. She inspires me. It's good to know there're people that are going to take the world by storm. Annie's one of them. She already has.

$90,000 per second.

2010-02-05T04:00:00.000-08:00

That's what people pay to run an ad during the Super Bowl.

...

I think I have more to say about Super Bowl ads, but I can't right now. My mind is a little blown.

My favorite thing I've said this year.

2009-12-28T09:34:00.000-08:00

"She threw me off with her generosity, just like everyone else in this stupid town."

(After several people gave me the right-of-way when it wasn't my turn -- causing me no end of confusion, the woman at the drive-thru window in an unnamed [at least to me, at that time] Utah town offered me complimentary tiny orange sherbets.)

PPE (Poetic Party Entertainment)

2009-11-18T11:10:00.000-08:00

When I was in high school, my AP English teacher said many quotable things. But one, in particular, was that it was always good to have a poem or two under your belt for parties. Whip one of those out, and you'll be the belle of the ball -- with all around awed by your wit, grace, intelligence, and charm. So we were required to memorize this poem, which I still remember pretty well. (I didn't look it up, so you could go compare.)

Loveliest of Trees
by A.E. Housman

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.

Now of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again.
And take from seventy springs a score,
That only leaves me fifty more.

And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodland I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.

Were you in rapture? I know. I know. You should see me do it IN PERSON! (Actually, I'm certain I'll be too wimpy to recite it for you.)

Here is my other party entertainment option:

Could Have Been Worse
by Bill Dodds

My friends have not seen London;
They've never been to France.
But yesterday at recess,
They saw my underpants!

I kicked a ball, my skirt flew up,
And I know what they all saw.
The girls all stared and blushed and laughed,
The boys said, "Oo la la!"

I've thought a lot about it,
And this conclusion I have drawn:
I'm embarrassed that they saw them,
But I'm glad I had them on.

What's your vote on my party entertainment? Do YOU have a poem handy?

Freshening beads? I'm in.

2009-11-04T11:26:00.000-08:00

Kind of wish I had one of these right now. Really, I get that it's wasteful and American consumer-ish, but I just really like brushing my teeth. So much better than gum.

A Halloween Fright

2009-10-27T12:52:00.000-07:00

Do you know what's scary? Leaving your house with all your doors closed, and coming home to find your front door wide open!

Everything was still in my house -- computers, credit cards, unmentionables (which really aren't that unmentionable, let's be honest), everything. There was no one hiding in my closets or under the bed or in the bathtub. But it's enough to make sure you're awake.

I'm thinking somehow it was the wind. I'm hoping? Either way, I feel very lucky. But I also feel like I need to call my dad and fix the locks on my door. Dad?

Egg-head

2009-10-17T09:01:00.001-07:00

So, lately I've been in the mood to make things with eggs. Bready things with eggs. Which means: German Pancakes, Yorkshire Pudding, and Dutch Babies.

I started with German Pancakes a few weeks ago. A BIT less fluffy than I would have liked, but still airy and light; definitely acceptable for a first run, baked in the completely wrong dish.

Second: Yorkshire Pudding, last Sunday. Yum, in theory. Hardly like a Yorkshire Pudding at all in reality. More like a dense muffin with a tiny divot rather than a pillowy container for gravy.

Last: Dutch Baby. The original love. The perfect Saturday breakfast food. I discovered it almost 10 years ago at a restaurant near Seattle, WA. My loyalty has been strong. I couldn't go out this morning, but that was ok, because I was thinking: This is going to be the winner. I'll never be happier than knowing how to make this.

The elements were thinking: HA! You get the flattest, thickest, egg-bread/pancake that you've ever seen. I'd show you a picture, but it's too humiliating. Thank goodness for homemade Strawberry Jam (ahem, syrup).

And good thing love means never having to say you're sorry (or so I hear), because otherwise I would owe my cooking an apology. In my case, practice doesn't seem to make perfect.

A recipe for making...

2009-10-07T09:21:00.000-07:00

So, yesterday was one of those days. One of those days when you just feel like you're not sure why you're fighting battles in the corporate world. One of those days when all of the work you do just seems to be wasted. One of those days when the only thing you can do is go home, put on an apron and bake.

So, I got out all the fixins' for Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Cookies, and realized: I have no chocolate chips. (And only one egg, which was technically enough. But they expired in JULY. I know that eggs last way longer than the date on the carton, but July just seemed a bit too long.) I was too tired to grab my purse, change out of pajama pants, or really be bothered with anything at all, so I grabbed my check card and keys, put on my black wool coat (which is what was readily accessible) and some shoes, and headed to the grocery store.

I quickly grabbed a dozen eggs and some chocolate chips and went to the cash register. The woman there asked what I was making and we chatted about Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Cookies while she checked me out. She was so enthusiastic about her easy recipe, which I thought was nice, and I chuckled while I walked out.

But, do you know what will always make you feel stupid? A tall, slender, luxuriously coiffed woman in the most fabulous knee-length leather coat you've ever seen and stiletto heels. And that's exactly what I ran into on my way out. Her look of disdain over my ill-fitting flannel pajama pants made me acutely aware that my bag contained CHOCOLATE CHIPS, not some uber-healthy salad and a single red pepper.

As I slouched in shame to my car, I thought, "This is it. This is the beginning. In no time at all, I'll be a 40-year-old, suburban-Utah woman who doesn't know how to wear anything but track suits everywhere. And? I'll be ok with it!!!! WHERE IS MY LIFE GOING?"

But, two good things came of this experience:

I reconfirmed that wearing pajama pants to the grocery store (or out in public at all) is wrong. How did I get there? Do I really feel like I'm that much a part of my community and the grocery store is just like being with family? No. I am aware that this is something that can really only happen in suburban communities. Can you imagine some woman hopping on the tube in London in her pajamas to go get eggs? No. I was duly ashamed on my way out of the house, but even more appropriately ashamed on the way in. Don't worry, world, I won't insult you that way again. For a while.
As I recounted this story, I learned that everyone else knew what the animated checkout clerk knew. There is a really easy recipe that is supposedly delicious. (I didn't make them. I paid a high price to get those eggs, dag-nab-it, and I wasn't about to waste it.)

Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Cookies

1 box spice cake mix

1 can pumpkin (small size)

1 bag chocolate chips

Mix and bake. (I'm assuming 350 for 15 minutes or so? Since everyone else knows this recipe, you tell me.)

Happy baking. But... if you run out of chocolate chips and need to go get some, for heaven's sake, put on some pants. Or, if you just can't muster the strength to change, come by my place to get them. The grocery store patrons will thank you.

"No judgement"

2009-09-30T23:01:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, I was propositioned in the middle of the night for something that would be both degrading and morally wrong. I found the whole thing really rather hilarious. Anyone who knows me at all would know that I wouldn't really consider anything like that. So the fact that a young man would even ask, I found funny in itself.

I told several people the story, thinking they would find it as amusing as I did, but I was surprised at the answer that I got from almost every one of them: "Did you do it? No judgement."

I know they were sort of joking, sort of kidding. But what bothered me was the amount of truth in what they were saying. I was confused that they would think it even a possibility for me. And, truthfully, I was discouraged that they wouldn't judge me. At least in that situation.

So, I'm putting it out there: I want to be judged. I guess I can't choose just one kind of judgement, so I'll open myself up to it all. Clearly I don't want hateful and mean judgement, the kind that ruins friendships and lives. And of course some judgements are out of place, misinformed, or just plain wrong.

But if you know me, and you know I'm living below my standards, below decency, below myself: I want people to tell me. I want them to correct me. I want them to judge me. I've heard it said that there is nothing more discouraging than when people stop trying to correct you; it means they no longer care and they've given up on you. I agree with that. I can't imagine something more lonely. And so, I want those that are closest to me to expect more of me than I think I can give; I want them to encourage me to do more and be more; I want them to -- lovingly -- help me become better. (Ha. LOVE ME!)

I appreciate the sentiment of "no judgement" -- professing that unconditional love. But in situations where the two choices are clearly good or bad -- I don't want people accepting "bad" from me. That doesn't mean that they have to stop loving me or that recognizing "bad" means they have less love. I appreciate love, and I -- as I've said before -- really want to embody it as best I can.

But, clearly, if people thought I would engage in that behavior several weeks ago, I haven't been embodying what I want. I've been concerned lately about who I'm becoming. And by "lately," I mean for the last few years. (I'm sure I've written about this before.) I'm not sure if it's a reflection of me, or of others, but I get discouraged especially when I feel like no one expects or encourages more. It seems they almost encourage me to falter and fail, so they can prove they won't judge me. This just won't work for me. I think a little accountability could be good for all of us.

It's been bothering me long enough. I'm going on a kick of self-improvement, and so I offer it again, an open invitation: "I hope you judge me."

A little embarrassed.

2009-09-10T21:31:00.000-07:00

I really like the TV show House, but I can't say I really watch it much. I don't know why. I probably have more time to watch television than I actually use. But I saw an episode last night and something Wilson said kind of struck me. In fact, I've been giving it more thought than a simple TV quote should garner in a healthy individual.

He was talking about people -- the people that really influence your life -- and he said, "You don't get to pick your family; I'm not even sure, anymore, that you get to pick who your friends are."

This intrigued me. I'm not a fatalist. I don't think, necessarily, that things are "meant" to happen. But I've often thought about the people in my life: why there are some people that just always seem to be around -- even when I don't make much effort; why some people leave unexpectedly; why some people always mean to make more effort, but never do; why some are easy to let go; why there are some that you can't quite seem to remove; why there are some you would be desperate without; and the small, happenstance, almost impulse decisions that change your entire social circle. I feel like -- of all the things that could happen, of all the people that could be in my life, of all the major influences in my life -- the people that surround me, and have surrounded me, are not just by coincidence. But I can't say I really "chose" any of it. Most the time, the things that I choose on my own don't really work out. It's the unexpected that sticks around and that makes the lasting difference. But the things those people bring out in me are so crucial to who I am, I don't believe it's entirely chance.

I don't know that I have a ton of life philosophies yet. But I have a few:

The best decisions in life will always be the ones that seem like a long-shot and you go after it anyway because your gut tells you to -- even if it doesn't turn out like you thought.
You'll never regret trying hard to be a better person.
The people around you matter. A lot. And I think I'm just seeing the tip of the iceberg on this one.

So, to all my friends and readers (maybe some of you will see this), thank you. Thank you for being people that I can aspire to emulate. Thank you for making my life meaningful. Thank you for helping me see the world in new ways, for encouraging me to be better, and for being patient with my hundreds of weaknesses.

Ok. The cheese is over for a minute. It'll be back, I'm sure. You never know. This hit me watching House. Next time it might be from the slogan of some local restaurant. I'm not quite sure how, but I have a feeling "Switch to Geico and Save" might just describe how I'm feeling about something one of these days.

What about you? Any life philosophies you want to share? (And, please, don't feel obligated to share in my gush. I hear that too much cheese makes your breath stink. But there's probably room for a little more, if you want.)

Have you ever noticed how weird the word "shirt" is?

2009-09-08T12:17:00.000-07:00

The other day I bought some fabric from this site. I didn't have a specific plan for it, but there were so many cute options! It became a need almost immediately.

Then I went over to my sister's house and saw a shirt she'd made. She is always a good source of inspiration.

Meld the two together, with a holiday, a couple of free hours, a $3 t-shirt, and a viewing of Shawshank Redemption and you'll end up with this:

(Please ignore the absence of any sort of discernable chin in that last photo. I thought I had one, but it appears I may just have a ch-neck... a check... a nin... a nechin... whatever it's called.)

(Some of?) These should probably be on a different site.

2009-08-24T05:30:00.000-07:00

High: Trip to New York to visit Reno this week!!

Low: Not going anymore.

High: Peacock feather headbands! From real peacock feathers! Made by yours truly.

Low: I'm convinced feather headbands are going out of style.

New High: Perfect timing for Utah. I'll still be wearing the headband I got last year, and this new one, and people won't think I'm as crazy.

High: Saw two movies with the sisters McNurney this weekend.

Low: We now live at the theater.

High: I made these for a baby shower over the weekend:

Low: My attempt at making a cricket really just made "cricket" synonymous with "grasshopper."

Vote LDS?

2009-08-06T20:49:00.000-07:00

While I'm on the contorversial topic string, here's an article I really like. It was given to me by a co-worker when I was lamenting that so many LDS people unthinkingly vote Republican. Take a gander.

I believe that shakes should be sipped through a straw.

2009-08-05T22:52:00.000-07:00

Not eaten with a spoon. That makes it ice cream. And putting ice cream in a cup does not make it a shake. Shakes and ice cream are related, but they are not the same thing.

I read this book called, "This I Believe" a while ago. This has been sitting in my drafts box since then. (At that time, I wrote this: 'As soon as I'm done, I wouldn't be surprised to find myself buying and reading "This I Believe II."' I haven't done that.) It's caused me to think, and I love reading what other people believe. It's fascinating for the philosopher, psychologist, social worker, and -- in an odd way -- anthropologist in me, among other things.

Some of my beliefs make my life very complicated. And thinking about what I believe means this post is soon going to turn wildly unpopular.

It's no secret that gay marriage has been a hot issue over the last year or so. And it looks to continue to be for some time. I heard a while ago that the gay marriage debate will be up for contest again in California in November 2010.

For anyone interested, here's what I believe: I believe in love. I believe in equality. I believe in commitment. I believe in rights. I believe those are all good things, and that every person should have equal access to those things.

I also believe in the definition of marriage that means "a man and a woman." (Enter unpopularity. If it wasn't here before.) I believe that marriages are the foundation to start families and that families are the central piece of God's creation. That family is his eternal goal.

Most sincerely, I believe that my two positions don't just make my life complicated -- they should make life complicated for any LDS person out there.

I find it frightening how easily members of the Church fall on one side or the other on this issue -- or -- perhaps better stated -- how staunchly and unforgivingly. I find it equally disturbing how quickly people assume things about you because of your decision. These are the times when I am deeply disappointed. Let me explain.

I know I don't need to tell you that Christ taught a gospel of love. The first two great commandments are about love. Loving your God with all your might, mind and strength, and then to love your neighbor as yourself. In recent years, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has taken great strides in teaching their membership these principles over more stringent, organizationally based rules of the past. President Gordon B. Hinckley emphasized this principle again and again in his teachings, but moreso in his actions and his interactions with world thought leaders. He inspired a generation of members and changed others.

It is easy to take that compassionate heart and apply it to the gay marriage situation; were this the only consideration, the CLEAR path would be to allow gay marriage. That was my gut reaction.

President Hinckley's presidency was also hallmarked by his clarion call: "Stand for Something." He consistently urged members of the Church to increase discipleship, to reach for their potential, and to be something more than an idle member of society, tossed about by the waves of popular opinion. Under his Presidency -- one of his first actions as President, in fact -- the Church released the "Proclamation on the Family."

So, what does that matter? The Proclamation makes no bones about what the Church's stance on the purpose of marriage is. And, ultimately, it wouldn't even matter if President Hinckley had released that or not. (For the reasons in the next paragraph.) I do think it's interesting, however, that he said he'd be the prophet no one listened to. I wonder if it's this very reason -- his desperate plea for members of the Church to be more dedicated was outweighed by the laxness that seems to come with being more loving. In some ways it's code for letting things slide so you don't offend anyone or so things are easier for you.

Anyway. This was a difficult decision for me. I had to really dig down to ask myself what this all means to me. But in the end: I decided I either believe in a prophet or I don't. I either hold to the standards of the organization I claim, or I don't. But if I don't, I'm probably not a Mormon. And should stop claiming such. And if I DO believe those things, sincerely, with all my heart, then I think I've gotta trust the prophet more than myself. If I really, truly believe that he's God's spokesperson, what do I know compared to that? Does that mean I'm some strange religious fanatic? An unthinking mass? Of course I don't think so. But people will call it what they will.

I feel like I'm making a choice. It's a conscious decision to follow the leaders of my church, aware of the potential pitfalls. But to what other end can I demonstrate faith?

It scares me that I might be labeled naive or closed-minded, and -- more -- that I may actually BE those things. I get that I'm expressing an opinion that "limits" (not really, since I can't vote) someone else's options and that's difficult for me. It's obvious that permitting someone to choose this is a whole lot different than permitting someone to choose murder, or school vouchers, or whatever drastic or benign thing. This is a whole different ball game, and it makes my decision more significant to me.

And I think my position has caused me to lose respect from many of my friends. Similar decisions have caused -- possibly irreparable -- rifts for some of my family members. So, why am I even putting this out there? I don't know. I guess... just for myself... I needed to say something. Try to explain. Stand for something and try to help people understand what I'm standing for. It's probably fruitless.

I want the homosexual population to not only be accepted, but to feel accepted. I'm just not convinced we've found the way to do it yet. I was an English major. I believe in the power of words. I believe that they mean things. And, although language is always changing, I believe some things just are. Some changes need to happen in society before using the word marriage would do anything for them. Perceptions often remain, even when words change.

But, mostly, I believe in integrity; I'm not the most admirable person I know, by any means. But I need to stand by what I claim to believe. That's the start to becoming the type of person I want to be. This I believe.

Who quills anymore?

2009-07-27T20:46:00.000-07:00

Awesome people. That's what I say. Which I guess makes this Yulia person awesome.

Thank you, Internet, for reminding me of things that I love and completely forget about sometimes. The world is a better place because you're in it.

Who do you think you are?

2009-07-17T11:33:00.000-07:00

I have to write a bio for work, which prompted me to come upon this lawyer's bio on the internet:

I also love that under "Awards," he's listed: Oakwood Elementary School "Boy of the Year"

I'm open to your suggestions for my own bio in the comments section. Ready? Go.

It sucks how bad?

2009-07-06T10:18:00.001-07:00

This is my favorite industry quote today on my daily news round up for work:

"The definition of broadband sucks so badly it should be used to sequester carbon dioxide."

The speaker is referring to the definition being used by various government entities for the broadband section of the stimulus funds.

The City by the Bay

2009-06-24T20:40:00.000-07:00

Over the weekend, I went here:

to do this:

(I can post it, because she didn't get this dress, and this was an illegal picture, and who shouldn't post illegal pictures? Pretty.)

and this:

and I found this waiting for me (from the niece not pictured here).

I couldn't ask for a better weekend.

Handwritten Friday: This person is named Elizabeth.

2009-06-19T08:02:00.000-07:00

So, on Tuesday night I took the hour drive to Brigham City with my co-worker/bishop and his ten-year-old daughter. She's in 5th grade and loves to write. At one point, I asked her to describe someone and she said she wasn't good at describing people. I ribbed her a little bit and said, "What? The writer can't describe people?"

Her dad and I thought she was just doodling on his notebook in the back seat. An hour is a long drive for a ten-year-old and she was a sweetie and very patient; didn't complain the whole time.

The next day, my bishop called to say he had something to give me. He and his wife came over and read me the following, which they found in his notebook:

"Short hair with bangs. The color is black with a tint of red. Her eyes are brown and twinkle no matter what mood she's in. Her smile was gentle and uplifting and her laugh is happy and wonderful. This person is named Elizabeth."

I share this only because it melted my cold, cold heart. Kids are just so fabulous.

Workin' it.

2009-06-15T12:38:00.001-07:00

I get more junk email and weird phone calls on my work cell than I have received in my life. (That's one of the benefits of being semi-technologically backwards -- which mostly just means it's not as important to me as to my contemporaries; you don't open yourself up to as much junk.)

Today was one of my favorites:

"Hey. :D I took your # from our friend, I bet u can't guess who this is! aww I'm so shy... look me up online."

That's all. Not that I would have looked it up, but it seems like you've lost the point of trying to drive traffic to your (uncouth) site if there is no link and no reply address/phone number.

Would you like to take a survey? Do you like to eat beans?

2009-06-10T16:18:00.000-07:00

I recently took a survey of all my readers [read: my reader], and asked what people want to read about. It was suggested that I include some audio clips from my childhood.

These are what I made tapes about when I was little:

meaningless talk shows/"news" shows. (Mostly talk shows because I didn't know what to say as a news anchor, but I always thought news anchors were cooler.) These talk shows were also filled with some TERRIFIC advertising. I was interested in logos, marketing messages, and tag lines -- even when I was very young. I always thought the psychology and thought-process behind influencing opinion was fascinating. You'll see that I clearly had a knack for understanding my market. And then you'll wonder how I make my living now, because my trajectory would have to be pretty steep to be able to make money doing this.
Songs. Often raps -- about myself. I made these with my brother, Dave, primarily, with a little advice from my brother Jon, on occasion, and some influence from my sisters. There were some other quality songs in which I played a more minor role: "I Wish I Was a Petunia" and "What are We Going to Do Today?" (By minor role, I was associated by observation. And wanting to be part of the group.) I know there were others.

I'm not sure how many of these are surviving. Ironically, I don't have any of my own material, which means my sister and brother have some good blackmail material in hand. For now, I've put in requests. We'll see what comes of it.

The greatest thing since indoor plumbing.

2009-06-09T22:07:00.001-07:00

I love my nearly 69-year-old dad for being willing to come over, stay up way past his bed-time and get down in awkward contortions under my sink to help me fix leaks. He's among the most selfless people I know, and I'm glad I have him to learn from.

And I love my mom for planning a birthday party with festive napkins, for killing bad guys in World of Warcraft, and for giving me boxes that fit PERFECTLY under my sink. She's often given me the perfect thing at the perfect time -- I think it's called a mother's intuition.

You can grow flowers from where dirt used to be.

2009-06-08T08:48:00.000-07:00

I'm coming up on my two-year anniversary owning my place. So, in honor, I thought I'd do a few posts. It's still not really even close to where I'd like it to be, but I'm getting there.

For starters, this weekend, I decided to do a little yard maintenance. I think the HOA is supposed to cover much of it, but there are a few things they don't do and a few things they don't do very well. So I took matters into my own hands.

I've always had this (in my opinion) ugly wine-barrel planter at the front of my house. The first summer and all of last year, I loathed it so much that I ignored it. I'd still like to get rid of it, but -- in the meantime -- why make it doubly ugly with dead plants and weeds? So, after upsetting thousands of ants and their home, this is what it looks like today:

One thing I'd like them to do better is shape the bushes in front of my house. (As you can see, they're a little crazy looking.) The other thing I'd like them to do better is trim the ivy in my carport. They did the first year, but last summer and so far this year, they've done nothing. So? I went to Home Depot, got some clippers, bagged 3 bags of ivy, old leaves, and other such stuff and ended up with this (I took no "before" picture, so this is basically meaningless. But it's better. I promise. Three bags better.) :

I promise future home anniversary posts will be more interesting. Or at least, I'll try.

A good day.

2009-06-05T21:15:00.000-07:00

Sorry to all my Google Reader subscribers out there. This is annoying for you, since I think it already posted differently to the feed. I guess you can just listen twice! Or not at all, of course.

Handwritten Friday

2009-05-29T10:09:00.000-07:00

Letters I've been meaning to write.

2009-05-28T23:10:00.000-07:00

Dear Burger King,

I don't have any children. But, typically, I think most parents would want to avoid a kids' meal advertisement that consists entirely of a bunch of provocative women dancing (women dancing provocatively?) during a voice over. Even if the punchline is that the women have "Sponge-Bob" bumbs.

Sincerely,

E

Dear Brother Dave,

You may have noted that you and I have played 36 games of Quordy over the last month. I'm certain you've also noticed the score. You: 35 Me: 1.

I have a confession: I cheated.

I couldn't find a 5-letter word on the board; I couldn't bear the humiliation of another zero point score on a one-minute game. It's so stressful! So I wrote the board down as quickly as I could and paused the game. Then I used an internet cheat. There were only two words in the board. I put them both in. That's how I won. I'm sorry.

Forgive me? I promise not to do it again! Give me many more chances, please? With a cherry on top?? If I ever manage to beat you (unlikely -- since my vocabulary and visual word recognition are far inferior), I promise it will be because I worked really hard.

Love,

E

Dear kitchen sink,

If I ask really nicely, will you stop leaking? I'm not sure what else to do, since I can't even tell where you're leaking from.

Best,

E

Whiskers on kittens.

2009-05-26T12:53:00.000-07:00

Peacock blue
The Notwist
Watercolor
Crocheting
Lily of the Valley
Walking
Grizzly Bear
Orange
Letterpressing
Fabrics
Flood-it!
Being outside
Potluck
Writing
Fablehaven
Handkerchief skirts
Yellow
Travel plans
Movies that always make me cry
Picture frames
Artists
Swimming
Strawberries
National Geographic
Scarves
Smart people
Area rugs
Cameras
The symphony
Blankets

A discursive digression: Precursor for mediocrity.

2009-05-17T07:56:00.000-07:00

Socrates: Death might be the greatest of all human blessings.

C.S. Lewis: "I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: [that is,] ‘I’m ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don’t accept His claim to be God.’ That is the one thing we must not say. A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic—on a level with the man who says he is a poached egg—or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God: or else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to."

President Gordon B. Hinckley, of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints: "I'll be remembered as the prophet no one listened to."

Guy Kawasaki: "Don't worry, be crappy. Revolutionary means you ship and then test... Lots of things made the first Mac in 1984 a piece of crap - but it was a revolutionary piece of crap.”

Ted Koppel: (It's long, but worth it. He said this in the late 80's, but subsititute Internet for TV, or at least add Internet, and it's still 100% relevant.) “America has been Vannatized as in Vanna White -- Wheel of Fortune's vestal virgin. Through the mysterious alchemy of popular television Ms. White is roundly, indeed all but universally adored. She turns blocks on which a letter is displayed. She does this very well; very fluidly and with what appears to be genuine enjoyment. She also does it mutely. Vanna says nothing. She speaks only body language; and she seems to like everything she sees. No, "like" is too tepid. Vanna thrills, rejoice, adores everything she sees. And therein lies her magic.

“We have no idea what or even if Vanna thinks. Is she a feminist or every male chauvinist's dream? She is whatever you want her to be. Sister, lover, daughter, friend. The viewer can and apparently does project a thousand different personalities onto the charming neutral television image and she accommodates them all.

“Even Vanna White's autobiography, (an oxymoron if ever there was one) reveals only that her greatest nightmare is running out of cat food; and that one of the complexities of her job entails making proper allowance for the greater weight of the letter "M" or "W" over the letter "I," for example. Once, we learn, during her earlier, less experienced days, she failed to take that "heavy-letter-factor" into proper account and broke a fingernail. I tremble to think what judgment a future anthropologist, finding that book, will render on our society. I tremble not out of fear that they will misjudge us; that they will judge us only too accurately.

"Let's take inventory for a moment. Sixty percent or more of the American public, roughly 140 million people, get most or all of their news from television. What then should we or must we conclude? Whatever your merchandise, if you want to move it in bulk, you flog it on TV. Merchants trying to sell their goods, politicians trying to sell their ideas, preachers trying to sell their gospel or their morality -- all of these items are most efficiently sold on TV. If that doesn't scare the living daylight out of you, then you're not paying attention.

"But let's focus on our national policies; let's look at our principles -- our ethical and moral standards. How do they fare on television? We've learned, for example, that your attention span is brief. We should know; we helped make it that way. Watch Miami Vice some Friday night. You will find that no scene lasts more than ten to fifteen seconds.

"Look at MTV or Good Morning America and watch the images and ideas flash past in a blur of impressionistic appetizers. No, there is not much room on TV for complexity. You can partake of our daily banquet without drawing on any intellectual resources; without either physical or moral discipline. We require nothing of you; only that you watch; or say that you were watching if Mr. Nielsen's representative should call.

“And gradually, it must be said, we are beginning to make our mark on the American psyche. We have actually convinced ourselves that slogans will save us. ‘Shoot up if you must; but use a clean needle.’ ‘Enjoy sex whenever with whomever you wish; but wear a condom.’

"No. The answer is no. Not no because it isn't cool or smart or because you might end up in jail or dying in an AIDS ward -- but no, because it's wrong. Because we have spent 5,000 years as a race of rational human being trying to drag ourselves out of the primeval slime by searching for truth and moral absolutes.

“In the place of Truth we have discovered facts; for moral absolutes we have substituted moral ambiguity. We now communicate with everyone and say absolutely nothing. We have reconstructed the Tower of Babel and it is a television antenna. A thousand voices producing a daily parody of democracy; in which everyone's opinion is afforded equal weight, regardless of substance or merit. Indeed, it can even be argued that opinions of real weight tend to sink with barely a trace of television's ocean banalities.

"Our society finds Truth too strong a medicine to digest undiluted. In its purest form Truth is not a polite tap on the shoulder; it is a hallowing reproach.

"What Moses brought down from Mt. Sinai were not the Ten Suggestions, they are Commandments. Are. Not were.

"The sheer brilliance of the Ten Commandments is that they codify, in a handful of words, acceptable human behavior. Not just for then or now but for all time. Language evolves, power shifts from nation to nation, messages are transmitted with the speed of light, man erases one frontier after another; and yet we and our behavior, and the Commandments which govern that behavior, remain the same. The tension between those Commandments and our baser instincts provide the grist for journalism's daily mill. What a huge, gaping void there would be in our informational flow and in our entertainment without routine violation of the Sixth Commandment. Thou shalt not murder.

"On what did the Hart campaign flounder? On accusations that he violated the Seventh Commandment. Thou shalt not commit adultery. Relevant? Of course the Commandments are relevant. Simply because we use different term and tools, the Eighth Commandment is still relevant to the insider trading scandal. Thou shalt not steal. Watch the Iran/Contra hearings and keep the Ninth Commandment in mind: Thou shalt not bear false witness. And the Tenth Commandment, which seems to have been crafted for the 80's and the Me Generation. The Commandment against covetous desires; against longing for anything we cannot get in an honest and legal fashion.

"When you think about it, it's curious, isn't it. We've changed in almost all things -- where we live, how we eat, communicate, travel; and yet, in our moral and immoral behavior we are fundamentally unchanged.

"Jesus summed it up: ‘Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.’ So much for our obligations towards our fellow man. That's what the last five Commandments are all about.

"The first five are more complex in that they deal with figures of moral authority. The Fifth Commandment requires us to honor our father and mother. Religious scholars through the years have concluded that it was inscribed on the first tablet among the laws and piety toward God because, as far as their children are concerned, parents stand in the place of God. What a strange conclusion! Us in the place of God. We, who set such flawed examples for you. And yet, in our efforts to love you, to provide for you, in our efforts to forgive you when you make mistakes, we do our feeble best to personify that perfect image of love and forgiveness and Providence which some of us find in God.

"Which brings me to the First and, in this day and age probably the most controversial of the Commandments, since it requires that we believe in the existence of a single and supreme God. And then, in the Second, Third, and Fourth Commandments, prohibits the worship of any other gods, forbids that his name be taken in vain, requires that we set aside one day in seven to rest and worship Him. What a bizarre journey; from a sweet, undemanding Vanna White to that all-demanding jealous Old Testament God.

"There have always been imperfect role models; false gods of material success and shallow fame; but now their influence is magnified by television. I caution you, as one who performs daily on that flickering altar, to set your sights beyond what you can see. There is true majesty in the concept of an unseen power which can neither be measured nor weighed. There is harmony and inner peace to be found in following a moral compass that points in the same direction, regardless of fashion or trend."

My biggest fear

2009-05-07T23:40:00.000-07:00

is failure. But not in the job interview sort of way: "My biggest weakness is that I'm afraid of failure and that just drives me to work harder and always put out a superior product."

Some might argue my biggest fear is somewhat related and you, too, may construe it as hype in the end, but allow me to explain. I'm not afraid of failure because failure itself is scary. I'm afraid of failure because my biggest life ambition is to make a difference to people, to make the world a better place, to make things more beautiful, peaceful, happy and meaningful. To me, a general failure equates to failure (sorry -- not another word in my head at 1 a.m.) to meet ANY of those goals.

I'm afraid of not meaning anything to anyone. Probably because I'm continually surprised by how little anyone actually means to anyone else. Unfortunately, I think most people care for a very small handful of people, but mostly about themselves. I'm probably like that, too. But I don't want to be. And I'm afraid I'll never be in anyone's handful. I've been stung to learn I'm not in some the handfuls I thought I was in. But that's good for the ego, I suppose. And I'm sure it's my fault, anyway.

But not meaning anything to anyone is really a symptom of not being able to make a difference to that person, to make their life better, easier, or happier. And that? Is tragic to me. Because I failed to meet their needs -- failed to get to know them enough to do it successfully. Failed to be selfless enough to let them know how much they are loved. Maybe even failed to be selfless enough to love them. Ugh...

I'm afraid that I'm only a little good at a lot of things, and not very good at most things (possibly anything). This is an incredible blessing and a mild curse. It's hard to know where to place my focus, because so many things are interesting to me. There are so many avenues to pursue. I have so many opportunities and doors open to me. How could someone so outwardly brag and complain at the same moment? How can someone even complain about that?

The thing is: I'm afraid THAT means that I'll never really accomplish anything. Not only do I not really know WHERE to focus, I'm not even sure I want to focus on one thing. I have a passion for too many things, and not enough time to devote to any of them to become adequate. And being inadequate (or -- at least -- not fully adequate) means I'm not very close to making someone's life better, making the world better, or making things generally more beautiful, peaceful, happy and meaningful.

Sorry, I'm rambling and I have a lot of thoughts in my head. Maybe you'll get more on this later when I'm coherent. So, dear reader (although I hope someday to say "readers"), tell me something: What do you fear? How do you get around your fears? Do you have any advice for me?

Consider this.

2009-05-01T10:38:00.000-07:00

Here's a little E secret: when I was younger, among my many dreams, I dreamed about being a fashion designer. Sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night and draw sketches of cool clothing ideas that came to me. Unfortunately, this dress was not one of them.

I'm not sure if I love this dress exactly (I'm pretty sure her socks are getting in the way of me fully evaluating the dress), but the idea is pretty cool -- if you didn't ruin it, which I might. I DO, however, know that I love the neckline. A lot.

To do this weekend:

2009-05-01T08:46:00.000-07:00

make homemade salsa and homemade rolls. Don't eat together, but make sure they're both as tasty as I hope. If they are, begin selling to my awaiting public.

finish reading one of my books.

finish making an elephant, and make a pig and a whale.

watch the Wolverine movie.

try to understand why I sort of liked a Pussycat Dolls song on my drive to work this morning!

throw a party in Brigham City.

eat a smoothie at lunch with a friend.

craft a necklace.

clean my house, and actually get to all of it.

work on getting a chapter finished for my latest writing effort.

go to Costco, get some strawberries for jam, print some London pictures.

make jam. Maybe serve with aforementioned rolls.

pick frames for London pictures, hang in house, smile.

design some logos.

continue to be aggravatingly persistent in trying to learn how the heck to absorb the world of programming and create a website.

go on a hike. Or, if it's just too rainy, go to the sporting goods store, dream, and laugh at your pathetic attempts to learn how to swing a golf club. Charm everyone around you. If option two, go to the gym, too.

go to concert. Revel.

go to church.

enjoy a delicious potluck dinner.

buy tickets to California.

ummm... there were a few other things, but I can't quite remember.

Maudlin Pix: Even when I'm sad, I'm pretty.

2009-04-27T05:02:00.000-07:00

Who am I to resist a trend? (Maybe the better question is: Who am I to deny inspiration?) I present to you: MAUDLIN PIX!

And the not-at-all-maudlin, but-I-made-it-myself, so-I must-show-it-off-to-the-internet (pardon my unabashed quest for validation) whale:

Translating.

2009-04-14T07:39:00.001-07:00

Today I'm translating from Swedish to English. My favorite direct translation:

"We do the possible."

I realize that this should probably be a tweet instead of a blog entry. Oh well.

People are beautiful.

2009-04-13T18:53:00.000-07:00

Last week.
Last year.
Unrelated to the last two clips, but two people that I love dearly for different reasons.
Watch and fall in love with people with me.

Blogs are like haiku

2009-03-30T00:19:00.000-07:00

Blogs are like haiku:
A mere blossom blooming on
a burgeoning tree.

Another reason to love the iPhone.

2009-03-27T09:17:00.000-07:00

Everyone knows the iPhone is just pretty. I mean, that's what Apple does. But has anyone ever noticed that the way people hold it because of the way it's balanced and used is pretty, too? The aesthetics of Apple always astound me.

Petit Chaperon Rouge

2009-03-25T21:46:00.000-07:00

[Note: This video, by Tomas Nilsson, is most awesome with sound.]

The eensy, weensy spider

2009-03-14T00:52:00.000-07:00

Dear eensy, weensy spider:

You are scary. I know that you're just eensy. But you're scary. You pack a punch of scariness, despite your size.

Or so I thought.

Until I saw EXTRA scary spider chasing after you. I think extra scary spider is extra scary for BOTH of us. But I still don't really feel like I've bonded with you.

I sincerely wish that you had stayed outside. Not just because you're scary. But because you brought extra with you. And that? Means I have to kill you both.

I'm building up my courage. Really. I'm semi-sorry I have to do it, eensy. And sadly, you're going to have to go first. Honestly? Because extra's going to take a bit more time to get courage to kill.

Best wishes,

E

P.S. I hear heaven's pretty awesome. But I don't personally stay in contact with anyone that's been there. So you'll just have to take my word for it.

Welcome, welcome.

2009-03-11T22:55:00.000-07:00

I'm so excited about this:

I might love Billy Collins.

2009-02-19T20:46:00.001-08:00

I have loved the first poem for a long, long time. I'm torn between explaining my love and just letting each poem stand for itself. I've chosen the latter, but would love to hear what you think.

Today

If ever there were a spring day so perfect,
so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze

that it made you want to throw
open all the windows in the house

and unlatch the door to the canary's cage,
indeed, rip the little door from its jamb,

a day when the cool brick paths
and the garden bursting with peonies

seemed so etched in sunlight
that you felt like taking

a hammer to the glass paperweight
on the living room end table,

releasing the inhabitants
from their snow-covered cottage

so they could walk out,
holding hands and squinting

into this larger dome of blue and white,
well, today is just that kind of day.

Litany

You are the bread and the knife,

The crystal goblet and the wine...

-Jacques Crickillon

You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.

However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.

It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general's head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.

And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.

It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.

I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.

I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman's tea cup.
But don't worry, I'm not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and--somehow--the wine.

Also see: Marginalia
And this: I Chop Some Parsley While Listening To Art Blakey's Version Of "Three Blind Mice"
This, too: The Art of Drowning

It's hard to stop, but I will now; as I said, it might be love.

________ is golden

2009-02-12T13:10:00.000-08:00

Today I was in a work meeting that lasted for about an hour and a half. I was silent the entire time. It's been a long time since that happened. A very long time. I usually have opinions and [ahem: "good"] ideas. Or someone asks me to speak. But today I learned the meaning of the age-old adage.

I stole this

2009-01-30T14:25:00.000-08:00

from Sarah's blog, because I really like it.

I woke up late.

2009-01-28T20:03:00.000-08:00

I know that’s how most bad days start. It’s so cliché. But I really did. (Somehow I still managed to get to work earlier than I often do, so that was a tiny, but confusing, miracle to make my day better.)

I’ve lost my checkbook. I don’t lose things: I have a cool, Japanese, mechanical pencil that my brother-in-law gave me when I was in 5th grade (and it is still my pencil of choice when I’m using one); I have a gold necklace that my brother gave me when I turned 8 (which I also wore for my high school yearbook picture because he told me that’s what he wanted me to do with it when he gave it to me). Obsessive? Maybe. But it may help you see why losing my checkbook might distress me (aside from the obvious reasons).

I got yelled at by my boss. I’m not saying that I am completely innocent, because you don’t USUALLY get that kind of reaction with complete innocence. But I FELT like I was completely innocent.

When I got home from work, I opened my washer/dryer/utility closet to get… something. (A forgotten detail.) But what I found was that some epoxy (which I purchased a year and a half ago to remove the glue residue off my walls after I [read: my super-awesome friend] ripped off some hideous wood paneling) decided today was a good day to burst free. I sympathized – we all want to do that from time to time. (Maybe especially on days like this.) Its “bursting,” however, seemed more like a persistent drip… drip… drip… from the lower left-hand seam of the can and my sympathy (empathy?) was not enough to make me happy about the consequences of its choice: paint removal from the shelf it was stored on and much of the paint on my clothes washer. After a huge (and long!) sigh and possibly an “Aw! Man! (or maybe an “Oh! Man!”), I put my head on the remaining painted portion of my clothes washer and started laughing. (I’d be lying if I said it was completely amused.) I reminded myself that it is just a thing – and the problem is cosmetic, at that. What really counts is what’s on the inside. (Something I should probably remember to say about myself. This message brought to you by the Dove “Real Beauty” campaign. That was so 3-years ago; I know.)

So, I closed the closet door, put my coat back on, and went out the door for my Wednesday night plans. Because I think that paint puddle will still be bubbled on top of my washer in the morning. And the rest of the day was waiting.

Happiness.

2009-01-23T10:08:00.001-08:00

Dear internet,

Today, I am listening to:

on this:

with these:

They are all beautiful. And it makes me so happy. In fact? It's almost overwhelming. Misty eyes. Exploding heart. Sigh of contentment.

Thank you for helping to make this moment possible, internet.

Sincerely,

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

2009-01-14T06:58:00.002-08:00

There are some things you need to know about people: their name, their general age, their gender, and whether or not they are a song repeater.

I am. Sometimes.

This is the latest song that's on repeat on my iPod:

Go-cart Garage

2009-01-13T23:50:00.000-08:00

The parking garage at work makes me want to have a go-cart. The turns are perfect (mostly because they are literally impossible for a regular car to make). And it would be so fun to just go up and up at 50 or 60 miles an hour.

*I recently went go-cart racing for the first time. I was by far the worst (a .5 -- ok. more like a full second gap each lap adds up), but somehow [read: a computer error] I received the third place medal. If the REAL third place winner read my blog, I would tell her to watch out. That medal is coming back to her.

Exhibit A: Trophy Stand Evidence

I'm not sure how I feel about quoting Shakespeare.

2009-01-11T22:47:00.001-08:00

He was a bit too sardonic and sarcastic, I think, to really be confident in his meaning. (As an English major, I can't help but love Shakespeare; so please realize I say this with some amount of angst in my soul about questioning the amazing William.)

I read a quote on Forbes today, "There is no better sign of a brave mind than a hard hand." And you have to ask yourself, "Was Shakespeare serious?" In this case, it seems he can't be. Really? And why would you use that as your inspiring welcome quote? "You are a good thinker if you can be a jerk (or -- at the very least -- tight-fisted)." Curious.

*Editor's Note: After some consideration, I see more merit in the quote, but I'm still not totally convinced.

Welcome 2009.

2009-01-02T22:50:00.001-08:00

I'm excited about 2009. I can feel good things are coming. (I'm usually inclined to think that, but that doesn't mean the sentiment is less notable now. Moving on.) HOWEVER, if I were to be truly honest (which -- let's be honest -- I should be; too many "honests"?), there will be/are some things I miss.

London (basically everything about it) and my little London family:

These views of the West Coast:

My Primary class (I was moved to teach the REALLY young and GROSSLY over-sized class, but I'm sure that will be good, too):

Me: "Why do you think Jesus would tell us to be more like you? Why do you think He would want grown-ups to be more like children?"
Class member: "Well, when you grow up, you become so serious. And Jesus is like the Joker. He's asking grown-ups, "Why so SERIOUS?" He just wants them to relax and have fun, like kids. We're good at that. "

And, while I don't so much miss this last one, I was watching a [good] movie the other day and noticed something was awry/missing (That can count as me missing it, right?):

Where's Utah?

Let's just name two states "Nevada:" the one that actually is Nevada, and the one that would look like Utah if it was not Nevada. (Sorry the picture's cut off there, but that's all that was on the screen. So, in reality, Nevada may have been labeled "Utah." I fully intend to find the original and get to the heart of the matter, but for the purposes of this blog entry -- and the time constraints I've placed thereon -- I've decided not to look just now. It's more entertaining to me this way.)

Merry Christmas!

2008-12-24T15:05:00.000-08:00

So, I know this is a cop-out post. More is coming; I promise. But for now, I wish you the very best and happiest holidays. (And share the lyrics from my favorite Christmas song. Because why not?)

O holy night! The stars are brightly shining,
It is the night of our dear Saviour's birth.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
'Til He appear'd and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

Fall on your knees! O, hear the angels' voices!
O night divine, O night when Christ was born;
O night divine, O night, O night Divine.

Led by the light of Faith serenely beaming,
With glowing hearts by His cradle we stand.
So led by light of a star sweetly gleaming,
Here come the wise men from Orient land.
The King of Kings lay thus in lowly manger;
In all our trials born to be our friend.

He knows our need, to our weakness is no stranger,
Behold your King! Before Him lowly bend!
Behold your King, Behold your King.

Truly He taught us to love one another;
His law is love and His gospel is peace.
Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother;
And in His name all oppression shall cease.
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,
Let all within us praise His holy name.

Christ is the Lord! O praise His Name forever,
His power and glory evermore proclaim.
His power and glory evermore proclaim.

A few more London pictures.

2008-12-12T10:28:00.001-08:00

London Love #3: St. Paul’s Cathedral

2008-11-28T04:07:00.000-08:00

Well, really all the churches. Before the Great Fire of London in 1666, there were 97 churches in the “City of London.” I think, today, the area of greater London called “City of London” actually represents about a square mile. That’s not a lot of space for 97 churches, so the area might have been a bit larger in the 1666 definition; London itself was obviously much smaller at that time, so it might just mean “London.” (In fact, I just learned the other day how London exploded in the last 150— or maybe 175 — years with modern transportation. Before that it grew much more “moderately.”) After the fire, 51 were rebuilt by a man named Sir Christopher Wren (and then more were rebuilt in the 18th and 19th centuries).

Today 38 of those churches survive. The point here is: London has lots of churches. If you walk around downtown London, you’ll see one every few steps, and they’re all totally spectacular in their own way.

I love that religion is deeply seated in the culture of London, even if London is now in many ways — like the rest of the world — generally irreligious. European culture and cities are incredibly deep. It’s just part of the mix of feelings that you simply can’t avoid walking down the street. You just can’t find that in the States. There’s something indescribably powerful about being surrounded by humanity in a place where there have been masses of people for centuries. (I wish I could speak more eloquently about it, but let’s face it; this is a blog, so you are all subjected to my ramblings as they topple out of my head.)

Back to churches. Of course, London is not unique in this sense: Rome wouldn’t be Rome without the Vatican. Paris would not be Paris without Notre Dame. What's Florence without the Duomo? The list could go on. And London’s pièce de résistance? St. Paul’s.

St. Paul’s was one of the churches built by Sir Christopher Wren. It has the second largest dome in the world (after St. Peter’s at the Vatican). It’s huge. I am amazed at the amount of money, time, creativity, dedication, and other resources that went into buildings for worshipping God over the centuries. Especially when it was much more difficult and taxing. And yet it was ubiquitous. It’s compelling, beautiful and certainly demands some amount of consideration. You can’t help but think about it when you see such incredible buildings. You can just imagine how St. Paul’s appeared when all the other buildings were so small and the next tallest buildings were church spires. There is still a by-law that prevents any taller buildings from being erected within in certain radius of the cathedral.

I’ll end my post with a little excerpt from a book I’ve been reading. The description is actually about Hagia Sophia in Istanbul, but it’s fitting of all great churches I’ve visited. It explains the love I have for St. Paul’s, some portion of which is meted out into London culture, and why I’ll miss that part of London so much:

“Looking back at that moment [when I first visited], I understand that I had lived in books so long, in my narrow university setting [or whatever occupies your time], that I had become compressed by them internally. Suddenly, in this echoing house of Byzantium – one of the wonders of history – my spirit leaped out of its confines. I knew in that instant that, whatever happened, I could never go back to my old constraints. I wanted to follow life upward, to expand with it outward, the way this enormous interior swelled upward and outward. My heart swelled with it, as it never had during all my wandering among the Dutch merchants [insert your wandering here].”

Flowers are easier.

2008-11-27T14:45:00.000-08:00

I'm just putting some stuff out there; it's not amazing, but I kind of like some of it.

This woman's feet mesmerized me as she walked. I could have taken a crisp shot, obviously, but I thought this was more like "mesmerizing." Her shoes were so colorful.

I just liked this doorway -- but unfortunately the shot got a little washed out/grainy. (I was trying to take pictures without the flash and just get the lighting right on my own. It's harder than it sounds.)

This bird was cool. He was hanging out at an ice-skating rink.

See the coolness?

Like most everyone at the rink, he had a date. I thought this was cute -- gazing into each others' eyes.

I like the lights overhead in the picture. And the whiteness of the girl's hat.

I loved the color coming in from this window.

I just liked this when I was walking down the stairs. So I thought: "picture."

I like words and shapes.

I still like words.

I still like shapes.

See?

This is the crest for the British monarch. "Dieu et mon droit." French for "God and my right."

I just liked her face here. I hope she's not mad at me.

Industry.

2008-11-25T14:54:00.000-08:00

I have a confession. I think the Google Mail "tea house"-setting fox may be more industrious than me.

He's only been on my computer a short time and he's already watered the garden, cleaned the bird bath, pruned the rose bushes/garden, cleaned the house, slept, practiced Tai Chi, and now he's pruning a Bonsai tree.

Stop putting me to shame, Tea house Fox. Stop it. This is why I wanted to keep my settings at "classic." I just can't take it anymore!

And now he's having tea and biscuits with his monkey friend. I've found a new role model.

You gotta help me out. Yeeeeah-ah-ah-ah.

2008-11-21T07:08:00.000-08:00

A few "OUT" photos.

And one "IN."

And one building.

And one mediocre picture of my pumpkin, even though Halloween was ages ago.

That is all.

Sorry if this story's redundant.

2008-11-19T08:28:00.000-08:00

So, the other day, I was at a friend's house: showering, getting ready for the day. They were out for the morning, so I was taking it a little easy this particular morning. I come out of the bathroom: wet hair, no makeup (of course), my face a little red because I'm mildly allergic to my face lotion. (It's the sunscreen, but what can you do?)

That is when I met this person:

Oh. Hello, Mr. Supermodel Man.

The family I was staying with just forgot to mention that their best friend, who is a highly sought-after model, would be stopping by because he lives with them when he's in London. Although I felt like I was rolling with the punches, I'm sure he found my "uh... uhh... Hi..." a little funny. Actually, I don't think I was that bad. But, let's just say I was aware that I'm not a model.

Good morning, Lee Carter. I'm here to help you!

2008-11-17T15:35:00.000-08:00

You should see this.

London Love #2: Riding the tube.

2008-11-10T06:34:00.000-08:00

It's true. I love riding the tube. Sure, there are lots of people, and sometimes your face is shoved into the unwashed armpit of the man next to you. Sometimes you're jostled and shoved more than you'd like. And everything has some kind of icky, greasy coating -- sometimes black, sometimes clear. But it's great! I wouldn't want to do it every day for the rest of my life, but it's exhilarating. It's one of the experiences that makes such a huge city feel alive.

Plus, as we are all learning, I love to people-watch, and there is no better place than the tube. What I find most funny about riding the underground is watching all the people avoid looking at each other. It's the awkwardness of pretending you're alone on an elevator times ten.

I think many of the riders like people-watching more than I do, but they don't want anyone to know. You catch the end of their gaze in your direction, or watch them bashfully look away when someone else notices their glance. Sometimes I like to do the opposite: One of my favorite things to do is try to catch someone's eye and smile at them. They never smile back. I don't think it's happened once. It cracks me up.

Oh. I could go on. There are just so many things to love about the tube. The interesting stations, the voices telling you to "mind the gap," the wind as the trains rush past you. The advertisements. There is an exhibit here of the last 100 years of tube "adverts." It's fascinating.

Underground, I will miss you.

Yes, We Can.

2008-11-05T01:56:00.001-08:00

Say what you will about his sweeping promises, his great ideas without a real plan to implement them (which I believe is probably the broadest criticism); I'm so excited to have a President who expects something from Americans, and encourages and inspires us to be more:

Part 1: Things I Love About London

2008-11-04T08:04:00.001-08:00

I suppose my post about cloned mice doesn't really count. So, I'm starting a series: Things I Love About London. I kind of wish I had a small camera. It's hard to whip out your big ol' SLR and inconspicuously take a snap shot. However, I'm going to become better at this, so future posts can include pictures, dag-nab-it. (Even if they're only cell phone pictures.)

(Also, my pictures from class aren't that interesting right now. One week we learned all about aperture and shutter speed. The next: lenses. Basically, this means a lot of the same photo over and over with different lighting and movement, but nothing fantastic. If something fantastic comes out of it, I'll be sure to share.)

Love #1: European fashion. We're all aware that Utah has its own fashion sense: in some ways we're at the forefront of the industry; in more ways, we're not. Somehow I've always connected with European fashion -- which is not to say that I LOOK like I do. But, I wish I did.

For instance, European women rock scarves and stoles. I would love to be able to pull that off a bit more successfully, but also find scarves and stoles worth wearing. They're on every corner here. I guess that means one thing: shopping.

But, sometimes it's not necessarily the outfit I'm dying for when I think of European fashion. I mean, I'm not exactly yearning to wear a short, black sweater dress with bright blue tights, brown slouchy boots, and a brown, purple and orange jacket. Or bright-pink-and-purple-mottled knit legwarmers under some jeans, peeking out over athletic-style heels. Or a purple tank-top, grey shrug and a bright green poofy-slip-looking skirt, with black tights and blue ballet flats. And yet? I kind of dig it.

European women can wear ANYthing, and it's desirable. And so are they. How does one get that accessory? The slightly-quirky confidence. If I can only take one thing home with me, that's it. (Which might start with a purple tank-top, grey shrug, a bright green poofy-slip-looking skirt, black tights, and some blue ballet flats.)

(P.S. For more fashion things I'm interested in right now, see this post from Little Muggy.)

(P.P.S. I hope you're all voting today.)

Jurassic Park

2008-11-03T07:10:00.000-08:00

was one of my favorite movies. My tiny "scrapbook" from my growing up years includes my ticket from opening night. There were lots of cool ideas in that movie, starting with graphics that redefined "special effects" to -- of course -- the idea of growing baby dinosaurs from ancient DNA.

This article (frozen mice cloned) has everyone wondering if Jurassic Park will be a reality. I'm not sure I'm that interested in the idea, but I do think the science is interesting. Check it out.

What do you want?

2008-10-24T05:18:00.000-07:00

Why is it that we never really want what’s good for us? We either recognize what’s good for us and refuse it despite that knowledge, OR we know it’s bad for us and go after it regardless. Or, I suppose, we don’t go after anything at all and let life happen to us instead of trying to influence the outcome. Why?

Ironically, I’m convinced it comes from selfishness and self-absorption. Sounds ridiculous, right? If we were doing what’s selfish, we’d clearly pick what’s best for us. Not so, dear reader.

It’s like we’re on a game show: “Well, contestant one, you’ve got some great prizes here.

“Door # 1: A vacation to Ghana: where you’ll be steeped in culture, go on a photo safari, and have the opportunity to build 15 water wells and help implement a new educational curriculum in several local grade schools.
“Door # 2: A vacation to Las Vegas: where you’ll stay at the luxurious Bellagio, see Cirque de Soleil and Blue Man group, gamble away a year’s worth of savings, and get so drunk that you cheat on your significant other. But boy, will it be fun.
“Door # 3: Mystery vacation: You could end up in the middle of Death Valley, CA or escape to your own private island at the Banyan Tree Vabbinfaru, in Maldives. (Small print: chances of Death Valley are significantly higher, given the number of spaces allotted to it on the roulette wheel.)”

I contend that an unfortunate majority of people would choose number two or number three. They’d look at three and say: “Pure luxury! One of the Top 10 beach resorts in the entire world. So what if I end up in Death Valley? At least I tried!” Never mind that the odds are in favor of this choice being worse than either of the other two options.

They’d look at number two and say: “Hey! That sounds fun. A few minor side-effects, but I can work through it. How nice it would feel to run around with abandon.” This would be life-changing, more than anyone would willingly admit to themselves. But it’s a good time. To heck with consequences.

And they’d look at number one and say: “What? No way. It’s dirty, not at all luxurious, and I’d have to work! Maybe the safari would be cool, but not at that cost.” Of course they’d discount that it would get them outside of their narrow world view, encourage meaningful service, allow them to make a difference in the world and that this would change their lives forever, too – for the better.

I’ve no doubt that some of you, dear readers, are offended by my assumptions about your character. Of course these scenarios are exaggerated to make a point, and I implicate myself, not you, among the historically poor decision makers. Even the fear of the unknown is not enough to dissuade me from the fear of the known good sometimes.

Why? I’m selfish.

I’ve wondered some about my decision to come to London. It wasn’t something that was actively on my radar screen (it was always beeping, somewhere in the distance, thanks to kind offers from my family), but making it a reality popped in my head months ago, and I couldn’t remove it. More than that, everything seemed to work out to promote my coming over here: generosity on the part of my workplace, my family here in London, and my family in the States, support and encouragement from people that are meaningful to me, and of course a program that provided exactly what I was interested in. I’m so grateful for the opportunities I’m given in my life, and I’m not ignorant of all the people that make them possible. But back to the point at hand: Am I choosing door one, two, or three?

Is there some greater purpose to my time here? (I’ve had some experiences and made some realizations that could support a yes answer.) Is it completely selfish? (Again, I’ve had some experiences and made some realizations that could support a yes answer.) Or am I just throwing my dice on the table in game of Craps, hoping that life will bring me something good?

The problem with answering these questions often comes not from purposeful selfishness, but from the selfishness created by not knowing what one wants. It sounds silly, I know. But people overcome the desire for door two and the silly risk of door three all the time. Every day. These are the people who know what they want — and won’t settle for less than the guaranteed method of achieving it. And while acting based on what you ultimately want is a form of selfishness, usually most people’s ultimate goals also benefit others.

When you don’t know what you want, what’s the risk in door three, or the harm in door two? And although the consequences are still real, they don’t seem to matter so much in the short term. Hence the above thinking about door one; selfishness from short-sightedness. Maybe the need for door one increases with the people least likely to select it. One of my favorite adages is: “You can have anything you want, but not everything.” Life is full of trade-offs, but the problem with not knowing what you really want is that you may discover you made a bad trade: got the Maserati, but can’t afford food or a house anymore.

So, how do you decide what you really want? By being less selfish. It’s a bit of a Catch 22, isn’t it? Now my question has to be, can you become less selfish while you’re still in the middle of experiencing door two? Can you be drunk in Vegas, attending Zumanity (bleh) and even gain enough self-awareness to be less selfish?

Luckily for me, I’m pretty certain I didn’t pick door two, but I have to ask myself, just in case.

Tag: Six quirky things.

2008-10-21T08:31:00.001-07:00

1) When I'm scared, I like to have my hands covered. Somehow it makes me feel safe.

2) I like to have the silverware evenly distributed in the dishwasher. It's not obsessive; but I'm somewhat meticulous about it.

3) I'm not sure if it's a quirk or a compulsion, but I get bored with my hair easily. Speaking of which... Saturday can't come soon enough.

4) I like to begin sentences with "And." I don't know why. And it's not all the time. (See?! I can't help it!) It's just kind of fun.

5) I'm probably most comfortable in skirts. I wear them a lot. I like them. I mean, jeans are great. But I rarely get home from work and change unless I have somewhere to be.

6) I don't like sleeping with my head in the middle of the pillow. I always sleep with my face at the edge of the pillow.

Mixtape.

2008-10-21T07:43:00.000-07:00

I admire people who share themselves readily. I'm going to work on that.

Today, I have a whole slew of quotes from "Gigi" rumbling around in my head. I think everyone should watch this movie forthwith! (Most especially: me.) The quote that got me started, though, was, "I'd rather be miserable with you than without you." It just popped in there, not entirely unprovoked, and the flood gates opened; Oh, Gigi! Am I a fool without a mind? Quite possibly.

Yesterday, my class was a review of kindergarten: "This is a triangle. This is a square. What's this shape, class? A circle? Good!" Today, we got a much harder (read: 8 hour) assignment on comping type. This class reminds me of my friend Sarah.

I've been trying to find the soundtrack to my life lately: something that I can listen to and think, "That's it exactly!" I've been doing a little Priscilla Ahn, The Weepies, Kings of Leon, Joshua Radin, Damien Jurado, Fleet Foxes, Jenny Lewis, TV on the Radio, Keane, Tristan Prettyman, Jose Gonzales. Missy Higgins. Radiohead. Despite the excellent choices, my aesthetic connections feel a little fleeting. I suppose soundtracks are almost always mixtapes.

Inundation

2008-10-16T12:26:00.000-07:00

Hello, my dear readers. I'm sorry to overwhelm you with photos today, but I have to post my assignments to the web. I'll write something more interesting soon, but for now: PHOTOS GALORE! (I suppose I could use Flickr or something, but I'm doing it this way for now. Hee. Also, some of these might be awesome in black and white. What do you think?)

Only on the street where [I] live

2008-10-15T07:30:00.000-07:00

Variations on a theme:

I'm not sure what I think about how these worked out. But, hey, I'm learning, and it's a cool idea.

Embiggen

2008-10-12T21:42:00.000-07:00

"Thanks, and have a nice... uh... evening," he says with a smile, confident in the charisma he actually lacks. Airports are the ideal people watching spot. There are so many people, but not enough bustle that it's impossible to take people in. This man, for instance, ordered the clerk at the airline desk around -- thinking he was somehow charming and exuding a "well-travelled" aura, when really he was just impolite.

There was a woman a few seats down from me waiting for a flight to Boston, where she was getting married. She was talking loudly on her cellphone to her mom about the stress of repacking too many suitcases and trying to figure out how to decrease checked-baggage weight. In the end, she was given a fee of $280 and her mom didn't quite understand why. Then flight 6420 to Boston was called and she and her fiance toted hundreds of wedding menus onto the plane as their carry-on luggage.

But, there's another reason I love airports: I love flying. No matter if you're leaving or coming home, something good always lays ahead. There is inherent excitement sitting in your seat, listening to the video about oxygen masks and exits, and feeling the plane take off.

I think this could be a good trip for me: Even with my "haven't-slept-in-48 hours-and-I've-been-sitting-on-a-plane-for-much-of-that-time" look, I already had (crazy) men hitting on me. Don't worry; no matter where I go, I manage to attract the same type of people, so those stories aren't over. (And? As a bonus, I learned that I, too, exude much less charisma than I thought, because they thought I might be a terrorist when I landed.)

A few photos:

Fractional distillate of petroleum fuel oil

2008-10-04T18:55:00.000-07:00

This is my sister's adorable dog. He had to get all his hair shaved off.

Utah: A pretty great state.

2008-09-23T10:21:00.000-07:00

I think that used to be our advertising campaign. Or an option before they chose "Life Elevated," maybe.

Anyway, according to a study published in the Wall Street Journal we're the 4th most agreeable and conscientious state. We're top 10 (8th) in extraversion. We're slightly higher than middle of the pack (18th) in openness to new ideas. And we're the least neurotic state in the entire country.

Check it out. The flash maps are fun. (And, if you're not from Utah, you can find some fun things about your state, too.)

I'm a puppet; you can almost see the strings.

2008-09-19T14:08:00.001-07:00

People always say that you should pay attention to what people DO, not what they say. That's a lesson I still need to learn.

Because I want to believe people. I want to think that people are honest and that they try to make what they say and what they do the same. I want to believe in the whole, "I'm as good as my word" idea.

Unfortunately, I've had to learn many times over, in unpleasant ways, that the world doesn't work that way.

Enter: today.

It's moments like this that I think, "I want to just leave all this behind and go somewhere else, do something else, be friends with other people." The best part about today? I am.

Oh lolli-lollipop

2008-09-18T09:45:00.000-07:00

As I was walking to work today, I followed a woman with the most bouffant hair I've seen in some time. It was actually very pretty hair, and evident that she just had a lot of it -- not that she had spent all morning teasing it. However, she was also among the skinnest women I've ever seen. It caused her to look something like this:

(Note: While inspired by true events, the image below is merely representative, and is in no way meant to infringe upon the image rights of the aforementioned woman. Some aspects of the image were modified to protect the innocent. No animals were harmed in the making of this image.)

This made me think two things: 1) when you have that much curly hair, you should not be a stick. It's not natural. 2) I'm going to kind of miss high heels for the next few months.

A spot of bother.

2008-08-22T11:13:00.000-07:00

The awesome thing about waking up this morning is that my face was one big rash.

Alright; which one of you came and smeared poison ivy on my face last night?

There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.

2008-08-13T09:47:00.000-07:00

Dear internet,

I quit my job recently. I wasn't planning on it. I left work on a Friday and, by Monday, I'd decided to take a new, slightly-altered -- or maybe just detoured -- path. I'm going to do something completely different in a completely different place. I'm going to be a better, more-fulfilled person, and I'm excited about that. I'm excited to come back, too, to find the ways in which I've changed.

Cheers,

E

2,900 burial plots available.

2008-08-07T08:38:00.000-07:00

I have at least that many plots available in my yard -- when you consider that the majority of the deceased are potato bugs. My home has become some sort of mecca for potato bugs that know they're going to die; the idyllic, preeminent choice for eldery pill bugs (which are apparently crustacean) or perhaps the pill millipede. (It's amazing what the internet can teach you.)

Last night, when I got home from work, I swept up about a dozen of these little guys, all curled up and dried out. (Gross.) This morning, as I left for work, I saw at least three more that will be waiting, I'm sure along with some friends, to be swept up and interred somewhere. Does putting them in the garbage count as interment?

I've tried several kinds of spray to keep bugs out, but for some reason, these guys don't seem to be bothered or deterred. Anyone who knows me knows how much I love bugs and clutter -- both. What better than clutter created of bugs? I have no idea.

I don't have a good title today.

2008-07-31T08:24:00.000-07:00

When I first saw "The Dark Knight," I wasn't sure what I thought about it. Of course, I was part of the enthusiam created in an opening night crowd. It was obvious to me that it was an incredible film. Nothing lacked. Both "Batman Begins" and the latest installment in the series are deeply philosophical and psychological films -- an admirable feat (and intention) among the purile and inane Hollywood films that are so pervasive. But, I wondered if this film was too dark -- a question which raised some discussion among many across the nation. I'm happy to say that the film gets better the more I think about it.

I think this article, from the National Post, provides interesting discussion:

SAINT BATMAN?

"SYDNEY, Australia [which should be read somewhat wistfully] -Heath Ledger is mesmerizing in The Dark Knight, the latest Batman film. Here in his Australian homeland, his posthumous appearance as the Joker has been a major news story for two weeks.

"It's an extraordinary film, even if you are, inexplicably, unmoved by the addition of futuristic gadgets to the most reliable blockbuster combination in cinema: explosions, firearms, car chases and more explosions. This Batman comes with the bonus of some of the more combustible questions in philosophy. What is evil? Is there a moral order built into our world, or is to speak of such a moral design delusional?

"This Joker does not permit us to dismiss him as delusional; he comes with an argument. This is not the maniacal buffoon of Jack Nicholson's star turn nearly 20 years ago. This Joker is diabolical."

Finish the article here.

I've had a lot on my mind lately.

2008-07-30T12:36:00.000-07:00

I was reminded recently that I'm totally in the right profession. Someone mentioned a Heinz ketchup campaign from years ago in which they held a contest for taglines and bottle-cover designs. I entered. I think I was 12.

That story reminded me that one of my favorite things I ever did with my brother Jon was make an tv spot for a music company called "Color."

I still dream about being a widely published author.

There are not many things I hate more than "WTF" and "OMG." I'm bugged that I even have to write them to share how much I hate them. I almost kept this loathing to myself.

I work in an office of adults (as I suppose most people do). I think I might be the youngest employee in the building (or close). So, I was confused to see the bathroom floor look like this:

Somehow the picture is more tame than it was in real life.

I was intrigued by some reading I was doing a while ago that people CANNOT act UNLESS they are influenced by good and evil. This is something I have discussed at some length with several people. This caused more contemplation.

I cried the other day during/at a movie that I don't particularly like. But for some reason it really moved me this time.

I'm grateful for pioneers: people who risk everything to progress a cause -- religion, science, thought, art. I'm grateful for inspiring examples. People with courage. People who do what they know to be right. People who care about what constitutes "right." And work at it, even when it's not easy.

I don't like EFY. But, recently, I've considered that maybe I've musjudged it. I think, for people outside of Utah especially, it might actually be valuable.

I'm grateful for people that make morality personal. Who follow a strong code of ethics because the self they've created demands it.

Today, I went to a class that used Radiohead for the soundtrack on their education videos. I found that very distracting. I like Radiohead too much to pay full attention to the dialogue and action. It was simultaneously endearing and upsetting (that they would use Radiohead and that they would use Radiohead for THAT).

I recently heard someone talk about how the main theme in Beethoven's 5th (the entirety of which they called a movement -- first clue I should have stopped listening) -- da da da dun -- is congruent with the Morse Code letter for "V." Clearly, she (falsely) elucidated, this was for "victory," since this was the first piece Beethoven wrote after going deaf. I found this silly, and a very little offensive -- because I don't often think you should promulgate opinion and heresy as fact. (But that's just me.) Not only did Morse Code not exist while Beethoven was alive, but I don't think he'd write one of the greatest pieces of music EVER, based around a loosely connected symbol, as a tribute to himself for triumphing over deafness. (That second point is my own, equally ridiculous, opinion.)

Mostly I've been thinking about choices, though. Partly because of the aforementioned reading and discussions, and partly because of some choices I have recently made. And choices that others have made that have given me pause. I wonder if a tiger can change its stripes. I wonder how often people can truly be so committed to something (or more specifically giving something up) that they are willing to fight for it their entire lives (ie: never smoking again, not lusting after people, never drinking again). Even more, I wonder how often people do that without looking back -- with no regrets.

One of my favorite thoughts (and quotes) talks about reaching out to everyone, including, perhaps especially, to those hands that aren't reaching out anymore; that the world is more hungry for love than anything else. I yearn to be able to give that kind of love to the world and the people near to me. But... is there ever a time where you just say, "No. I can't do that. I need to take care of myself."? Or should you always reach out, no matter what it does to you? What if there is more for you to give? What if you try and you find there isn't? Is breaking yourself worth the service you can give to others? Can you help someone become the best version of themselves through unrequited "love?"

I hope someday to be like Mother Teresa or Princess Diana or Ghandi or any other number of people who have changed lives through small, singular moments of genuine caring. I have a long way to go. I don't even know how to get there. But I hope someday I find the way.

In the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years.

2008-07-27T16:11:00.000-07:00

In the last week, I've been asked:

If my 31-year-old brother is my little brother.
If I'm my 37-year-old sister's older sister. (This one made me really paranoid. Two times in one week? My family is cute and young-looking, but shouldn't that also include me?)
If I'm my 8-year-old niece's sister. (This one made me feel a little better, but... really?)

Memories.

2008-07-26T15:06:00.000-07:00

I recently rediscovered this at my parents' house:

I think I felt loved as a child.

5 googlebytes of love.

2008-07-22T10:35:00.000-07:00

Last night, I went to the John Mayer concert. There were many things I loved, and I will update this post and share more later, but this cover made me fall in love with John Mayer all over again. It's incredible.

If I were a rich (wo)man.

2008-07-14T11:50:00.000-07:00