My Musings

Serendipity.

2011-04-03T06:07:00.000-07:00

Life is so unpredictable.

A week ago yesterday, Andy and I saw one of my former UNT colleagues, Derek, perform as the Evangelist in Bach's St. John's Passion with Chatham Baroque. Yesterday, as the eventual result of my attending that concert, I performed with the Pittsburgh Baroque Ensemble.

It all started with a Facebook ad.

It's taken us a while to get out to concerts since we've been in Pittsburgh. The very first musical performance I attended was pretty underwhelming, so maybe that was keeping me. Lots of them have been cost-prohibitive, as we're not exactly carrying around large sacks of money these days. Part of me, too, was afraid of how going to a concert would make me feel--that maybe it would remind me of my feelings of total inadequacy. For all of these reasons, I stayed away.

I happened to see an ad for Chatham Baroque on the sidebar in Facebook one day. Since the early music community is a small one, and the ad boasted of guest artists in the upcoming performance, I decided to click on it and see if I knew anyone who would be performing. Sure enough, I saw Derek, with whom I've performed on a number of occasions. Figuring he'd want to know there was a familiar face in the audience, I sent him a message letting him know we were planning on going. He replied, saying he'd comp our tickets (which ended up being a VERY good thing, because it turns out we wouldn't have been able to go otherwi$e).

After the performance (which was great), he and I chatted. He said he'd been telling some of the instrumentalists that there was a baroque cellist around, and that they were surprised and always happy to find local musicians. "You should contact them," he said.

Yeah, right. That is so not me.

But, I did it anyway.

I sent out three quick emails, and I only got one reply, from the Pittsburgh Baroque Ensemble. They were really excited to know I was around. I sent the email on Thursday, I think, and received a reply the same day. Friday afternoon, I received another email, saying that their cellist was sick; would I be able to come to a rehearsal this afternoon for a gig tomorrow? How's that for timing?

So (not having a baroque instrument), I tuned Gus (steel strings and all!) down to 415, and off I went to the rehearsal. It went well, and the director decided that whether or not their cellist was better by the concert, since I played the rehearsal it made more sense for me to play. (Unfortunately, the cellist didn't get the three messages left for her on the topic, so she showed up right before the downbeat, instrument in hand. Awkward all around. I felt bad . . . kind of.) Turns out it was a pretty cool gig--a benefit concert in support of Japan. The emcee was one of the hosts of the classical music station, and there were members of the Pittsburgh Symphony and other really good local musicians. It restored my faith in the music scene here.

A perfect confluence of events. If I hadn't seen that Facebook ad and decided to see who was performing . . . if I hadn't contacted Derek (with whom I was only barely acquainted) . . . if he hadn't offered the comps . . . if we hadn't had that little conversation . . . if I'd sent the email a day later . . . if the cellist hadn't gotten sick . . . if I hadn't been at my computer (I got the email an hour before the rehearsal) . . . if this hadn't been the perfect "experimental" gig to try out a new cellist . . . if if if . . . !

So, who knows what will come of this, if anything. But, the gig went well, and I think everyone was pleased (except the other cellist, probably). Just goes to show you the power of a little initiative, being prepared, and perhaps a little divine help.

New Bloggerdom

2009-01-18T16:55:00.000-08:00

Visit Andy and my "Married Blog."

twohappycrazymormons.blogspot.com

My Totally Awesome Life

2009-01-12T14:55:00.000-08:00

Well, married life, for those of you keeping score at home, is awesome. Let me paint a picture for you:

Our wedding day was practically perfect. There was a slight embarrassing moment close to the end of the day where the bride almost passed out. Don’t fret, though, everything’s fine. Too many things in combination: dehydration, low blood-sugar, tightly tied corset-back dress constricting oxygen flow to my brain, lots of standing, emotional stress . . . I was fine as soon as I got four glasses of water and out of the dress.

Other than that slight mishap, though, it was lovely. It was the most perfect day we could ever ask for in January—sunny and 70 degrees outside. We were able to take photos outside! It was great, and such a blessing. The weather in Texas is so unpredictable that even the week of, we had no idea whether we should expect it to be freezing or delightful—and thankfully, the latter happened to be the case.

The luncheon was perfect. We went to the Greenhouse Restaurant: the site of our first date. The food was delicious! It was fun to see our families gathered together for the first time. His mother was so excited and his father was beaming. We were having a lovely time.

We had a small ring ceremony right before the reception, where our good Bishop said some lovely words and we exchanged rings before our families. It was special and he did a wonderful job. Bless him for putting so much time and effort into our little ring ceremony!

The reception was lovely. The Wildwood Inn did a wonderful job, and thought of everything! It was so nice to not have to worry about this or that, and to just be able to enjoy our guests and the delicious food! What fun.

We honeymooned for a few days in San Antonio, where we enjoyed walking around the city and seeing all the sites that San Antonio has to offer. Our hotel was just steps away from anything we could have wanted to see, so we parked the car and only used it once, to go to church on Sunday. Other than that, we walked everywhere.

Now we’re back home. The Husband is at work right now as I sit in our living room typing in a word document (we don’t have internet at the apartment yet), we’re trying to get the place all pulled together before I start school again next week. It’s coming together nicely. We have been so blessed by the kindness and generosity of our friends and family and find ourselves lacking very little in the way of anything we need. The place is great. We have two lovely balconies that overlook the countryside. We look out our bathroom window and we see two horses. There are six happy dogs that greet us when we come home. It’s small, but we have everything we need, and even a few touches to make it more like a home. Our landlord is amazingly kind and wonderful (as I type this right now, he’s climbing on our roof to try and get our satellite TV working, bless his heart) and is so willing to help us with everything. We feel so blessed.

Pictures are on their way. I can’t find the cord to The Husband’s camera, so I can’t load them onto my computer and put them online when I get to the internet. So stay tuned, my faithful readers. And keep an eye out for the Andy and Rachel Blog Extravaganza! Because married people always should keep blogs.

In the mean time, here's a teaser to whet your palates.

Are we there yet??

2008-12-30T22:06:00.000-08:00

Ahh, the wedding. We have reached 100% eat, sleep, and breathe wedding mode. Everything that I do anymore has something to do with the wedding. Hooray!

Within 24 hours, virtually my entire family on my dad's side will be in town here, to celebrate in the festivities. A joyous time indeed.

I wish I could enjoy it more. I'll be running wedding errands, and trying to move (right now, I'm about 90% at my parents' house vs. 10% at the new apartment).

At this point, I have all but given up on everything, and just want it to be over. Don't get me wrong--I am so excited about it that I can barely stand it--but there's just so much STUFF that needs to be done and I'm really beginning to doubt that it will all get done. I'm sure when it comes down to it, either it will or it won't, and if it doesn't then it must not have been that important anyway. I just wish that I could have some peace of mind in the midst of all the turmoil around me.

I know I'll survive, as all you married people have. I know it will all be worth it. I just want to see those results NOW not later.

My, how time flies.

2008-12-16T08:06:00.000-08:00

As predicted, this month is whizzing by. It's already halfway through, and we're seventeen days away from our wedding. SEVENTEEN. Eep. There is still tons to do, but hopefully it will all get done somehow.

Now that school is over for the semester, I feel like I'm finally starting to believe that this is really happening. As soon as December hit, I began to suspect it was real, but I was still swimming with finals and juries and crazy gig weekends and losing my mind. My brain seems to be returning, for which I am grateful. I have missed it so.

In fact, it was to the point that I actually MISSED my jury this semester. I thought it was the day after it actually was. My pianist Kostya saw my teacher in the hallway, and called me right after that to tell me I had miscalculated my jury time by about 24 hours. Yikes. Thankfully, the faculty were mercifully understanding, and allowed me to play for them during a slot that had opened up the following day (which, by some strange coincidence, happened to be during the exact same ten-minute slot as my baroque jury, of all the ten-minute slots of the day). It all worked out, though, thankfully, and the juries went well, I think.

So, here we are. It's winter here, at least for now (Sunday it was 75 degrees outside, then Monday it had dropped to 24), and things are falling into place.

Oh yeah, and then there's Christmas. Guess I need to get out and do some shopping, in the midst of all my wedding errands.

Long December.

2008-12-01T12:12:00.000-08:00

Welcome to the final month of my singleness, ladies and gentlemen. Here I am, putting off what I should be doing (practicing) to do something that has little or no merit at all. But I keep thinking of December, and how by the time it's finished, I will be just hours away from being a married woman. Nonetheless, December is a pretty wild and crazy month. It's prime time for a freelance cellist like myself to prostitute her skills out to various area churches, as well as it's finals and juries, and well . . . CHRISTMAS. It's one of those months where I just have to take one day at a time, but I know it's going to fly by. In the mean time, I'm trying to maintain a small semblance of sanity by highlighting exciting days in my brain:

Dec. 2 : Juries are over !
Dec. 4 : Last class day !
Dec. 5 : Details meeting @ Reception Venue !
Dec. 9 : Last final !
Dec. 10 : Final quartet performance / Baroque cello recital !
Dec. 24 : Christmas Eve / last Christmas church gig !
Dec. 27 : Temple Day !
Dec. 31 : New Year's Eve / Unca Chris's b-day fiesta !
Jan. 2 : Nuptials ! ! ! !

I keep telling myself I need to make it to the 10th before I really start thinking about wedding stuff, but so far that's not going so well. Ay, the whole month is already so busy! I can't believe it.

Life Goals

2008-11-15T22:41:00.000-08:00

If I had all the time in the world, I would:

*Learn at least three languages other than English fluently (Spanish, French, Japanese?)
*Go to culinary school / become a foodie
*Write my memoirs
*Write a novel
*Start my vegetarian bakery-cafe
*Become a yogi
*Learn to juggle
*Learn to knit
*Sleep 8 hours every night
*Write more handwritten letters
*Learn how to play the piano
*Get a massage therapy license
*Get SCUBA certified
*Learn my orchestral excerpts really well and practice them daily and
*Learn and memorize all of the presidents of the U.S. in chronological order

Hey There, Delilah

2008-11-12T20:54:00.000-08:00

I. Put your iTunes/Ruckus/Napster/etc on shuffle.
II. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
III. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS!
IV. Tag 5 friends who might enjoy doing this. Whoever wants to can do it.

I had to weed through my playlist to get one with songs with titles, versus classical selections with opus numbers and so forth, and this is what I came up with.

1. IF SOMEONE SAYS "IS THIS OKAY" YOU SAY?
On & On - Erykah Badu

2. WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
I'll Never Fall In Love - Elvis Costello

3. WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
The Girl from Impanema - Astrud Gilberto ("tall, and tan, and young, and lovely . . .")

4. HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
Hoodlehoo - Brak

5. WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?
Pretty Woman - Al Green (that's pretty much the only reason I get up in the morning, because I am so pretty)

6. WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
Desired Constellation - Bjork

7. WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
What's Goin' On (Live) - Marvin Gaye

8. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR PARENTS?
Smile - Nat King Cole (awww)

9. WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
What a Wonderful Thing Love Is - Al Green (pretty much)

10. WHAT IS 2+2?
Nature Boy - John Pizzarelli Trio (huh?)

11. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
Red and Yellow - Liz Rhodes

12. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Do Right Woman, Do Right Man - Aretha Franklin

13. WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
This Way Out - John Pizzarelli Trio

14. WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Maybe - The Chantels (maybe I want to grow up, but probably not?)

15. WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Zingor - Zorak ("I've got ants in my pants as I do the mating dance for Zingor . . .")

16. WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
O Pato (The Duck) - Joao Gilberto (quack, quack)

17. WHAT WILL/DID YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
Careless Love - the Hi-Los (ouch, I may want to rethink that one)

18. WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Smile - Michael Lord (another ouch)

19. WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
The Nearness of You - Norah Jones (oooooh baby)

20. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
Let's Get it On - Marvin Gaye (that's right, I want to get it on with ALL OF YOU)

21. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Searching - Erykah Badu

22. WHAT'S THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN?
Killing Me Softly with His Song - the Fugees (that would suck, yes)

23. HOW WILL YOU DIE?
Feather Queen - Liz Rhodes

24. DOES ANYONE LIKE YOU?
I Just Called to Say I Love You - Stevie Wonder (I'll be waiting for that call)

25. IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN TIME, WHAT WOULD YOU CHANGE?
How Sweet It Is to be Loved By You - Marvin Gaye

26. WHAT HURTS RIGHT NOW?
Easy Living - Billie Holiday (yeah, my life's pretty good)

27. WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS?
Hey There Delilah - Plain White T's

A Message From Myself

2008-11-06T21:15:00.000-08:00

"Gather ye rosebuds while ye may." I forgot that I set that as the welcome message on my phone, and it made me a little reflective today. But I don't want to be reflective. I am in the mood for a silly post. So, here's a list of random memories in the recesses of my brain.

*In Sunday school once, the boy who used to chew on his socks (after having worn them) fell out of his chair while sitting next to me. Our teacher got mad at him, saying he could have maimed me for life. I didn't know what "maimed" meant, but it didn't sound good, so I was mad at him too.

*In second grade, I drew a picture of a Siamese cat named Ginger, in honor of my beloved cat-loving teacher by the same first name. When I showed it to her, she said, "That's my first name!" and I said, "I know. I named it after you!" Now that I think of it, I don't know if she was happy about that or not.

*I had a really bad dream once when I was quite small. A big, fat, round thing (rope? I don't really know what it was) and a tiny little piece of string. The big, fat, thing smashed the little piece of string. For some reason, that imagery really disturbed me, so much that I woke up crying. My parents came in and comforted me, saying something about how it wasn't fair that the big thing picked on the little thing, but it wasn't any concept behind the dream, but the actually imagery of it that disturbed me so much.

*In middle school, my friends and I had code names for boys we liked. We thought we were being so clever, saying "Baylor" instead of "Taylor" and "Codfish" instead of "Cody."

*My friend Jamey had a sweet dog (cocker spaniel, I think) named Crystal, and a stuffed monkey named Virgil.

RMH, This is Your Life!

2008-10-29T21:48:00.000-07:00

Wow, what a whirlwind. I've had several blogworthy insights in the past few weeks, yet have not had the luxury of recording them (the irony of bloggerdom: if you have the time to blog, you often have nothing to blog about; if you have lots to say, you don't have the time to write it out). C'est la vie. My brilliant insights would have carried titles like "What's in a name?" or "An ounce of Preparation" or "Fast Friends." They would have been really good posts. You'd have loved them. But, those insights are probably lost forever: a testament to the fact that being busy isn't always what it's cracked up to be.

Mainly, I just can't believe I'm really and truly at this point in my life. I'm a graduate student. I'm a TA. I'm in my mid-twenties. I'm getting married in just over two months!

I had my first dress fitting on Monday, and it was kind of surreal. There I was, in the store, all dressed in white, being fitted for a WEDDING gown. Crazy. However, though I have been excited all along, I think after four months of engaged-ness, reality is finally beginning to set in. I picked up the invitations today, and it's all starting to look more and more like real life.

And my life is awesome right now. Exceedingly.

Rachel . . .

2008-10-12T15:22:00.000-07:00

Rachel is . . .
*inconsistent
*engaged to the most wonderful boy in the world
*a lover, not a fighter
*100% biodegradable
*somewhat flaky
*a respecter of the written word
*unsure of her dreams
*selfish
*much more eloquent on paper than in person

Rachel is not . . .
*who she would like to be
*a pro-wrestler
*a polyglot, much as she would like to be
*humble
*Grace Kelly
*a good liar

Rachel likes . . .
*Andrew K. Richardson
*Johannes Brahms
*cooking and baking
*really good hugs
*snuggling
*handwritten expressions of appreciation
*fall weather
*sunsets
*animals

Rachel does not like . . .
*herself, a lot of times
*inappropriate use of windshield wipers
*the vacuum created when only one car window is open
*neon colors
*radio commercials
*olives
*driving
*dirty socks
*waking up

In poor form.

2008-10-09T13:19:00.000-07:00

This week has not been a good one for me. In fact, I have been pretty miserable the whole time. I feel like I have not done a single thing right all week. I am like Midas, only backwards: everything I touch turns to [expletive deleted]. I feel disconnected from everyone and everything that is important to me. I feel lonely. I feel like a dismal failure who will never amount to anything because I cannot figure out how to progress and overcome the weaknesses that I have already diagnosed and treated. It frustrates me to no end that I can't just learn the lesson and move on.

It occurred to me today that this lack of progress is a function of pride. I suppose all along that has been the missing link: humility. After all, why would I bother trying to make improvements upon a lesson I've "already learned?" Alas, I haven't ever really learned anything, and that's why I'm still here, wiggling around with the other worms, not living up to my potential.

I hate it. I hate it so much that I just want to shake myself and say, "Enough already! Let's get on with it!" Unfortunately, it's not that easy. I have a lot of stuff I need to work through. I feel completely overburdened right now, and the fact of the matter is that I have no one on earth that I can blame for my burdens other than myself--this, in turn, leads to more guilt and more weight on my load. Since everything has been sub-par this week, it all stands as a testament to how I cannot do anything right, and I am reassured of my destiny as a colossal failure.

In reality, I know that the things that have been going wrong this week are actually pretty small things in the grand scheme. I suppose that's not the point. It's a mental and emotional thing. I have spent this week convincing myself that I am a failure, and these little things were just evidence supporting my case. This is (and, I fear, will continue to be) a recurring theme in my life. I go through these phases where everything in my sight is colored by the lens of self-deprecation, and life seems to spiral downward from there. Irrational as I know it is, that haunting little voice inside of me is always the first one there to let me know when I've messed up, and to help me assess the damage to my worth. And irrational as I know it is, I almost always believe that little voice.

Again, let me be clear about a few things: I know I don't exactly have a hard life. I have a wonderful, supportive family and a dear, loving fiance who are rooting for me and are there for me. I know that God loves me and has a plan for me, and His plan is bigger than my character flaws. I have been so blessed that I can't even begin to list; I know I have a lot to be grateful for. However, none of this diminishes the fact that I am not where I need to be--nor that I don't even know where that is.

I don't believe that I have ever, in my LIFE, lived up to my potential. I came closest when I was very young, but even then I was limited in my view. I had high standards for myself and my own performance, but those standards were defined by my environment and not by my own ability. I never really tried to be my best, only enough to be better than anybody else (if it was something I was really good at), or to fall somewhere comfortably in the middle of the pack (if it was something I was not so good at). I've been aware of this fact for a while, so I wonder why I don't try to do something about it. Something is holding me back, something that is really crippling me. Or am I crippling myself?

It's a long way down to rock bottom, but there's also an intimidatingly large gap between my current position and the top. And after all these years of trying, I have no idea how to climb . . .

In Loving Memory

2008-09-29T15:43:00.000-07:00

Harold Takeo Higa
(23 February 1922 - 14 September 2008)

Thanks for all your prayers on behalf of me and my family. We have felt the love so deeply in this time of mourning, and know that Grandpa Higa was well loved. I know it's silly, but I thought I should do a little post to memorialize my Grandpa. This little plot of cyberspace is nothing much, and certainly cannot hold a candle to his legacy, but it's one of the few venues in my life where I can take a selfish moment if I want to. So, here are the remarks I gave at his memorial service on Thursday, September 25. (The first prose cited is John Donne's "Meditation." The quote about the second Donne poem comes from "Wit," a movie starring Emma Thompson, which happens to be one of my favorite films of all time.)

“No man is an island entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend’s or of thine own were. Any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”

Each of us is a product of the people in our lives: every person we meet changes us to some degree, and we carry this influence with us ever after. We have gathered here today to celebrate a legacy we all share—of a man who has touched our hearts and played a significant role in shaping our lives. Indeed, when our dear ones leave us, as we recognize today, it is natural to feel sorrow. We will feel it untimely, and we will sense the world around us is diminished as the result of the loss. These feelings are nearly inevitable, but with open hearts, we begin to realize that our life here on earth is finite by definition. In a plan that is much larger than each of us as individuals, we see that “to every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven” (Ecclesiastes 3:1), and that “life” has a broader definition than a breath or a heartbeat.

I feel blessed to be a part of the ripple of family in Grandpa’s sphere of influence. Family was important to my Grandpa, and I never saw him happier than when he was surrounded by his nearest and dearest. I remember one summer when all of us—Grandma, Grandpa, their daughters and sons-in-law, and all us cousins—gathered for a family reunion in Laie. This gathering meant a lot to Grandpa, who would bring it up at least daily during each of our subsequent visits. You could see in his sparkling eyes and hear in his tender voice as he reminisced about that reunion, even years later, that it meant the world to him to be with his family. When Grandpa passed away, he did so surrounded by his family, those who are present here today in person as well as those in spirit. He was blessed to have loved ones to bid him a temporary farewell from this life, but also to have others welcome him to his new chapter in the life beyond. We can all take comfort in the fact that his deep love for his family and friends is certainly strong enough to transcend this momentary separation.

Imagine the joyous reunion that took place when Grandpa joined his parents and other loved ones gone before him who had touched his life just as he has touched each of ours. Freed from the burden of pain and of other physical limitations, Grandpa is now in a place of peace and respite. He is certainly beaming at least as much now amongst his family and friends as he did with all of us at Laie. While surely he misses us, as we miss him, he can feel the love we send to him and can watch over us and send us his love in return. Love cannot be restrained by distance or separation, even if the separation is across the border of mortality.

Times like this give us pause to reflect upon our existence, and to gain a greater perspective on life and all its forms—from mortality to life everlasting. As we ponder, we realize that this is not the final chapter, but rather a transitory one, which marks not the end of a life, but the beginning of a life everlasting. John Donne emphasizes how temporary it is in one of his Holy Sonnets:

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure—then, from thee much more must flow;
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones and soul’s delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell;
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke. Why swell’st thou then?
One short sleep passed, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more, death, thou shalt die.

Through this poem, we see that “[n]othing but a breath, a comma separates life from life everlasting. Life, death, soul, God, past present. Not insuperable barriers. Not semi-colons. Just a comma.” What seems to us in our limited view as an insurmountable hurdle is actually no more than a moment, nothing greater than a breath. Beyond that breath are so many of our dear ones that have gone before us, awaiting the opportunity to be with us once again. We can celebrate the influence of our loved ones as it resonates in our own lives, and we can be assured that they are enjoying life everlasting with so many others who have touched their lives. These bonds extend forever in both directions, and the end of this mortal life is nothing but a comma in the midst of a volume so magnificent that we can find neither end nor beginning.

Put another way by Rossiter Worthington Raymond (1840-1918), we can see that “life is eternal, and love is immortal, and death is only a horizon, and a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.”

Tag, I'm it!

2008-09-15T21:32:00.000-07:00

I used to love these surveys--they were all over my xanga (remember xanga?). So, I'll happily oblige you, Tally.

Did you date someone from your school?
I had a "boyfriend" for about a week or so in 9th grade, but it was super-awkward and I broke up with him when he hugged another girl in front of me in the hallway--real mature, I know. After that, I only went on a handful of dates (very few of them repeat dates), and fell in love a few thousand times.

What kind of car did you drive?
1991 Nissan Stanza, maroon: "Stanley." He was a good car--standard transmission, which made me feel pretty slick.

High School Memories

Were you a party animal?
My weekends consisted mostly of saran-wrapping, documentary-making, and Disney-channel-watching. Party hearty.

Were you considered a flirt?
Not a flirt, but definitely boy-crazy. And a cuddle-slut.

Were you in band, orchestra, or choir?
Or-chest-ra

Were you a nerd?
Probably a lot.

Were you on any varsity teams?
I lettered in orchestra. And PALS (Peer Assistance Leadership Skills)

Did you ever get suspended or expelled?
I used to get early-morning detentions all the time for being tardy to first block. I never understood how they thought I could make it to an early detention at 7:55 (or whenever it was) if I couldn't make it to my class at 8:40.

Who were your favorite teachers?
Sra. Parton (whom I had for all 4 years of Spanish and for some reason just loved me), Doc Edwards ("Don't be an intellectual pansy!" / "Read the WHOLE BOOK!"), Doc Bowman (for his impeccable taste in classic films), Maria "Mario Heffers" Jeffers ("Think of all the starving kids in Africa who don't get a chance to play the cello!"), Mr. Roth ('cause he used to throw erasers at people).

Could you still sing the fight song?
Not in the least.

Where did you sit during lunch?
"Instrumental Hall" (since we shared it with the band, we couldn't call it the band hall or the orchestra room and still be politically correct) or the Mormon Table

What was your school's full name?
Billy C. Ryan High School (named after the great football coach--ahh, Texas)

Did you go to Homecoming?
It was my first official date sophomore year, with Josh Terry. Junior year I went on a blind date with this totally adorable boy named Zack, I think. Senior year was one of the most uncomfortable dates I've ever been on with a kid in one of my classes to whom I'd scarcely ever spoken.

What do you remember most about graduation?
Ben Lynch's talk was way better than Donna Ean's, the orchestra sounded a lot worse from outside of it, and it was really hot outside.

Where did you go senior skip day?
We didn't have a senior skip day--we were too much of slackers to organize one!

Were you in any clubs?
Spanish Club, NHS, Spanish NHS, PALS, French Club, and (of course) The Clique

Have you gained some weight since then?
Depressingly large amounts of weight

Are you going to your 10 year reunion?
*shrug* It'll be fun to give people a chance to feel better about themselves when they see that I'm a starving artist and they're rich

System Overload!

2008-09-14T16:48:00.000-07:00

There is so much going on right now I don't even know where to start. Never before have I been so blessed and so tried at the same time. I can already tell this year is going to be a huge learning experience for me.

I've started into my new job, TAing for the baroque orchestra. It's been really good so far, and I'm enjoying it very much. I still don't know how much I'll be making, but it's the perfect job for me right now. I've already got a few gigs lined up for this semester, which is also nice. Hooray for being gainfully employed! Wedding plans are crawling along, and I'm excited to delve deeper into those once I figure out when I have time to do so. I have the most wonderful fiancé in the world--he's such a blessing in my life, and it means the world to me to have his support and loving hand in such crazy times as this . . .

Today is my birthday: at 4:54 AM, I turned 24.

A few hours later, about 5 AM Hawai'i time (about 9 AM here), my grandfather passed away. He's been battling cancer for the past few months, and the last few weeks in particular have been rough. We've all been expecting it, but it's still a lot to process. He died peacefully, surrounded by family, and his physical suffering is now come to an end. It's really kind of a relief, actually, but it's always sad when someone you love leaves the planet.

To add to the pile of already conflicting emotions and stresses, I spoke in church today. For those unfamiliar with the LDS Church, our sermons are not given by preachers or priests, but instead by members of the congregation. My commission was to give a 15 minute talk on "Opening Our Hearts," based on a talk from our General Conference which was not itself any more than probably seven minutes long. I scarcely made it to the podium before I burst into tears, and only slightly regained composure after that.

Yet another dimension to this is the fact that I've been asked to speak at Grandpa's funeral. I'm to be the last speaker, and to speak on eternal families. In the LDS Church, we have a strong belief in eternal families, and the importance of the family in God's plan. Interestingly enough, though, I'm going to be speaking to an audience of people who are not themselves LDS. I really need some help to give this talk, because it's something so dear to my heart, and I know my emotions will be just barely below the surface. I need help to be able to deliver such an important, meaningful, and timely message with the dignity and clarity it requires.

All in all, my heart and my brain are both on overload. I just don't know where to place all this information (the hormones probably aren't helping--Thanks, Aunt Flo!), and I find myself completely at a loss as to how to react to anything. I guess all I can do is to continue to thank the Lord for all the blessings in my life and all the many opportunities. It will take a while for me to sort through all of this, but in the mean time I'm glad to have the support of a wonderful family and a great fiancé. I am so blessed.

The Juxtaposition Game

2008-09-04T19:30:00.001-07:00

Lately, I've been thinking of how it's funny to put things that are different against one another and laugh at what separates them. Everybody likes to laugh at differences! Here're a few gems:

How the Democratic National Convention does cowboy hats. They look like pretty normal people, right?

How the G.O.P. Convention does cowboy hats. Now, I'm not making any political statements here, but I will say that I have a hard time taking people seriously who dress in matching cowboy hats if they're anyplace but a rodeo (or, y'know, my high school's Honor Guard).

Here's another one:

"Hi, I'm a Mac."

" . . . and I'm a PC." I particularly like how they're doing the same thing, but Steve Jobs just looks SO MUCH COOLER than ol' Bill Gates.

Then, of course, "it's like . . . "

There you go. Lots of fun, eh?

10 Things I Used to Dislike But Now Like:

2008-08-28T20:14:00.000-07:00

1. Drinking water. I guess when you're a kid you're all about milk and Kool-Aid and stuff (not that my mom let me drink Kool-Aid as a kid), and I thought water was gross. Nowadays, I can't get enough of the stuff.

2. Taking showers (versus baths). You can't splash as well, but it makes rinsing your hair easier.

3. Brushing my teeth. I used to be a terrible brusher, but I think I was scared straight when I had two cavities once. Ever since then, I get nothing but rave reviews from the dentist, and take great pride in my oral hygiene.

4. Tomatoes, onions, mushrooms, sharp cheddar, mustard, pepper, oatmeal cookies, yellow squash, grape nuts, fish, sprouts, Altoids, and dark chocolate.

5. Attending classical music concerts.

6. The fact that I'm half-Japanese.

7. Cleaning my room.

8. Nonfiction.

9. Exercising.

10. Sleeping.

My Birthday Wishlist

2008-08-24T21:42:00.000-07:00

As you all know, my birthday is rapidly approaching. I don't want you all to stress out about finding me the perfect gift, so in order to make it easy for you, I'll post some great gift ideas in varying price ranges, although in no particular order.

*Canon PowerShot 8.0 MP digital ELPH camera. I don't really expect this at all, but the real fact of the matter is that I don't expect to get ANYTHING on my list, so I can dream, right?? I somewhat hate my current digital camera, and I've heard nothing but positive reviews from those who have Canons.

*Heroes, particularly season 1 (but secondarily season 2)

*a bike lock

*gift cards are always fun

*the Black Hole rockstop

*mechanical pencils

*a Korg tuner

*your favorite CD

Home again, home again . . . jiggity jig.

2008-08-21T12:57:00.000-07:00

Well, Texas is as Texan as ever, and I'm glad to be back in the Lone Star State. That said, I should also say that I do, in fact, miss those wonderful people with whom I spent those six weeks in Vermont, albeit some more than others. There were some really neat kids there, and I hope to cross paths again someday . . .

Nevertheless, the reigning emotion is definitely a happy one. I got to see the Pre-Hub for a little while right when I got in, which was nice. I am now sure, though, that it's going to be rough for these next four months or so when we won't be able to see very much of one another. It'll all work out, though.

Auntie, Uncle, and Cousin blew in from Boulder last night and left this afternoon. They met The Boy whilst he was visiting the Denver area a few weeks ago, and (of course) they reported positively on the meeting. They said they were impressed he was so composed and such a good sport about it all. I got a good one, that's for sure. :-)

I cannot believe school starts next week. I have hardly even thought of it. In fact, I somewhat forgot that I even WENT to school--I guess it's just been the last thing on my mind what with wedding stuff and then Vermont-ness. Strange, really.

Yikes.

2008-08-15T10:21:00.001-07:00

If I thought I was anxious to be home before, I am at least twenty times more anxious now. Recent events have left me totally disenchanted with the human race, for reasons which I don't really feel good about publishing on my so widely read blog. The main point is that I feel like there have been violations of basic human decency; this, added to the already rampant gossip and backbiting that is going on, leaves me completely exhausted and dreaming of a place where people can at least pretend to get along.

It's been a while since I've been the recipient of such anger (for a few moments, I thought I'd NEVER been, but I quickly remembered distinctly another such instance), and I just don't do well with being yelled at. I'm a lover, not a fighter, and in my mind, everyone should just be able to get along, at least enough to have a positive working relationship.

The negativity of this environment has proven very toxic, and unfortunately it's also completely contagious. The moment one person starts finding faults and pointing them out, everyone else will find other things that should be different, people who should be fired, people who should be forbidden to talk, etc. Soon, everyone around is criticizing everyone else, but no one is saying anything to anyone's face. The result is an environment where people don't trust one another, and where very little growth will take place.

I've been largely unsuccessful myself in maintaining innocence as far as all this goes. I complain along with everyone else, because--at least for a time--it makes me feel a little better about the situation. Interestingly enough, the universal bitching at least lends a certain sense of unity; after all, misery loves company. However, the truth is that no amount of negativity is ever productive. There is certainly something to be said for candid (but careful) honesty, and for constructive criticism, but one never needs to resort to being unkind, being curt, or disobeying the common laws of human decency.

That said, I would just like to say that Tuesday cannot possibly come soon enough. I'm ready to be in a positive environment again.

Yargh . . .

2008-08-11T07:55:00.000-07:00

It's almost over, I keep telling myself. It's almost over.

A week from tomorrow, I'll be on my way back to Texas, and I could not be happier about that. I have enjoyed my time here. I've been able to play great music and been able to meet some really cool people. There are certainly problems with this particular festival which I could discuss with you ad nauseum, but all in all I guess I'm glad I came. I've been fighting a somewhat toxic environment, but I'm learning a lot about how to work with others and how to be a better person, if not about how to play chamber music better.

As the end approaches, I am looking forward to the things that are happening next year. School starts a week after I get back, and I haven't thought at all about what's going on with that. There are still wedding things that need to be taken care of pretty quickly, which will be fun . . . but perhaps less fun with the stress of a semester wearing down on me, which is why I'd like to get as much taken care of early on as possible. The tricky thing will be that The Boy is now living in a different city than I, and certain things will be made considerably more difficult because of that. I have a feeling that the next few months while we're engaged and only able to see one another on the weekends will be trying times, but also that it will help us to better appreciate being together come January.

I was going to type a bunch of mushy stuff right here, but I don't want to be responsible for anyone's computer being ruined due to vomit. Suffice it to say, I will be glad to see The Boy again when I get back.

Plus the kitty and doggy. I had a dream the other night that when I got back, the kitty got really excited and jumped up on my shoulder (which, for the record, she has been known to do). I bet she's all growed up these days.

Thankfully, the MMF Spirit Committee has designed Spirit Week this week to break up the monotony during the last week here. Today is Mismatch day, so I'm sporting a pink and silver tank layered over a snakeskin blouse and a blue striped button-down, a periwinkle skirt and my grey yoga pants. This is the most excellent outfit I have ever worn in my life. I'm glad there will be something to make this week more tolerable, because I have a feeling it is going to take a long time to get to next Tuesday.

. . . and closer . . .

2008-08-07T11:10:00.000-07:00

Well, I've been feeling so blessed lately, I feel like I should show my gratitude for all the good things in my life, at least in some small measure.

I'm grateful to be here in beautiful Manchester, to have the experience to make new friends and play great music, to learn how to work with different personalities and, as always, to learn more about myself in the process of all of this. This is not to say at all that I'm not THRILLED that my time here is almost done, that in a week and a half I'll be heading back home, but I am grateful for the opportunity to be here.

I'm grateful for my wonderful family, for the support that they give to me. I have the best parents in the world, and the best big brother and sister-in-law. I miss them, but I'm so glad to know that they love and support me.

I'm grateful for my fantastic fiance, and for our future together. It's been hard to be away from him for so long so quickly after having become engaged (I left a week after he proposed), but if nothing else it has underscored the fact that I don't want to be apart from him any longer than I have to. It's been neat to hear him talk about all the developments in his life in these past few weeks, but I wish I could be there with him through it all. I'm really proud of him for taking on the "real world" and I'm so excited to be a grown-up with him. :-)

I'm grateful for the blessing of opportunity, and for the prospect of being gainfully employed with a rather ideal job next year: one that still allows for gigging, but that also provides a regular paycheck as well as medical benefits. This is amazing.

I'm grateful for the rewards that have come from planning ahead. Things are falling into place very well right now, and I can only attribute it to a loving God who is blessing me for taking a step into the dark and putting trust in Him. I could hardly call it coincidence that so much is just being placed in front of me, but I know it's true that "His eye is on the sparrow, and I know he watches me."

Getting closer . . .

2008-08-02T08:58:00.000-07:00

Hello, and happy August 2nd!

It's a good day. I'm glad that it's August, because now I'm in the same month that I will return home, which makes the time left here in Vermont much more manageable. Just over two weeks, and I'll be on my way back to Texas, where the world makes more sense.

Additionally, the fact that it's August 2nd means that five months from today, I will be married to the man of my dreams! We were able to have a really nice, long talk yesterday, and as we chronicled our entire story from the first time we really talked until this point, I became more and more grateful for The Boy. We have already built so many wonderful memories, and I can't wait to get home so we can build some more.

These days, I feel like I'm being blessed more than I deserve. The opportunities that are falling into my lap are more than I could ever hope for, and I can hardly believe how everything seems to be falling into place. Now that I think of it, I wonder if maybe by writing about how well everything seems to be working out I will jinx it all. Of course, I'm so thankful that I made the decision to move back to Texas, because none of this would have been the case if I hadn't somewhat blindly taken the audition and come back. It was the best semi-whim I ever had.

So, I'll be back home soon enough, and in the arms of the one I love. Life looks so much better from this side of the hump than it did from the other side, when I wrote my last post. Hooray for the passage of time!

The Wonderful World of Manchester

2008-07-21T07:35:00.000-07:00

Vermont is exactly what you would call "idyllic." Manchester, in particular, is just as quaint and charming as you could possibly imagine (due, I suspect, to ridiculous zoning laws). The entire town looks a lot like this:

Adorable, isn't it? There's so much green and cute little cottages and shops and sheepdog trials and anything you could imagine that is adorable. I've decided, though, that there are a different set of rules in Vermont than elsewhere.

1. You must mow your lawn (on a riding mower, no matter how large or small your lawn is) at LEAST three times a week.
2. Fifty percent of the citizens must drive Subarus.
3. You may not wear jeans with holes in them.
4. You may not use any swear words, or any obscene hand gestures.
5. You may not have sex.
6. All shops must be closed by 8pm (or earlier, if possible).

I'm not entirely sure about #5 (haven't done a lot of research), but they have all these cute little Bed and Breakfasts, and every house here looks like it could be on a postcard, and I think the entire state would lose its innocent charm if people were doing The Nasty inside their adorable little country cottages.

Anyway, it's great here, if a little humid (and this room a little musty-smelling). We're two weeks down, four to go, and I am definitely missing home, and that special someone who I get to marry in a few months. I know, call the wah-mbulance.

I'm a Thief!

2008-07-17T06:23:00.001-07:00

I stole this from Jessie's blog. She didn't tag me, but I'm sitting here at the church with no space to practice but with internet access--so here goes:

10 years ago: I was thirteen--just out of 7th grade--awkward, and trying desperately to be "cool," which at thirteen meant little more than wearing the right kind of shoes and hanging out with the right people (even so, I couldn't quite cut it). I was unhappy and trying to be someone I was not, and having a hard time trying to make who I was and who I wanted to be the same person.

5 years ago: It was the summer between high school and my first year of college, and was in very many ways an important one for me. I was eighteen and thought I had reached the pinnacle of my existence. During this summer, I had my first pseudo-boyfriend (along with my first kiss), was preparing madly for the cross-country move, and DEFINITELY thought the world revolved around me.

5 months ago: It was January. I had just returned from a trip to Hawai'i with my family--the first time I'd been away from Andy since we'd started dating three months prior--and I'd just realized how much I missed him and wanted him to be a part of my life.

5 things on my to-do list:

1. practice, practice, practice
2. write a letter to the grandparents
3. call the temple
4. try to get a hold of the lady for a ride to church on Sunday
5. practice some more

5 snacks:

1. baby carrots
2. apples and peanut butter
3. Clif bars
4. peanut butter crackers
5. okay, cookies.

5 billionaire things:

1. buy a house for Andy and me
2. buy a baroque cello, and maybe upgrade my modern cello
3. travel the world: Japan, India, Egypt, Australia, Thailand, Brazil, etc.
4. found a school for children in developing countries
5. donate to lots of charities

5 places I have lived:

1. Sierra Dr.
2. Magnolia St.
3. The Regency #11
4. The Regency #13
5. The Random House

5 things you might not know about me:

1. My right eye is way worse than my left eye
2. I'm a sucker for reality TV shows
3. I've been a vegetarian since my freshman year of high school
4. My bra size
5. I wash my feet almost every night before I go to bed

5 people I tag:

I refuse to tag five people.

Hip hip hooray!

2008-07-14T06:21:00.000-07:00

The most exciting discovery of the day is the fact that there is a very strong wireless signal at the church where all our activities are housed for the festival. If I'd known that before, I could have been checking my email from the comfort of my own laptop during my lunch hour!

So far, so good, though, here in the Manchester Music Festival. Vermont is beautiful, and so ridiculously green. I guess I'm used to Texas, where there is just death all summer long. The weather is great, if a little moist, and the people are really nice. I'm sharing a house with four other musicians, and it's great.

Saw Wall-E on Saturday night, and it made me cry. I missed The Boy so very much--the vast majority of the movies I have seen recently have been with him, and it made me sad to watch a movie about robot-love and not have him next to me. I just wanted to hold his hand and put my head on his shoulder and be close to him . . . sigh. I'm a sap.

Today, I get to teach a ten-year-old boy how to play the cello from ground zero. We get a week to teach them, and I don't know how effective that is going to be. Oh well. I'm glad I have one of the older kids and not one of the tiny ones.

Anyway, I miss everyone. Especially The Boy. Sigh.

In the Green Mountains . . .

2008-07-10T05:54:00.000-07:00

As soon as the rest of my quintet gets here, I'm going to have to drop this post and go play some Dvorak, but for right now, let me just briefly tell you what's going on:

I'm here in Vermont, at the Manchester Music Festival, playing chamber music all day and enjoying the beautiful, charming town that surrounds me. I'm playing the Dvorak piano quintet, and also the Arensky two cello quartet, both of which are great fun. It's so far been great, and I'm far less homesick than I was in Toronto. I don't really know why that is, but I suspect it may have to do with the fact that I know some people and I'm not living all by myself.

Anyway, the rest of the group is here now, so I'd better go start unpacking to be ready to play my little heart out.

Maybe I'll update more later, but I don't have anyplace for easy internet access, so that's not a surety.

The Question

2008-07-01T08:47:00.000-07:00

It was perfect. :-)

"The Question"
(Old 97s)

She woke from a dream
Her head was on fire
Why was he so nervous?
He took her to the park
She crossed her arms
And lowered her eyelids

Someday, somebody's gonna ask you
A question that you should say yes to
Once in your life
Baby, tonight I've got a question for you

She had no idea
Started to cry
She said in a good way
He took her by the hand
Walked her back home
And they took the long way

Someday, somebody's gonna ask you
The question that you should say "yes" to
Once in your life
Maybe tonight I've got a question for you

I've got a question for you...

Walking Down Memory Lane

2008-06-25T06:40:00.000-07:00

I spent all day yesterday cleaning out our living room bookshelf and entertainment center. It took forever--there was so much dusting to be done, and the whole thing needed to be reorganized. Luckily for me (and my easily distractable self), there were plenty of artifacts to keep me entertained along the way.

The first gem I found was a home video tape, containing two videos from my Spanish class, a tribute video two of my best friends and I had made for another of our friends who had moved away, and various other snippets of brilliance. I can't believe how much my friends and I have changed since high school. I used to wear nothing but baggy t-shirts and jeans--which I now see was a complete shame, because I had a cute little bod back then. One of my friends, on the other hand, has since dropped a significant amount of weight, and is now much happier and healthier than before. The other . . . well, I have no idea what has happened to her. I haven't heard from her in ages, despite my attempts at contact.

After that, I found the photo albums. Pictures of my parents when they were younger, and THEIR parents, too. Especially intriguing to me was a collection of comics of my dad's that his mother had collected and compiled--pretty funny stuff. It was all about robots and aliens and computers. I loved my parents' wedding album, too. They were so young, so happy! It touched me to see some of the first moments of their life together.

Life is precious. Savor every moment, or as we say in the BBLD Club: "Make Life Tasty!"

Bittersweet Endings

2008-06-12T21:20:00.000-07:00

Well, there are only two days left until I return back to the land of my inheritance. I'm really, really glad that I did this workshop--I think it will help my baroque playing and has definitely helped me keep my chops in good shape over the summer--but I'm also really, really, really glad that it's so close to being over. Very soon, I'll be back on the plane to Texas, and I couldn't be more excited.

Like I said, though, it's been a really good experience for me. I've learned a lot about Baroque playing and about general musicianship, and I definitely have grown from this. They do a really good job here--everything is super-organized and they're definitely aware of what's going on, which is often not the case. Plus, Toronto's just a cool city--I like it here.

As far as my excitement for going home, I guess I was just homesick. I miss my family and friends, the doggy (who just had surgery yesterday, poor thing) and the kitty, and of course The Boy. In fact, that's most of the reason I'm so anxious to be back home. It's been interesting, though, how that's all worked out.

For the first few days I was here, I was just really sad and pouty. I missed The Boy terribly, and I could see that it was going to be a really long two weeks ahead. Very shortly after I arrived in Toronto, my parents sent me an email saying that one of my professors had contacted them asking if I wanted to participate in a six-week chamber music festival out of state--that they were short a cellist and he'd thought of me. I was caught between a rock and a hard place. I knew it would be a great opportunity, but if I was having such a hard time only a few days into my two-week trip, how would I handle that times three?

It took a lot of thought and prayer (along with plenty of tears--and if you know me at all, you know I mean PLENTY), but I finally arrived at the conclusion that I needed to go ahead and take the opportunity I was so blessed to have been given. As soon as I came to that conclusion, the issue of geography seemed to be an insignificant one. This is definitely one of those instances where the Lord has blessed me for taking a step forward in faith; I feel pretty certain that I'd still be miserable if it weren't for that. Of course I still miss him immensely, but instead of looking at the days that stand between us with dread and horror, I can simply look forward to the day I get to see him. It's a small change, but it's made all the difference in my ability to cope with the situation. It's amazing, isn't it?

In Canada . . .

2008-06-07T17:03:00.001-07:00

Canadian squirrels are much less cute than American squirrels.

Here's a cute little American grey squirrel:

Awww! Now have a look-see at his Canadian counterpart:

Oh, well. I guess it could be worse. It could be the dreaded Russian squirrel:

Ahh, thank you, Google Image Search.

Well, life's crazy. I don't really want to get into what I mean by that exactly until things are finalized, but I will say that I think it's true what John Lennon said: "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans." I can't even begin to tell you the number of times life has snuck up on me and given me something great (and totally unexpected). I guess it's just a testament of the fact that there is someone up there looking out for me, and that He knows what is best for me.

Thanks.

Where are the bells and confetti?

2008-06-02T19:49:00.000-07:00

Welcome, everyone, to my 100th post, entitled:

"O, Canada."

I've decided that Canada is what happens when America and Great Britain have a baby. Stuff is mostly the same here, but different. For instance, today I bought some gum:

Not so unusual, but vaguely reminiscent of something I recall from back home:

I also was shocked to realize that here, to end transactions, they don't always thank you. The first time I went to the grocery store here, I lingered at the counter for a good ten seconds after my transaction had ended, thinking I'd missed signing the receipt or something, because the cashier didn't thank me and wish me a good day. I left feeling cheated.

There's also matters of semantics, like calling them "washrooms" instead of "bathrooms." This is all good and well, but when your "washroom" looks something like the one in my dorm, you begin to wonder how much good it's doing you to wash there.

And then there's the luxurious room in which I'm privileged to stay. At least it has a bed, and a desk. The chairs are nothing to sing about . . .

The other thing about my dorm is that its layout is really confusing, at least to me and my already weak sense of direction. The other day, I tried exiting the building through a stairwell I thought I'd successfully used earlier that day. It turns out that it was actually an emergency exit, which somehow means that you actually CAN'T exit through it--at least not without setting off an alarm. I walked all the way up and down the stairs several times, and all of the doors to every floor were locked. I wasn't too encouraged when I saw someone else had been there before me:

Thankfully, after a relatively brief period of banging on the door, some girls working on the fourth floor came to my rescue (though they were looking at me strangely). All in all, it's been an adventure so far. Onward ho!

Is it just me . . . ?

2008-05-30T09:16:00.000-07:00

You know how people are sending mass invites to wedding groups on facebook these days? Groups like, "Ferdinand and KoKo need your address!!!!!" or "JimBo and Cruella are getting married and want you there!!!"

Am I the only one who gets these and wonders every time if it's a mistake? Maybe it's a testament to my low self-esteem, but every time I get one of those group invites, I think to myself, "Oh, they probably clicked my name by accident." I think, "We were never really that close," or "I haven't talked to her in so long," or "Why would he want me there?" I almost always assume that it was an error in clicking--that they meant to click on some OTHER Rachel in their list, and just happened to click my name instead. Sigh.

So then it puts you in an awkward position. You really WANT the mass facebook invite to be something more, to be a symbol of the fact that they want you to be there on their special day, and you wish more than anything else that it's a genuine, heartfelt invitation intended just for you . . .

but what if it's not? What if you reply, as requested, with your address, and the sender of the invitation realizes that you weren't on The List, and they messed up. Now they know that you think you're better friends than they think you are! And there's no way to recover from something like that. On the other hand, what if they DID intend it for you personally, and you DON'T reply? Then THEY feel sad, like it's not an important invitation to you, and you've just disregarded their desire to include you in their special day. It's a lose-lose situation.

I guess this is rooted in my personal paranoia that I always like people more than they like me--a terror that has been with me ever since I was very young.

The Truth About Cats and Dogs

2008-05-20T20:47:00.000-07:00

Our beagle, Zoë, is coming up on ten years (70 in dog years).

She's a sweet dog (as you can see), but she has gotten quite used to ruling the roost around here. It must have come as quite a shock when we introduced a new family member to her a little more than a week ago. Enter Yuki (Japanese for "snow"), a siamese-tabby mix of about 9 weeks now:

She's pretty adorable, but has thrown off Zoë's groove. Initially, our 25-lb. beagle was absolutely TERRIFIED of the tiny house kitten. She wouldn't go near the little furball. After that wore off, no one knew what to think. Being a beagle, Zoë was immediately overcome with an intense desire to sniff the kitten, which in turn made the kitten nervous, which in turn led to her running away, and a chase inevitably ensued.

Really, though, the problem was simply that neither party knew what to think of the other. They were afraid of each other because they didn't understand one another. It was a difference of culture: the two didn't have any commonalities in language (neither uttered or acted), in appearance, in tendencies, or in anything else that might help them to make sense of one another.

Neither kitty nor doggy trusted the other. They would approach one another in curiosity, but it would always happen that one or the other would get too nervous and lunge at the other, resulting in some altercation.

Isn't this just the same as the human predicament? We are afraid of what we don't understand. When it tries to approach us, we bare our teeth or draw our claws just in case it so happens that it's out to get us. Trust is difficult; it's much easier to mistrust and exercise the "fight or flight" instinct.

Sometimes, though, all it takes is for the two parties in question to exist in one another's presence for a little while . . .

They're still not best friends, but at least there's hope.

I Like Lists.

2008-05-11T21:02:00.000-07:00

(Non-inclusive, and in no particular order.)

Things I'm Not Good At And Wish I Could Do Better:
*reading music
*playing the cello
*opening things (doors, containers,packages)
*speaking Spanish
*making friends
*acting upon my positive impulses
*running
*using curling iron
*flipping things (like omelets and pancakes)
*driving
*taking photos
*arm-pit farting

Things I'm Not Good At And Don't Care to Improve Upon:
*video games
*most sports
*painting nails
*French-braiding
*lying
*walking in a straight line

So close, yet so far . . .

2008-04-28T22:17:00.000-07:00

I can scarcely remember being quite so anxious for a semester to end. And while my semester will not officially be done until I turn in the paper (which will undoubtedly be mostly B.S.) for my Intro to Music Research class, in exactly twelve hours, I will be a much freer woman, having just finished my oral presentation for the same class and also my jury. Huzzah!

I think my plans for celebration will be as follows:

1. Change out of my nice clothes
2. Eat some ice cream
3. Take a nap
4. Exercise
5. Take a shower
6. Take another nap

Yes, sounds good to me.

2008-04-20T20:48:00.000-07:00

I've had a lot of random thoughts lately, and no time in which to record them. In fact, even as I write now, I should be doing something else. However, I have sadly discovered that there is an inverse relationship between the amount of things I have to do and my desire to do them. The same is true of the relationship between how vitally important or urgent a task is and my desire to complete it. Am I crazy or does this happen to anyone else?

Thought #1: EMPATHY

I consider myself to be a pretty empathic person, but I could definitely be doing better. I think my concentration lies too heavily on relating to people I'm close to in one way or another: friends, family, schoolmates, etc. This isn't the sum of it, though. We are, after all, part of the same human family. It's unbelievably hard to strike a balance wherein you are concerned with the well-being of your fellow man without being consumed by guilt and pain because so much of the world is suffering so much of the time. I guess the main idea is just to trust that God puts in our paths those people who we need and who need us, while still maintaining an interest in mankind as a whole. I believe that we are all connected, and what happens to one happens to all.

Thought #2: YOUR REACH SHOULD EXCEED YOUR GRASP

Some people are always trying new things. Some people are always afraid to try new things. There are those who thrive on challenge and the uncertainty of results, and there are those who shrink away from anything whose end cannot be seen from the beginning. Much as I'd like to try and convince myself otherwise, I definitely fall in the latter category. There are times in my life that I reflect, and wonder what would have happened if I had opted for a gamble rather than a sure thing. My whole life, it seems, has been lived on the Path of Least Resistance. In everything I do, I consider carefully whether or not there is a chance that I will fail, and if so, how drastic the failure will be. If the risk is too great, I don't even bother. The result of this is that I am never sure of my full potential. I don't know what my limits are, because I always try to stay safely inside of them, rather than stretching them. It's safe because I can always fall back on, "Well, if I'd REALLY tried, I could have done it." My mistake is in believing that any growth occurs while inside the comfort zone.

Thought #3: WHAT'S YOUR MOTIVATION?

WE all know it's possible to do the right thing for the wrong reason. I just don't want to be that guy. So, I often opt to avoid doing it at all, whatever '"it" may be. Again, probably not the best approach.

Anyway, I know I've had more random thoughts, but my nearly-dead computer is freaking out now, so I'd better cut it short.

Taste of Perfection

2008-04-10T22:39:00.000-07:00

There are few things in life that can be classified as perfect. It's an ideal that we are all constantly striving to achieve, and constantly missing. There are flaws, there are mistakes, there are shortcomings to everyone and everything.

Or almost everything. Today, I found a rarity.

This diamond in the rough exudes perfection and beauty simply by existing. I was brought nearly to tears when I first saw it, and found myself trembling with anticipation, aching with a desire to become intimately acquainted with such perfection. I could hardly contain myself, and although it would have been wildly inappropriate given the time and location, nevertheless, it was all I could do to keep from giving in to such desires.

So there I was, standing in the ice cream aisle of the grocery store, looking for the perfect flavor to celebrate my post-concert adrenaline. I'm a huge fan of ice cream in general, but not a huge fan of paying seven bucks for a half gallon, especially when it's just some boring flavor. By the same token, I also believe that some things (ice cream included) deserve only the very best treatment. I figure if you're going to eat ice cream at all, it'd better be the good stuff, or else you better be making a root beer float or something.

But the light of heaven shone down upon this carton of ice cream.

Peanut butter cookie dough.

That's right, peanut butter flavored ice cream with peanut butter cookie dough chunks, which translates into SHEER BLISS. Now, I would happily have paid five dollars for such a flavor, but it was the STORE BRAND, so it was less than three dollars! Way to go, Kroger. I gotta say, I don't know why that's not a standard in ice cream flavors, because it is AMAZING. You should all go try some.

I'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me?

2008-03-29T00:07:00.000-07:00

Do you ever have those days where you just feel incredibly socially inept? Today was one of those for me. To make matters even better, I now feel guilty for being so lame. Awesome.

This is dumb. I love people, and I love being around people. So how is it that I feel so awkward sometimes? I guess a lot of it is tied to the fact that I suck at conversation. Or perhaps it's not even that so much as the fact that I FEEL LIKE I suck at conversation. So anytime I'm isolated with someone, I freak out, thinking that there is no way I can keep this person amused for the required duration of time, and instead of speaking naturally as I would with someone with whom I'm very comfortable, I spend most of the time in inner monologue saying nothing more than, "COME UP WITH SOMETHING TO SAY . . . NOW!"

I like entertaining guests, but that, too is something I haven't quite mastered. Sometimes, I feel like my parties go really well. Sometimes, they just plain suck. And then I feel really awful for having drug people to my house for some lame party that just sucks. Then I become the Thrower of Lame Parties. Then I become friendless.

I suppose this is also due in part to the fact that The Boy is out of town this weekend. I became grafted into his circle of friends as soon as we started dating, and now that I think of it (which thinking is admittedly colored by a current state of self-pity and general depression), I wonder if maybe I'm no more than an appendage to him. After all, I rarely am the one they call when "everyone's" doing something.

It was nice visiting my old friends for Spring Break for just such reasons--there, I really felt like people genuinely LIKED me. People disrupted their routines to spend time with me! Of course, I'm not suggesting that life should be like that all the time, with people putting everything aside to hang out with my illustrious self, but I guess my point is just that I really don't have that kind of network here. I don't know who I would call (after my parents and The Boy) if I were in desperate need of something.

On the up side of things, this means that (as either a cause or an effect) my Relationship with The Boy is growing deeper and more meaningful all the time. His being away is helping me to realize how much I rely on him. I do feel incomplete without him, as cliché and silly as that sounds.

Anyway, I want to be done whining and self-pitying, so I'm going to end this post now.

Looking back . . .

2008-03-18T22:31:00.000-07:00

It's been delightful to visit with friends and loved ones in this, the locale of my undergraduate career, for these past two days. It's been delightful to catch up on the gossip in the School of Music, to make up for all the Girl Talk I've missed, and just to be around so many people I love so dearly. I've been pretty surprised, actually, at how wonderful my reception has been--I sort of thought that people had forgotten about me and I had faded from the consciousness of the population. I was shocked to discover that people to whom I introduced myself would say, "Oh, I know who you are. Everybody talks about you ALL THE TIME."

I knew that I missed everyone here, but I guess I didn't realize how much until I came and saw everyone. In a way, it's very much like I never left. At the same time, I feel a certain sense of disconnectedness--I am no longer a part of this community.

Part of the strangeness comes from the fact that I feel myself in somewhat of a time warp. I keep seeing people and thinking they look like someone I know, and then I have to quickly evaluate whether it's feasible for them to be in this particular location at this time. We do that all the time anyway, but usually it's easier. You have a pretty good handle on people that you regularly, and if it looks like someone you know from some other stage in your life, odds are it's actually not. Here, though, I do see people from my "former" life, and it's weird.

The long and short of it is that I love everyone, and I'm glad I've gotten to visit.

Keep Your Hands and Feet Inside the Vehicle . . .

2008-03-01T20:42:00.000-08:00

I would classify the past few weeks as having been an emotional roller coaster. I don't know what it is, but lately my emotional state has been just about as consistent as the Texas weather in the same amount of time (for the record: including torrential downpours, freezes, fires, ridiculous winds, and a few perfect days).

The weirdest thing about it all is that I can't seem to figure out a cause and effect relationship in my crazy emotions. I wonder if it's stress. I know my last post was just talking about how I felt like I was finally getting a handle on life, but I suppose if I'm honest with myself, I'm realizing that I still have a ways to go. I feel like I'm being pulled in so many directions, and my life seems to be constantly at odds with itself. At the crux of the issue is the fact that EVERYTHING in my life seems to want to be my number one priority. I've always been bad at prioritizing anyway, but I've never been more conflicted with everything I'm doing. I think I used to be able to do everything, because I didn't have such conflicts.

And so, I'm realizing that it's impossible for me to do it all--at least, until I figure out how to exist simultaneously in more than one location. The sad thing is that I don't want to give up any of it. If I didn't want to do things, maybe I would have an easier time saying 'no.'

Nevertheless, I feel sad for people who have been around me in the past little while. I've felt quite unstable and out of sorts. Sometimes I cry unnecessarily, or am short with people for no good reason, or feel really happy, or feel like a complete failure at everything . . . and it's frustrating because I'm at least sensible enough to recognize that I'm off the charts, but somehow still not sensible enough to make sense of myself. I can say, "Self, you're acting CRAZY!" but I have no idea what may have brought said craziness about or how I could possibly make it stop.

All that said, I've got to say that I feel much better about things now that I've cleaned my room. There's something incredibly therapeutic about transforming a room from a state of chaos into a state of order. If only it were so simple.

Sundries.

2008-02-17T16:17:00.000-08:00

Well, it's been a while since my last post. I've been busy, trying to stay on top of everything and still find time for the people who are important to me. I think I'm finally figuring out--as a matter of necessity--how to balance things. Of course, that's not to say that I've got it down 100% . . . but I'm learning and getting better every day.

It's hard to try and be everything for everyone, and there are times when you just want to ignore it all and take a nap. Something that I think will be harder to figure out is how to do everything I'm supposed to while still maintaining sanity and without losing myself in the process. It's proving more difficult than merely being able to stay afloat.

Still, life is good. I really feel like moving back to Texas has been a huge blessing to me in so many ways. I definitely feel like a more "complete" person, and more like myself.

I don't know what to say about anything else. Sometimes I feel like I'm going absolutely crazy, which may be true, but I'm very fortunate to have a wonderful network of people who care about me and don't let me forget that, no matter how distressed I may be. I've been thinking a lot about stuff, and feeling more and more comfortable with my future. I may be a competent human being after all.

Being sick sucks.

2008-01-29T09:16:00.000-08:00

So I've spent the last two days quarantined in my house, with my main activities being (1) sleeping, and (2) juice-drinking. I felt pretty excited to venture back out into my school routine today, even though I'm still on 85% here . . .

My excitement was completely obliterated by the fact that my prof was extra-snippy today. I wanted to just say, "LOOK, I DID YOUR STUPID ASSIGNMENT LYING IN BED SICK, I CAME TO SCHOOL TODAY EVEN THOUGH I STILL FEEL LIKE CRAP! GET OFF MY BACK!" She was just being very unlikeable today. I'll give her that maybe I'm just a little hyper-sensitive due to the fact that I'm not feeling well, as well as the fact that I've had such limited human contact in the past few days . . . nevertheless, it really did not make me happy that I made the extreme effort to get out of my sick-bed, shower, dress, and make it to my class on time.

Nevertheless, I'm still feeling loads better than I was before. My fever and chills have subsided, I once again actually have a desire to eat food (on a side note, while I was sick, I lost a coupla pounds), and while I still feel like my head is underwater, I can breathe somewhat, my sore throat is gone, and I feel ALMOST normal.

Maybe if I take it easy for a couple more days, I'll be all better by the end of the week. I certainly hope so.

Life Cycles

2008-01-18T14:13:00.000-08:00

Years ago, as a freshman in college, I was very much disturbed by the fact that my friends and colleagues were getting married. Bearing in mind that I went to a very conservative religious institution, there were many nineteen year-old brides. I could hardly fathom that. Now that I've finished my undergraduate degree and am in graduate school, the years have passed and now announcements of engagement hardly faze me. It's not even a novelty anymore that people are going ring shopping or picking the perfect dress or sending out announcements . . . it all gets a big sigh from me (although, certainly in some cases I am very excited).

The thing that has begun to happen now is that my friends--the ones that have been getting married for the past few years--are now starting to pop out children. I heard of a woman of 26 who already had five children! But really, it's kind of freaking me out a little bit. I guess it shouldn't be such a shock to me. After all, that's generally the way little nuclear families are born. Still, to think that people that I went to elementary school and Sunday school with are now having BABIES is strange to me.

Life is funny that way. Right now, in my living room there are two family portraits handsomely juxtaposed. It is my mother's side of the family: one portrait, ca. 1985; the other, New Year's Eve 2007. It's interesting to see how everyone has grown and changed over the past two decades. Not one of us is in the same place as we were 20 years ago--progress is evident. Some of us didn't even exist then (my cousin, Scott)! And now I look at the picture of my three-ish year-old brother, grinning vigorously next to the picture of the same kid--only, now he's a man--and his new wife, and think . . . life goes on. Growing, changing, living, dying . . . life goes on. Ob-lah-di, Ob-lah-dah.

On Sucking at Life

2008-01-13T20:52:00.000-08:00

In the beginning of a new year (and a new semester starting tomorrow), I suppose it's a natural thing to think of ways to improve one's existence. How can I be more efficient? more studious? more productive? more responsible? How am I going to be a better person than I was last semester?

This, for me, is a weighty question. There are a hundred million ways I could be a better person, I just don't feel like I can do them all at once. I'm overwhelmed by the discrepancy between the woman I am and the woman I would like to be.

It's a blessing and a curse that I can acknowledge the many ways in which I could improve. After all, it means that in due time, I may master these tasks and be able to move onto whatever new crop of shortcomings comes up. At the same time, the fact that I can't automatically just be better at these things adds frustration--the fact that I am aware of so many shortcomings but can only concentrate on a few at a time means that those that have been recognized but remain unaddressed just exist to mock me. ("Yes, I can see you; I know you're there. I'll deal with you later.")

So how do you prioritize?

I guess, in the end, the goal is just to have a balanced, productive life--much harder than it sounds. Right now I know I'm all out of whack, but I suppose that once I find the right proportions of the different aspects of my life, I will know how to adjust things on a day-to-day basis as priorities shift. I heard a wise man cited as saying that there is no such thing as a balanced life: that at any given moment, life is out of balance. The task, then, is to assure that over an extended period of time, things are not being omitted or overemphasized. I think that makes a good deal of sense.

Maybe it's not such an overwhelming task, then. It'll just take some experimentation to find out the perfect recipe.

Reflections and Projections

2008-01-11T07:47:00.001-08:00

Sometimes, you look at your life and wonder: "How on earth did I get to where I am?"

Now would be one of those times for me.

It was interesting, at the end of 2007, to recall where I had been at the end of 2006. I would say that was a low point in my life. I had just failed my pre-recital hearing for my senior recital, I was having a really hard time with my private teacher, I was generally feeling awful about myself (even more than I usually do), and I had no idea what the future would look like for me. I didn't know if I wanted to go to graduate school or take a year off to work or what--I was completely overwhelmed and unhappy with pretty much everything in my life.

A year later, the end of 2007 had found me back in D-town, in the Master's program with a professor whom I love, feeling better about myself and my work than I have in a long time, and not least of all in a wonderful relationship with the boy that I could never imagine but always dreamed of.

It fascinates me that so much has turned around for me in a year. So, I look to 2008 with excitement. I again have no idea where this year will take me. There are a lot of possibilities, opportunities, blessings, challenges, trials, joys, sorrows, surprises . . . I guess the funny thing about life is that, for all our attempts at planning everything out so carefully, you can never really predict what happens.

Welcome to 2008

2008-01-09T10:37:00.000-08:00

It's still hard to believe that it's a new year. I spent the holidays in Honolulu with my mom's family, which was delightful (although, I could think of one thing that would have greatly improved the trip . . . and I saw him yesterday).

My grandparents are pretty awesome people. They've slowed down a lot since the last time I saw them, but they are still kickin'. For some reason, although this has been the first time that we stayed at their house without them having been there (they've moved to an assisted living home), I feel as though I bonded more thoroughly with them this time around. They're very sweet, and I love to see that they still love each other. It was so sweet to see my grandpa shuffling around saying, "Where's my girl??" or to see them holding hands . . . I want that someday.

I don't want it to be the start of the new semester just yet. I suppose it's not so bad. I do enjoy immensely the extra time I get with The Boy during vacation, but it's okay that life isn't all fun and games. It just makes these times all the more precious.

Actually, that's something that's been playing on my mind a lot lately. Part of it may be that I just read Tuesdays with Morrie, which discusses this pretty heavily, but part of it, too, was simply being in beautiful Hawaii and enjoying being alive. You can't help but feel alive as the sea breeze caresses your face, as you hear the sound of the surf, as you listen to the sounds of the birds and smell the plumeria . . . as you surround yourself with family. That is what it means to be alive.

So I'm blessed, and I'm grateful to be alive.

Woo-hoo!

2007-12-18T00:40:00.000-08:00

I just looked at my grades for the semester, and I'm astounded at how well it all turned out. I was fairly convinced I would be beginning my graduate career with a black spot (or two or three) on my transcript, which I would have blamed on taking eight classes for thirteen credit hours (where full-time for a graduate student is 9-12 hours). Miraculously, though, it all worked out . . . and I just like to look at the list of grades, because it's so pretty . . .

I feel like UNT in general likes me much more than BYU ever did. Maybe it has to do with the fact that my dad's a professor here (in fact, I'm sure that's a big part of it), but I definitely feel that whereas BYU largely ignored me in every way for four years of my life, UNT is paying attention, and that alone makes me want to do better.

Tonight I went to see some belly dancers--this girl from orchestra takes belly dancing lessons, and her group was performing. I found it fascinating. There was one group there who called themselves "Just Fabulous" that I found particularly intriguing. The were three ladies who were larger, but made no apologies for it. Rather, they capitalized on their bodies, celebrating them in all their glory. As I watched these three women, so brimming with life, I became so envious of their complete self-confidence. It would take a lot to get me EITHER wearing a midriff-baring costume (really little more than a bra) OR dancing in front of people, so I am astonished that they were able to do both, and to do so with complete lack of inhibition. It's as if they were saying: "Yeah, we're fat. But we're also sexy. Take that." Someday, maybe I'll reach that level of self-acceptance.

I generally shy away from discussing matters of body image, because they happen to be a sensitive issue for me, but in the name of ownership, I'm putting it out there: I've had body image issues ever since elementary school. I remember feeling self-conscious when we'd balance on the seesaw and the scale would tip to my side. The funny thing about it is that when I was that age, I wasn't at all fat. In middle school, I also thought I was grossly overweight, which was probably due mostly to the fact that most of my closest friends were tiny. I've never been predisposed to slenderness per se, so being around people who were made me feel like a cow. The point is that for me, being uncomfortable in my own skin is as normal to me as breathing. I'm certain I could name fifty things I don't like about my body without flinching.

The problem has always been my tendency to compare myself with others. In my case, the commandment "thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's ass" could be taken literally. Why am I buying into the idea that there is one standard of beauty to be upheld? I may not look like a Victoria's Secret model, but that's just one interpretation of what "beautiful" looks like. I sincerely hope for a day when I look at myself without immediately honing in on what's wrong and give myself permission to accept the beauty that is there.

Welcome to Christmas Break.

2007-12-12T21:41:00.000-08:00

Now that I have all the time in the world to make my squeaky little blog-voice heard, I find myself struggling to come up with anything worth saying.

So, I'll pleasure you with my vacation to-do list (more of a list of my personal goals, I suppose):

*Read! I want to reread 1984, The Four Agreements, and maybe The Heart is a Lonely Hunter and read The Forest People and (as per Andy's encouragement) the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

*Put my room together once and for all. It's currently in a state of complete disarray and I HATE it. (I switched bedrooms over Thanksgiving Break, and haven't had time or energy to devote to making my new room make sense until now.)

*Exercise more--like, at least a couple 2-3 times a week. Yeah, I've been slacking, and I feel somewhat pallid as a result. Plus, you know, supermodel.

*Write in my journal. Once a week at least. Again, I've been slacking, although not for lack of effort. I just seem to fall asleep before I can complete an entry.

*Ahh, SLEEP! I'm going to sleep during the break.

*Choose my rep for next semester.

*Study for the Music History Grad Placement Exam. For Fall, I missed passing the first half by one lousy question, and I don't want to land myself in remedial music history.

Uhh, that's all I can think of right now. But hooray for the break!

The End is Near!

2007-12-04T13:54:00.000-08:00

In this case, that's a good thing. This hasn't been the most difficult semester of my life, but it did get pretty hairy not too long ago. All in all, I've been really blessed to have such a wonderful support system. My family is great. My boyfriend (ha! I can say it now) is amazing. Even my dog has responded to my stress level! I've learned to appreciate love in so many different forms: a cup of hot cocoa, a hug, a doggy head in my lap, a shoulder to cry on, simple time, sacrifice of sleep, etc. I could be here for the rest of the day listing off all the examples I've seen of people (and animals) showing their love to me. It's so appreciated.

One of the sweetest things was today on one of my jury comments:

"What I would like to see you improve is: get rid of your physical and mental tension. Start believing that you are a good cellist and play with more confidence."

This came from someone who had witnessed one of my stress-related eyeball leaks a few weeks prior. That comment, coupled with the fact that he asked me if I was doing alright last week, leads me to believe that he's thought about me, and he really wants me to be better. It means a lot. He's not even my teacher!

I suppose if I were going to identify a theme for this semester, it would be something like "Love conquers all." In the hard times, I've been so reliant upon the love of those close to me, and I know it would have been so much harder if I had to go it alone. Sometimes, I feel like I've been relying on the love others have for me in place of the often nonexistent love I should (but don't) feel for myself. I know it's not healthy, and it's something I'm constantly battling with, but it helps so much to feel like I'm worthy of love when I see it so generously poured upon me.

Sappy, sappy, sappy. The point is, I'm going to make it through this semester, and I owe it to you. That's right, to Cari Lynn Vincent ('cause you know, she comments on my blog). And the rest of you? Uhhh, maybe.

Just a Quick Note

2007-11-28T13:59:00.000-08:00

I've been really stressed lately.

But I've also been really well-loved lately.

Yesterday was a pretty crappy day until . . . oh, about 8pm. You know those people in your life who always make you feel better, no matter how hard you've been beating up on yourself or how little you enjoy your own company? I don't understand how he can do it, but it was very much needed. I'm probably the luckiest girl in the world.

To add to it, when I got home, my bedroom and bathroom had been cleaned up a little bit, and I had clean, folded laundry on my bed. My mommy warmed me up a plate for dinner. It's nice to be loved.

After that, I had a rehearsal with my Dad. It was semi-crappy. And (as seems to be the default action for me these days) I started crying. He talked with me for a good while, almost until 1am.

It's things like this that show me it's really not the big things that demonstrate love, but instead the sum total of all the little things. I'm so fortunate to have such wonderful people in my life.

Happy Thanksgiving

2007-11-22T11:24:00.000-08:00

Things for which I am thankful:

*My family. My Mom and Dad are the best. They are never-ending sources of love and support for me, and I appreciate so much being able to see them more often now that I'm back home. I have the best big brother a girl could ask for, who has always been there for me--and now I have a beautiful sister-in-law, too. Add to that my grandparents, aunts & uncles, and a handful of cousins (and, of course, my cute doggie), and I have a lot to be grateful for.

*My friends. I have so many wonderful friends, both near and far. I think that is perhaps the greatest blessing of my having been at BYU for four years: being able to make so many great and lifelong friends. It's been harder than I thought to build up a social circle again here at home, so I'm even more grateful for the friendships I've been able to build and rebuild while here. I am so fortunate to have all these people that I know will be there for me through joys and sorrows, even when time and distance make it difficult to do so.

*The fact that my basic needs are met (something we all take for granted at times). I have a roof over my head and a bed beneath the rest of me. I have food to eat every day of my life. I have clean water to drink. I can take a shower as often as I like. I wear clean clothes every day. I don't live in fear that someone will hurt me or kill me. Basically, I live a carefree life. I never have to think about what I need to do to survive today.

*My faith. This (like all of the above) is a big topic, spanning a lot of others. So much of my existence, and how I hope to be when I "grow up" is based upon things that I have learned and that have been confirmed to me through spiritual experiences. Without these experiences, I would be without direction or hope. I'm grateful that my Creator has enough interest in me to see to it that I learn and grow as I should.

*The luxury of music. If I were spending all my energy on survival, I would have none left for music. I don't know how music can be all that it is, but I am grateful for the opportunity to be a part of it. It is life, love, happiness, anguish, heartbreak, humanity . . . it always gives me a lot to think about, and I'm glad that I get to experience it so regularly.

*The opportunity to get an education. There are so many people in the world who don't get this chance, and for some reason I'm one of the few who has been so blessed. This is very easy to forget, especially this close to the end of the term and all the stress that comes therewith, but I'm glad to get to go to school.

Those are the big things. However, there are all kinds of little things I'm very grateful for:

*hugs
*toilet paper
*deodorant
*ice cream
*toothpaste
*the internet
*the U.S. Postal system
*cellular telephones
*my car
*umbrellas
*sweaters
*cotton/spandex blends
*metronome
*mechanical pencils
*pens that write well
*lip balm
*spellcheck
*chocolate milk
*protein bars
*hand lotion
*socks
*Thai food
*cuddling
*open-mindedness
*unspoken agreements
*TV on DVD
*the sense of smell
*(okay, ALL the senses)
*hot cocoa on a cold day
*roommates, even though I don't really have any right now
*Morningstar Farms
*facebook birthday notifications
*beautiful sunsets
*good books
*Disney-Pixar films
*dictionaries
*Wikipedia / imDb / urbandictionary
*shampoo AND conditioner
*memories

I could go on for a while. I've got a lot to be thankful for . . . and thank YOU for being a part of it. I love you. :-)

Thanksgiving Break, Here I Come!

2007-11-20T20:39:00.001-08:00

Yay! I survived today! Now all I have to do is get through tomorrow--two more lessons (to stack on the four I had today), and then it'll be THANKSGIVING BREAK! Which means--barring practicing for the two juries, preparing two 20-minute presentations, and solidifying my part for the recital that will all ensue shortly after the break, and moving into my new room (i.e., my brother's old room)--I have four and a half days to do absolutely nothing. In other words, now that I don't have school, I'll have time to do everything I should have been doing all semester long.

Is it bad that I don't even really know when classes end? Or when my finals will be? Or that I'm not really concerned about either of those?

I'm one of those people who never really knows what's going on. You know how some people can tell you exactly when daylight savings ends or when school is off for Presidents' Day or all of that stuff? That is not me. Somehow, I just keep going to class until the teacher says something like, "Well, it's been a pleasure having you in class this semester, good luck on the final . . ." and it all works out okay. Maybe someday I'll be on top of things.

I can't believe it's already so close to the end of the semester. Wild. And what a semester it has been. I kind of can't wait for Christmas already.

I'm lying down now . . .

2007-11-14T21:01:00.000-08:00

. . . because I've been sitting ALL DAY, and my butt hurts. I guess that's what I get for being in a major for which my principal activity requires sitting.

Nevertheless . . .

It's been a pretty good day. The first exciting thing that happened was that I had a lesson. I truly enjoy my lessons now, which is a huge contrast from before. I used to dread my lessons, hoping that there would be a note on the door saying, "JB (my old teacher) is out today due to illness" (and, incidentally, that happened quite often). Here, though, with my new teacher, I never dread lessons. What is more, I always leave them feeling more inspired and hopeful about my abilities--again a contrast from when I'd leave former lessons feeling depressed, worthless, and guilty. EO (my new teacher) never uses guilt as a means to motivate. It's not that effective, anyway.

Most of the rest of the day was spent in various rehearsals. I had an endearing moment in orchestra when the soloist looked at me, winked, and then proceeded to confirm an appointment for tomorrow via sign language. It was delightful.

Another endearing moment took place after another rehearsal. One of the girls in the ensemble and I were chatting in the hallway, and she asked me if I'd found lots of friends in the time I'd been here. I gave some roundabout answer, and she proceeded to tell me that she'd been abandoned by her fellow graduate students who'd finished and graduated the previous year. It was then I realized that she was basically asking if she could be my friend, which I thought was pretty ridiculously adorable. I can definitely sympathize with a need to socialize, and I'm quite flattered that she feels both comfortable enough with me to request such a thing as well as that apparently she thinks I'm someone she'd like to hang out with. Pretty funny, but I dig it.

As for our concert tonight, let it be said that I almost missed it. There was a basketball game, which rendered parking almost impossible. I parked so far away by the time I found a spot (5 minutes to curtain) that I had to all but sprint, cello in tow, alllllllllll the way to the hall. Thankfully, there were still people in the hallway when I got there, so I knew the concert hadn't started. I suppose that's why you always plan for the worst-case scenario . . . because you never know when it might actually be the truth. It took me three times as long to walk BACK to my car after the concert, true to the fact that "Jogging gets you there in 1/4 the time." (I'm figuring in some extra time for the cello, by the way).

And so, I continue to take it one day at a time, hoping every day that I don't die along the way.

Engage!

2007-11-07T07:04:00.000-08:00

Do you ever feel like you're not really participating in the events of your life? The past couple of days--yesterday in particular--I've been experiencing that. My brain felt pretty turned off. I couldn't focus on anything, and when people would talk to me, I would be completely zoned out. Even when I was playing cello, I felt totally uninvolved, which isn't a good thing by any stretch of the imagination. I wonder why I've been so disengaged.

Something I've been pondering lately (as a possible cause of my divorcement from my life) is the concept of energy. We all know the First Law of Thermodynamics: Energy can neither be created nor destroyed, only converted from one form to another. I believe we think too little about the real concept of energy, though.

What brought me to this idea is the same thing that brings me most of my semi-deep thoughts: music. I watch a lot of performances, and very few of them are what I would classify as "great." I see plenty of technically impressive performances (correct notes, clear delivery, flawless), but that alone is not enough to merit greatness. I even see lots of performances that are "musical" and "expressive," and still I find myself desiring something more. What is it, then? This "je ne sais quois" that makes a particular performance truly great?

I've decided it's a matter of energy. When there is a truly great performer onstage, he or she commands every bit of attention the audience can muster. It stirs something in everyone.

Cesar Millan (the Dog Whisperer) always talks about projecting energy, and that dogs respond to that. I've seen that to be true in dogs (ask me about my story), and I wonder if maybe they have it figured out a little better than we do. Maybe in our attempts to clarify everything using the tools of language, of "communication," we lose a very base and essential method of transmitting information: ENERGY.

I think of Christ and the woman with the issue of blood from Luke 8. When she touched the hem of His garment, He felt virtue had gone out of Him. He was aware of energy.

I wonder if we paid more attention--not to what people said, but instead what they projected--we would be much better in touch with one another. My guess is we would be. We all have the ability to be so much more in tune with one another, with the energies all around us. I mean, in extreme cases we do pretty well: when a friend walks into the room and you know immediately that he or she is stressed out or heartbroken or elated . . . what if we tried to apply that same sensitivity every second of every day, even with strangers?

There's a lot more I've thought about on this subject, but that hasn't been fleshed out in a way that I can articulate just yet. I guess the moral of the story is this: Energy is a big deal.

Time Travel

2007-11-03T14:37:00.001-07:00

I hope you've all gotten at least the recommended dose of Riboflavin today, lest you be sucked into a whirling time travel vortex. Today is the one day a year (barring travel situations) where we get to live the same hour twice. What are you going to do during your extra hour?

Confused? Learn more here.

What a Wonderful World . . .

2007-10-30T18:32:00.000-07:00

As I was driving home from school today, I found myself in a RIDICULOUSLY good mood. It was perfectly beautiful outside, there was a gorgeous Texas sunset, I'd just had some good hugs, and I was headed home before 7pm! What's more, I had a Good Cello Day, and my performance for Early Music Hour went pretty well! I was thinking about mi novio (it's less weird in Spanish), and that always puts a smile on my face. And then, as if to underscore the wonderful mood, my iPod decides to play "What a Wonderful World." I feel that, Pops.

To add to it all, my dad called on my way home, saying we were going out to dinner: Thai food! My favorite. And especially inviting, since all I'd eaten since 8am was a half of a PB&J left over from yesterday.

I feel so blessed lately. There are so many good and exciting things happening in my life right now. Things are working out pretty well right now, and I know it's because of the hand of the Lord. I'm happy. Except I just got a cramp in my foot--yowza!

Still, life is good, foot cramp notwithstanding.

Motivation = Zero.

2007-10-27T10:53:00.000-07:00

There is so much I need to do today, and so far, I've done none of it. I practiced for a few minutes. That's about it.

On my to-do list are things like laundry, cleaning of my room, reading 70 pages of stuff about Indian music, studying for Theory, practicing (orchestra music, Popper #1 and #6, Brahms Trios, baroque cello, and stuff for orchestral excerpts class), listening to the Brahms Clarinet Trio, cleaning the bathroom, getting on the treadmill . . .

So, I update my blog. Good use of time, Harlos.

I was thinking the other day about giving compliments. It's something I'm pretty bad at. The interesting thing is that it's not because I can't think of nice things to say, I just have trouble saying them. You know what makes it worse? Let's say you're talking to your friend, and then all of the sudden your friend compliments you on your hair or something. This catches you off guard. You stumble a while and come up with something like, "Thanks, your hair looks good too," which will ALWAYS sound like an insincere cop-out even if you WERE thinking it beforehand. So I generally avoid saying anything at all in these instances, for fear of sounding insincere.

I wonder why I censor myself so much. Shouldn't I be eager to share with others all the nice things I think about them? The other factor that scares me is that people will read too much into the compliments. Like, if I tell a boy that I think he has a nice smile, he'll probably think I'm hitting on him. Or if I tell a girl her hair looks nice, she'll think, "Well, how does it USUALLY look?!" I guess that's a stupid reason to hold back. I wonder what would happen if I followed every impulse I had to say something nice to someone.

I think I also hold back to keep people from getting too overinflated (as if it's my place to monitor other people's egos). Even though I've semi-recently decided that even arrogance is a function of self-consciousness, I still have reservations about letting people get too cocky. Also silly.

I guess the fact of the matter is that everyone needs building up. And while I'm not the type who tries to tear people down, I guess in my cautiousness to let people know all the good things I think about them, I am missing out on lots of opportunities to allow them to believe what I say. Because you know . . . if I say it, I MEAN it.

I wish I could just teleport.

2007-10-23T21:21:00.000-07:00

Today, I tried (albeit unsuccessfully) to be in three different places at once. It might have worked, if all had gone according to plan . . .

As was, I got to rush around from one place to the next, trying not to lose any of my contacts on the way. This was made more exciting by the fact that I was temporarily without a phone, and couldn't alert one of the parties involved of my impending tardiness. It all worked out in the end.

It was a long day, though. You know, one of those days when you get home and you have a list of about five hundred things you want to do IMMEDIATELY: go to the bathroom, drink a glass of water, eat some food, take out your contacts, change into your comfy clothes, etc. The problem is you can never decide what order to do them in. (Tonight, I think I did bathroom, contacts, water, food, change.)

I even had a semi-awkward conversation with an old flame today. I think the moral of the story was "we were so young and stupid." I'm not sure, though. I think he may feel like I'm more hung up on him than I am (which, at this point, is not at all). It's all just water under the bridge for me. We've both moved on, so who even cares?

The point is, as my roommate wisely put it, "nothing gets you over the last one like the next one." None of my past romantic disappointments matter at all to me now that I get to spend time with someone who is (interestingly enough) a much better fit for me than any of them would have been anyway. I keep waiting to wake up.

It's a beautiful dream, anyway . . .

An update.

2007-10-16T08:32:00.000-07:00

I don't really have anything specific to blog about, but I guess I just wanted to check in with my loyal readership.

Life is going pretty well. It's hard to believe that October is half gone, and the semester is also half gone. In a month it'll be Thanksgiving time, and it flies after that . . .

Generally, I would say that I don't have too very much to complain about these days. I like my classes and my professors, I get to do cool stuff like play Baroque cello, I have a social life, and the Cute Boy . . . and the list goes on. See? Life is good.

It's times like these that I start to feel like it's not fair that I get to be so blessed. At the same time, I almost feel like saying, "Well, it's about damn time!" After all, I'm realizing that my experience at BYU, while key in getting me to where I am now, was not everything it could have been. The difference is that while I was there, I felt like every opportunity was passing me by. Here, I feel as though I'm being welcomed into life with open arms. It's a good feeling.

Whether cause or effect (probably it's both), I'm also noticing that these days I'm liking myself more (for the most part). In any case, I'm enjoying the benefits of a healthier self-image. I guess it's true what they say about how great an effect we can have on one another. I want to be the person that everyone all of the sudden thinks that I am.

It does seem sudden, too. Adjectives that I've never really thought of as applying to me are now being used regularly: spunky, dynamic, delightful, etc. I suppose that's all helping me redefine myself (I myself would use words like unintrusive, awkward, or something along those lines). Now that these other adjectives have come into use, though, I can find evidence to support them.

So, I'm on the upswing.

The light at the end . . .

2007-10-11T10:19:00.000-07:00

So this week has been rough. Midterms and assignments and classes that just don't quit, plus concerts and extra rehearsals and all kinds of gobbletygook . . .

Nevertheless, it's Thursday, and the end is in sight. I was excited yesterday to be home by 6pm for the first time in I don't remember how long. I still managed to stay up till midnight, though, even despite the fact that I vaguely promised myself to be in bed early. Ah, well.

I feel a little strange that my mom had an appointment with the eye doctor, who said I was a "delightful" person. I guess he then asked her if I'd be interested in playing at the office party on Saturday, for a years' worth of contacts. Curious. I don't know how to feel about that--it seems a little shady. I wonder if I should decline, on account of the fact that I think he's unusually attracted to me and may try to seduce me. On the other hand, maybe I'm just being paranoid, and he really DOES just think I'm delightful, and wants to help me out? Eeep. I'll have to consider this carefully. I welcome any input . . .

In Other News, I'm realizing that my body doesn't like me very much when I abstain from things like food, sleep, water, and exercise. It's been interesting to me that when I was at BYU, I was a big stress-eater (hence I gained weight); however, since coming to UNT it seems I've become a stress-NON-eater (and hence am losing weight). While such a side effect (i.e., weight loss) is not at all undesirable to a woman of my Rubenesque proportions, the accompanying constant threat of illness and lack of any energy and vigor certainly are. Maybe I should revise my plan to become a supermodel. Or go with the Mario Heffers plan: Nutty Bars and Diet Coke.

I suppose that is all, my loyal readership. I hope I don't die before I see you next . . .

I don't know karate, but I know ca-razy!

2007-10-07T00:12:00.000-07:00

Yep. My life is ca-razy, but in the very best way possible . . .

Okay, we'll pick up where we left off:

Thursday was a pretty normal day, except that I was distracted all day by thoughts of a certain Cute Boy. That evening, I went to the Dallas Symphony with the 'rents to hear Ralph Kirshbaum play the Elgar Concerto. I found his performance decidedly uninspiring, especially when juxtaposed so directly with Edgar Meyer's brilliant work the night before. Kirshbaum had one speed and width of the vibrato--slow and wide--which only worked for parts of the slow movement. The rest of the time it sounded like the silver-haired lady in every church choir . . .

Friday I had no classes all day, so I did some laundry and so forth and then went to Friday Forum, where I got to see Cute Boy. After hanging out for a while, I had to head out to my eye appointment. They'd moved offices, and I had so wisely written down the address and phone number, in case I got lost--and foolishly left that sheet of paper at home. So, I finally found it, 20 minutes late.

It was the strangest eye appointment of my life. First of all, my optometrist started out the visit by just chatting with me about Einstein and brain development and literature for classical guitar and so forth for what seemed like at least 20 minutes. He finally got around to checking my eyes, and after I looked through the machine and all of that, he just started staring at me for another good minute or so (which felt like 15). "You have beautiful eyes," he said. "Very beautiful. And your eyebrows, too. It's a nice design."

What the ?! "It's a nice design?!" Thanks, I'll tell God that when I see Him. He then proceeded to recount what, specifically, about my eye structure was so appealing--using technical terms I can't even remember. Then he said, "Let's just for fun try on some colored contacts."

So I did. While I was trying on some different eye colors, he came in and stared at me some more. His assistant, a girl in about her early 30s, had been in there gushing to me about this color and that when he entered. "What do you think of the blue?" she asked. "I don't know," he said, staring squarely into my eyes. "I'm just . . . mesmerized. She's so beautiful!" Awww, shucks, Doc. Yet another example of a man 50+ who thinks I'm hot.

I'll spare you the play-by-play of the rest of the weekend to this point, and help you out by saying that much of it was spent in the company of The Cute Boy. (I say "The Cute Boy" because it's a less weird phrase for me than "my boyfriend." I've never thought about needing to say that phrase, and I think he'll understand that it'll take some getting used to on my part before I can say that particular phrase without making some weird face or giggling uncontrollably or anything else I might do. Of course, it's no fault of his--just weird is all.) Anyway, he's great and I liiiiiiiike him . . . oh man, what a week.

Like I said, CA-RAZY.

My 95-year-old boyfriend, Lloyd.

2007-10-05T15:48:00.000-07:00

BACKGROUND:
Those of you who are not members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints may not know that twice annually, the entire body of the church gathers together to hear the words of our leaders, who speak in Salt Lake City at the Conference Center, a building which holds some 20,000-plus persons. People often travel great distances to be there, although it can also be viewed at virtually any LDS church building in the country, as well as many abroad (or even in your home, if you have the BYU channel). In order to actually attend the meeting live in the Conference Center, one needs a ticket. It's a pretty crazy scene at Temple Square during General Conference--LOTS of people, including Mormons and anti-Mormons. There are five sessions total: Saturday morning, afternoon, and evening (Sat. evening is just for the men), and Sunday morning and afternoon. And here begins my tale--April, 2005:

While I was at school at BYU, about an hour's drive from Salt Lake City, I had been given tickets to the Saturday morning session, by a friend without a car who didn't want to bother with finding a way there and back, and was feeling more like staying home and watching it on TV anyway. I eventually hooked up with a friend who was going to SLC already, though he was going to watch it with his family and was going to stay for all three sessions . . . nonetheless, it was the best I could do. So, he dropped me off at Temple Square, and we said we'd be in touch later about getting home. I skipped along my merry way.

The morning session was wonderful. My seat was great, and it's always amazing to sit there in that huge conference center and to feel such a sense of community. I wanted to go to the second session. Without a ticket, though, I was reduced to waiting in the Standby line.

In the line, I was standing next to an old man who began to talk to me. He was the oldest working man in the state of Wyoming, I discovered, and he told me about his wonderful experiences at the convention he'd just been to for the older workers of America. He showed me a pamphlet, with all the pictures of the oldest workers from all fifty states, and told me which of the ladies were good dancers, and so forth. I was so amused, and I kept formulating in my head the story I would tell to my roommates about my General Conference Boyfriend.

"We started talking in the Standby line and we just hit it off really well."

He offered me his chicken nuggets, and (being vegetarian) I respectfully declined. He did, however, manage to give me a peanut M&M.

By the time we reached the front of the line where they turned us away, he and I (his name was Lloyd) were buddies, so we went along to try and find an alternate venue to watch Conference. Our first try was the Assembly Hall, but they were only showing it in Spanish there. We eventually found our way to the Visitors' Center.

The meeting had already begun, and it was dark in the theatre, so I helped Lloyd into his seat. He squeezed my arm in thanks, and I giggled to myself about the story I would tell my roommates. As the speakers began, Lloyd put his arm around me, and I thought the fictional boyfriend story was just getting too good. He was being so affectionate and grandfatherly . . . great-grandfatherly . . .

The speakers continued, and I felt a hand in my hair. Lloyd was stroking my locks. I was taken aback. I continued to allow it, though for three reasons: (1) stroking one's hair is still a pretty benign act--something I would do to my girl friends, (2) it was General Conference, and there were lots of people around, so I felt assured that he wouldn't try anything REALLY funny, (3) even if he DID try something funny, he was ninety-five and I felt pretty sure I could take him out. I leaned as far away from him as I could in my chair and tried to take notes, which came out mostly as scribbles. It's kind of hard to concentrate on Conference when you're being stroked by a man seventy-five years your senior.

Some people came and sat next to us, and he withdrew his arm. I thought that meant he was going to behave, so I relaxed back into the center of my seat. Before I knew it, frisky old Lloyd had taken my hand, and was lovingly stroking that. At that point, I was pretty certain he had crossed the line. I felt very uncomfortable, and couldn't hear a word of what anyone was saying--with the exception of one line from Elder Scott's talk.

"Love is the foundation of all effective missionary work," he said, in his gentle way.

At that point, Lloyd took my arm, squeezed it a little bit, and with a wicked glint in his eye said, "It's the foundation of A LOT of things!" It was then that I knew I had to flee. As soon as that talk ended, and we all stood for the intermediate hymn, I grabbed my things, muttered, "I've got to go to the bathroom!" and scurried out of the theatre, with an expression of befuddlement, terror, horror, hilarity, and shock plastered on my face. I did go to the bathroom. After I regained my composure, I went to the Assembly Hall and listened to the rest of the session in Spanish. Even though I do understand Spanish, I didn't really get much out of that session, either. I was pretty shaken.

I was terrified that I would have to hang out alone in SLC until my ride was done with the Priesthood session, until the clouds opened up and the light of heaven shone down upon me, as my phone rang. Earlier, I had run into Sam from the ward (who was also up in Salt Lake for conference), and he and his friend had been planning on staying through all three sessions, but changed their minds at the last minute. He was wondering if I wanted a ride home. And of course I did.

The moral of the story? Just because it's General Conference doesn't mean it's safe for you to be alone. And just because he's ninety-five doesn't mean he's harmless.

Best. Day. Ever.

2007-10-04T00:02:00.000-07:00

. . . and even THAT is an understatement.

I could not have asked for a better today.

Actually, the day started out kind of crappy. I slept in this morning, waking up ten minutes before I had to leave for my 8am class, in which we had a quiz. Suckity suck suck suck. On top of that, it was raining.

After the quiz (which didn't go horribly, but could have gone better--not that I'm concerned, since Dr. Cho told us he'd probably drop our first three grades anyway), I practiced for my 11am lesson, which went well. I did kind of have a cry, but Mr. O is so kind and so tender (a welcome change from certain cello teachers of yore), and I can tell he sincerely just wants me to be the best that I can be. We talked about things, and I realized (yet again) that I for some reason censor out the positive voices in my head and amplify the negative ones. So even when I am practicing, I don't take time to enjoy what went well, or to applaud myself for it. I am constantly in search of what's wrong. I suppose self-criticism is part of the package when you're a musician, although I think self-congratulation is also a necessary component (not that such an idea had ever occurred to me before today).

After that, I came home for lunch and the shower that I missed from sleeping in, which was good, and then headed off to the dress rehearsal for the concert tonight. I got Edgar Meyer to sign my favorite album of his. It made me happy. After that was Chamber Music departmental, which was made better by the fact that I was actually sitting next to people instead of by myself, which is typically what happens.

This is where the day turns from "good" to "indescribably fantastic." I came home for dinner--my first nutritious meal all week--and to change for the concert.

Mr. Meyer was A.MAZ.ING. I've been a HUGE fan for a long time, and it was beyond amazing to be on the same stage as him. I'm sure (and have had these suspicions confirmed) that I was beaming any time I was watching him (missing entrances left and right)--he is an utterly captivating performer, and all I could do was grin and stare in awe. He's great. Wow. And so I ran out of words. I could have died right then, and been perfectly content, but the night got even BETTER.

I feel awkward blogging about this, so I'm going to be scant with details, but the Readers' Digest version of it is this:

We're official. He's adorable. I'm . . . elated.

Yes, this has truly been a day for the books.

"For God hath not given us the spirit of fear . . . "

2007-10-02T21:33:00.003-07:00

" . . . but of power, love, and of a sound mind."

I realized something (again) today: I am afraid. I'm afraid of lots of things, and that's what keeps me from progressing much of the time.

In rehearsal today, with one of my very favorite musicians of all time, I was TERRIFIED of playing something wrong, so I held back a lot of my enthusiasm and gusto from my performance. That's what always happens when I get scared: I withdraw, I try to shrink into the background. The thing is, though, my fear was 100% responsible for the fact that it wasn't as special an experience as it could have been. After the rehearsal, I went up to shake Mr. Meyer's hand. I had a million things in my head that I wanted to say, "I saw you at Bass Hall when I was probably 14, and it was one of the most influential performances I've ever been a part of" or "I love everything I've ever heard of yours" (etc.), but I got really scared when I was standing in front of him, so instead of saying any of that, I thrust my hand forward and muttered, "Thank you," as I walked away. Again, fear kept me from making a special experience.

Fear is a protective measure, so acting cautiously is a pretty good guard against personal injury, be it physical, emotional, or otherwise. However, it also significantly reduces the return of any given action. Sure, I can play a piece of music really cautiously, and not miss a note--but at the same time, I think it means that I didn't really PLAY a note either. Life is all or nothing; either you're in it all the way or you're not really in it at all.

Of course, I'm not just talking about music here. It seems, both generally and specifically, that I am in a period of my life ruled by the unknown. I am standing outside a door and I have no idea what will happen if or when I cross its threshold. It's kind of terrifying, yes, but I get the feeling that if I stick with caution and stay out on the stoop, I'll be missing out on a lot. I guess it's like skydiving or something: the scariest part is trying to convince yourself to take the jump, but after that--well, it's a hell of a ride.

Even if the your chute doesn't open and you end up plummeting to your oblivion, I bet you go out saying, "At least I was really LIVING."

So here's to giving up my spectator seat and jumping into the arena. I'm ready to be an active participant in my life, and perhaps get a few bumps and bruises along the way.

Bring it on, October.

2007-09-30T19:04:00.000-07:00

October is one one of my favorite months. I like the brisk weather (although it's still pushing the 90s this week, bleh), I like the bright colors, I like wearing jackets and sweaters . . .

This week I get to play with Edgar Meyer, the world's foremost double bass virtuoso and one of my favorite musicians of all time.

I'm pretty excited about that. Tuesday evening my teacher is playing a recital. Thursday night I'll be going to hear Ralph Kirshbaum play the Elgar Cello Concerto with the Dallas Symphony, which will be tasty. I'm getting to be so musically spoiled!

Meanwhile, life just keeps on keepin' on. These days I don't really know where it's headed, but I'm enjoying the ride. I was thinking of my experience at BYU, and what it has meant in my life now that I've been out of it for five months(!). I'm really grateful for the experiences I had, both good and bad, and for what I've gained from them. It wasn't necessarily an easy journey, but I learned a lot about myself and dealing with different types of people. I made some priceless friendships and some arch nemeses (well, one at least) and had some experiences that couldn't be duplicated under any circumstances.

Now, being here, I see how some of those less-happy chains of events have helped make me more capable and ready for things that lie ahead. It's a mixed bag, I guess. I think I'm seeing now that maybe some of those trials were not things that I was supposed to learn from at the time I was experiencing them, but instead that I would be able to look back on and say, "Oh, so THAT'S what I did wrong."

By the way, I think it's really cool that God knows me well enough to know exactly how to teach me best. And not just me: you, your best friend, the kid who hears the voice of the Lord in Obi-Wan Kenobi . . . and I'm being sincere. I remember one of my friends wrote me while on his mission about how he realized the Atonement meant not only that our Savior understands our pains and sorrows, but also our joys and passions. I know that's true, because I see how He fits my life lessons around those passions.

I'm so blessed . . .

All is well . . . !

2007-09-26T10:52:00.000-07:00

Ah, life is treating me kindly these days. I was stressed out about this morning, with an 8am quiz and a 9am sightreading in an Instrumentation class (how the prof tracked me down to ask me to play for it is a mystery to me--I've barely been at the school a month, and it seems already I've been branded as a music slut), and an 11am lesson . . . but everything went surprisingly well. Especially the lesson--I feel encouraged again! Hooray.

And now, this week that has already been so long and scary should definitely be much easier from here on out. Hallelujah!

I get to hang out with my favorite four year-old on Friday morning (actually, come to think of it, she may have had a birthday this month . . . five?), and I'm excited about that. I tell ya, getting paid to play with little kids is where it's at! And this will be a piece of cake, too--usually, I watch her AND her two brothers (ages 7 and 9 or something), and together, the three of them can be quite a handful. Having just the little girl will be a cinch.

I am happy about other things, too, but at the risk of sounding cryptic I venture that this is not the venue to share. Suffice it to say that I am looking forward to the weekend. :-)

So, I am happy. I'm getting used to being back in Texas, I'm making friends, I'm figuring out (again and again) how to better manage my time (by the way, blogging doesn't help), and I'm just smiling. 'Cause, you know, life is good.

Life is good. :-)

An Instrument in the Hands . . .

2007-09-25T12:20:00.000-07:00

Last night, I had the opportunity to go to a recital and hear Bion Tsang (currently teaching cello at the UT Austin) and UNT's own Gustavo Romero playing the two Brahms cello sonatas. Now, aside from the fact that I love Brahms so much that I continue to swear that he and I are soulmates, and if we'd lived at the same time he would have given up on Clara altogether, I enjoyed the recital quite a lot.

The thing that struck me about Mr. Tsang's playing was how deliberate everything was. Each note was played with a specific part of the bow, on a specific part of the string, with a certain stroke . . . every detail was thought out.

In my church, we often talk about becoming an instrument in the hands of God (in fact, it's the theme of the visiting teaching messages this year), but I wonder if we really consider what that entails. Yes, we know about the power of the Master's touch, but do we really understand what that means?

There are a few things that struck me:

1. The instrument is completely incapable of creating anything by itself; it is the Master who creates beauty and meaning and breathes life into the instrument.

2. When I play my cello, it has its own ideas sometimes about who is in charge. The challenge is learning to get it to submit to my will rather than have it tell me what I can and cannot do.

3. GREATNESS TAKES PLANNING. This idea admittedly caused me problems, because I am not much of a planner. I like to fly by the seat of my pants. Especially where major life junctions are before me, I am not one to know where I am headed. My realization, though, was that it is not my duty to know. If I am the instrument, it is the duty of the Master to have planned everything out--and He has.

While I'm on the topic of music metaphors (a favorite of mine; I could go on all day), there is something else I've been thinking a lot about lately. I'm a pretty tough critic when it comes to expressivity in musicians. Rarely do I find players who can truly move me, who can conjure up emotions from the depths of my soul. I'm a very emotionally sensitive person, which is a blessing and a curse, but it means that I can sense when people are holding back, and I don't find it convincing at all. I've heard it said before that it's not what you give that gets you to heaven, but what you hold back that condemns you. I think the same is true for music.

At its best, music is a completely personal, vulnerable art. However, I think people don't often invest enough of themselves to make it so. I'm not talking about hours of practice or anything like that--I'm talking about people's SELVES. When you watch a person perform who strips themselves of the pomp and to-do about performance and presents him or herself for you to accept or reject, THAT is moving.

I've recently come to terms with my complete avoidance of vulnerability. I do think, however, that the only times in my life that I have allowed myself to be absolutely vulnerable have been in performance situations. I may not be able to tell you my feelings if you ask me, but if you ask me to play my feelings, I can certainly do that. Somehow it's less scary that way, maybe because fewer people try to understand you and just want to hear pretty music.

Well, none of you asked for my dissertation on musical expression, but if you ever want to talk about it, it's something I'm very passionate about. Ask anytime, and I'll talk for hours about it.

The Dorky Party Revolution of 07

2007-09-23T21:07:00.000-07:00

That's right, I have deemed it my duty to bring dorky parties to North Texas. They abounded at BYU, but around here, people seem to prefer "real" parties, wherein the main form of entertainment is substance. The result of this is that (many, not all) people don't seem to know how to have fun without chemical alteration.

That is about to change.

I've composed a list of dorky party ideas, and I'll be gosh-darned if I don't start throwing them!

There are the ever popular food-themed parties, wherein all you need to do is choose some type of food and ask people to bring their favorite example of that food (ones I've heard of in the past include macaroni and cheese, bread, potatoes, pie, etc.)! There are the film-themed parties (favorite movies to screen include Napoleon Dynamite, Nacho Libre, or Pirates of the Caribbean) where people dress like their favorite characters, and we eat what they eat in the movie! There is, of course, game night (pretty self-explanatory). Bad movie night (not morally bad, but stupid or poorly made). Pizza making night. Ohh, the good times that are about to be had!

If you have any other ideas or suggestions, or would like to secure a spot on the guest list, please let me or another one of our associates know. Time is money, thank you for your time.

Friday Night Live.

2007-09-21T18:02:00.000-07:00

So here it is, a Friday night. I'm young, I'm spry, and I'm sitting alone at home watching the Ray Charles movie and updating my blog. Talk about glamour.

Not that it's for lack of options, for once. I don't know, I'm still fighting this sickness, and I just didn't really feel like going out tonight. This afternoon, I came into the kitchen for a glass of water, ended up feeling weird and laid down on the couch. An hour later, I woke up, but I haven't really felt normal since.

This illness has been weird, though. I've had this horrible hacking cough for the past week or so, but haven't really felt bad other than that. Yesterday, I felt really weird, though. I think it was lack of oxygen to my brain or something due to all the phlegm gunking up my airway, but I couldn't decide if I wanted to faint or run around the block. Strange sensation, halfway dead and halfway jittery.

Hmmmm, I don't really have anything else to say.

Perfection.

2007-09-18T19:21:00.000-07:00

I lived a perfect moment today.

I was in the car en route home from school this evening. It wasn't a particularly difficult day, but I've been feeling a little under the weather (I think it's a chest cold), and a little nostalgic (having watched the BYU devotional via internet), and a little introspective (just because that's how I am), and more than a little preoccupied with the hopes of friendship and romance (because I like to daydream).

All these came together to form a strange emotional cocktail, and I was pondering on this as I headed home. Then, the track on the CD changed, and my Perfect Moment began.

It was the Good Morning Maxfield (when they were still just Maxfield) cover of "Stars." Somehow, that song existed solely for that moment with me and my weird feelings in my Camry driving down Malone St.

I turned up the volume and soaked in all the goodness of the moment. It was full,
saturated, absolutely perfect. I can't describe why I felt so, but I certainly did. I wonder if there have been other perfect moments in my life that I have missed by being too preoccupied or just not paying attention.

Now that I think about it, I believe this wasn't the first perfect moment in my life:

The time when I cried with a friend in the vestibule of our high school band hall. The time I played stupid Christmas arrangements with a wind ensemble.
The time I rode with that one boy just because he wanted company.
Driving cross-country with my brother in a car loaded with all our stuff.

I guess it just gave me pause to reflect on what it is that makes life worth living. There are so many perfect moments yet to be had.

Here's to perfection!

Backrub, anyone?

2007-09-16T13:15:00.000-07:00

I've always liked to give backrubs. For me, the power of the literal human touch is very strong, and there's something about knowing that I'm using my hands to make someone else feel good that I find very rewarding. I think, too, that years of training and development in the fine-motor schools (i.e., the fact that I'm a string player) has helped sensitize my hands, so I've been told I'm pretty good at it, too.

Back in P-town, I had a loyal clientele built up of roommates and close friends. If anyone had a knot in their back or something, they'd come to me to work it out. Here, though, there are very few with whom I've crossed the touch-barrier. I miss being able to touch people! I need that so badly.

I've always been a cuddly one, and I've said before that I'm addressing this from a completely nonsexual stance. For some reason, it's just important to me to physically feel the contact of other human beings--just in little ways, like touches on the arm, or hand-holding, or and arm around me.

I've taken to giving my dog backrubs. She has these two huge knots on either side of her torso that I've been working on for the past few days. She enjoys it--you should see her melt to the ground in a semi-comotose state. I'm glad she appreciates it, but it does kind of make me miss the same kind of appreciation from other humans.

So, if you ever want a backrub, or a backscratch, or a head massage or just someone to let you know that you've got nerve endings on your skin, you all know where to find me.

Who, me?

2007-09-13T13:20:00.000-07:00

I guess if I ever want to feel attractive, I just have to hang out with men who are at least forty years old or older.

I belong to this environmentally-based networking website, and most of my "friends" fall into that category. And they tell me how pretty I am, how "intriguing," how they would like to photograph me (that one especially creeped me out), or how they would love to get to know me--could I email them sometime? Maybe it's something about being one step removed from the person they are trying to woo that causes them to lose all sense of propriety. They don't have to be shy or (what's the masculine equivalent to "coy?"), but they can just say right out: "I think you're beautiful, and I would like to be your boyfriend."

As far as those men who boast an even BIGGER age gap, I still haven't figured that out. I've learned from hard experience that even though a man is seventy-five years my senior, it doesn't necessarily mean he is harmless. Still, the increase in years seems to be inversely proportional to tact or subtlety.

Now, I'm not certain that this attraction from men old enough to be my father, grandfather, or great-grandfather is unusual. I just keep thinking of the Rick James song: "She makes an old man wish for younger days." The thing that is unusual about my ability to attract men is that it doesn't seem to have any effect whatsoever with those in my own demographic. Is it then simply the fact that I'm so much younger that makes me attractive, or is there some other quality that the more seasoned male appreciates that is lost on the ruddy-faced lads?

Maybe I should just aim to marry some filthy rich old guy who's about to kick the bucket.

The itch you just can't scratch.

2007-09-11T17:03:00.000-07:00

So, I've realized what it is about UNT.

The fact of the matter is that there are actually many many more guys that I am attracted to here. Virtually every random male that crosses the street in front of me I find at least reasonably attractive. [AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am realizing as I write this that I had similar feelings upon arriving at BYU. "Why is everyone here so darned attractive?," I thought to myself. Perhaps, then, it is just the novelty of being in a new environment, with a different type of guy.]

Now, herein lies the problem. It's obviously not that I cannot find a guy that I find good-looking. It's that I don't really want to DATE any of these handsome men-folk. For one reason or another (sexual orientation, marital status, drug use, etc.) these guys are otherwise completely unappealing.

So, I remain lonely. And though no one likes to be lonely, I also don't really feel terribly drawn to any of the alternatives.

Open mouth, insert foot.

2007-09-08T21:48:00.000-07:00

The most famed question on the list of questions not to be asked if there is any reasonable doubt is, of course, "So . . . when are you due?" Today I experienced another:

Me: "So, when are you getting married?"
The other person: We're not.
Me: (confused)
The other person: We broke up. We're not getting married.

Uhhh, and then where do you go with the conversation? I don't know. I feel bad for the awkwardness and for having put this person in such an uncomfortable situation, but at the same time, it was an innocent question--and I had no reason to suspect anything had changed since the last time I saw the two of them together (which couldn't have been very long). Nevertheless, it really kind of killed the chitchat.

So, beware. My new rule will be that I will not ask that unless the individual has referenced such him or herself in the same sitting.

What I Want

2007-09-03T07:06:00.000-07:00

Over the weekend, I was watching the movie Hitch. There's a line that says something like, "No woman knows what she wants until she finds it." I think in my case, that's true. Or at least the first part.

There is no secret to my lamentations about living the single life. Although, it's not really that I dislike being single so much. It's more that I dislike the IDEA of it, and the IDEA of myself never having experienced the Other Side. That's right. At the ripe old age of 22 (very almost 23), I have never had a boyfriend. Unless you count those that I had from the 7th-9th grade, when for some reason boys liked me (although, since then, one or more of them has decided he likes boys). Ironically, that all ceased almost immediately after I reached the age of 16--when I actually COULD date.

So, I *think* that I would like a boyfriend--but how would that actually be? I can think only of the benefits: someone to talk to to cuddle with, to go to things with. I'm sure there is a downside, too, and maybe it's really NOT what I want.

And *who* would I want my potential boyfriend to be? I've never been one to have in my mind a "type," and as a result of this, I don't really know what I "should" be looking for. For instance, yesterday at church there was this pretty-boy type teaching my Sunday School class. Usually I'm pretty turned-off by that kind of boy--they are too impenetrable and fake--but later on in the lesson he let down his guard a little bit and turned into this shy, awkward little kid. I found it really endearing. I guess it humanized him for me. You always hear about people looking past the outside to see the beauty within. Usually, people use that kind of phraseology when they're talking about "ugly" people, but I think it applies just as readily to "attractive" people. I think pretty people use their prettiness to protect their tender hearts from being so visible and vulnerable.

I don't know where I'm going with all this. I guess I just have a lot to figure out about who I am and what I want.

So far, this semester ROCKS.

2007-08-27T20:59:00.000-07:00

Maybe I'm just in my honeymoon phase with UNT, but I'm loving it so far. A lot.

I won the spot in the UNT Baroque Orchestra, which I am really kind of giddy to begin. I get to take Baroque cello lessons! They have a ton of period instruments, and I'm just thrilled to be a part of it. It's kind of hard to believe. I didn't think they'd audition me at all, so I hadn't prepared anything to play. I found out last night that there were too many cellists vying for the same one spot, so I'd be auditioning the next day (i.e., today). So, I dusted off the first two movements of the ol' Bach Gamba Sonata (I haven't touched it since March 24) this morning and played the audish this afternoon. And now . . . I get to learn how to play the Baroque cello! I'm excited. And amused. Our rehearsals start at 4:15--I think that's really funny. Get it? Baroque Orchestra? 415?

Another amazing thing is that Edgar Meyer is coming to play with the UNT Symphony Orchestra in October. I have long idolized Edgar Meyer--I think he's one of the most talented people in music today. We're playing with him the Bottesini Concerto No. 2 and his own bass concerto. Let's just say that the very thought of being in the same room as him gets me really excited. Add to that we are playing WITH him, and playing HIS work. I just hope I can watch him from wherever it is that I'm sitting (which, by the way, I will find out tomorrow).

Seriously, I'm really excited about this year.

BYU vs. UNT

2007-08-21T20:53:00.000-07:00

Now that I'm officially oriented in the UNT College of Music, I'd like to note a few differences between my two schools.

1. Practice Rooms
BYU: 25? on one floor of the music building. scheduled, but flexibly so. free. unlocked during building hours (6am-11pm).
UNT: 300. in two buildings containing only practice rooms. keyed doors. rented for $80 for the year. unlocked during building hours (till 11:30 on weeknights, 2:30am on weekends).

2. Personnel
BYU: Mostly Caucasian. A peppering of minorities and international students. Clean-cut, modest, sparkly.
UNT: Maybe 50% Caucasians from the States, the rest minority and / or international students. Smelly, hairy, and smokers.

3. Organization
BYU: a fairly well-oiled machine: Mormons are used to managing large groups of people.
UNT: surprisingly disorganized: one would think that they would have figured out the most efficient way to do some of these things.

Well, that's all I've got so far. It's interesting. I miss my Provo-friends.

"My loneliness is killing me . . . "

2007-08-16T06:36:00.001-07:00

I never thought I'd miss Provo so much. Of course, it's not Provo that I miss at all, really. I miss the people in Provo who love me. I feel completely alone here in Texas.

The thought has recently occurred to me that I really don't feel like anyone knows me. I know for a fact that it happens to be my fault that this is the case. I'm an incredibly guarded person. People terrify me. I can't imagine laying my whole person on a table and allowing someone else to see everything there is to see inside of me. I know that's why I really DON'T have anyone every close to me. I just don't know how to change.

I guess this isn't the first time I've thought about how closed I am. It's just hitting me again, now that I don't even have anyone remotely close to me. I can't think of a person here that I would feel comfortable telling even stupid stuff--about my crushes, or being scared about UNT or whatever. At least at the Y I had roommates to talk to. While I love my parents, I get the feeling that they don't really want to listen to me a lot of the time. I mean, they're real grown-ups, and they're in a completely different stage of life than I am, so I think it's just hard for them to relate to me.

Thinking about it now, I'm wondering if perhaps that is why I am holding onto my extra pounds. Being overweight is my buffer--it ensures that no one tries to get too close to me. I can hide behind my weight, so when anyone talks to me, they're not really seeing ME. Likewise, if I get rejected, I can blame it on the weight. And I do, often! I always say things to myself like, "Maybe he'd like me if I were thin!" Maybe it's not the fact that I'm fat that steers people away from me--maybe it's the Fat Mentality. I wonder, if I could somehow stop making excuses for myself and own up to what I am, if that would change my relationships with people.

I want to be done. I want to stop thinking about my body so much. I want to go try on clothes without ending up completely depressed. I want to have no excuses to make for myself--I want to love myself so that others can love me. I want to stop being scared and I want to give everyone permission to get inside of me. I want to be a normal, functioning human being for once in my life.

Trepidation . . .

2007-08-14T07:16:00.000-07:00

So, I'm starting to get really scared about UNT. I know exactly what's going to happen: I'm going to get there and get played into the floor by EVERYONE. I, as a graduate student, will be the weakest player there, and everyone will say, "How the hell did she get into this school?!" And then they will say it's because I studied with Osadchy before, or because my dad works at the school, or for some other reason . . .

Do I have what it takes to be great, or even good? I've never really learned to work hard. All that I've done to this point in my life I have coasted through. I wonder what would happen if I gave something--anything--110% effort. Usually I feel pretty good about myself if I do about 80%. I guess I need to experience a mighty change of heart.

I know that I'll be behind lots of people. I guess this is my opportunity to catch up. To learn what I haven't yet learned. To perfect my technique and to be a great cellist. I think I could be great. I certainly don't have the chops right now, but what I do have is the heart. That's what makes me special as a musician. If only I had the pristine technique to support that heart, then I could really play with the big boys.

My constant fear in life is that, in whatever aspect, I will not be good enough. I am foolishly in constant search of evidence to support my fear, and right now it's pretty well emphasized. I have few friends, and none of them terribly close. I am preparing to begin the adventure of graduate school, where I'm certain I will land in every remedial class they offer. I haven't been on one date all summer. I want to lose weight and--for once in my life--get to a place where I feel good about my body, but I can't seem to do it.

Maybe all of these things are related. Maybe it's not the fact that all these things are happening that make me fear that I'm not good enough--perhaps instead it is the fact that I'm doubtful of my own self-worth that creates these situations. In any case, I want to like myself. I can hardly remember a time when I have.

To allot time for S&H . . .

2007-08-13T14:00:00.001-07:00

Since my birthday falls in a month, I thought I would post my birthday wish list now so that the mass orders to Amazon.com and other major retailers doesn't crash their system. Thoughtful of me, I know. I'm a giver.

I'm including generals and specifics, so if you're like me and you have no clue what to get people, you can do that. If, on the other hand, you're one of those who prefers just general guidelines and gets pleasure out of choosing the perfect gift, then go to it!

DVDs:
Season 1 of the Adventures of Pete & Pete, any season but the first of King of the Hill, Stranger than Fiction, March of the Penguins, the Lizzie McGuire movie, Pay it Forward, Nacho Libre, or anything else that makes me laugh, cry, and / or fall in love.

Music:
Anything by Ella Fitzgerald, Miles Davis, Wynton Marsalis, the Turtle Island String Quartet, Django Reinhardt, Diana Krall, Mischa Maisky, Bjork, Bela Fleck (and the Flecktones) . . .
choral music based on liturgical texts . . .
OR your favorite music, whatever that may be.

Books:
Things that make you think about your life.

Stationary:
Anything cute that makes me want to write lots of letters. This includes stickers, and stamps.

Jewelry:
Earrings. For sensitive ears.

Love letters:
Handwritten & (somewhat) sincere.

Hugs:
Any variety, except the dreaded side-hug.

A boyfriend:
Tall and handsome.

"So . . . are you dating anyone?"

2007-08-11T10:29:00.000-07:00

After having graduated from BYU withOUT my MRS. degree, that seems to be a fairly common question. I know people are well-meaning, and they just want to know what's going on in my life, but for myself (and many others like me), questions like that cause great discomfort and other such bad feelings.

Truth be known, I can probably count on two hands the number of dates that I was pleasured to go on in my BYU career. Now, as Provo seems to be the marriage capitol of the world, one might wonder how that could be. I have often lost sleep over the matter myself (a fact that I am not proud of, but it's the truth nonetheless).

Now, I am trying to avoid writing from the bitter perspective one might expect of a woman in my situation. Rather, I am going to attempt as much objectivity as possible, exploring things from all points of view.

Considering the unusual homogeneity of the BYU population, it seems natural that one would, of necessity, create delineations to distinguish segments of the populace one from another. Now, as far as the BYU populace compares to those of other universities, I would argue that BYU's student body is largely quite "eligible." It is composed mostly of intelligent, hard-working, spiritual, kind, service-oriented, and unusually good-looking students. For most BYU students, the above listed qualities are necessities in a potential partner, not simply bonus points. And so, whereas at any other university those criteria might severely limit one's dating pool, at BYU they hardly weed anyone out.

So, how do you decide who to like? It seems that most BYU students place everyone around them on a continuum. At one end of the spectrum you have those people who are "more" the qualities listed than others, and at the opposite end are those who are "less" so. Being that most everyone has much of the same background and so forth (I say that carefully, knowing that it will offend some who proclaim that they are different from everyone else. I realize that everyone is still different, but I am saying that BYU students are much more like one another than most other student populations), many people are attracted to the same types of people. Because of that fact, there is usually a rather small population that is fairly universally recognized as "above average" (keeping in mind, of course, that BYU's average is very highly skewed from the general average).

So, in every ward (or class or major or club or whatever), there are a handful of individuals who are the top picks from that organization. These are the individuals who are exceptional in one aspect or another: either they are incredibly sweet, or incredibly good-looking, or incredibly charismatic. Now, the other 95% of the population of the group will fall in love with those few. So, 5% of the population experiences great interest from the opposite sex. The rest of us are left to compete with the rest of the world, and will inevitably lose out to the top 5 percentile.

Of course, this only stands to explain why so many people don't date. In the girls' cases, the guys are too busy clamoring for the attention of a Top 5% Girl to pay any mind to the rest of us. In the guys' cases, I've often heard of their being rejected simply because the Top 5% Girl is simply "not interested" in him, since she has so many offers for dates that it becomes necessary for her to prescreen her candidates. Thus, they get hurt and are less likely to go out on a limb for the next girl. It's a vicious cycle.

As to long-term relationships, I must admit to being completely clueless as to how these things develop. From observation, I suppose it generally comes from a series of dates which eventually lead to exclusivity, but I always get stuck at the "series of dates" part. It perplexes me the way that people decide they want to be in a relationship. I suppose, never having been put in such a position, that a great deal of the mystery I sense in these matters would be relieved if I were ever to experience them first hand. Still, though, I find myself scratching my head on these things. Never mind proposals and marriages and all of that nonsense!

All in all, I feel like most people's romantic frustrations are rooted in the fact that we are crossing too many wires. We are interested in those who are not interested in us, just as we are not interested in those who are interested in us. I suppose the magic happens when two people are mutually interested in one another, and can then proceed to develop a beautiful relationship from the simple fact that each enjoys the other's company.

I have no idea why we must make it so complicated.

Crazy Hours

2007-08-08T05:27:00.000-07:00

So, my last paycheck was pretty pathetic. In fact, it was the smallest paycheck I've received yet, even including my paid training, when my pay was 60% what it is now. I worked ONE day during the last pay period, which definitely reflected itself on my measley little check. I do believe that I wanted a job so that I could get paid to work. Isn't that usually what goes on?

However, in the most recent pay period, I have worked every day but one, usually for a pretty sizeable day. Next check should be better.

I'm just glad I'm not depending on this income to feed a family like many of my colleagues. Basically, I'm just working for gas money and extra money, not for groceries or rent or the electric bill . . .

I appreciate that this work is such that it is unpredictable, and that one can never really be sure of getting work. Still, it seems to me that the disparity between my lowest paycheck and my highest (which amounts to a little over $200) is QUITE A RANGE. I mean, really.

The other problem is that because this work is so sporadic, and because I never know even 24 hours in advance if I'm working the following day, it doesn't allow for me to, say, get another job, in order to guarantee that I can at least have a decent source of income. No, I am at the whim of this company, who can apparently use or not use my services as they please. For although I certainly have had enough time not working to hold down another job, there is no way I could plan on that. Boohoo.

Still, I guess I'm just lucky that I'm not depending on this to put food on my table. Any money is good money, right?

The Way to a (wo)Man's Heart . . .

2007-08-04T19:16:00.000-07:00

. . . is through her stomach. And watching "Ratatouille" has made me think about my favorite foods. So, here is a list of my all-time favorite fare, in no particular order:

* hummus--I love hummus.
* mango sticky rice
* a good, ripe, juicy peach
* crisp-tender steamed broccoli
* chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream--I have several favorite flavors of ice cream, but this is the king of them all
* Fuji apples
* bananas
* Honey-Nut Cheerios--with 2% milk
* miso soup
* edamame--steamed, salted soybeans in their pods
* agedashi tofu
* Masaman curry (with tofu)
* tomato-basil soup
* grilled cheese sandwich
* pb&j--especially on an English muffin
* Reese's Peanut Butter Cup
* watermelon--but it has to be REALLY good
* biscuits
* baby carrots
* yogurt-granola parfait
* cheesecake

mmmmm . . .

This is what happens when you watch a movie about food after you've started fasting . . .

The Contents of My Purse

2007-07-31T17:59:00.001-07:00

Why? Because I'm bored.

* sunglasses (Esprit brand, inherited from Roommate Shelly)
* ticket stub from Kimbell Art Museum's "The Mirror and the Mask: Portraiture in the Age of Picasso"
* iPod
* iPod earbuds (listed separately because they're not connected to the iPod itself)
* ticket stub from the Simpsons Movie
* schedule for Institute, Fall 07-08
* the novel Wuthering Heights
* tic-tacs (spearmint)
* a bottle of Aleve
* one cake of Liebenzeller Metall-Kolophonium Rosin, Gold IV
* one Tourte cello mute (one-hole)
* checkbook
* tampons (6!)
* wallet
* lotion (Bath & Body Works Pleasures: Sparkling Peach)
* two half-empty packages Eclipse Winterfrost gum
* one tube Chapstick (medicated)
* Mead Fat Lil' Notebook
* hair elastic
* house and car keys
* one pot Savex lip balm (peppermint)
* ticket stub from Aztec Theatre in San Antonio
* fortune from cookie ("Set the right example. It will inspire others.")
* card from Logan's Shoe Shop, where my wedding shoes are being dyed
* one tube Banana Boat lip balm (Aloe Vera with Vitamin E, SPF 30)
* one tube Softlips lip balm (French Vanilla)
* three black Bic pens
* two mechanical pencils
* one pen from Ryan High School ("Excellence in Action")

My Lackluster Love Life Lacks Lust . . . errrrr . . .

2007-07-29T18:58:00.000-07:00

I'm romantically BORED. There just aren't enough men in my life right now. There is ONE male at work, who smokes and uses "sentence enhancers" liberally, and can't read or write very well. Plus, he's married and has kids . . . not exactly what I'm looking for in a man.

At church, there are a few who have piqued my interest, but I feel like all the guys in the Singles' Ward are socially awkward. At least all the ones that AREN'T engaged. Or maybe they're just completely uninterested. In me. In girls. In humankind. And they just talk about WoW all day. Or nothing at all.

Boy #1:
He's pretty much adorable. I've noticed several girls share a special interest in him, and he seems completely unaware of it. Maybe he's just playing dumb, because it's easier than rejecting the girls. Or perhaps he's gay. For the first few weeks I was here, he would talk to me, and I was always so astounded by his beauty that I couldn't think of a thing to say and just muttered stupid stuff. It's been a while since he's said anything to me. Sigh . . .

Boy #2:
Another adorable one, but in this boyish, innocent, pure way. His eyes (blue) just sparkle, and I love his smile. I NEVER see him talking to girls. Only to nerdy boys, and about nerdy boy things. We've exchanged a few words, but only when necessary. I've tried to place myself in convenient places for him to strike up a conversation, but he's never really taken the bait. It is my assessment that he's one of those nerdy boys who doesn't know that he's actually really quite attractive, and thus is really shy. I try to build guys like that up, but I don't know how to do it when I have such little contact with the boy!

Boy #3:
Much more outgoing than the first two cases, this boy is sweet, friendly, and handsome. He's got me utterly confused, though. We're friends, and we talk, and we have a good time, but is it just because he's a Nice Guy? Gah.

Essentially, I just want someone who will hold my hand, let me scratch his back, cuddle with me, and talk to me. Shouldn't be so hard, eh?

On Bra Shopping

2007-07-24T18:30:00.001-07:00

I am currently quite depressed. In other words, I just went bra shopping.

Okay. So welcome to reality, Self. I seem somehow unable to realize that the only women I've seen in just their skivvies just happen to be lingerie models, and take it as an opportunity to beat up on myself. Let's be honest, though: I'm not one of those girls who just has body image issues because of the media, and is actually healthy and perfect the way she is. The truth is, I'm carrying quite a bit of extra weight. I'm not blaming the media for that. I'm just making the statement that it's unfair to compare myself to the lingerie models when I know that there are plenty of women who look more like me that feel pretty comfortable in their own skin. I wish I were those women.

Instead, I make myself sick with horror upon looking in the mirror. Every part of my body represents some sort of flaw, and that's hardly an exaggeration (I've just done a mental scan of my body from head to toe, and my lips came out unscathed, but everything else is subject to rejection--EVERYTHING). That's not to say that I'm unhappy with every part of my body every second of my life: sometimes, I think to myself, "My hair looks really good today," or even, "Man, I'm sexy," but mostly it ends up being stuff like, "Your cuticles are gross," or "You have ugly kneecaps," and stuff like that. I've only just realized in typing that out that usually, when I feel good about myself, I'll speak in first person. When I'm talking down to myself, I use the second person. I'm sure there is some deep psychological reason for that--something like I'm trying to distance myself from what I disapprove about myself.

I keep trying to talk myself into being friends with myself again, but I am losing the battle with myself. I keep forgetting to tell myself that I'm beautiful, etc. I wish I believed that more. Maybe if I really believed that I were beautiful, I'd convince others of the same.

Dear Yous

2007-07-22T21:26:00.000-07:00

Dear You:

You are one of three people in the world in whom I hold complete confidence. I'm so glad we've been friends for so long, even if it started out with you throwing things at me. You're such a strong human being and I love that about you. I know it's been a rough couple of years for you (made harder by the fact that you're away from home and family), but I love seeing you grow from those experiences and become an even greater person than you already are. You can always make me smile and laugh, and you're always there for me when I cry (even if you make fun of me for it) . . . and I couldn't ask for a better friend than you. I love you, and I hope I can be there for you like you've been there for me.

Love,
Me

Dear You:

Come on, you HAVE to know that I like you. I mean, I'm sure a guy like you has plenty of experience with interested young ladies, and figuring out who exactly those may be. I think you may be vaguely interested in me, too, but I can't really tell if it's interest or just your general niceness--I always have that problem with really nice guys. Anyway, I think you're really handsome (I know you at least know that, since I told you point-blank), and basically an all-around good guy. Maybe you're out of my league, but I've always been an optimist.

Love,
Me

Dear You:

I can't believe you're getting married!! They grow up so quick. I'm glad to have had the chance to get to know you--it has always been fun to have someone who understands the way I think! It's been fun to have you in the room down the hall, across the breezeway, or halfway around the block, and randomly popping in unannounced. I love your randomness, I love your smile, I love your brain, I love your sock and sneaker collections, I love Sven, and I LOVE YOU. I wish you and your Canadian a lovely life together, and I look forward to hearing all about it!

Miss you,
Me

Dear You:

I don't think you read this, but oh well . . .
I'm so glad we were thrown together our freshman year. I've learned a lot from you and I've loved our late-night talks and 20th century compositions and all the good times. Thanks for always being on my side. Thanks for your patience with me. Thanks for letting me borrow your car, even if I almost break the door with my negligence. Thanks for being my friend and ally, thanks for listening to me, thanks for being all the wonderful and beautiful things you are. I love you.

Love,
Me

Dear You and You and You:

You did like me, right? At least for a minute? For that time we talked in the hallway for 45 minutes, or the drive to Mt. Pleasant, or playing in the snow, respectively? If I did something to screw it up, I'd like to know, because obviously I haven't figured it out in at least three tries. I don't want you to think I'm still hung up on You(s), because I'm not. I wonder a little bit what might have been if I'd done something differently, but I'm happy for You(s) and for the way things have worked out for You(s) and Her(s), even if I had to learn about it in a way other than straight from You. I think You are all pretty neat guys, so thanks anyway for being You(s).

With complacency,
Me

Dear You:

You make me just about as uncomfortable as I have ever been in my life. It's more than just awkwardness (heaven knows I've dealt with enough awkwardness to make myself immune to it): it's Extreme Awkwardness intricately interwoven with hormones, teen angst, and foul language (and, when occasion permits, alcohol). The thing is, I actually think you're a pretty sweet guy underneath it all, I just wish that the gentleman inside of you would come closer to the surface and beat up the creep that seems to be running you right now. You'll grow out of it, I think.

Love,
Me

p.s. I'm too old for you anyway.

Dear You:

I'll probably never see you again, but I think you're the sweetest guy I've ever met. My crush on you surprised even myself, and it drove me crazy because I knew I couldn't ever act on it. I know it sounds corny, but on the rare occasions that our hands would touch, or sometimes when you would just look at me with those adorable eyes, my heart would be fluttering all over the place. I feel like there isn't a mean, dirty, or impure bone in your body--you just exude goodness. I hope things work out for you, and that you find some amazing, bright, beautiful woman to marry (when you get back). And hey, if it takes a while longer, look me up. I'd jump on that.

Love,
Me

More "Dear Yous" to come? We'll see.

On "Sentence Enhancers"

2007-07-21T17:02:00.000-07:00

Has anyone ever seen that episode of Spongebob Squarepants where Spongebob and Patrick learn about the Thirteen Words You're Never Supposed To Say? Before they learn that those are bad words, they identify them as "sentence enhancers," and employ them liberally in their daily conversation. I think my co-workers feel the same about that.

When we are in the car going from place to place, most of my co-workers enjoy using sentence enhancers for every sentence. Some are even so skilled as to use two or three in the same sentence, or to use the same sentence enhancer in two or three different parts of speech in the same sentence. I am not so adept.

It reminds me a bit of high school, and it's causing me to realize that certain of my co-workers, though much older than myself, have some tendencies which are quite immature. I would say putting the F-bomb at least once in every sentence falls into that category. It's funny. Well, not so much funny-"haha." Okay, maybe it's not funny at all.

Anyway, after having worked a full eight-hour day cleaning three houses (one of which had formerly housed 7 dogs, one of which was pretty well thrashed due to remodeling and so forth), I'm exhausted.

It was, however, delightful to have dinner with the Hartfields, whom I have not seen since . . . well, before they were "the Hartfields." Oh, such good times we used to have back at ol' Billy C.

Back to the Grindstone

2007-07-15T12:34:00.000-07:00

Well, my two-week affair with Brahms is now over, and it's back to the mop and bucket for the rest of the summer. It was fun while it lasted.

I realized in my time at Mimir that I have spent my four years at BYU pretty uninspired, at least musically speaking. Not that I was the best player there--I wasn't--but the majority of those that were better than me (this is going to sound overly critical, so forgive me) still left me wanting more. There were very very few (in fact, I can only think of one) whose playing I found utterly convincing and inspiring. Again, it's not that I didn't look up to other musicians at BYU, because there were lots of people who did lots and lots of things better than me--it's just that there wasn't really anyone that I wanted to model myself after. Incidentally, even the soloists who came through I found to be largely uninspiring. Sure, they had chops, but I didn't feel like they were connecting with the music, or that they were making any attempt at all to connect to me.

In listening to the Mimir faculty in their concerts, I found the inspiration I'd been missing. It was glorifying to hear music played so beautifully--with impeccable technique and heartfelt expression. I want to be THAT. There's a whole other plane of musicianship that I can tap into. I feel as though my progress at BYU was only within a limited plane, but there's so much more that I (or anyone) can achieve. I think I'd forgotten that.

I have come to believe that we all have this desire to be great. Call it ambition, call it aspiration, call it what you will, but each of us wants to be something meaningful to the world. Somehow music has the ability to bring out the greatness in otherwise very ordinary people. We become a part of something bigger than just ourselves--something as big as the human experience. And it means something! It matters.

We become uncomfortable with ourselves when we are not living up to the greatness that we desire. I think that deep down inside, we all truly believe that we ARE already great, which is why it bothers us so much when we feel we are falling short of the mark. The greater we think we are, the more it irks us to be anything less than A+. Some of us have managed to build a career around fraudulent mediocrity, but we are left wondering what might have been IF we'd lived up to our potential. We could have been great. It eats us up.

It's like that quote (that I just found is not by Nelson Mandela, but instead Marianne Williamson, an American spiritual activist):

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond imagination. It is our light more than our darkness which scares us. We ask ourselves – who are we to be brilliant, beautiful, talented, and fabulous. But honestly, who are you to not be so?

"You are a child of God, small games do not work in this world. For those around us to feel peace, it is not example to make ourselves small. We were born to express the glory of god that lives in us. It is not in some of us, it is in all of us. While we allow our light to shine, we unconsciously give permission for others to do the same. When we liberate ourselves from our own fears, simply our presence may liberate others."

I want to give you permission to live out the greatness that you and I both know is inside of you.

"One time, at Band Camp . . . "

2007-07-05T12:39:00.000-07:00

Yep, here I am, like a nerd, at Music Camp. Chamber music camp, to be precise. The Mimir Chamber Music Festival at TCU to be completely precise. It's interesting. I forget how to be away from home. I get bored at the dorms. It's been nice to be around people my own age for a change.

Another interesting thing is that I keep forgetting where I am. For the past few years, being "away from home" meant being 1200 miles away--here, it's shrunk to about 45 miles. When I see someone who looks like someone I know, I have to think: "Is that a Texas person or a Utah person? And where am I right now?"

We saw Transformers last night. It was about a B- film. I do have a crush on Shia LeBeouf, though. He's adorable.

This is so stream of consciousness. Let's see.

Eating out for lunch and dinner every day is making me gain back the weight that I've lost since coming home. Boo.

I wish that I were in a group of players much much much much much better than myself, rather than the group now where everyone is kind of on equal footing. I play better the better my colleagues play.

I actually kind of miss the 5th Wardians. And specifically, one or two (or three) cute boys there. IT's been hard to nurse any kind of relationship with my being all over the place and my attendance being as spotty as it is. Plus I can't figure out if the boys in question are interested or just nice (I suspect the latter, though I hope for the former).

In Other News, I miss my Utah friends. Especially the fact that . . . well, that I actually HAD FRIENDS in Utah. Sigh.

All the Lonely People

2007-06-29T21:11:00.000-07:00

I have been entirely fascinated by people in the past week or so. I've really kind of started to get settled into this maid job, and it gives me lots of contact with people. It's very interesting how people interact with us. There are basically three tiers:

(I.) Are friendly and kind to us--engage us in intelligent conversation and speak to us like normal human beings.
(II.) Let us in their homes and then promptly begin to pretend as though we aren't there, or they don't see us.
(III.) Speak disrespectfully to us (and ABOUT us when we are in earshot) and hover over our shoulders to ensure that we do our job.

You learn to really appreciate those who treat you like you're an actual person with thoughts and feelings and interests and aspirations. An interesting side note is that children, no matter what tier their parents are in, will most often fall into the first tier. They haven't yet learned the caste system.

Still, this situation has allowed for some interesting insights in the past week. One day, for example, there was a lady who was just being plain nasty. She kept breathing down our necks and telling us how we should be doing our jobs and how everyone messed up the last time they'd been there. She'd jump into the room and bark some command and then leave rolling her eyes. It was apparent that she thought we were idiots who were incapable of understanding any instruction at all. Incidentally, it made us all feel like crap, and made us mad. My two co-workers had been to her home before, and apparently she hadn't been much better then, so while my first inclination was to give her the benefit of the doubt and tell myself that she'd just been having a bad day, the fact that they attested to her habitual rudeness had me quickly assimilate to their belief that she was, in fact, just an evil woman.

As it turns out, though, she WAS having a pretty rough day. She later confided in us that she'd found out earlier (just before she came home and started wailing on us, actually) of a pretty serious--possibly terminal--medical condition in her life. I realized then that she wasn't really just a mean person. She was just feeling like crap herself, and it was easy to pass that along to us, since she didn't really see us as regular human beings anyway.

My fascination doesn't end there, though. I've just escaped from Happy Valley, where everyone is cut from kind of the same cloth (argue if you will, Provonians, that you are the exception to the rule, but let's face it: there's a pretty predictable demographic). The large majority of the population is upper-middle class, mostly Caucasian, Mormon, young, and attractive. Here in Texas, though, you find all different types. Many of my co-workers are involved in a few things that I had kind of forgotten people do outside of the Happy Valley: like smoking, partying, cohabitation, and employment of liberal use of words that earn "R" ratings by the MPAA, etc. In my current state of BYU narrow-mindedness, it seems natural that I should simply shun any persons involved in such activities. Obviously, they are terrible people.

As I've talked with some of these people, though, I find that they're actually pretty outstanding people. They're trying to do what's right. Lots of them have hit a snag or two along the way, but they want what's best for their families and loved ones.

One woman in particular got me thinking. She was talking about how she wanted to raise her sons to know better than she did--to teach them what her mother failed to teach her, to use herself as an example of what not to be. She had made lots of really hard, really positive changes in her life, and so she knows the consequences of the things against which she counsels her boys. I thought of the Biblical parable of the talents, but somewhat differently: she had perhaps not been given the blessings that many of us take for granted. She'd grown up in a home where certain values were not taught. Still, she's taken what she was given and improved upon it so greatly. I, on the other hand, have been given so many gifts and blessings, and what have I done to show for it? Am I a better person that I was yesterday? Will my children grow up to be better than I am?

It's not what you've been given that counts, but what you make of it.

Expect the Unexpected.

2007-06-26T19:47:00.000-07:00

Last night at this time, I had no idea that I'd be spending the first two weeks of July with my beloved Brahms at the Mimir Chamber Music Festival at TCU. Things change.

I was on the alternate list, and someone actually backed out! So now I get to take two weeks off from work (despite having been hired only two weeks ago) and play cello all day instead of mopping floors. Wild.

I'm growing accustomed to life in Denton once again. Barring constant gnawings of boredom and loneliness, I really kinda like this place simply because it's home. I'm enjoying the time with my family. My dad, for example, is hilarious. The other day, he sang a song about 5/4 time signature (to the title theme of the Incredibles): I think the lyrics were "I'm cool, I'm 5/4!" or something like that. He also enjoys playing DJ and putting on weird, cool stuff. It's funny. He gets really excited about whatever he puts on, and turns it way up. My mom then walks through the living room, shouts, "What is this?! Can you turn it down?" and I laugh. The same scene repeated countless times in my life. SOME things never change.

WARNING: MORMON-SPEAK TO FOLLOW.
So, another funny thing that happened was that my home teacher called to make an appointment. I think he may suspect that I'm inactive, because he identified himself thusly:

"Hi, this is Tyler . . . I'm your home teacher . . . from church . . . "

It might also be that he's just awkward on the phone like I am, but I think it's funnier the first way. I can't even blame him, either. I mean, after all, my attendance in 5th ward has been spotty due to family in town, certain missionary farewells, and the like--and besides that, I'm not one to jump up and introduce myself to people, either. So, due to the fact that I've been in the ward for a month now and have only met a handful of people, it's no wonder he should think that. Poor kid.

I'm Lonely

2007-06-24T18:24:00.000-07:00

Of course, this is nothing new. I get lonely pretty easily, even when I'm surrounded by people. What's different about this is that I'm NOT around people so much these days, and that definitely makes things worse.

Today, I went to church. After church, there was choir, and after choir . . . well, I just hung around for another hour. I finally decided that I just wanted to be around people who were my age, since I went from constantly being surrounded by my demographic peers to hardly seeing any of them at all. Everyone kept asking why I was there: if my name was on the interview list, or if I had a meeting. No, I was just enjoying being around people.

Introverted as I am, it's interesting what a social creature I am. That's not to say that I don't have my moments when I like to be alone, but back in Provo when I had three roommates and all my neighbors were people who were my age, and in my church community AND my school community (some to a greater extent than others), my solitary time was much more limited than it now is. In fact, it was downright rare. Now the tables have turned, and I don't feel like I'm the part of ANY community at all.

I don't even feel like I've been integrated into the ward yet, though I've been back here in Denton for more than a month now. It may not help that for whatever reason, my attendance in the 5th ward has been spotty, and I keep forgetting about things like Institute and FHE and so forth. Part of it, too, is that the ward is so fluid, and I'm having a hard time figuring out who's actually in the ward, who's just visiting, who's going to be here next week, who's leaving in the Fall, etc.

Still, the fact remains that I spend my weekends hanging out with my parents (Friday night, we watched Madame Butterfly on DVD, Saturday night we went to the Dallas Sympony), and while I enjoy that, I still somewhat wish that I were hanging otu with people from my own demographic at least on occasion. Oh, that people liked me.

My "type"

2007-06-17T13:37:00.000-07:00

I've often prided myself on not having a "type." I've had many roommates who could tell you exactly what they prefer: guys with this color hair and this color eyes, about yea tall, with a build like so . . .

This concept of a "type" has always left me somewhat befuddled. I am attracted to so many guys, and I find having a "type" limiting. However, yesterday I had a conversation wherein I jokingly said to my dear friend Drew something about "liking 'em beefy." I realized to myself that in actuality, that's pretty contrary to my actual taste. That got me to thinking about guys that I've liked, and what they've had in common. I got really interested in that idea, so I decided to do some rough statistical sketches of my crush population since 2003.

I found that the most common first initial is a tie between "J" and "R" (16% each), and the most common first name is "Chris" (with 8% of my crushes carrying that name).

As to build, roughly
65% are what I would consider to be "lanky"
20% are "average"
10% are "cut," and
5% are "beefy"

Roughly 65% do NOT wear glasses
25% DO wear glasses
10% SOMETIMES wear glasses

Hair color shows no interesting trends:
40% have brown hair
39% have blond hair
13% have black or dark brown hair
8% have red or reddish hair

75% of Rachel Crushes play a musical instrument of some sort, either as a vocation or an avocation (60% are music majors).

I seem to have preferences toward certain instruments. Of the 75% who play an instrument:
17% play percussion
14% play double bass
14% play guitar
11% play saxophone
7% play cello
the remainder is divided amongst non-classical keyboard, other orchestral string instruments, and winds

Learn to Speak Germasian!

2007-06-12T21:42:00.000-07:00

It's come to my attention that some of the things I say should be interpreted in ways other than their literal meanings. This has caused confusion with my parents since I've been back home, so I felt compelled to try and clear things up. I may regret this later, but here it is: Conversational Germasian 101. I'll give the phrase itself first, and the Germasian translation following.

1. (English) He's a good kid = (Germasian) I have a crush on him.
2. You're a good kid = I feel like I should have a crush on you, but I don't really feel like it would go anywhere.
3. I dunno = I don't want to tell you.
4. You're dumb = I feel really comfortable around you.
5. We should hang out sometime = You should call me, because I want to spend time with you but I suck at using the phone.
6. You did a wonderful job at (such and such a performance); I was so moved = You're hot.
7. I love that kid = He's great, but I could never date him.
8. I don't care = I'd rather you choose and be happy.
9. Let's be friends = I hope we're already friends.
10. You're a good person = I love you.

The Queen of the Awkward Mosquito Bite

2007-06-11T19:37:00.000-07:00

Yes, friends, that is me. Mosquitoes eat me as though they were on the Atkins diet and I were a piece of white bread. The thing is, they don't just bite me in normal places, say, my arms or legs. They're brutal. The following are places that you should never try to get bitten by a mosquito:

*in between your toes
*on your Achilles tendon
*at the exact spot on the inside of your knee where your cello touches you
*anyplace covered by a bathing suit (trust me, i've got a couple of those right now)
*anywhere on your face
*on the spot on your back that you can't reach

Yeah . . . good times.

In Other News, I got a job! Glamorous. So glamorous, in fact, that people dress up like me for Halloween!

Yes, I'm a maid. Not a French Maid, though, so I don't think I get to wear the sassy black and white digs. The company is called "Maid in America," so maybe I'll look more like this:

In any case, I think being a maid ramps my sex appeal by at least 50%. Please feel free to fall in love with me now.

Strange Happenings Afoot in Ole Denton-town . . .

2007-06-06T21:02:00.000-07:00

I think I just saw a UFO. Now, there's no way that I can be certain of this, but it seems the only logical explanation for what my mother and I saw as we walked our dog around the block. The only logical explanation.

The light coming from behind the tree seemed like it might have been lightning. But it kept flashing, in the same area of the sky, as though it were sending some kind of signal . . .

As we walked a little futher, enabling us to see more of the sky behind the tree, we noticed the light source was filling the whole section of the sky with light--green, blue, white, pink--flashing all the time. Then, suddenly, the lights stopped.

After talking with my dad, we determined that the only feasable conclusion involves aliens, coming to Earth to begin taking over. The lights were clearly meant as a "go ahead" signal--their advanced sort of morse code--for the rest of the aliens on planet Snorg, signaling that the coast was clear, and that they could all land their little spaceships in Denton and everywhere else.

I don't know what the Snorgians will do when they take over planet Earth, but it's been nice knowing you all, in the likely event that we never see each other again.

The Velvet Twinkie

2007-05-28T09:01:00.000-07:00

The Menu from the Original Velvet Twinkie! For my brother's birthday last July, my roommates and I set up a restaurant in our backyard. He and his then-girlfriend (now wife) came to the Velvet Twinkie for a romantic dinner for two. This was the menu:

Entrees (all entrees come with a house salad)

Shish kebabs--fresh chicken with assorted fruits and vegetables grilled in an Asian glaze and served on a skewer with wild rice

Gut Casserole--the innards of various animals in a mint-pickle sauce, topped with crispy pan-fried spider legs and served with pickled pigs' feet

Air soup--our house specialty: a light soup served room-temperature with pollen garnish

Desserts

Death by Chocolate--a rich piece of chocolate cake with chocolate frosting dusted with cocoa powder

Just Regular Death--we kill you with a sharp chef's knife

An Acrostic Poem

2007-05-22T15:07:00.000-07:00

My brother wrote this for me on my last birthday:

Twenty-two
Old
Lovely
Intelligent
Energetic
Terrific

Pumpernickel
Angelic
Positive
Erreplacable
Rachel

I'm pretty sure he meant to misspell "irreplaceable," but I'm not sure that he meant to misspell "toilet." Pretty funny stuff