Just My Future...NBD

So it's come to my attention that I've neglected mentioning something that's kind of a big deal.  Like only-the-next-chapter-in-my-life kind of a big deal.

*clears throat*

On June 26, I'll leave my then graduated-and-chilling-at-home lifestyle and embark on a service mission for my church, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, in Texas and Louisiana - where I'll live for the next 18 months giving service and eating gumbo and teaching about my beliefs and wrestling gators and sharing my love for Christ with the great people of the South.  Okay so the wrestling gators things may not happen...or maybe it will.

So yeah, like I said, kinda a big deal.  Just my future, ya know.

Also, today might just happen to be the 100-days-till-I-report day.  Also kinda a big deal.

Do you remember how in elementary school they made such a big deal out of the 100th day of school?  I can remember, on that particular day, doing all sorts of weird 100-themed activities, including making macaroni necklaces using exactly 100 pieces of pasta.  And also cutting out 100 little pieces of paper and using them to make the number 100 on a piece of a paper to hang around the room.  Looking back, I can't believe that I actually went to school for a whole day just to count out 100 pieces of macaroni (seriously education?  Seriously?) but I'll confess, I kinda feel like celebrating with 100-themed crafts today.  Not because it's the 100th day of school (for some reason that stopped being a celebratory thing after, like, second grade) but because I embark on my mission in 100 days.  100 ladies and gents.  100.

Except sadly macaroni necklaces stopped being cool after...well no, actually they were never cool.  So instead, in honor of today, I'm telling y'all about this great thing called my mission.

I got my mission call more than a month ago now (whoa WHAT, are you serious time - what are you doing to me, going by so fast?) on February 15.  "Getting your mission call" means you receive a little packet in the mail that tells you exactly where you're going and when you're going.  Prior to receiving my call, I'd submitted an application to the leaders of my church saying "yo, I wanna serve a mission" except actually not really that at all, but pretty much that.

And then.

Calls are special things.  You could get sent anywhere.  You could be called to learn a different language.  This picture is of me and my best friend Tony-whose-name-isn't-actually-Tony.  You may remember her from such episodes of my life as that of the adventures of The Shining.  She's already out there serving, called to Denmark.

These are my bros Fred and George, called to serve in Chile and Argentina, respectively.  You may remember them as being my bros, Fred and George.

I know people going everywhere on their missions.  From Japan to Germany to Oregon to Pennsylvania to Australia to Texas to Arizona to Nevada to Ukraine to everywhere else.

Five things to know about all us missionaries and missionaries-to-be.
1) We're all little babies.  Like mostly 18-21 year-olds.  We're giving up being in college or dating or working at some big deal job (or a small deal job) to serve.
2) We're going on missions because we want to.  Not because we're being forced into it, but because we want to.  We submitted our own applications.  We said "yo send me anywhere - I just wanna serve."  And we meant it.
3) We're serving - which means we ain't getting paid.  In fact, we're actually paying for it ourselves.  Well, us and our families.  All that travelling and living and eating and existing for 18 months (for us sisters) or 2 years (for them brothers) costs money - and we're the ones that pay it.  Because we wanna serve.
4) We're all going where we're supposed to go.  With me going to Texas, which isn't necessarily the most exotic and foreign of places, and with my bros both going to a whole different continent, I've had a few people comment almost apologetically - as if in going to Texas I got the short end of the mission stick.  Heck. NO. I can't wait to go to Texas and Louisiana, just as my bros can't wait to go to Chile and Argentina.  And I ain't jealous of them in the least - because Texas is where I'm meant to be.  And P.S. - missions are MISSIONS.  Not vacations.  It's about the people - and the people in Texas and Louisiana are my peeps now, just like George's Argentinians are his.
5) We are going on missions because we love you all.  Because we love serving, and because we love Christ, and our church, and our gospel, and because we love it so much - we want to share it with everyone else we love.  Which is all of you.  It's like if you read a book or watched a movie that you absolutely LOVED, and you just wanted to tell all your friends about it so they can love it too.  That's a mission in a nutshell.

So there you have it, my future.  At least for the next 18 months.

And I couldn't be more excited.

Now excuse me, but I need to find me some macaroni for a 100-noodles macaroni necklace.

Some habits die hard.

A Pinterest-Inspired Rant (that has nothing to do with Pinterest)

So, I saw something recently that made me whip out my feminist tool belt.

That's right, I have a feminist tool belt.  You know, in addition to my literary theory tool belt and my punctuation tool belt and also my social skills tool belt.  That last one is a bit smaller than the rest.

Here's what got me riled up.

This image has been spreading across the Internet and is getting many likes and shares and favorites and whatever you may call it - especially from women.  There aren't a lot of guys out there coming up with oh-so-funny little pictures that comment on how Bella is a terrible role model for women and how she's a terrible heroine and how she does nothing and how pretty much nobody likes her.  Yup, it's us ladies out there who are putting up things like this, and you know what?  It's really working against us.  All of us.  This picture is sending out the wrong message.

Hmm?

What is that Bayley? You are making no sense.

P.S. Bayley calm down, it's just a funny picture on the internet.

Also, you can't put P.S.'s in the middle, duh.

Don't worry, I'll explain.  And also, yeah it's just a picture on the internet, but we all know the internet is going to rule the world in approximately 1.37 years, if it isn't already doing so.  And also, I can use P.S.'s whenever I want to, because this is my blog.

And seriously, the number of voices you've got going on here, Bayley.  Calm down.  You may make schizophrenic jokes on here somethings, but this is a bit excessive

Anyways, back to the picture.

The gist of it is this: this picture is inviting criticism of Bella as a weak female because she gets married.

Wait Bayley - is this going to be one of those obnoxious opinionated posts of yours?  One of those rants?

Yes it is, (and I totally warned you it would be in the title).  But you should still totally read it.

Because my opinions are always right, duh.

Actually no, I'm sometimes wrong.

Rarely though.

Anyways, so this picture is saying that Bella is weak and terrible because she gets married, which is problematic because it is implying that marriage is weak - something weak women do.  Giving into a male-dominated society, if you will.

Problem: all three of the other women on this little poster - Hermione, Princess Leia, and Katniss, get married.  Yes, Hermione fights a Dark Lord (THE Dark Lord, actually)...and then later marries Ron Weasley and they become one of THE GREATEST couples of all time.  Yes, Princess Leia leads an army, but then she marries Han Solo and they too become one of the THE GREATEST couples of all time.  Yes, Katniss starts a rebellion (unintentionally, I might add.  Sorry, but Katniss actually isn't my favorite.  I feel like people need to take a step back from the Jennifer Lawrence looking-cool-with-her-bow-Katniss and realize that, while her sacrificing herself for her sister was nice and all that, in terms of her role in the rebellion, she didn't do too much.  Compared to Leia, she's hardly the rebel leader) but then later at the end of the third book, she and Peeta get married.  And they don't even make it onto the top ten Greatest Couples list.  Sorry guys.  But still, the point is, THEY ALL GOT MARRIED.

Soooo this picture doesn't really work because Bella's "what I did" doesn't even fit with the others - it's like "one of these things is not like the others," and that thing is Bella.  Her caption says she gets married, which they all do.  Now, I'm not defending Bella at all.  After all, if we updated this picture to make Bella's little caption more consistent, it would say something she did *before* her marriage, something she did as we were getting to know her as an individual character *prior* to marrying.  Something like "I tried to kill myself when my boyfriend left me" (that does happen, right?  I haven't actually read any of the books.  I just do my research for my blog posts.  Just kidding I didn't even double check that claim with the internet).  And actually, if her caption was changed to that, I think it would be a much more effective and funny anti-Bella picture.

Because seriously, trying to kill yourself when your boyfriend leaves you is just not okay.

But the crux of the whole thing, the thing that bothers me so much, is the anti-marriage message of it all.  That women of my generation criticize Bella as being weak NOT because of her total dependence on Edward, but because she GETS MARRIED.  It's like all those people who will argue with me over Disney Princesses, claiming they're terrible role models and not good strong women because "yeah, they all get married."

And what in the world is wrong with that?!

What is wrong with getting married?!

As a matter of fact, I would go as far to say that all women out there who share this picture, criticizing Bella for getting married, and all those who make those ridiculous claims about Disney Princesses being problematic in that they get married, are just working against women everywhere.  Actually, working against humanity.  Because you know what, marriage is a good thing.  Marriage enables families, and families are a good thing.  Having your daughters and sisters and whoever want to get married is a good thing.

So please, if you're going to use Bella as an example of a bad female role model, don't say it's because she gets married.  It's what she does for herself and on her own, and how she develops as a person and an individual herself that is the issue - like, you know, trying to kill herself when her boyfriend leaves her.  Not really a sure sign of self-confidence.

Okay, that's all.

Sometimes we just have to put on our passionate-ranting-feminist tool belts, you know?  Show the world what's up and who's right.

Hint, it's me.

Just kidding.

Mostly.

Newsie-dom

So I have a new job.  A nice little part time job to help earn money and pay for...toast bread.  Because that's really the only meal I make for myself.  Everything else I leech off other people.  But really toast is a very versatile meal - eggs on toast, peanut butter toast, jam on toast, cheese on toast.  As far as meals go, it's a pretty good one to be able to make for myself.

Anyways, back to my new job.

I am a distribution team member for the college newspaper.

Which means I hand out the newspaper to students on campus.

Which means I'm a newsie.

Yeah, I know, it's pretty glamorous.

Several mornings a week, I'm on campus starting at 7:30 with bundles of newspapers, wearing approximately forty layers with a smile plastered on my face as I hand out newspaper after newspaper to all the kids who need a Su Doku or a crossword puzzle to distract them during class.

Interesting fact, the two most common excuses I hear for *not* taking a newspaper are 1) "it's cold - I don't want to take my hands out of my pockets" (which, as the person standing out in the cold handing out the papers, I really have no sympathy for) or 2) "no I really have to study."  Seriously, those are your excuses?  I want someone to just start coming up with crazy excuses for why they don't take a paper.  "I'm sorry, my religion doesn't allow me to read newspapers."  "I'm sorry, I'm allergic to student media."  "I'm sorry, I ate paper for years, but I realized it was damaging my relationship with my pet hamster and so now I'm trying to quit."  Or, you know, something more clever than any of those.

One day I handed out 500 papers exactly.  No big deal.  I'm just pretty much really good at my job.  Which means I'm really good at being obnoxious and getting in people's faces. Politely.  Like a boss.

Also, you think I'm kidding about the wearing forty layers thing, but if this job has taught me anything, it's that I am highly lacking in adequate winter gear.  That's what happens when you spend your winters inside with Doctor Who and hot chocolate instead of going out and hitting the slopes.  And also that's what happens when you're a tightwad who, upon seeing how much decent boots cost, you decide that five layer of socks will be just as good.  Which isn't true.  Your toes still go numb.  And suddenly your shoes are two sizes too small.

Also, the whole not-being-a-slope-hitting-person and the whole being-a-tightwad-person are totally related. Do you realize how much slope-hitting costs?!

Also, I've already been told twice this week that I'm excessively fond of the word "also."  No regrets.

Anyways, so this morning, in preparation for standing outside in snow and ice and coldness for several hours, I pulled on leggings. Then sweats. Then jeans.  Two shirts.  A hoodie.  Then my coat.  A hat.  A scarf.  Two pairs of gloves.  Three pairs of socks.  Including a blue-and-teal polka dot fuzzy pair.  I may be cold, but I'm cold in style.

I looked like a marshmallow walking to campus.  At least, what a marshmallow wearing a black wool coat would look like.  If I'd slipped and fallen on the ice (which is always a likely occurrence whenever I'm walking - with or without any ice) I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have felt a thing.

But my toes were still cold.  As were my fingers.  And also my legs.  But not my neck - between high collar shirts, a hoodie, and a good warm scarf, my neck was totally good.  And then my best friend surprised me and brought me hot chocolate, which was not only an opportunity for her to gain best friend points, but was also a chance for me to prove my hot-chocolate guzzling skills.  That hot chocolate didn't stand a chance.

Anyways.

Sometimes I get good stories from work.

Like that one time I gave the paper to the guy on a longboard, who then dropped it, tried to catch it, and totally biffed it.  As in longboard-went-flying-and-it's-lucky-it-didn't-hit-someone-else-in-the-head-and-give-them-a-concussion biffed it.  I chose to pretend I didn't see it and that it didn't really happen (even though it was directly next to me) operating under the premise that his pride had been hurt more than anything else, and that thus he would prefer to think nobody saw it.

Or that one day where there was an icy patch and I saw not one, two, or three, but four people slip on the ice.  One getting off a bike.  One still on a bike.  Two walking.  And when slip #3 occurred, I couldn't help but laugh.  And it also happened to be at that moment that my boss and my supervisor came up behind me.  Clearly, I really try my best to keep up my image as a heartless terrible person who finds everyone else's pain funny.  Actually, it's not that hard.

I also once offered a paper to one of the construction workers who works at the construction site literally night next to where I stand every morning and hand out papers, separated only by a chain link fence.  And he just laughed at me.  And then I had to stand there for like 2 more hours directly next to him and his construction worker buddies, who sometimes have blowtorches and other power tools in addition to their heavy-duty equipment.  The giant excavator they use to demolish the building they're working on is very distracting.

One time I told a guy "you too" when he told me thanks for the paper.

...okay so that more have happened more than just once.

Another time someone took a paper and then handed it back. You're welcome.

And one time when I politely offered the day's paper, this guy just stuck his tongue out at me.  And then didn't even take a paper.

What is the world coming to?

But today someone told me they liked my hat, which may have made up for the sticking-his-tongue-out guy. Or at least it did, until I realized that my hat was on funny and sticking up all weird, and that that compliment may have just been mocking me.

And then he didn't even take a paper.

Jerk.

Chronicles of the Shining

So, this semester I'm taking a class called "Gothic in the Literature and Film."  Because, ya know, I'm an English major, and we get to study cool things like that.  Well, as part of this class - the "film" part of it - we are required to watch a number of movies.  First on the list, the Shining.

Slight problem.  The Shining is rated R.  Being the good Mormon girl that I am, I don't watch rated R movies.

Luckily, it didn't take long at all to come to an arrangement with my teacher: I would watch the movie outside of class, on my own, edited for my comfort.

In order to do so, I needed two things: a Clearplay player - which is a DVD player which edits out the less desirable parts of movies - and a DVD copy of the Shining to watch in said Clearplay player.  Of course, I had neither.  Enter parents, who shipped me their spare Clearplay player in a box which also contained the clothes I'd left at home (accidentally) after Christmas Break and also chocolate.  Which lasted a very short amount of time.

I have the best parents.

So I plug the Clearplay player in, rent myself a copy of the Shining from the little video store across the way, invite my friend Tony (whose name isn't really Tony) to come over and watch with me and we are all set to go.  I'm being a good student, writing down notes and trying to ignore the music which is probably the scariest part of the whole film.

We're about 45-50 minutes in when we hear the F word several times.  And we freak out.

It's important, at this point, to understand how a Clearplay player works.  You have a little thumb drive/USB stick/flash drive whatever you want to call it called the "FilterStik" which you put in your computer and download movie filters from the Clearplay website.  Then you put the FilterStik in the DVD player, put the DVD in the DVD player, adjust the settings of the filtering (how much "Dishonoring the Flag" do you want filtered?  Least filtering?  Medium filtering?  Most filtering?) and you are good to go.

Well, according to the filtering settings I had set for the film, we certainly should not have heard those F words, and if *those* weren't edited out, what else wasn't going to be edited out?

I did the first thing I always do in case of technology problems.  I called my mom.  Actually that's true for what I do in case of any problems.  Cooking, social, emotional, technology - anything.  Mom and Dad help me navigate the Clearplay remote (why in the world are there so many buttons on a remote?  It hurts my brain) and I learn that my filter for the Shining hasn't downloaded.  I try again, and again, and again but it won't work.  Dad suggests some sort of complex technology thing involving different codes on different versions of the DVD which is probably highly accurate and which I don't understand, but the gist of it all is that there is no way I'll be watching the Shining tonight if I want to watch it edited, for which I'll have to wait till Monday when Clearplay customer service opens again.

The assignment on the Shining is due Tuesday.  And being the student that I am, the thought of not being able to get the work done till the day before it was due was certainly stressing me out.  But there was nothing I could do.  So I freaked out to my mom some more and probably ate something.  It was probably chocolate.

Fast forward to Monday morning.

Clearplay customer service opens at 10.  I am on the phone with them at 9:59.  They tell me that the thing my dad suggested about the multiple codes and DVDs and fancy technology stuff is correct, and that they have to make a filter for my specific version of the Shining and will email it to me to download, the problem being that their computers are down so they can promise to get it to me at some point before 8pm that night but that's it.

I was not happy, Bob.  Not. Happy.

But it was all they could do, so I thanked them and hung up and then Tony and I had the brilliant idea to go to the little video store across the way and rent a different copy of the Shining and maybe it would have a different code and would work with the filter already in the FilterStik.  It sounded like a good idea in our heads.  So we hurried over there to learn it didn't open till 11, so we came back to my apartment, and went over again when it opened.

Except this time I locked myself out of my apartment.  Something I have taken pride in not doing once since I've lived on my own.

So I call up my roommate and tell her that oops I locked my keys inside and she said she'd be there soon and Tony and I head back to the video store, taking with us the copy of the Shining I'd rented before (which also had been due the day before since I'd only gotten it for one night) so we could check to see if the other DVD we found was a different version, or whatever.  Again, it sounded like a good idea in our heads.

So we walk in and ask the guy if he has copies of the Shining and he says yeah back in the horror section (which is scarier than the Shining itself) and we head over there and find no copies of the Shining.  At all.  As we are combing through the shelves, something occurs to me.

"Tony," I said (except I didn't really since her name isn't Tony) "how are we going to get our copy of the Shining back out of the store without him thinking we're stealing it?"
...
...
...

"Put it under your jacket."

At the time, this seemed liked the most logical solution.  But maybe not.

So we head towards the exit, Tony with a DVD I'd already paid for hidden under her jacket, walking awfully briskly, when the video store guy stops us.  "You guys couldn't find it?" he asks, since we had come in and asked for the Shining and are now leaving without any.  Or so he thinks.  "Oh, no, there's none back there," I respond casually, since Tony is too scared to be capable of speech.  "Here," he says, getting up from behind his desk, "let me check."  He gestures for us to follow him back to the horror section.  Tony's eyes are as wide as a house elf's, but what else can we do - make a run for it?  So we follow him back and he can't find any either so he goes to check his records on the computer.  "Hmm, well I have five copies," he says, "but I guess there all out.  One was due back yesterday..."

Tony and I exchange a meaningful look.

Oh really?  Due back yesterday?  That's certainly not the one we have right now.

Hidden under Tony's jacket.

No, not at all.

What kind of jerk would keep a movie past it's due date?

He volunteers to check some more, but we say we have somewhere to be and will come back later and make a hasty retreat.

That was enough of a taste with criminal life for me.

Meanwhile, my Mom has texted me that the filter for the copy of the Shining that we have has been created and emailed to her and she's forwarded it to me (it went to her because it's her Clearplay account, not mine) so we can FINALLY watch the Shining, edited to our Mormon liking.

Except there's the slight problem of being locked outside of my apartment.  All we have is my phone, our wallets, and a stolen-but-not-really copy of the Shining.

So, of course we go buy cheeseburgers and fries as we wait for my roommate to arrive to let us in.

When in crisis, eat.

Also eat when in doubt, or when in sadness, or really whenever.  Eating is always the solution.  Except to getting fat.

And the filter worked.  We watched the movie.  I took notes.  We complained about how stupid the leading characters were and discussed what precautionary measures we would take to ensure never being in the same situation as Wendy Torrance (1: we wouldn't marry an abusive alcoholic 2: we wouldn't marry Jack Nicholson, or any other crazy man 3: we would marry someone weaker than us so that if they did end up losing their minds, we would still be able to beat them in a fight) and finally I was able to finish my assignment and write the short paper and prepare myself entirely for class the next day.

Monday, 8pm, email from Gothic Lit teacher:
"Per doctor's orders, I have to have one week of bed rest due to a back injury.  Tomorrow's class is cancelled."

Of course it is.

Live from Disneyworld

I interrupt my own vacation to bring you this thrilling blog post.

Because I care about you.  I really do.

And also because I have some vacation downtime and narrowed my options down to either writing or taking a shower.  And since I'm on vacation and can do whatever I want to do, not whatever society tells me I should do, I chose writing.  Because let's face it, lying in a luxurious bigger-than-any-bed-I've-ever-slept-in-before bed writing a blog post is way more vacation-esque than taking a shower.

Anyways.

As you may or may not know,

I'm at Disneyworld. 

Well, not at this exact moment.  Right now I'm technically sitting on a luxurious bigger-than-any-bed-I've-ever-slept-in-before bed.  But I'm here, in this house, in Florida, for the purpose of going to Disneyworld.

And as you may or may not know, one popular attraction at Disneyworld is a ride known by the name of "It's a Small World."  For those of you unfamiliar with this particular attraction, "It's a Small World" is a boat ride through all these different countries (not literally of course) filled with small dolls (appropriately dressed for the culture of their respective country) who are all singing "it's a small world after all" over and over and over again.

(Forgive my heavy use of parentheses in this post.  I just really like parentheses.)

Now despite the many, many jokes which circulate inside and outside of Disney theme parks assigning "It's a Small World" as the park torture ride (you know, the place where park rule-breakers are trapped, the place where children without parental supervision will be sent and trained to join in the choir of singing dolls) "It's a Small World" is a fairly popular ride and usually has quite the line outside of it.  It is a classic, after all.

Which is why just the other day, when at Disneyworld (I'm going to continue to remind you of the fact that I am at Disneyworld, because I'm at Disneyworld and you're most likely not.  And because I'm just that kind of person - you know, considerate and thoughtful and caring) my family and I were surprised to find there was hardly any line outside of "It's a Small World."  So into the little boat we went.

Very quickly, we learned that this particular go through "It's a Small World" was going to be a little unusual.  We came around the turn and drifted into a large room full of lights and sets and animals and sparkly things and dolls, their mouths opening and closing to a song that was not there.  That's right, there was no "it's a small world after all" song being played or sung.  It was completely silent in that room, except for the clicks and creaks of the animatronic dolls and animals.

And let me tell you, it was creepy.  You don't know creepy until you've had hundreds of silent moving dolls, their mouths clicking open and close, staring into your soul.

*shudder*

As it became more and more obvious that the music was not about to click on any second, my family did what anyone in a similar situation would do.  We started singing the song ourselves.

Here's what it sounded like.

"It's a world of laughter, a world of tears

It's a world of hope, it's a world of fear

There's so much that we share

...dum dum dum, dum dum dum,

It's a small world after all!

It's a small world after all

It's a small world after all

It's a small, small world

It's a...uh, um, 

dum dum dum, dum dum dum dum dum...

...

...

It's a small world after all

It's a small world after all"

Yeah we didn't make it very far.

And we also had all started singing at different times in the first place.  And some of us can't even sing anyways.  So pretty much what I'm saying is that it sounded a bit different from when dolls sing.

After that noble effort, it dawned on us that we were now in control of the music of "It's a Small World" - we could sing whatever song we wanted to!

Our first choice for the new "It's a Small World" song?  Aerosmith's "Walk This Way" which sounded mostly like this:

"Walk this way...

Walk this way...

Walk  this way..."

Until all of us had had a turn singing "walk this way" just like Steven Tyler.  Then we had to give it up, because we realized we didn't actually know that song.  Except maybe Fred.

We did a little better with Queen's "Fat Bottom Girls."  You know, priorities.

But the song that truly worked - for us, for the dolls, and for the small family sitting behind us in the boat who probably thought we were crazy - was Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody."

Turns out that my little brother Newsie (who's really nine but who will always be five to me) knows his "Bohemian Rhapsody."  *sniff, sniff* I'm so proud.

Eventually the background music kicked on, after we were more than halfway through the ride, but it was only the background music, meaning there was still no singing.  Probably they (they being a general pronoun referring to anyone involved in the running of "It's a Small World") were jealous of our stellar Bohemian Rhapsody skills and had to silence us.  The "It's a Small World" singing eventually came on too, in time for the very end of the ride.

Ah, the memories Disney creates.  "It's a Small World" and "Bohemian Rhapsody" have both been forever changed for me.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some vacationing to get back to.  And by vacationing I mean lie around on this bed and maybe eat some chocolate and then plan my return to Disneyworld in just a few days.  Because, you know, I'm at Disneyworld.  Living the dream.

Home Again, Safe at Last

Christmas Break is well underway, and unfortunately my Christmas Break lifestyle -- though luxurious in the lack of homework, the skewed staying-up-till-1-watching-Doctor-Who-and-sleeping-in-till-nine sleeping schedule, and the abundance of chocolate covered caramel corn around the house -- is fairly lazy and ordinary and boring.  Turns out that when I'm home with my family, and not living on my own in a college town conquering Colorado winter on my bike, I don't have nearly as many funny crashing my bike stories.  Because here I can drive a car, and any crashing the car stories wouldn't be nearly as funny should they happen.

However, though while at home I may not have as many awkward trying-to-function-as-an-adult stories, or as many insightful academic...insights, let's be honest -- my family is freakin' hilarious, and just a few short weeks with them can provide ample blogging material.

Like this:

In case you were wondering, the Cheese Block of Justice was turned into a delicious cheeseball.  Another perk of being home -- I get to eat food other than toast and...toast (I may or may not have made it through last semester on a fairly limited diet -- toast and anything I could mooch off people I knew...or in some cases didn't know, but who had good food).

Another sure indicator that I am at home: it appears that our Nativity scene has been successfully infiltrated by Jawas.  

Better a Jawa infiltration than what happened to the life size front lawn Nativity scene down the street, in which for a brief period of time Joseph held a sword over the manger.  There must've been a Bible story mix-up in the setting up of that particular Christmas decoration.

We also have a new not-quite floor to ceiling dry erase board for all my obnoxiously artistically inclined siblings to indulge themselves.

Just look at those fine dandylions.

Get it?  Dandylions?

If not, I'm not explaining.  But go find a quiet place and think about your life.  Think long and hard.

I don't want to brag or anything, but as spectacular as these dandylion drawings are, there is one fine stick figure on the far side of the board with my name on it.

Actually, there was one evening where I was determined to make a worthy contribution to the dry erase board (which really needs a better name), and drew not one, but fifteen small slightly-more-detailed-than-stick-figures people.

And of course I had to sign my name, because I may or may not have a small obsession with signing my name whenever possible.  You may call it egocentric or vain, I call it practicing-for-my-future-career-as-a-bestselling-world-renowned-author.

Also, I take great pride in the fact that my youngest sister, the little Princess, can name all thirteen dwarves from the Hobbit, and that last night, as she played the Lord of the Rings Lego game on the PlayStation was heard loudly to proclaim "Dad come on!  Let's kill some orcs and goblins!"  And the other night she was crawling around snarling and whispering "precioussss" in an eerily accurate Gollum impersonation.  My big sister pride grew three sizes at that.

As you may have guessed at this point, my whole family is on a bit of a Tolkien kick right now.  Well, we sort of always are, but what with the Hobbit's recent premiere and the acquisition of the aforementioned LOTR Lego game, it's practically impossible to make it through the house without encountering at least one or two LOTR impersonators, artwork, quotes, etc.  I sometimes forget that having small children argue about who gets to be Bilbo and who gets to be Thorin isn't necessarily normal behavior in the outside world.

And because I have nothing more to say, I will conclude this post with a relevant picture of me and my siblings being ridiculously thrilled to be sitting on a log going over a waterfall.  Otherwise known as Splash Mountain.  Why is this picture relevant?  Because in a few short days I am peacing out of the Colorado-Christmas-break-at-home life and running away to Disneyworld, which happens to be one of my four future homes, in addition to Disneyland, England, Middle Earth, and Hogwarts.

I can think of no better way to bring in the new year.

A Work in Progress

Things I'm working on right now: (because I'm a work in progress...
You get it?)
Carrying on.

1) Painting my nails.  Right now I'm a big advocate of the shlop-it-all-on-and-eventually-the-stuff-on-your-skin-will-come-off fingernail painting style.  I also am really not patient enough, and so I also shmuck it up by typing or reading or eating or doing SOMETHING when it just isn't quite dry enough yet.  I'll get there eventually.  Or I'll just switch to stickers.  Or I just won't bother anymore.

2) Patience.  My mind is a lot like this at the time being: SOMEDAY I'll have graduated college, SOMEDAY I'll have money enough to eat more than toast three meals a day, SOMEDAY I'll be in England, SOMEDAY I'll meet that superpowered fictional time-traveling consulting detective thief-but-really-a-good-guy wizard that is my future husband, SOMEDAY I'll be a sassy successful career woman, SOMEDAY I'll be famous.  You get the gist.  But with the exception of that "SOMEDAY I'll be at Disneyworld and then Harry Potter World where things just can't go wrong and everything is happiness and smells like churros" (because that particular SOMEDAY is coming up wonderfully quickly) most of those SOMEDAYS are not tomorrow.  So patience my young Padawan.  (And so what if I refer to myself as my own Padawan?  You're the weird one.  I'm awesome.)

3) Keeping my desk clean.  I am working on it.  I really am.  But I also have this terrible little part of me that really kind of likes books-and-notebooks clutter.  It makes me feel like such the intellect, having a stack of four Shakespeare volumes and loose papers balanced precariously on some pens.  But really, it's getting out of control.  Let me survive finals, then the clutter shall be dealt with.

4) Beating my high score in Bejeweled.  Let's be honest.  My priorities may be a little off.  So sue me.  Except please don't because I'm broke.

5) Being less judgmental.  You know, of my peers' writings that I have to critique and of the things that people say on Facebook.  Real important things like that.  Except one of my friends told me tonight that "we're allowed to be so judgmental because we're so smart."  Yeah, there's nothing wrong with that claim.  As a matter of fact, she's right, I have nothing to work on - I'm perfect!  And also humble.  And never sarcastic.  I also never lie.

6) Goodbyes.  I'm really bad at them.  And I have quite a few of them coming up in the near future, and I feel like I should be prepared.  So each day I say goodbye to myself in the mirror and practice keeping in touch with myself all day long despite the separation.  It really isn't effective at all.  I need better goodbye practice, but the best goodbye practice is real goodbyes,  but then it's not practice at all.

7) Going to bed on time.  I'm really not good at this, and the reason is one word: laptop.  Also, this seems as good as time as ever to tell you all that my laptop has a name, and that name is Watson.  Now I don't have to worry about calling it "laptop" and feeling weirdly impersonal.  Except probably being impersonal where a laptop is involved is okay, since it's not actually a person....But seriously guys.  I have a hard time falling asleep, and so I'll just mess around on the internet and whatnot figuring "hey, I can't fall asleep anyways and at least I'm not just wasting time lying around in bed" (because looking at funny pictures on the internet and watching crime shows is so much more productive) and then suddenly its midnight and I'm still awake and there's no way I'm getting up before I have to be at work tomorrow to work out.

8) My running-away-with-tangents habit.  See #7.

9) Being informed.  This is about the news.  I do okay with the news, but recently I've decided it's important to me to be even more informed about what's going on in the world.  So I'm making a serious effort to regularly read the news.  Especially all those important headlines like that one about the grandfather in China who models teenage girl clothes, or that one about the dog who adopted abandoned tiger cubs in Russia.  You know, the important stuff.

10) Getting over my OCD need for everything to be in factors of five.  Like how I have to have my lists number 5 or 10 or 15 or whatever.  Which is what happened with this list, because I really didn't have 10 things for it, but I NEEDED to have a 10th, and then I realized that was something I could work on.  Because sometimes the volume on the television is just perfect on 17 or 18, not 15 or 20, and I need to be okay with that.

Also, there are 2 new things on my blog.  Not counting this post.  Duh.  There's no prize if you figure them out, but you do get points.