SCPC

This is the 4th year I've been playing piano for the Presbyterian church here in town. I honestly don't know what I'll do when I can't play for these people anymore. I love them all so, SO much! I am excited for tomorrow night's Christmas Eve service. It's something I have come to love and I look forward to it every year.

Project #4612

This is the closeup of what I've accomplished so far. This has taken forever to do because of school. I work on it a little while waiting for patients up at Huntsman.



This is the entire piece of linen. What you see in the upper left corner is almost one whole piece of paper. This is petit point, so the stitches are one over one, not two over two. Tiny, tiny stitches. I really enjoy this.

... And one more thing

I love my husband.

That's more like it!

My Christmas cards are about 90% finished. I got the first round of mailed cards out early last week, the first round of neighborhood cards distributed Friday night, the second round of neighborhood cards distributed Sunday night, and sent the last handful of to-be-mailed cards out this morning. I'm finishing up on getting things arranged with my mom's present, and will be heading down to the post office in the next hour or so to two-day ship it. I plan on staying up late,late, late tonight watching movies and cross stitching. Hopefully we can get the strand of lights on the tree fixed so we can decorate it, too. I know it's not that big of a deal to have such a small area out on the tree, but I am totally fixated on it. I wish I could get over that kind of crap.

At least I've been able to survive with one non-functioning light on my perfectly straight white Christmas lights on the house.

Daydreams

I have been thinking about the summer already. Not because it snowed 6" last night, but because I'm anticipating my summer break and all the fun and wonderful things I have planned. I'm going to show my (un)creative side by letting you, dear reader, watch my progress on a few projects I have in the works.

On another note, I have been at odds with this countdown I have had going of the end of the semester. It's a very bittersweet countdown. While people are getting into the advent season and Christ's arrival, I am having a very hard time accepting the end of this month. I don't think she reads my blog, so I'm considering this a good way to get some of this weight off my back.

My bosom friend is moving back to her hometown at the end of the semester, and before the end of the month. I've been consistently joking about her staying and changing her mind and coming to live with us for free and offering every incentive under the sun to stay here. I know her draw to California and to her awesome dad and her sweet Grandma-ma. I think today was my big breaking point. I have so many awesome and wonderful friends in my life, but this friend is someone I have an unbreakable bond with. She is my soul sister, the Anne to my Diana. I don't want time to progress, but it's inevitable.

2 weeks

Two weeks left in the semester and I'm feeling a lot of pressure, but I am going to make it! I am feeling positive about my English class. I still have to write my research paper, but I have the background research done and have been working on an outline to get my thoughts organized. I am also working on my oral presentation for class. I get to talk about sex! HA! I have two more tests in math. I have one quiz and the final in theater. I have one more performance group in guitar, and the final. I'm feeling good.

I will not use cliches... I will not use cliches...

I'm going to try this frank thankfulness thing that's going around. Don't get me wrong - I am VERY grateful for things: deep tissue massages, facials, and Mint Brussels (which Pepperidge Farm has stopped making, the NERVE!) among other delights of life. But to get slightly in depth and not so philosophical (and more sentimental) I have to say...

My husband is such a rock in my life. I know I complain a lot. He hears most of my rants, be it logical or totally irrational, and still loves me at the end of the day. He supports my schooling, he supports my desire to be a better person, he loves me for who I am, both physical and spiritual, and makes me that much of a better person. I know he loves me. I just wish there was more I could do to show him how much he means to me.

Personality types

If there ever was a "Type A" person, it'd be me. Hands down, no questions asked, thank you, have a nice day.

I'd like to apologize for that.

I'm going back to this weird lack of sleep induced self-consciousness. I've been trolling around a few blogs lately and I want to cry at the things I read. I cried watching Glee last night, but that was TOTALLY LEGIT. But I'm not the person who cries. My mother and two older sisters have, since I can remember, called me out on my inability to cry at emotional moments. Madame Butterfly? My mom had to remind me where the stage was. I was too busy looking at the tears to see what was going on onstage.


So here's my goal: I want to try to be more "Type B" without losing my "Type A" self. Is that too contradictory? It probably is. And there's my problem from a blog I wrote a few months back, something about Sylvia Plath and her quote from The Bell Jar that fits me to a tee. Pardon my paraphrasing, but I can't remember it off the top of my head: If wanting two mutually exclusive things at the same time is neurotic, then I'm neurotic as hell.

I'm also going to try to be more insightful without all the cynicism and pessimism. Maybe then people will like me >_______< that much better. :) Here's to hope!

Alas, and alack

I would like to draw your attention to the name of my blog. This is why I don't post crafty things on here, as well as hijack all my crafty ideas from books and the internet.

Except for my Christmas cards.

They rock!

Can you tell I'm stalling? I should be taking an inconsequential math test but am starting to get delirious from being awake since 2am (early work shift) and just want to go home and sleep.

Letter to my professor

This is a major part of my frustration.

Certain names have been changed.

Diane,

I'm going to be totally frank. I have a very, very limiting schedule. When She-who-must-not-be-named said at the beginning of the semester that the only time she could meet was at 6:30 on Friday nights, that was absolutely perfect for me, because that's honestly the ONLY time out of the entire week that I can do this. If I'm not mistaken, we've only met on Friday nights at 6:30 TWICE. She's lucky that I have consults with one of my professors periodically throughout the week, thus creating an open slot of time for us to meet, which is always according to her schedule. I don't care that she works in Salt Lake and drives down every day. She's single. I'm a mom who works full time, volunteers, goes to school full time (night classes included), and tries to maintain half a relationship with my husband and 11-year old. (And I apologize for this verbal explosion, but I really think you ought to know what the situation is.) Whenever we meet, She-who-must-not-be-named copies what I write down. She complains about having to take math, complains that she doesn't understand, complains, complains, complains. She ran into me at the library on Monday while I was working on a research proposal and said that (once again) she couldn't meet on Friday night. I told her my schedule is such that I can't meet except for Friday nights. I was not paying attention to what she was saying because of the work I was doing, so if there's no story problem, I apologize. Every story problem that has been submitted this semester has come from me. Every time we've had to show you the work, it's come from me. If she's submitted anything, save this week, I'll guarantee it's copied from me. I think she said she was going to submit a word problem, so whatever. I'd join in with Doug's study group, but again, my schedule is such that I leave work for school and as soon as class is over I run back to work. I can do the problem you asked, and if you want I'll show you the work on Monday.

Thanks for listening. I will continue to keep my happy face on.

Sarah Dockstader

Thoughts for a cold Wednesday morning

I love the fact that I'm a morning person, yet I hate the fact that I can't sleep in past 6am on my day off. It's still pitch black outside, and it's almost 7am. I love this time of day. It's quiet, it's dark, and I'm totally conscious of myself and my surroundings.

But that's wherein lies the problem.

Quiet + consciousness + Sarah = Doubt, worry, fear.

It's strange how this works, but it really does. I just turned on some light music in the background. Now everything I was going to talk about has left my mind. I have been sitting here for about 5 minutes staring at what I've written and now lack the ability to finish what I was going to say because of the music playing in the background. That's why I have music playing about 80% of my day: To not focus on the negative.

Nevermind! Insecurities? Pfffft. I don't care.

Califor-n-i-a

Since you're reading the latest blog, I'm sure you've all noticed something: I'm still alive. Yeah, my plane didn't crash into a million little pieces (or would it be 'go down in one ball of flame') and I am in my house, but not necessarily lying in my bed (again, apologies to Indigo Girls).

I've decided to try and consolidate my lists into one little spiffy notebook that I can take with me everywhere I go. I am looking at 4 notebooks sitting in the wastebasket and a pile of papers in front of me, begging to be reorganized into said little, convenient notebook. I worry that this little notebook is going to be filled from cover to cover once I rewrite everything down. I also need to round up the receipts I've used as scratch paper to write something down, as well as all the random pieces of paper in the middle of my school notebooks. I had nothing to write on about a week ago and had to use a kleenex. Now I have misplaced the kleenex and I'm not amused. I have a feeling I'm going to be buying a few more small notebooks to replace the huge cumbersome ones lying around my house. I'm sure Rod won't have any objections to my consolidation of papers and lists and notes.

Anyway, my little vacay to SoCal was awesome. My mom worried that I was bored. I simply responded, "I'd rather be bored here than bored in Utah." I wasn't bored at all, for the record. Give me an iced latte and a book and I'm in heaven. I got to see an old friend, I got to spend time with my awesome sister in one of my favorite areas of San Diego, I bought some new books, had a few iced mochas and lattes, went to the beach, and did absolutely 100% of what I wanted to do and didn't have to answer to anyone. Bored? I think NOT.

My apologies to Indigo Girls

I tried to take a nap today before studying for my math test tomorrow. I had my sleeping music I've trained myself to fall asleep to playing in the background, and I started my breathing exercises that Ronna assigned me to do. Then, I realized I am flying the day after tomorrow. In 48 hours, I will be at the airport. Getting ready. To fly.

Alone.

Yeah, I know there are going to be other people on the plane. (It's completely full.) But me? I will be alone.

I thought about my breathing and listened to my music. And all I could think about was how scared I am to fly. I pictured myself at the airport, waiting to get on the plane. Then I saw two guards hauling me off to airport security, as I'm wailing and screaming in fear.

I pictured myself on the plane, not breathing. Just crying. Inconsolably bawling.

Here are the lyrics to a song by Indigo Girls. Song title: Airplane.

Up on the airplane
Nearer my God to thee
I start making a deal
Inspired by gravity
If I did wrong I won't do it again
Cause I can be sweet and good and nice
And if I had enemies they're friends
I'll hold to my life with the grip of a vice

And I'm up on the airplane
Nearer my God to thee
I start making a deal
Inspired by gravity

That little spot on the ground is my hometown
I like to call it my home and it's sweet
I'd rather take a seat down there
Than a throne up here up above 30,000 feet
And I'm up on the airplane

I never should have read my horoscope
Or the fortune on the bubble gum strip
Saying what you think won't happen will
A great thing to read before a trip
On an airplane

Pilot says the big blue sky's like a swimming pool
Big fluffy clouds like a feather bed
I'd rather have a real pillow underneath my head
Lying in my bed which is in my hometown
Which is on the ground
Far from an airplane

Overwhelmed

...But in a good way.

Today I went up to the Huntsman Cancer Institute in Salt Lake City and met with my volunteer coordinator/boss lady and got even more paperwork going for my volunteering stint. It almost felt like I was signing closing documents with as many things as I signed and dated. I even had to sign a confidentiality agreement. I knew I'd have to sign one, but it's cool to say I have actually signed one. (Yes, I know I'll do the same when I'm a REAL nurse when I'm a REAL grown-up.)

After my meeting ended, I got into the car and I just started bawling. I'm still really emotional about the day's events (even though it technically it didn't last all day; just an hour) and have the "I've been crying" eyes, even though I stopped crying 3.5 hours ago. I immediately called Rod and told him what happened and to give him more details about my job (PATIENT INTERACTION!!!!) and the hours. I made a few more phone calls and tried to hold myself together, but yeah... I'm a girl, I'm a Vaughan.

It's so hard to wrap my head around this. I was telling Rod and Ronna how I am finally starting to realize my dream. I'm starting to live for me, and it's so overwhelming (in the positive) and I'm totally excited and just want to shout my barbaric yawp from the rooftops of the world!!

YAWP!!


CARPE DIEM!!!!!

Here... we.... gooo!!!

(The title is a reference to the Peter Pan ride at D-land. The first time I went on it, I thought I was going to die. Now you'll understand the rest of this post.)

As I'm sure all of you have noticed on my facebook page, I just booked my flight to San Diego in October. Let me tell you how on edge I am now. After I clicked on the "BUY TICKETS" button, I nearly went into hysterics but withheld myself because Rachel was standing there. The last time I was on a plane really was in 1996. Rod and Rachel both love flying. We're planning a trip to FL next summer to visit my oldest sister, and the only means of getting there (in both Rod AND Rachel's opinion) is to fly.

I made sure my seat on both flights is right in the middle of the plane, and right on the aisle. I don't want to see out, I don't want to see down. I want to knock myself out so that when the plane reaches its cruising altitude and it feels as though the plane is going to crash but it really isn't, I don't scream out in fear. Turbulence? Turbulence is torture. I hear the plane shaking and think that the wings are going to fall off and we are going to plummet to our imminent death. I worry about the pilot being drunk. I hate not being connected to the ground in some way, shape, or form.

I want to go to Magic Mountain.

The zombies made me do it.

I bought a new book yesterday.

Two in one

I know, I know. I blogged something about an hour ago. This is just something that's been weighing on my mind.

There are days when I think that I want to go back to being an English major because all I want to do is read books. And write. And then read some more.

Then there are days when I think that I want to quit college because all I want to do is work and read books when I'm not working.

Don't worry. This isn't a sign that I'm a quitter.

My book list just keeps getting longer and longer. And I'm being a good girl. There are only 5 books sitting on my nightstand and only two in my bathroom.




EDIT: For the record, the Sarah Vowell book, Assasination Vacation, is highly recommended for anyone who loves history. Sarah Vowell is freaking awesome. I've read all her books except her most recent, The Wordy Shipmates. And Gregory Maguire takes some getting used to. My favorite of his is still Wicked. Finally, everyone needs to read the book about Mr. Rogers. I love that man. And he was Presbyterian.

It's all in the title...

or so they say. Apparently it's in the last paragraph, too, as well as a few spots in between. I'll just settle for being able to write something. For one, I appreciate those of you who read my blog. You're a small number, but knowing I can pour out my feelings and have someone read and understand is totally awesome!

I'm finally starting to feel like I'm making a dent in my pre-reqs for school. I'm probably going to retake one or two classes just to up my GPA a bit, but I'm looking at maybe one full calendar year (three semesters) before I can start applying for nursing school.

My English class is already turning out to be my favorite of the semester. I haven't done a whole lot for it, but the setup and preparation I've done has been a bit of a rush. I can't remember if I've already explained the situation, so I'll summarize: Community service, write a research paper based upon my findings/experiences doing said community service. I'm still amazed that I'll be able to find the time to do my volunteer work on Saturday mornings. I was hoping to have Saturdays as my total brainless day, but now I understand why it so conveniently worked out. Let's just hope that my response from Huntsman Cancer Institute comes quickly. I'm also looking into becoming a Service Graduate.

My math class is going quite well so far. I've retained a substantial amount of information from last semester. I just forget how much homework is involved. LOTS.

Film? Not too bad. Finding the time to watch the movies (like now, instead of blogging) might be a bit of a push considering my already busting-at-the-seams schedule. Good thing most of them I've seen and liked. (Hello! THE FUGITIVE!)

Guitar... oh my. Guitar. Let's just say my left fingertips are REALLY starting to hurt. And I am extremely confused by the tabs. I just want to play like Emily Saliers. I can feel my left index finger throbbing.

I know, I know

I go in these strange spurts of blogging and then I get really quiet. I just had to post this. I've found a quote that (I feel) describes me to the core. I'm in the middle of reading The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. Page 94.

"If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I'm neurotic as hell."

That's me!!!!

Sorry 'bout that...

I know I've been slightly lackadaisical in my postings around here, but it's because I'm honestly trying to make the most of my last days of summer. I don't want to bore you with my (mis)adventures. I've been out of commission for the day, so to speak, due to a scratched eyeball. Sounds trivial, I know, but it is excruciatingly painful. Guess I slept really well last night. I barely made it home from work, and I'm sure the grimace on my face as I passed other cars on the road made people wonder what was wrong with me.

Not being able to really do what I want to do at the moment (read) has forced me to be a little more creative with my time. I can't drive anywhere. Ask Rachel, we tried about an hour ago. I tried listening to the TV with my eyes closed, but wound up falling asleep. I just renewed another month with my one extravagance, eMusic, so I've been sitting at the computer with my sunglasses on, looking for new music to delight and inspire. I look through my iTunes, and then search for artists that are similar to some of my favorites. Tonight, however, I've found that I'm gravitating to Gabriel Fauré, a French composer, whose works are widely well-known. I like him tons more than Debussy, who sadly seems to get more airtime. Anyway, I got to thinking and I have to say that if I weren't going into Nursing, I'd have to create something to suit my fancy. It'd have to be related to music, literature, and whatever field of psychology that deals with being unable to be who you know you are inside but can't break through your left-brained-ness.

Listening to Fauré makes me want to be even more like what I feel inside. But then I have to listen to Bach to balance out all the frou-frou and reset myself. It's almost like having the desire to eat salty-sweet-salty until both sides are satiated and one can move on with their life.

18 days...

18 days left of summer vacay. I haven't quite done everything I wanted to, but I feel like I have done a lot. I know I've done a lot. Then it's back to the grind, back to the books (that aren't nearly as enjoyable as the ones at the bookstore), and time to kick my grades into gear. This school year is going to be the best yet!

... and I'm 24 pounds closer to being a Skinny Bitch!

Update!

If you know my sisters, then you'll appreciate this:

I am 17 pounds closer to being a Skinny Bitch!!!

Diet madness

I figure that since maybe 5 people read this, I'll just spill my guts about my diet. I'm doing the hCG thing that it seems everyone is doing right now. I actually have known about the hCG diet for quite some time now and have read a few different things about it. Rod did the diet about a month or so ago and lost a pretty good amount of weight, and has managed to keep it off since ending his first cycle. I have been doing the spray - twice under the tongue, twice a day - since Monday and have noticed some awesome results. I just weighed myself and am coming up 10 pounds less than what I was when I started 6 days ago. This morning I weighed and was 11 pounds less than what I was 6 days ago. My weight at this very moment is less than what I weighed before I had Rachel. Not pre-pregnancy weight, but pre-birth weight. This is the lowest I've weighed in about... 11 years. My ultimate goal is to lose 75 pounds, and that will obviously be obtained by my hard work and determination. Seeing the numbers on the scale right now remind me that it is possible to get it off. Those numbers remind me that I don't have to live in the past, that I can get back down, and that it will happen!!

I am also seeing results! I fit into my jeans again, meaning that I could button them up, not just zip them up halfway and pray that the zipper stayed in place. I also wore a skirt to church today that I was able to zip up AND hook the hook!

I'll tell you how much I weighed when I get down to my goal. That way it'll be even harder to believe.

And on a side note, one of my new favorite, favorite treats is mustard on Melba toast. Soooo delish!

Lonely...

Today is a day in which I'm feeling very homesick. I miss my mom. I miss my dad. If I could apparate anywhere in the world, however, I'd go to Florida and be with my oldest sister, Lara. She knows me the best, and knows what's good for my soul.

So yeah

I know I said that I was going to make this the summer of summers, and I'll have you know that I really am! I've gotten two cross stitch projects finished, have three in the works (although one gets precedence above the others because it is time sensitive and will have a "partner" to be sent to the recipient at the exact same time.) There are three books I'm reading - The latest Sookie Stackhouse series, although it's very uninteresting, My Sister's Keeper, to be finished by the time the movie comes out, and The Simple Faith of Mr. Rogers: Spiritual Insights from the World's Most Beloved Neighbor. I love Mr. Rogers. I've also managed to get caught up on a few movies and TV shows that have been saved up on the DVR. I'm also playing softball on a Springville league, and that's been interesting. I am quite out of my element, obviously, and would love to challenge any of the people I play with and against to a 200 IM. Then they'd all see that the chubby girl has mad skillz.

Decisions, decisions...

We're turning off the cable June 21st for to save money. I'll have to find a way to watch Dexter and Big Love and True Blood and Medium and Private Practice and the rest of Pushing Daisies and Dirty Sexy Money. Man, I didn't realize I watched that much TV. Tivo makes it seem much, much shorter.

I'm keeping Netflix for now, though. I haven't gotten through all of my Law and Order shows yet.

12 years ago...

on a night much like tonight, a boy and a girl were sitting on her bed having a discussion.

Earlier that evening, they had gone for a walk around a small zoo-ish park in Logan, Utah. This was their 6th official day of dating, although it wasn't set in stone that they were even an item. As they walked around the park the girl heard a prompting, saying to marry that boy next to her, and marry him now. She was a little freaked but decided to tell him anyway. He completed her sentence before she had a chance to say everything.

On that bed, in her room, they decided to follow what the Voice told them to do.

Happy Anniversary (tomorrow), love of my life. No words on Earth can possibly describe what I feel for you and what we have together.

It's awesome what one group of people can do...

...especially considering where they work. Whenever a collection is put up in our personnel office, a sign sits in front of the jar that reads "for an associate in need." One of those has been in the personnel office for Ronna. Everyone knows it's for her since everyone knows what's happened over the past two weeks. I have never seen the jar so full. Three days last week, a bake sale was held and all proceeds went into her collection jar. Today there was a potato bar held. It's still going on for the second shift, as well as one later for the overnighters. The store provided the money for the potatoes and everything else was donated by associates. I have a pretty good estimation of how much is in Ronna's fund, and the number absolutely blows me away. To give you an idea of how much, let's just say her rent is covered for the next three months.

... So the next time you want to talk smack about people who work at Walmart, think of store #1768. Think about the fact that most of these people are struggling financially and made sacrifices to help out someone in need.

My Little Peanut, again

My Little Peanut is gone. His parents made the decision no parent should ever have to make. Little Peanut had way, way too many complications. My heart is absolutely breaking over this, not only for him, but for my bosom friend. I was able to see him the night before his respirator was removed. I read him one of my favorite stories, Goodnight Moon. I held his feet, told him how much I loved him, told him I'd see him later, and "tucked" him in.

My Little Peanut

The past 24 hours have been unreal. My friend Ronna called me as we were both walking into work yesterday morning to ask about some cramping she was having. She's 24 weeks pregnant. I told her it sounded like she was having Braxton-Hicks contractions. I had them all the time when I was prego with Rachie. After an hour, she came over and told me that she was going to the hospital. I gave her a hug and told her to keep me posted. About an hour later, her husband called to tell me that she was definitely in labor and was on magnesium to help stop it. I asked if she wanted a blessing from Rod, and she said yes. Rod came and picked me up and we visited with her for about an hour. She said that she was dilated to a 6 and the nurse felt a foot when she checked. I went back to work.

I called again later that afternoon to see how things were and her labor had stopped.

I went to the hospital to see Ronna, and as I walked in the door I heard "epidural," "decisions," and "on his way." I left immediately for our friend Brent's house, and stayed there for an hour or so.

I got the call that the baby had been delivered and that his cord was in a knot, which is why Ronna went into labor in the first place. He needed to get OUT!!

I've been calling the baby My Little Peanut to everyone I've talked to. I got to see him before he was airlifted to Primary last night. My Little Peanut weighs 1 pound, 10 ounces, is about 12 inches long, and is as cute as can be. His little hands and feet are just too cute!!

I am headed back to the hospital tonight to be with Ronna while her husband, her dad, and her grandma head up to see the baby. He's in critical condition until the respirator is removed, and it's been determined that he'll be in NICU until September. Please send out good vibes to Ronna and her family!!

I know, I know

It's been a while.

I've spent a good 20 minutes writing, rewriting, deleting, and rewriting what I want to say.

Sometimes there are no words.

So I've had this recurring dream

...that always takes place at an amusement park. I'm on or about to get on the roller coaster, and it's one that I'm familiar with but it doesn't look familiar. Same with the parks. I'm at Disneyland, but it's not Disneyland. I'm at Six Flags, but it's not Six Flags. The roller coasters have crazy tracks that look virtually impossible to be functional, and every now and then when I'm on one of the roller coasters it winds up going off the tracks.

I haven't had one of these dreams for a while. I remember looking up the meaning of these dreams of my past, and it's pretty obvious what it is. Dream interpretation books must be so easy to write.

...That or the authors are direct descendants of Joseph.

Good for the soul

Yes, I know the picture's not that great - cell phone. The digital camera was at home.

Last night I took Rachel to see Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto #2 at the Utah Symphony. We got there about 1/2 hour early because I wanted her to see how the members of the symphony come out on stage and warm up and all of the prep before it actually starts. As I sat down, I had this feeling of "this is where I'm supposed to be." I felt right at home. I felt a sense of home. I almost can't describe it, because it's like trying to explain to someone how your arm feels on your body. Only you know how it feels, and only you can understand that concept. I know many readers will understand where I'm coming from, because most of you've all been transplanted from one place to here (wherever that may be), and where you came from is a big part of who you are, and now that you're not there anymore, you're feeling less... you.

Anyway, the first piece they played was absolutely fantastic. Toccata for Orchestra by James Beckel. There is no current recording of this piece, which is a crying shame. After the piece concluded, the hall erupted in applause, but only after several audible exclamations of, "Wow!" and "Superb!" and "Bravo!" were heard. I know, because I was one of those. I wish there was a way to patch some of this piece here. It was phenomenal. Exciting, to say the least. The next piece was a Beethoven Symphony. (YAWN, SNORE.) Never been a fan. Then, intermission.



After that, Rocky. Oh, Rocky. I just couldn't believe I was there. That I was seeing it performed. That I was hearing it. Live. I cried. I cried in all three movements. Remember how a few posts ago I mentioned Rachel being able to express my inexpressible? Rachmaninoff does the same. There's something about this piece that just bores right through to the center of my very being, to my soul, and touches it in a way that nothing else can. There are just a select few pieces of music that make me feel like my soul is...

This has to be my number one.

Why is it?

I don't understand why it is that I get so close to finishing something and stop working on it altogether. This applies to so many things, including cross-stitch projects, sewing projects, scrapbooking, cleaning, and most of all at this point in my life, school. The semester is only two weeks away from being finished (and that's including finals) and I've already resigned to the fact that Chem is out the window and will be retaking that later, I've had to give up on Spanish because it was overtaking my ability to focus on my math class, and now that I'm only working on math, I just don't care anymore and am ready to give up that ghost in favor of a second shot another semester. I have no drive, no oomph, no anything. Kind of like when I was at USU. My third quarter, I just up and quit. I lost my drive.

The only thing I can think of is this: My first time around with school, I had a major event happen that shook the core of me and I lost all focus. This time around I had a bomb dropped on me that, once again, shook my core and threw my life into a sort of tailspin. Bad things come in threes, right? Maybe I should chalk this all up for experience and just admit that life sucks three semesters/quarters into college. Just one difference: This time I'm not quitting.

Oh, to be a kid again

I was visiting my friend, Erika's, website and she had posted something about her son's "rocketship," which got me to thinking. I remember when my dad would bring home an old refrigerator box and how I'd play in it for days on end. He did the same for my two younger sisters, and when Rod was in the warehouse at RC Willey, he'd bring home an occasional box for Rachel to play in. Other than a refrigerator box, I'd have to say that the single most awesome toy/play thing/boredom cure was the collection of Little People stuff. And when I say Little People, I don't mean those chunky rubber things that Fisher Price came out with 10 years ago. My Little People are the real deal. I remember playing with the castle all the time, and making my mom make my older sister, Lori, play with me with the castle. Whenever she played with me she'd make the blond-haired, blue dress lady get kidnapped. What I remember from the castle was getting my hand stuck in the dungeon side time and time again because one of the Little People (usually the little brown-haired girl) would get stuck between a plastic round piece and the wall and I'd have to get her out. I remember flipping the spring-mounted flag over and over again to the point where I was afraid it'd get stuck on the side and wouldn't work anymore. I remember using the trap door as an ultra-cool slide, and not an actual trap door. I remember thinking that the only reason my dad liked the castle was because there was an alligator in the moat. I remember opening the staircase and sliding my hand around the turret because it felt good, sticking my hand in the hole on the turret, in the red attic... I guess I liked sticking my hand in every possible place a kid could on that thing.



I remember going (just a few years ago) to the house of someone in my ward and seeing that they, too, had a castle. I freaked out, and proceeded to just about ignore anything I was actually there for, and immediately started playing with it. I think if I were to score one (eBay, anyone?) it'd be in fierce competition with Rock Band and Lego Batman.

Only a child of the 2000s

... would think of being a sound mixer for a career. Rachel's been bitten by the technology bug and has decided (after watching Wall-E 4 times a day since it came out on DVD) that she wants to be the person who makes sounds for movies. It's definitely not the most commonly thought of career by a 10-year old.

Reflecting on my own desires for a life long career, I wanted to be a marine biologist, an English teacher, and now a nurse.

And speaking of becoming a nurse, I registered for fall classes this morning, and I feel like the lineup isn't as daunting as this current semester's choices. I think I'll survive without any wailing and gnashing of teeth. On the docket: Chem (again), English (a writing class, which I love), beginning guitar (which means I need to get one) and a film class (in which I know I've seen 95% of the movies they watch). I'm sure I'm going to be on academic probation, so this will be a nice lineup to show the school that I really do care.

Yeah... no

I thought about how funny it'd be to come on and tell you, dear reader, that I'm pregnant.

I really hate April Fool's Day.

I'm not pregnant. If I were, and you were visiting your second cousin in Boston, you'd be able to hear me screaming.

I can tell it's the end of the semester

... and the end of winter.

I'm getting out of this funk I've been in for the past few months.

So here's the deal

I feel inhibited with certain aspects of my life. I'm not searching for compliments, so don't feel the need to say something. I just want to get something off my chest.

I'm way, way too left-brained.

I read other people's blogs, and I love the pictures they post, the things they say, and other stuff of the like. Their blogs express my inexpressible. It's like when I'm watching Wall-E, and Eve comes down from the rocketship and goes straight to work. You know the scene? Then, as soon as the rocket pulls away, the beautiful music starts playing, and Eve takes off in flight, showing her true desire of her heart. That's also the part where I burst into tears.



You see, that's me. That's how I feel. I've got it so programmed (for lack of a better word) in my brain to be square. Everything I do is so incredibly anal (except for cleaning my house, because at this point in my life I have had to make certain sacrifices... just like living in Utah) and I have to do things by the book. I do certain tasks at work because no one else can tolerate the minutia like I can. I can't walk by postings without correcting the spelling and more intolerable grammatical inaccuracies. I cross stitch, which apparently drives 95% of the female population to drink. I cannot play jazz to save my life. I have to follow recipes to the letter. I face my labels forward, I fold my towels a specific way, hang my clothes up in the same direction and fix every shirt when Rod folds or hangs it up the wrong way. I am such a creature of habit, it's not even funny.

In my super sekrit (yes, I know that's spelled incorrectly) life, I have pink hair, color outside the lines, doodle amazing things on cocktail napkins, am comfortable enough with myself to let someone take pictures of me, and not only that, but real artsy-fartsy ones, I wear broomstick skirts with bangles along the bottom, do yoga, write the real feelings inside my heart and mind, have rooms that are not static colors, and I don't worry about using a hair straightener.

When we were at the Hotel Del (Coronado, for those of you who aren't familiar with the nickname) I was able to snap a shot of Rachel in her true form, and am secretly jealous of her ability to... express my inexpressible. She just stood there, opened her arms up to the ocean, and I am pretty sure what she was thinking, because I was thinking the same thing. I apologize for the smallness of the picture. Click on it and you'll get a better size.

What the...

As you all know, I work for a major retailer, and one of the advantages of my specific department is that I see people all the time. I love watching people, so work is pretty fun when I'm on the floor and it's busy. Unfortunately, there's a trend that's been going around that scares the crap out of me. Not only me, though. My friend feels the same way about this "trend" as I do, so it's good to know I'm not alone. We are, I might add, also from California (where the people like me wear their hair down, straight, and long), which I chalk up to most of our fear of this... "trend." What is it, you ask? Let me just say that over the past several months I've been tempted to go up to young mothers and ask them, "What the... is growing out of your child's head?! Is it malignant? It looks like it's eating your child's head!!! It is LARGER than your child's head!!!" Yeah, it's those freaking flowers! AIGH!! I swear there was one poor little baby whose head was so severly tilted because of the 3-pound jewelled sunflower protruding from her cranium. I wish I had a picture to demonstrate, but I hate these things so badly that I can't even bear to find an example on the internet. And yes, I know this is a local trend, because the entire time I was in California, I didn't see one abnormal flower-looking goiter protruding from any poor, unable-to-defend-her-dignity baby girl.

No, I haven't died

I've got some things to talk about but thanks to my sister, I have been glued to the computer watching a show on Netflix. I haven't forgotten about you, dear reader. I'll post something poignant later.

... and there I go, opening my big mouth again.

I was getting extremely frustrated in my Spanish class this morning. My professor was going over a bunch of verbs and their conjugations (because conjugating Spanish verbs is SO exciting!) and I was feeling some of said frustration from the fact that if what's being said in Spanish is literally translated to English, we'd all sound like we have 2nd grade educations. If I were to say, "I'm hot," in Spanish, I'd say, "Tengo calor," which translates to "I have heat." YIKES! Am I an animal? Another one that makes me angry is, "Como se dice?" which we all know means, "How do you say?" However, I found out this morning that decir, which we get the conjugation dice, actually means "tell." So when I ask someone, "Como se dice?" I'm actually saying, "How do you tell?" NO! That's not proper!

Anyway, to get to the point of this post... My professor asked (all of this is in Spanish, but to save me the time of translation and you the time of reading, I'll just pretend like it's all in English) if any of us like to sing, and I raised my hand. He asked me if I'd like to come up in front of the class and sing, and I told him no. He then asked, "If I were to give you 10 bonus points, would you?" and without thinking, I said, "Si!" So now I have to sing two verses of a song in Spanish in front of the class. He said I could do it on another day. I immediately thought of singing something by Bebel Gilberto, one of my faves. One problem: She's from Brazil. Brazilians speak Portugese. Yeah. I have a few other ideas floating around, so I should be ok. I just hope my professor isn't disappointed if I don't sound like Maria Callas when I get up and do the singing.

I'm not bipolar, really...

Earlier this week I had a total and absolute meltdown. I have been dealing with some recent come-to-light personal issues, stressing out over my grades and classes this semester, as well as the whole mom/wife stress I blogged about a week or two ago. I had four tests to take within 5 days, and that's what really threw me over the top. As I was going through this inner turmoil, I called my dad to talk to him about my situation, and he pointed out the number of plates I'm spinning:

1. Full-time, active member of the LDS church.
2. Part-time, active member of the Presbyterian church.
3. Full-time employee.
-Trying to get a new position.
4. Full-time student.
-Chemistry, Spanish, Math
5. Mom
6. Wife

I realized that I'm doing more things than I can handle, and have had to admit something that is very, very difficult - I've reached the point where I've bit off more than I can chew. To make a long story short, I made a crucial decision in a split second in order to save my sanity in a major way. After I made up my mind, I can definitely tell you that things for me have gotten a lot better. A LOT. I'm not dropping out of school, not after the blood, sweat, and tears I've shed. (There's also the money factor, which scares me.) I'm going to keep on, keep on, keep on...

Yesterday after my last test of the week, Helen and Rachel and I went to Classic Skating in Orem and spent about 3 hours there. Best money I've spent in a long time. The last time I skated at a roller rink was when I was 12-13ish. It was at Ups-N-Downs in Escondido, CA, and afterwards Lara, Lori, some of their friends and I went to the ice cream place nearby. We pretended it was my birthday because they put on this major show with sirens and a huge ice cream sunday on a stretcher and what not... Needless to say, our lie radiated enormously bad karma because one of the guys running around the store carrying his half of the stretcher slipped, fell, and broke his arm. Anyway, skating yesterday was a blast despite the myriad children riding their scooters around the joint. I also discovered that if I'm not skating at a higher rate of speed, I'm definitely apt to fall flat on my butt. That and men's skates are much, much more comfortable than the women's.

I ♥ ... Stoichiometry?!?

I do! Chemistry, peoples! That word up there! I love it! My professor discussed chemical reactions this past week, which included balancing the equation, as well as stoichiometry, Avogadro's rule, and limiting reactants. I get it! Therefore, I love it!

Did I also mention that I can do Lewis structures and all that stuff too??

...let's just hope this newfound love of chemistry lasts the rest of the semester.

In all honesty...

I don't know if I am going to make it this semester. I'm taking two absolutely crucial classes, which wasn't on my original class order checklist. I'm feeling so overwhelmed and just want to roll into a ball and hide under the bed. I know I've been incessant in my complaining about Chemistry, but it really is the beginning and end of my life, and it's not good. Working full-time and taking Chem, Math, and (what I thought was going to be a slightly easier class) Spanish this semester is absolutely running me into the ground. I get off work Monday afternoons and have enough time to run home, see my family (If Rachel's not at Activity Days) for about an hour before needing to run off to class for 2.5 hours. Tuesdays I have enough time to get home from work and get something lousy thrown together for dinner before having to run off for a 2-hour Chem class. Same thing with Thursdays, except it's dropping Rach off at piano before heading over to Chem. Spanish is Sat. mornings for 3 hours. Tack onto that the homework and study time I don't really have, as well as paying attention to a needy 'tween (Good hell I cannot believe I have one of those), a husband whom I don't want to think I've lost interest in, housework, and the minimal "me" time. Yeah, right. I've heard that Anatomy and Microbiology are going to the hardest classes I'll take. If that's the case, then get me a gun so I can shoot myself in the foot and have a good excuse to just quit right now. I sobbed on the phone last week to my mom. I really, truly am doubting myself and the feasibility to get through this.

Sorry...

I apologize to the few of you who read this blog. I haven't kept up with it because of my evil Chemistry professor who refuses to teach effectively, as well as get us (via Blackboard, the most inconvienent college website EVER) our assignments in a timely manner. Let's just say she didn't get us our assignment until last night (She had assigned it the night before) and didn't get us her "use this form or suffer an untimely demise" form until at least sometime today. I didn't get it until now, and that's because I just barely got home from work. When is it due, you ask? Oh, in an HOUR.

Two in one day? It's a record!

Here's a little thread from Olivia's facebook page. I find it quite hilarious.

ME: I wish people would stop comparing Obama to MLK Jr. All Obama did was get elected. Obama doesn't even hold a candle to MLK Jr.

HIM: all he did was get elected. you should think aboot that again.

ME: Is there an echo? I don't have to think about that again. A celebrity rock star got elected. I can't wait for this love affair to end.

HIM: yeah there is an echo. for it takes some people a while to get things. maybe in a while you will understand that it was the people treating him like a rockstar. not the other way around. but thats alright you got four years to let it fester.

ME:Oh, I get it. Obama's the first black president. And yes, he is a celebrity rockstar. Obama hasn't DONE ANYTHING to prove his mettle. Comparing Obama's election to MLK's marches, boycotts, Nobel peace prize, campaigns, speeches, and penultimate doom is like comparing Rachmaninoff to Britney Spears. I'm talking about comparing one man's accomplishments to another, not what you are trying to counterpoint. If that doesn't make sense to you, read a book about Obama's life. Then read one of myriad books about Martin Luther King, Jr., and then tell me I don't "get it." Obviously my initial statement is beyond your level of comprehension. This is Olivia's thread anyway, and I have better things to do that explain myself to you.

HIM: cool

What I didn't include in my last comment was, "Don't argue with me. I'm older, wiser, have better English skills and will beat you."

It's being said now and it's been said before...

I thank Aaron for this great quote. Now, more than ever, do a few people behind the wheel need to take this statement into major consideration.

"You cannot legislate the poor into freedom by
legislating the wealthy out of freedom. What one
person receives without working for, another
person must work for without receiving. The
government cannot give to anybody anything that
the government does not first take from somebody
else. When half of the people get the idea that
they do not have to work because the other half
is going to take care of them, and when the other
half gets the idea that it does no good to work
because somebody else is going to get what they
work for, that my dear friend, is about the end of any nation.

You cannot multiply wealth by dividing it."


Dr. Adrian Rogers, 1931-2005

So that's what it takes...

Rod's always been a fan of energy drinks. Big fan. I haven't seen him buy any for a while now, but I know he gets them occasionally at work. I have tried a sip here or there, but the taste of that one little sip is horrid. I've had one entire energy drink, and that was two years ago. I was driving home from California and was about ready to nod off around Cove Fort, so I stopped and got a Monster. It was 6:30 or 7pm when I had it. I made it home ok, and wound up not being able to fall asleep until about 4:30 am. I swore after that I'd never have another one, and if I was having a hard time getting home from a long drive, I'd pull over and have a power nap. Anyway, I've been suggesting to Rod for quite some time to quit getting those power drinks. I know they're horrible for the body and I just didn't like the thought of him having so many, so frequently. I guess someone at work told him about an article in the December Ensign that talked about the danger of energy drinks. He came home after Mutual last night and read up on it. He swears he'll never have another. I've given up on caffeine altogether, and have a Sprite once or twice a week. I loooooove my Dr. Pepper, but I know it's not good for me. I had a 20 oz. Dr. Pepper relapse about 2 weeks ago, but am not going to do that again. It's had a minimal effect on my weight, which is (of course) disheartening, but I know that if I slowly give up some of my guilty pleasures, I can get over it. I'm glad Rod listens to his friends, 'cause I gave up on the Rod-stop-drinking-caffeine campaign a long time ago.

Chemistry

Well, it's official. Today was my second day of class and my first official day of actually taking notes about important things. Aaaand... it's all over my head. I'm so glad I can call my dad and cry to him about my insecurities. I'm also grateful for the guy sitting next to me in class that was thoughtful enough to give me his email address and invite me to join his study group. Like I told Dad, I've got to get through this. There is going to be a sick child one day who's going to need my help and I have to be there.

Happy Birthday, Rod!

(It was actually yesterday, but I was too busy to post something.)

Scratch that...

Yeah, I have to drop Microbiology and take Chemistry first. Bummer.

Here we go again...

Today was the first official day back at school for me. Hoo-ray. I think my microbiology class is going to be way more interesting than I thought. My professor is a riot! He's hard to understand because of his Finnish (I think) accent, but man, he knows how to make people laugh. Who thought staph infections could be hilarious? My new math class seems like it might be a bit less daunting than my last class, so I might do well there. I NEED an A, so let's hope for one. And rounding it up, Spanish. Donde esta la bano? :)