tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7474938634311436182024-02-19T09:00:14.344-08:00Darth ValWelcome to my soapbox.Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09979798822796292836noreply@blogger.comBlogger44125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-747493863431143618.post-87429975238794272972012-11-09T00:48:00.000-08:002012-11-09T00:48:05.152-08:00I am getting oldI'm only 26, but I already feel like an old fart. Is this common?<br />
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-I don't understand facebook anymore. I just can't keep up with and adapt to the changes like I used to be able to. It doesn't make sense to me.<br />
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-I get tired of shopping really quickly. Not grocery shopping, which I've always hated, but clothes and mall shopping. It's supposed to be fun for girls right? We're supposed to love it, aren't we? Then why do I get tired and grumpy after 2 stores??? I can drag myself to another couple after that point, but it's torturous and nothing good will come of it.<br />
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-I can't drink energy drinks anymore. They make me really light-headed and sick.<br />
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-I can't stay up all night anymore. Granted, I've only successfully done this probably like 4 times in my life when I was trying to finish a paper for school or for my friend's church youth group lock-in when I was about 14, but still, I could do it. Now? Not so much. No matter how much caffeine I put in my body, it no longer accepts a lack of sleep and will basically shut down on me for trying to force it. Everything hurts and I feel like I have the flu on days when I am severely sleep deprived.<br />
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-I have a myriad of small health complaints: wicked heartburn every day, tendonitis in my wrists, pinky toes that were sprained once and have never seemed to actually heal, iliotibial band pain (this has been since I was about 15 though so it doesn't really count), shifting knee caps, the beginning of deep wrinkle lines in my forehead, increasingly dry skin, and a couple other more...um...personal complaints that I'm going to spare you from (you're welcome).<br />
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I don't know if I'm doing something wrong or if this is normal for mid-20s, but if this is what my twenties is like, I'm so not excited for actual old age.Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09979798822796292836noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-747493863431143618.post-26050247460169774212012-08-03T21:59:00.001-07:002012-08-03T22:06:15.725-07:00Let's re-think our votes this year.<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: inherit;">I can no longer stay silent on today's political scene. This isn't about Chik-Fil-A, or Obama, or Romney (well it sort of is, by default). They may claim otherwise, but they will not be able to effect the drastic change and reform this nation needs if it is to survive. They are in the pocket of big government and wall street. I can't think of any other way that America is going to dig itself out of this hole besides looking to other parties. I don't really care which ones. There are great candidates to be found outside of the two major parties, with fresh, intelligent ideas on how to solve America's biggest problems. Ron Paul (who I believe is still campaigning as a republican but should probably just admit he's a libertarian) and Jill Stein (of the green party) are two great examples. I'm sure there are more.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: inherit;">Everyone is always invoking the founding fathers in political debates, and claiming to know what they would think on modern issues. The undeniable truth is most of the delegates at the Constitutional Convention abhorred the thought of a two-party system.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">"There is nothing which I dread so much as a division of the republic into two great parties, each arranged under its leader, and concerting measures in opposition to each other. This, in my humble apprehension, is to be dreaded as <b>the greatest political evil under our Constitution</b>." -John Adams, </span><span style="line-height: 19px;">Letter to Jonathan Jackson, October 2, 1780</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: inherit;">"The alternate domination of one faction over another, sharpened by the spirit of revenge, natural to party dissension, which in different ages and countries has perpetrated the most horrid enormities, is itself a frightful despotism. But this leads at length to a more formal and permanent despotism. The disorders and miseries, which result, gradually incline the minds of men to seek security and repose in the absolute power of an individual; and sooner or later the chief of some prevailing faction, more able or more fortunate than his competitors, turns this disposition to the purposes of his own elevation, on the ruins of Public Liberty.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: inherit;"> Without looking forward to an extremity of this kind, (which nevertheless ought not to be entirely out of sight,) the common and continual mischiefs of the spirit of party are sufficient to make it the interest and duty of a wise people to discourage and restrain it.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: inherit;"> It serves always to distract the Public Councils, and enfeeble the Public Administration. It <b>agitates the Community with ill-founded jealousies and false alarms</b>; <b>kindles the animosity of one part against another</b>, foments occasionally riot and insurrection. It opens the door to foreign influence and corruption, which find a facilitated access to the government itself through the channels of party passions. Thus the policy and the will of one country are subjected to the policy and will of another.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: inherit;"> There is an opinion, that parties in free countries are useful checks upon the administration of the Government, and serve to keep alive the spirit of Liberty. This within certain limits is probably true; and in Governments of a Monarchical cast, Patriotism may look with indulgence, if not with favor, upon the spirit of party. <b>But in those of the popular character, in Governments purely elective, it is a spirit not to be encouraged. From their natural tendency, it is certain there will always be enough of that spirit for every salutary purpose. And, there being constant danger of excess, the effort ought to be, by force of public opinion, to mitigate and assuage it. A fire not to be quenched, it demands a uniform vigilance to prevent its bursting into a flame, lest, instead of warming, it should consume.</b>" -George Washington, Farewell address, September 17, 1796</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: inherit;">I know the second one is long, but well worth reading and thinking about, especially the lines that I bolded. It gives me chills to see just how much George Washington's fears were justified. But what interests me just as much is that George Washington wanted to avoid parties altogether, let alone a mere two-party system. These are the men who designed this country. If we're not going to listen to them, who will we listen to instead? Radio and TV pundits? The Huffington Post? The CEO of Chick-Fil-A?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: inherit;">I wish we lived in that world, where candidates for every post campaigned on their own laurels and individual platforms, instead of having to be associated with a party, and thus automatically guaranteeing their blind acceptance or rejection by all Americans who identify themselves under one party's banner.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: inherit;">I have to confess, I was inspired to write this post because I have been following the Stein/Honkala campaign's facebook page. Jill Stein and Cheri Honkala were arrested this week at a protest of Fannie Mae home foreclosures. She spent a full day and night in jail, all to show support for the families across America who have lost their homes in the recession while giant lending companies wallow in dough. You can read more about it in this excellent article and I highly encourage you to do so: <a href="http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2012/08/03/can-anyone-replace-nader-in-the-green-party-race-for-the-white-house.html">http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2012/08/03/can-anyone-replace-nader-in-the-green-party-race-for-the-white-house.html</a></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: inherit;">What were Obama and Romney doing this week? I'm pretty sure it wasn't getting arrested at a peaceful protest of what is at the heart of today's economic crisis. And I know that in all honestly, one of these two men will be president in 2013, and not a third party candidate. All I'm asking is to please consider what will be accomplished by you voting for one of these men in November, and then on the flip side what might be accomplished if you showed your support for a lesser known candidate who could actually shake things up a bit. Maybe not in 2012, or 2016, or even 2028. But somewhere down the road, I wholeheartedly believe that asking third party candidates to help us solve our biggest problems is one of the only things we can do to prolong the life of this Republic.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: inherit;">I love this country. I think America really is beautiful. I sincerely hope it prospers indefinitely, and that we never have to have Hunger Games. And that's why I care so much about this issue.</span></div>
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<br />Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09979798822796292836noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-747493863431143618.post-549589354816290902012-06-10T22:51:00.002-07:002012-06-10T22:51:19.675-07:00Just run to the side, dammit!!Ok. Wow. Prometheus. So many problems.<br />
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I wanted to like this movie. I really did. I love Michael Fassbender, and the trailers made it look like it would be all blow-your-mind-Inception-y. I had never seen the original Alien movies, but I was told you didn't need to have prior knowledge of the franchise to enjoy this movie. But then last night I sort of watched Alien Resurrection as my boyfriend watched it on the computer and I played Twilight Princess, so I got the gist of it. There are big scary aliens that germinate inside human bodies. Moving on.<br />
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SPOILER DISCLAIMER GOES HERE. Don't read this if you don't want to... um... read any spoilers. I'm not talking about any big secrets really of the movie, it's most minor mechanical plot details that bugged the heck out me. But still, you've been warned.<br />
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First problem: why is this ship equipped with hair dye?? I understand that a ship of this magnitude would be very well stocked, but hair dye??? Were they expecting the three women on board would need to have a salon day mid-expedition? Furthermore, only like a week or so passed between the hair dye-ing scene and the end of the movie. David's roots would not be showing that much. Unless android hair grows faster than human hair or something.<br />
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Second problem: (and this one really is a spoiler): What made the archaeologists think the cave paintings were an invitation? They were done by pre-historic humans, not the engineers, and the archaeologists would/should have figured that out. Pre-historic humans cannot invite you to somewhere they are not and have never been. Oh and before I forget it, that very first scene, you know the one with the waterfall, and the DNA? WTF? It was never explained. At all. Why was it in there? The only thing I can think is they're setting something up for a sequel that is already in the works.<br />
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Third problem: How many freaking people are in charge here? There's a ship captain, a mission commander, and then Weyland puts the doctors in charge too. It's obvious from the beginning that there are too many chiefs, not enough Indians. It should have also been obvious to whoever organized this mission that this would be a problem in execution.<br />
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Fourth problem: what a freaking COINCIDENCE that they ALMOST IMMEDIATELY find signs of the aliens' leftover colonization! You know, I can actually get over this coincidence, but then the fact that NO ONE on the ship mentioned how coincidental this was, and maybe we should check other parts of the moon too because there are probably lots of other things they left for us to discover on this huge moon besides just this one place we happened to land. I understand that within the scope of the movie, they couldn't actually show them visiting more than one place, but why did no one even mention plans for exploration beyond this one little valley? It's just too big a logical gap to be ignored.<br />
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Fifth problem: This happens in a ton of movies, and it drives me crazy in every single one. Character(s) are running away from a giant inanimate object that is falling or rolling towards them. The object is falling/rolling in a straight, predictable path towards them. The character(s) continue to run straight. If they ran at a 90 degree angle in either direction, they would no longer be in the object's falling/rolling path and would not get crushed. Despite this obvious fact, they continue to run straight ahead. AND THEN (real spoiler alert), Dr. Shaw trips and falls and the ship is about to crush her, and all she has to do is roll a teeny little bit to the side and she is fine. The same thing happens to Vickers, and she just lays there and screams and lets it crush her. Was no one involved in the making of this film bothered by this inconsistency? Seriously you guys.<br />
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Sixth problem: Vickers' entire character. Clearly the movie didn't have enough time to include her backstory, so why did they make her such a strong character presence? There must be something behind her stony and heartless demeanor. To be honest, I'm not sure why this character made it into the movie at all. There is a teeny amount of backstory provided with Weyland, but not nearly enough to justify or explain anything at all about her character, or why they draw such strong parallels between her and Ellen Ripley. I'm just disappointed, because she represents a missed opportunity for a level of emotional richness that could have been added to the story, but wasn't.<br />
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Seventh problem: Androids. Shouldn't. Have. Personalities. So we're supposed to believe Weyland programmed David to be conniving, manipulative, deceitful, and just generally a pot-stirrer? I understand Weyland put David on the ship for a certain purpose, but that doesn't explain almost all of the weird and underhanded things he pulls on the expedition, nor does it explain his sweetly torturous and sometimes condescending manner. And just as a side note, wouldn't having his head ripped off impair his functioning in some noticeable way? Because it doesn't. I've never tried it personally, but I'm pretty sure that violently ripping a computer apart breaks it.<br />
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Despite all the problems I listed here, I actually did like this movie a lot. It was a really interesting premise, and I'd love to see it explored further in a sequel. I just found the execution of this idea disappointingly sloppy. If anything, this movie's fault is being too full of interesting things without giving them all their due attention. Like they showed us a toy box full of a ton of really cool-looking toys, and then only gave us ten minutes to play with them all as fast as we could. We barely got to enjoy any of them. That being said, the acting and special effects were all amazing here. I doubt it'll happen, because the academy generally doesn't take sci-fi movies seriously, but Noomi Rapace and Michael Fassbender both deserve Oscar nominations. You can tell they both have ginormous careers ahead of them.<br />
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So if you see Prometheus, I hope you enjoy it despite all its flaws. It's not always easy or fun living inside an overly critical brain.Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09979798822796292836noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-747493863431143618.post-79174628454785374952012-01-17T22:15:00.000-08:002012-01-17T22:39:16.229-08:00token diet postIt seems like everyone is on a new diet and/or exercise regime right now, doesn't it? I jumped on the bandwagon. I haven't put on any weight lately, but I also haven't been feeling totally comfortable in my body lately, plus I'm a bridesmaid in my good friend's wedding this summer and I want to look amazing in the bridesmaid dress!<br /><br /><a href="http://www.thepioneerwoman.com/">Pioneer Woman</a> is doing the slim fast thing right now, so I decided to give it a try. I'm on day 2, and I am so, so hungry all the time. How do people do this?? I replace two meals a day with slim fast shakes, which are only about 200 calories apiece, so I guess it works because you're cutting your calories<b> drastically</b>.<div><br /></div><div>I know what you're thinking, this won't last because it's only a temporary reduction of calories and as soon as I stop I'll gain the weight back, I need to make a permanent lifestyle change if I want to stay thinner, blah blah...or at least that's what I was thinking. I don't know, I just thought it would be fun to try since I don't have any convenient ways to work out right now (no good/affordable gyms in town, and my kneecaps shift when I run outside- it sucks), and PW's recipe for her slim fast shake sounded really good! Besides just 1% milk and milk chocolate shake mix, I add ice to make it thicker and a tablespoon of instant coffee powder. Mmmm. Chocolate + coffee = BFFs 4ever. But it's still only 200 calories, so I get hungry again an hour later. This is going to be tough, and so far I've been snacking a little more than I probably should. Hopefully after a little while my stomach will start shrinking so I won't be so hungry all the time?</div><div><br /></div><div>My friend's wedding is in July so I've got a while to figure things out in case the slim fast doesn't work well enough. Ideally, I'd like to lose about 15 lbs, and when you're trying to lose those last few pounds, it tends to get really hard, so we'll see how good the slim fast really is at its job.</div><div><br /></div><div>I have never wanted a quesadilla so bad in my entire life.</div>Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09979798822796292836noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-747493863431143618.post-86049783711322013092011-12-15T16:43:00.000-08:002011-12-15T17:20:07.855-08:00Ethics and ValuesI'm going to try a new thing here where I lay out a situation in which I faced an ethical dilemma and anyone can comment on whether or not my actions were ok.<br /><br />Tonight I went to Little Caesars. Classy, I know. Was this an ethical move?<br /><br />...Just kidding that's not the ethical dilemma. Hot, ready, $5...why WOULDN'T you go there? (This is not a paid advertisement for Little Caesars, I'm just trying to look less white trash-y.) So I went to Little Caesars which is located in a small strip mall, so there's not much parking. The three spots right in front of the store were taken up, so I went to park on the far side of left-most car, only to find that this driver had chosen to park their car well outside of the lines. It was egregious; they were taking up like a third of the spot I was trying to park in. The parking lot was well lit, so I had a hard time believing that this person couldn't see the lines. It had to be a willful disregard of parking lot etiquette.<br /><br />So I thought, "Hey, I drive a compact car. I bet I could still fit my car in that spot, while also teaching the driver of this stupid blue minivan a lesson not to hog two spots for no damn reason, since my car will be too close to it for them to be able to enter their vehicle on the drivers side." Never mind the fact that the spot one more over was very much vacant, and I could have easily parked there without causing any controversy. If I had parked there, I would have been ONE SPOT FARTHER AWAY from Little Caesars. I would have had to take, like, THREE extra steps (SIX!!! if you count round trip) to get my pizza. Unacceptable. Plus I wouldn't have been teaching anyone a lesson.<br /><br />I was right, sort of. I fit my car in the spot with my wheels ON the white line on my left side, and my rear view mirror pretty much touching the other car's on my right side, so technically I stayed within the spot, right?<br /><br />I go into Little Caesars and there are only two other customers inside. One is a young woman, probably around 20, and the other is a grandma. I didn't look that close, but, like, pushing 70 and couldn't get around very quickly. And I'm thinking to myself, "What are the chances that that minivan belongs to that 20 year old? About 2%. What are the chances it belongs to the grandma? 2000%." "Shit," I think. Now I'm not being an avenger of parking justice, I'm being an ass to the elderly.<br /><br />The grandma finished up at the register and it was my turn- I got my pizza and paid as quickly as possible so that I could get back out there and move my car before grandma had to stand outside in the freezing temperatures any longer because I stubbornly blocked her in.<br /><br />As I walked out the door, there she was, putting her pizza in the unblocked passenger side of the car, and starting to walk around to the driver's side. I powerwalked over to my car, very determinedly looking at nothing but the pavement directly in front of my feet, got in, started it, and backed out faster than I ever would have if I was, say, late for work. All the while, grandma is just standing on the pavement at the front edge of her car, probably giving me a dirty, judgmental look and shivering in the cold. I don't know for sure because I was too ashamed to actually look at her. I didn't need to see her scorn to be punished.<br /><br />So there you go, comrades. Obviously I shouldn't discriminate against the elderly, but not knowing who drove that minivan, was I justified in somewhat jerk-ily blocking them in to send the message that they need to pick just one spot to park in? I feel like this incident, and the need to do things like this, speaks volumes about my psyche.Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09979798822796292836noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-747493863431143618.post-1779775527479524412011-09-27T23:22:00.000-07:002011-10-06T12:22:22.378-07:00HerkimerI work in a restored brick building, originally built in 1912. It was converted from a dilapidated Pack'n'Ship (sp?) business to a restaurant several years ago. It is haunted. I'm told his name is Herkimer. Don't believe in ghosts? This post probably won't change your mind, but I heard tidbits and anecdotes from everyone who works there (everyone who speaks English, that is) about disappearing sugar caddies and salt shakers, air conditioners turning off on their own, the sound of footsteps on the stairs or glimpses of another person upstairs or in the basement storage when alone. My favorite anecdote is when Herkimer moved a vase of flowers from the bar counter to the adjacent bar sink. The vase was completely unharmed, without a scratch or a flower askew, but simply standing upright in the bar sink when it had been on the counter a moment ago.<div><br /></div><div>I finally had my own firsthand experience with him tonight. I think he's shy around newcomers, and so it took him a couple months to want to properly welcome me. Another server, Jean, and I were closing the restaurant after all the customers were gone. We were sitting at the bar, organizing our receipts and money, when we heard an indistinct crashing noise come vaguely from the direction of the staircase to the second floor behind me. Jean and I were the only ones left there, the cooks having already left for the night. I brushed the noise off as probably a cat in the alleyway, or something clanging on the train tracks right outside, but Jean was a little more spooked by it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Jean went downstairs to fetch the vacuum and I started moving chairs around so we could begin the annoying nightly ritual of thoroughly vacuuming the shabby, navy blue carpet in the dining room. Just as she re-emerged from the basement, we heard a high-pitched beep come from the bar/kitchen area on the other side of the dining room. We paused for a moment. There it was again. "Where is that annoying beeping coming from?" I demanded as the sound continued to repeat every few seconds.</div><div><br /></div><div>We walked over towards the bar, only for the beeping to cease. Eager to get back to work so we could both go home, we moved back toward the other side of the dining room and resumed our work. About ten seconds later, the phone screeched, abruptly shattering the relative silence of our work. Ok, now it was officially creepy. It was after 10:00, we'd been closed for over an hour, and the phone never rings this late in our sleepy, small town little restaurant.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was closer to the phone, so I hurried to answer it, firmly trying to deny the eerie feeling pervading my senses. It was Adam from the security company. A smoke alarm in the hood over the stove had been set off, and they wanted to make sure everything was ok. "Wait," Adam said. "The alarm just reset itself, so everything should be fine now, but let us know if you need anything."</div><div><br /></div><div>We hung up, and Jean and I went into the brightly lit kitchen to investigate. We could still feel some heat emanating from the industrial burners, but that was no surprise in view of how recently they had been on. All the knobs on the stove were off and we couldn't see any fire, smoke, black marks on the wall, or any reason at all that the alarm would have been set off.</div><div><br /></div><div>Herkimer.</div><div><br /></div><div>Many would just write this off as a malfunctioning alarm, but we knew better. Maybe Herkimer was finally ready to welcome me, or just wanted to get some attention or cause some mischief. In any case, I see no viable explanation for the night's creepy and unusual series of events except our resident spirit.</div>Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09979798822796292836noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-747493863431143618.post-60533987965260496102011-07-27T13:06:00.000-07:002011-07-27T13:28:03.381-07:0024 and treading waterI'm at that point in my life. The one where people expect me to act like an "adult" and get a real job or do something with my life. I like that idea, and I want to do it, I just don't like the pressure. I want to do it on my own time, because I'm still deciding what exactly it is I want to do with my life. I never liked the idea that I'm supposed to decide what my life's work will be while I'm still becoming an adult, growing, and figuring out who I am and what my priorities are. I guess those things never stop evolving and growing though, so maybe I should stop being so wishy-washy and just pick something.<div><br /></div><div>I could see myself doing any of the following:</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>-going to grad school to become a physician's assistant</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>-teaching English anywhere outside of the U.S.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>-being a nanny overseas (probably somewhere Francophone)</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>-going to culinary school (in France???)</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>-working for an environmental or animal rights lobby/non-profit company</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>-being a movie or fashion reviewer (are there fashion reviewers? there has to be, right?)</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>-working just about any job for an airline so that I can travel for free on my time off</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>-being a professional harpist, maybe even going to a music school to refine my talent</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>(another excuse to go to Europe)</div><div><br /></div><div>How do I pick one right now?? I HAVE NO IDEA. I do know that I see the trend of traveling or living overseas a lot in my ideas, so I should make that a priority while I'm still young and not stuck with a mortgage or kids. I also keep coming back to the idea of culinary school. I try not to think about it, because I know that field is really competitive and it seems kind of pipe dream-ish to me, but it's also what I'm passionate about and find a lot of joy and satisfaction in doing.</div><div><br /></div><div>The physician's assistant thing is my practical, secure, "adult" option. It really only appeals to me because I know I'd always have a job and make a decent wage doing it. I'm not passionate about health care, but I'm keeping it on the table for now in case the economy doesn't get any better.</div><div><br /></div><div>I could go on about how I feel about each option and their pros and cons, but I've blabbered long enough here. My uncle James once told me he thought it would be ideal if everyone could switch careers every ten years. When he said it, I thought it was a stupid idea, and that you were supposed to devote yourself to the same career your whole adult life, but now I think that idea is spot on. I feel pulled in so many directions that it's going to be easier for me to pick just one right now if I know it doesn't have to be forever. </div>Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09979798822796292836noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-747493863431143618.post-72100381119036908272011-06-22T19:53:00.000-07:002011-06-22T19:59:17.776-07:00Ah, to be a child. My favorite thing to happen to me in a long time happened tonight while we were at a chinese buffet for dinner (auspicious beginning, I know). I was checking out the dessert bar, when all of a sudden a little boy runs up right next to me, stops, and yells "JELLO!" at the top of his lungs. He proceeds to run around the counter in joy and then stops, screams a very high pitch scream, and runs off to get his mother to help him get some.<div><br /></div><div>As funny as it was, especially since it happened literally right next to me, I miss childhood and feeling scream-level excitement over something as simple as jello.</div>Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09979798822796292836noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-747493863431143618.post-56369857783364340502011-06-21T00:19:00.000-07:002011-06-21T14:03:39.044-07:00I'm loving...<div style="text-align: left;">1. Chex Mix.</div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVRBxQy7ORcychLFc_96JuPtXYJ0LDlANxIErecReOT5FlAKfDNFmUu8X7qTp1B2cgVzO57aV1Jk0mxpS4uqiFAvKxUoO0SZ_wGnMXFMOVZXa-xth49EOguJhTm7fcZawcgLaRmTIDHzg/s1600/chex+mix.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 207px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVRBxQy7ORcychLFc_96JuPtXYJ0LDlANxIErecReOT5FlAKfDNFmUu8X7qTp1B2cgVzO57aV1Jk0mxpS4uqiFAvKxUoO0SZ_wGnMXFMOVZXa-xth49EOguJhTm7fcZawcgLaRmTIDHzg/s400/chex+mix.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620573307009006802" /></a><br /></div><div>It is so good. Why haven't I bought it more often in my snack buying years? Great, and now I'm getting hungry thinking about it. The only problem is that there aren't enough bagel chips in it. As a facebook friend suggested they should make a Chex Mix "Oops, All Bagel Chips" edition. If they did, I would buy that and a bag of regular Chex Mix and pour them both into a huge bowl. Stir. Eat. Be happy.</div><div><br /></div><div>Does anyone else think about snack food as much as I do?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>2. Gel manicures.</div><div><br /></div><div>I got my first salon manicure EVER (shocking, I know) last week for my sister's wedding. She insisted I get a gel manicure because they last longer, and because if I got a regular one and my nail polish chipped, the wedding would be ruined. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2SGXjNYzXz5aj_17VmGarTBOJmuIc8Lz1vp-rRXgNshl7Ln9glg789IhedX66UieQypsuGaBp1cRlTbTUgJYmvAwJ9Y1Y3ncBYlke8GMRRxRiw0ym54dQmywouAyf7uUqEqGqkDAjr-Q/s1600/IMG_2743.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2SGXjNYzXz5aj_17VmGarTBOJmuIc8Lz1vp-rRXgNshl7Ln9glg789IhedX66UieQypsuGaBp1cRlTbTUgJYmvAwJ9Y1Y3ncBYlke8GMRRxRiw0ym54dQmywouAyf7uUqEqGqkDAjr-Q/s400/IMG_2743.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620779084705999714" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div>I'm converted. It was definitely more expensive- $30 for a basic gel manicure, but I got a french so it was $36- but you get what you pay for, as usual. I didn't take a picture the day it was done, but rest assured they looked very pretty and shiny. Even though the Vietnamese gentleman who did them messed up and had to re-do one nail three times and there were still several small snags/smears but after three re-dos I began to doubt his ability to execute a clean gel manicure and just let it go. It looked fine from a foot and a half away.</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOLYkuY_JiQ1VbKfbZtOwbzgb4U9c7lbQj-RmK6VR4YX8k54oW5xFwQRfnUA1d3TRhCNho0hAcQqMsA0it82rF9Jk2e1EwG1_JALIoEFoRX5E-jRtHu6a3TPQZYaafWlxTGm5FD2Eqtn4/s1600/IMG_2768.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOLYkuY_JiQ1VbKfbZtOwbzgb4U9c7lbQj-RmK6VR4YX8k54oW5xFwQRfnUA1d3TRhCNho0hAcQqMsA0it82rF9Jk2e1EwG1_JALIoEFoRX5E-jRtHu6a3TPQZYaafWlxTGm5FD2Eqtn4/s400/IMG_2768.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620778684198732946" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 284px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >You can see the snag on the top right if you look closely. Small, I know, but when I'm paying $40+ after the tip just for a manicure, I feel like perfection is not too much to ask.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span">The gel is starting to chip almost a week later, but it's held up way better than any regular nail polish would under the assault my hands and nails go through working in a restaurant. I've heard/seen from others who get gel manicures and don't work in restaurants that theirs don't start to chip 'til closer to two weeks.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtSNtJoURZGHhlDBaOpRiskL-ZSHPMtBB-u_J_SQTXLJye29kJZKQe-YK6xBcu1CeBKEX_Svmkruabe6u8eVL9zGWQKqrONfc2MzNQBmZxxgx20_IInr8qG38q0Vk2v3JLtTKBzM6GOQM/s1600/IMG_2769.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtSNtJoURZGHhlDBaOpRiskL-ZSHPMtBB-u_J_SQTXLJye29kJZKQe-YK6xBcu1CeBKEX_Svmkruabe6u8eVL9zGWQKqrONfc2MzNQBmZxxgx20_IInr8qG38q0Vk2v3JLtTKBzM6GOQM/s400/IMG_2769.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620778686302248514" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 294px; " /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >the major chip that showed up at work a few days ago</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><u><br /></u></span></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr8PQyi2Bche58seA7EcC1SFMRuC-h485tdW6NxYOFgFNQ23hGbdrddF7Ixlq5Ev65YMuGHrm3q-O0_IlEOyauyyrZlpn-AjDD7MsVejrgqHKqZelH1wOuvDgAI-v8dsFkv4qRiOSkxyc/s1600/IMG_2765.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr8PQyi2Bche58seA7EcC1SFMRuC-h485tdW6NxYOFgFNQ23hGbdrddF7Ixlq5Ev65YMuGHrm3q-O0_IlEOyauyyrZlpn-AjDD7MsVejrgqHKqZelH1wOuvDgAI-v8dsFkv4qRiOSkxyc/s400/IMG_2765.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620778677369031682" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >my left hand still looks pretty good a week later</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Next time, I'll probably just do a gel pedicure and skip the manicure until I work somewhere else or have a bit of time off. But believe me, I will be getting one again. I don't think I'd get them regularly, just because I'm not a bi-monthly mani/pedi kind of girl, but I think they're great for special occasions or when you just feel like you need a little extra pampering.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span">3. The Book of Mormon on Broadway</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKbngge6Ut2Z161Rz8KhRHsu9Xid1RC-vINTujvNNCzuJeIo9kcHdArW1IkUJ7IO7fTQ7l5cylLil7Qfh2ns9bVn0-rvng6FylEeM8vtgKCi1cyFfhKSS2ReHFmwz6oliihLvTMiNmxwc/s1600/bom+poster.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 365px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKbngge6Ut2Z161Rz8KhRHsu9Xid1RC-vINTujvNNCzuJeIo9kcHdArW1IkUJ7IO7fTQ7l5cylLil7Qfh2ns9bVn0-rvng6FylEeM8vtgKCi1cyFfhKSS2ReHFmwz6oliihLvTMiNmxwc/s400/bom+poster.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620577824268301810" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span">I've been SO excited about this since it was announced a couple years ago that the creators of South Park are working on a Mormon broadway musical. I've been eagerly devouring every article and video interview of the creators and of several others involved in the show that have come out in the last several months. That's about all I could do to satiate my excitement since a trip to NY to see the thing for myself isn't in the cards at the moment. Then amazon put the soundtrack on sale for only TWO DOLLARS last week, which I immediately purchased and am well on my way to memorizing, thanks to my ipod and a 30+ minute commute to work. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span">It is brilliant, and I don't say that lightly. They spent years writing this musical, and it shows. It just won freaking nine Tonys, including best musical!! Since hearing the brilliance and hilarity of the full soundtrack for myself, I've become obsessed with trying to figure out the plausibility of a trip to New York to see it. Here's the number they performed at the Tonys:</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><iframe width="560" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/tggtPHDmrR8" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span">4. Maui</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span">It lives up to all the hype, and then some. I would probably have never gone on my own, but I went last week thanks to the aforementioned sister's wedding, and I was blown away. It is SO beautiful and so fun. Hawaii always sounded so touristy and cliche to me, but once I was there, all I kept thinking was "I get it now." The weather is always perfect, there's a rainbow or two every day, the landscape and ocean are beautiful, and the amazing nature escapades are plentiful.</span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX2ag_c0ixpZjhw-D4znnTrVQ_gtzwYk5gHWTZLyRATxbH9RzOAYKdU-e02aKw629_N9kBbpf80hRrxnjYEQwdd1IAVkJG894gZJ4zhJm771sO86-NJg_7Ch-YNH_BKNeT5TGweNOsSvU/s1600/IMG_2724.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX2ag_c0ixpZjhw-D4znnTrVQ_gtzwYk5gHWTZLyRATxbH9RzOAYKdU-e02aKw629_N9kBbpf80hRrxnjYEQwdd1IAVkJG894gZJ4zhJm771sO86-NJg_7Ch-YNH_BKNeT5TGweNOsSvU/s400/IMG_2724.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620580228686003410" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span">My favorite experience was when we went snorkeling at a bay just 20 minutes from our hotel and we saw a ton of gorgeous, vibrant fish swimming on the coral reef, and then even some giant sea turtles!! We saw three or four, and you can get super close to them! (touching is a no-no, but that didn't stop certain family members who shall remain nameless) I felt like I was in an episode of Planet Earth! My only regret is that we only stayed for five days. When I let myself dwell on it, I really do feel extremely stupid that we didn't plan to stay longer. They're not exaggerating when they call it paradise.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6WeLu9z6UWkN7X7GuI8LdoZ2XKsgp6QN69e0y_81JBtGIcWIRCo4T8Wc0BAMqydxsGwn9DdcXX9Vz5xWMfimGfTZB3QuxcK6Yx7sOvHeKZu1mwZAKpLTdWsebRav1JeC1OFml5k0kvEY/s1600/IMG_2720.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6WeLu9z6UWkN7X7GuI8LdoZ2XKsgp6QN69e0y_81JBtGIcWIRCo4T8Wc0BAMqydxsGwn9DdcXX9Vz5xWMfimGfTZB3QuxcK6Yx7sOvHeKZu1mwZAKpLTdWsebRav1JeC1OFml5k0kvEY/s400/IMG_2720.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620581860613210834" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >on our way back from snorkeling standing in front of a beautiful lush rainforest you walk through to get to the bay</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwTHcZ5ZsrdndiD6U1siIv5TCXy330T3xJcyQl9yQIpF0mAQKUrrwlKRtIjX5YohY6jl9Ganoy0q6fR_YhRS17VVbLkFRhZ3pbQ7dxp0ZqK8N3aWO7HkwXUj28OnLRLQeAWdOQHyAabPE/s1600/IMG_2733.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwTHcZ5ZsrdndiD6U1siIv5TCXy330T3xJcyQl9yQIpF0mAQKUrrwlKRtIjX5YohY6jl9Ganoy0q6fR_YhRS17VVbLkFRhZ3pbQ7dxp0ZqK8N3aWO7HkwXUj28OnLRLQeAWdOQHyAabPE/s400/IMG_2733.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620581877054381042" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Ben cliff jumping- against the advice of a friendly German doctor I was talking to down on the rocks where I sat to take this picture</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0KvUeSEiaMrvxYzWRM9caOTsB3uZwOxZHX8pmgHt6cKoZPWHAl1anwXmHRdYdBPlZFlxgbyjb3sSGGrisxCwItaN__hG9rkcLSmekLtCuVhrJ4PR1YQoAmfpCPH9JT2NJv0qK-nhmAmI/s1600/IMG_2749.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0KvUeSEiaMrvxYzWRM9caOTsB3uZwOxZHX8pmgHt6cKoZPWHAl1anwXmHRdYdBPlZFlxgbyjb3sSGGrisxCwItaN__hG9rkcLSmekLtCuVhrJ4PR1YQoAmfpCPH9JT2NJv0qK-nhmAmI/s400/IMG_2749.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620582855023014546" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >On top of the world</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitKzAfv3Zhh_JPnHw60mDgSQEpSacIOYv56SVnZLx9lxl371z8LX5uofoZTh5SOI6ekOraJBCZtHiy0FNxVi22igNVjkIV5_xTM0l4AXOCxrALN86xpIJglhhA2oIi0Tg_23Sp_pQUKlc/s1600/IMG_2750.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitKzAfv3Zhh_JPnHw60mDgSQEpSacIOYv56SVnZLx9lxl371z8LX5uofoZTh5SOI6ekOraJBCZtHiy0FNxVi22igNVjkIV5_xTM0l4AXOCxrALN86xpIJglhhA2oIi0Tg_23Sp_pQUKlc/s400/IMG_2750.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620582864594982642" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >colorful craters on the side of the Hale'akala volcano</span></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsCKHt9HNWhBFl99xk8BtaCgZBZzmrnfq-PqsVlsqBR28f9nkxRI79VMUBc622GZqUqsx5h6CCYgzkPXp1MRxGIrhnzrWZBi5oEhjWzuSlxeuOxRrtSFxHYixPUj4F-2F8L7BRZwVJrnc/s1600/IMG_2755.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsCKHt9HNWhBFl99xk8BtaCgZBZzmrnfq-PqsVlsqBR28f9nkxRI79VMUBc622GZqUqsx5h6CCYgzkPXp1MRxGIrhnzrWZBi5oEhjWzuSlxeuOxRrtSFxHYixPUj4F-2F8L7BRZwVJrnc/s400/IMG_2755.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620583168066495826" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >cool silver cactus plants on top of Hale'akala</span></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCiyp9ky2R7t4TbjoD4nbwQNt_lwetD1tErkoCEF4FtoCpCp2iI6lbH_ILgZl3sUMnUZ7dTdlUQ1lNUgjrm6yXt8TwjX7fzy4rPydy3JTuukMW6XrXNd4XgIgGcaASvPoySVZYc_RenxY/s1600/IMG_2760.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCiyp9ky2R7t4TbjoD4nbwQNt_lwetD1tErkoCEF4FtoCpCp2iI6lbH_ILgZl3sUMnUZ7dTdlUQ1lNUgjrm6yXt8TwjX7fzy4rPydy3JTuukMW6XrXNd4XgIgGcaASvPoySVZYc_RenxY/s400/IMG_2760.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620583175720927346" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >My mom on the top of Hale'akala overlooking the ocean. You can even see Mauna Loa and Mauna Kea on the big island in the distance!</span></div>Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09979798822796292836noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-747493863431143618.post-24338405052248723002011-05-01T21:19:00.001-07:002011-05-01T21:43:16.679-07:00Mission AccomplicatedDon't get me wrong, I'm really glad bin Laden was taken out, but amidst all the "Go USA!" and "Hooray for the troops" cheers I'm hearing right now, I can't help thinking about what caused 9/11 in the first place: the severe ideological differences between the USA and some Middle Eastern cultures. I am so grateful to the men and women who serve overseas (and my boyfriend will soon be one of them), and I love this country, but what I want to know is how those radicals became so enraged and hopeless that they felt their only option was to kill thousands of Americans as quickly as possible in an act of disgusting terrorism.<div><br /></div><div>While I believe there is probably a fair amount of brainwashing involved, I think understanding and education are going to go a hell of a lot farther than bombs in combating extremism. America's foreign policy needs to be re-thought if we want to stop leaders like bin Laden from ever being created; specifically the way we pump money into the Middle East. Instead of fueling Afghanistan's war against the USSR or giving Israel $13 million a day in foreign aid, we might want to fuel more constructive efforts like Greg Mortenson's, as detailed in <i><a href="http://www.threecupsoftea.com/">Three Cups of Tea</a></i>.</div><div><br /></div><div>This is a complicated issue, and I don't pretend to have all or any of the answers, but as far as I can tell, understanding and acceptance are the keys to peace, not invasions and manhunts. It's been said before, and it will be said again, but although we have finally succeeded in killing bin Laden, our invasions and efforts since 9/11 have inspired a hundred more bin Ladens. I can't overemphasize the scope of the discordance between the US and the Middle East. I'm afraid (and I hope I'm wrong) that the death of one man will have accomplished little in the name of peace.</div>Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09979798822796292836noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-747493863431143618.post-39889893194534859982011-03-23T23:16:00.000-07:002011-03-24T01:19:14.969-07:00anatomy of an alcoholicMy roommate/landlord is an alcoholic. He is a 38-year-old male. He has no steady employment, but according to him, makes more than ever "consulting." No word yet on what or who he consults. I never see him leave the house anymore, so I'm confused as to when he's doing this consulting. Anyway, that's not the point. It's started to adversely affect my living situation. It's nothing serious, he's not violent so far, but it makes me nervous and uncomfortable and unwilling to stay in any part of the house that he is occupying for more than 34 seconds.<div><br /></div><div>Please enjoy the following 100% scientific and accurate charts I've prepared to document his typical day so you can better understand what I'm dealing with here.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">figure 1: how his time is spent while awake</span></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGHKkr6UUS4GQ9tw_0ZZxEQkgo2QPvry4ibdxEY20vpHTDQA9KfC0A_HW2kDDrZT5fw112on2jKj0Q4iwt5SYWL9AMJFXqkXrlH1qkmnGaeqVewqUL3rbP_7hhXZqcKmCIa43Y1P6i3EI/s1600/sean1.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 228px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGHKkr6UUS4GQ9tw_0ZZxEQkgo2QPvry4ibdxEY20vpHTDQA9KfC0A_HW2kDDrZT5fw112on2jKj0Q4iwt5SYWL9AMJFXqkXrlH1qkmnGaeqVewqUL3rbP_7hhXZqcKmCIa43Y1P6i3EI/s400/sean1.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587537630944946642" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">figure 2: most common activities while drunk</span></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-VrxB_BjZtNcQMhtOJ27AaIGJ8M7aZLn7UQHNCE7qfnQHioy8umTfQqeiFn_-ZUKomxrTlWZssTxIKnS2ozmrKP8N-XDZ0RoG7AXtim0zqxg2vPZwRD07OZqpoPl-axOS6ADbtT0_rWA/s1600/sean2.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 293px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-VrxB_BjZtNcQMhtOJ27AaIGJ8M7aZLn7UQHNCE7qfnQHioy8umTfQqeiFn_-ZUKomxrTlWZssTxIKnS2ozmrKP8N-XDZ0RoG7AXtim0zqxg2vPZwRD07OZqpoPl-axOS6ADbtT0_rWA/s400/sean2.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587537951923035282" /></a><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">**This pie slice would be drastically larger if I stayed in the same room as him for longer than 34 seconds.</span></div>Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09979798822796292836noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-747493863431143618.post-19058742940389272832011-03-19T16:55:00.000-07:002011-03-19T23:41:32.314-07:00why I take a roll of toilet paper with me to the movie theaterI'm a movie-cryer. It's sort of a problem. I cry at movies that I'm pretty sure no one involved in the making of the movie intended for it to be a crying movie. I cried at Star Trek for pete's sake. I almost said "for crying out loud" instead of "for pete's sake" but that seemed too ironic and cutesy. Who the hell is pete though? I'm not happy with either of these expressions. Anyways, what was I talking about? Oh yeah, my unnecessary histrionics. I even cried at Iron Man 2.<div><br /></div><div>Not really on that last one. I really hope you didn't believe that of me, I'd probably be mentally impaired if that was true. But I'm not kidding about the volume and range of movies I cry at. I cry at movies that I don't even care about, that I know are stupid. Hold on, my alcoholic roommates are raising my anger level to homicidal- I need to relocate.</div><div><br /></div><div>There, that's better. For no reason other than boredom and a personal resolution to blog more often than once every other month, I've organized any crying movies I could think of into lists (not comprehensive) of light to moderate to severe based on how long/hysterically I cried while watching. Consider my self-respect left at the door.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>light: Just tearing up or only a few silent tears running down my right cheek. The only kind of movie crying that I have any hope of concealing from the person sitting next to me in the theater who will think I'm deranged if I don't.</div><div><div>"Juno"</div><div>"Lord of the Rings"</div><div>"Star Wars"</div><div>"Finding Nemo"</div><div>"Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon"</div><div>"Tuck Everlasting"</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>moderate: crying at a controlled volume for less than ten minutes</div><div>"A Walk to Remember"</div><div>"Dumbo"</div><div>"Titanic"</div><div>"Charlotte's Web"</div><div>"Stepmom"</div><div>"Armageddon"</div><div>"Pay It Forward"</div><div>"Pan's Labyrinth"</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>severe: Crying for ten minutes or more, sometimes up to an half hour after the movie has ended at a level of hystericity (not a word) appropriate for someone who has just witnessed their entire family being murdered by Voldemort. This is not a pretty cry, people.</div><div>"Big Fish"</div><div>"The Time Traveler's Wife"</div><div>"The Curious Case of Benjamin Button"</div><div>"Moulin Rouge"</div><div>"Ghost"</div><div>"The Lion King"</div><div>"A.I."</div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><br /></div><div>in its own category: this movie exceeded all other previous and subsequent crying levels because I cried FOUR SEPARATE times and continued to sit in the theater for five minutes during the credits and sob while hugging my parents</div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>Are you ready?</div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>....</div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>"Up"</div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>That's right, a goddamn Pixar movie. Why those sadistic Disney bastards love killing off immediate family members in almost every feature film is a topic for another blog post, but I will never watch that movie again.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>Honorary literary mention: The sixth Harry Potter book (<i>not</i><b> </b>the movie) when SPOILER ALERT Dumbledore dies. I cried for about two hours and even had to call my mom who was out of town at 1 a.m. to help me calm down. The best part of this story is that I initially refused to tell her why I was calling her crying at 1 a.m. because she hadn't read the Harry Potter books yet and I didn't want to ruin it for her.</div><div><br /></div><div><div>As an afterthought I added a fourth list: popular movies I refuse to watch because I know I will end up hysterical</div><div>"Precious"</div><div>"The Green Mile"</div><div>"Schindler's List"</div><div>"The Pursuit of Happyness"</div><div>"Million Dollar Baby"</div><div>"Sophie's Choice"</div><div>"Saving Private Ryan"</div></div><div><br /></div><div>I have two questions about these lists.</div><div><br /></div><div>1. Should I be worried about what this says about me psychologically and emotionally?</div><div><br /></div><div>2. Why are so many of these children's movies?!</div>Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09979798822796292836noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-747493863431143618.post-53136540429087017282011-03-17T15:43:00.000-07:002011-03-17T17:11:32.403-07:00read this if you remotely care for electro popYou know that feeling when something is so amazing and brings you so much joy that you just want to climb to the top of the nearest mountain and shout to the world that you've found love?That's how I feel about these songs. Unlike the latest Britney Spears product placement-laden video, I just cannot get tired of these songs; they're a revelation.<div><br /></div><div>I saved the best for first: "Byrds of Prey" by Bertie Blackman. Fabulously fantastic. I haven't been so obsessed with a song since I first heard La Roux. Must be listened to with good headphones at least once.</div><div><br /></div><iframe title="YouTube video player" width="560" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/raHwjbKog9M" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>"Audacity of Huge" by Simian Mobile Disco featuring Chris Keating. It wasn't love at first listen. In fact, at first I thought it was Eurotrash techno. But after a couple times, I started really <i>hearing</i> the words and was struck with the sheer coolness of this song.</div><div><br /></div><iframe title="YouTube video player" width="560" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Ylu0ybj7DIg" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Passion Pit- "Little Secrets." I'm speechless. MTV2 describes it as "Indie Disco," and I don't think I could do any better than that. I might venture to compare them to an amped-up MGMT.</div><div><br /></div><div><iframe title="YouTube video player" width="480" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ZP2ajqVb4Ec" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>"Allein Allein"- Polarkreis 18. Yes, it's a German band, and the title translates to "Alone Alone." The message is rather depressing if you stop to think about it, but I don't because I can't get over how hauntingly lovely this song is.</div><div><br /></div><div><iframe title="YouTube video player" width="480" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/gW8fi7LJg6U" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Hot Chip- "Take It In." I strongly recommend listening to this one on the ol' headphones too. A much more pensive, piercing Hot Chip than you may have already heard in "Ready for the Floor" or "Over and Over."</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> </div><iframe title="YouTube video player" width="560" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/7wog9630VCM" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09979798822796292836noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-747493863431143618.post-50931301490696389932011-03-15T02:56:00.000-07:002011-03-15T03:48:39.999-07:00World peace might be closer than we think<div>Have you heard of the show <b>Little Mosque on the Prairie</b>? It's a Canadian sitcom with Muslims comprising several of the main characters.</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCpBzt85tP4LV2yLBoDwbUytLoY_ZE07HqievYNYjEw0kQWmQMzbKpV6bJmt8EJxoHv1fzm3DmPeuMZdDx57Y8DsZijsxwUrnIdrhsbg04LGrfI2T72pXlER8tHXeSdrSCsvgznzsnXV8/s1600/little_mosque_on_the_prairie_ca-show.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 333px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCpBzt85tP4LV2yLBoDwbUytLoY_ZE07HqievYNYjEw0kQWmQMzbKpV6bJmt8EJxoHv1fzm3DmPeuMZdDx57Y8DsZijsxwUrnIdrhsbg04LGrfI2T72pXlER8tHXeSdrSCsvgznzsnXV8/s400/little_mosque_on_the_prairie_ca-show.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584249682698317826" /></a><div><br /></div><div>I thought it might be interesting so I started watching it tonight. It's not. I'm pleased to report it's just as mediocre and ho-hum as <b>Two and a Half Men</b> and <b>The King of Queens </b>(insert Charlie Sheen joke here?). Just like when I try to watch those shows, I felt the urge to stick needles in my eyes, because at least that would be more lively.</div><div><br /></div><div>Why does this make me so happy? Truly, having their own worthless sitcom has to be a sign of Western culture's acceptance of Muslims. The fact that the show is so unremarkable gives me great hope for our society. If Western attitude toward Muslims and Middle Easterners was really that poor, this show either would not get made at all, or it would have to be much, much better in terms of writing, acting, and originality in order to make a bold social commentary to initiate a change in popular attitude.* Especially since these lowest common denominator shows, to quote Ricky Gervais, pander to the exact demographic that I would most expect to be racist against Arabs, Muslims, or anyone with brown skin not part of the black category. Can peaceful relations between the West and the Middle East really be that far away? (Yes, yes they can. Thank you, George W. Bush)</div><div><br /></div><div>By now I've said at least eight offensive things against people from all walks of life. I thought about editing myself for a second, but then I remembered that this is my opinion blog, and neither of us come here because I am a paragon of diplomacy.</div><div><br /></div><div>*At this point I am realizing I underestimated how difficult it would be to write coherent sentences at 4 a.m., even though I've been working nights this week and haven't been able to fall asleep much before 5 a.m. for the past three nights anyway. I just needed to get that out.</div>Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09979798822796292836noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-747493863431143618.post-80356774388091797122011-03-08T17:34:00.001-08:002011-03-15T03:48:09.487-07:00Questions I Am Tired of Being Asked: 5th ed. If you're from Cleveland and not Mormon, what are you doing in Utah county**?Answer: I grew up Mormon. I went to BYU. It was cheap, and I had a full tuition scholarship my freshman year, which sounded a lot better than the other $40,000/year schools I got into that only gave me $6,000 or $10,000 scholarships. In retrospect, this was a mistake. I should have gone to Ohio State or some other cheaper state school, but I was a snob. I thought you couldn't get a respectable education at a place like that. Stupid.<div><br /><div>Anyway, since my parents are quite liberal on the scale of Mormonity and raised me to think for myself, I was extremely unhappy at BYU. Everything about how the school was run, many of my fellow students, and most of my professors (with a couple very notable exceptions) dumped me into a spiral of depression and anguish.</div><div><br /></div><div>When I finally found the self-respect and courage to leave, I had no idea what my next move would be. I was dating a rich guy, had just turned 21, and was having fun with my job, my friends, and my newly legal ID. Eventually I decided to simply transfer to the nearby Utah Valley University to finish my degree. I wouldn't have to move, I knew the area really well, and things were going well at work and with my friends, so why leave?</div><div><br /></div><div>I now regret this decision as well. Although I actually LOVED Utah Valley University*** and don't regret transferring there from BYU for one split second, I was still unhappy for my last year or so in Utah. Things started to turn sour with people at work, several of my closest friends had moved away, and I was more aware than ever of the slim dating/socializing prospects and my distaste for the general populace of Utah County. It's hard to fit in when the cool kids all go to church every Sunday, love to talk about how awesome the church is, don't drink, don't want to go out, and don't date outside their faith.</div><div><br /></div><div>As stated below, I've since gotten out of Utah, so now I can complain about it freely without having some dunderhead shout at me, "If you hate Utah so much, then don't live here!" Believe me pal, given a do-over, we would not be having this conversation right now. I could turn this into a long diatribe about Mormons and Utah culture (it's like a different country! And not one of the fun, touristy ones in Western Europe!) but, predictably, I no longer feel the need to vent now that I'm no longer surrounded by the great charade. And hasn't it all been said already elsewhere? Every ex-Mormon already knows the reasons the Mormon church and Utah are ridiculous, and most still-clinging-to-the-iron-rod Mormons don't want to hear it.</div><div><br /></div><div>**I currently live in Colorado, but I still get asked this question retrospectively.</div><div><br /></div><div>***Seriously. This is when I realized you're going to get a good education out of ANY school if that is your intention. UVU is a state school with an awful reputation, and yet my professors there were wonderful, passionate, and realistic (and criminally underpaid). I still got tons of personal attention despite it being a 30,000+ student school (I realize this has largely to do with my major. A business major would probably feel differently).</div></div>Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09979798822796292836noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-747493863431143618.post-49466397740464000262011-02-05T22:56:00.000-08:002011-02-05T23:58:44.849-08:00Social ineptitude around celebrities, 2nd ed: Larry King<div>I served Larry King at my former Chinese restaurant job on Christmas Eve, 2009. Of course, since it was the pinnacle of the holiday season, I was over-worked, not wearing any makeup, and exhausted from a bad cold that had me crying a couple nights earlier while closing the bar.<div><br /></div><div>I was bartending this day, too, but my manager asked me if I'd take table 11. Without even glancing at it, I sighed out a "sure." As I walked out of the bar and onto the line (the part of the kitchen that's closest to the dining room- servers hang out here), I overheard chatter and mutterings of the name "Larry King." I turned around, slightly curious. "Larry King's here?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Yeah, at table 11."</div><div><br /></div><div>"His wife is Mormon, so they have a house here."</div><div><br /></div><div>"She's a total trophy wife."</div><div><br /></div><div>...and so on. I didn't feel the usual light-headedness and racing pulse that plague me when starstruck, but I was still acutely aware as I walked to his table that this is a really big celebrity. This is a household name, not your moderately popular indie band member that always leaves me tongue-tied. And I found myself completely unphased for once. It was a nice change.</div><div><br /></div><div>He dresses much more youthfully outside of his show-expensive jeans and a baseball cap-so all those Joel McHale and Conan jokes about him being on earth at the same time as woolly mammoths didn't seem quite as potent in person. </div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfF0QfqHzbhsqpk_x3B6AGGJ3lrvp0SE1WCsgGYVFIizTooyCO9q8g4qOYJtCc_1vk1SSBpsH64IkNc0aQNtIzC80_jxClnlbkJzHxxtN95Hv3zqtBeCddX6UdiOFDxWD82IhM2AZ2Dws/s1600/larry_king_family-thumb.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfF0QfqHzbhsqpk_x3B6AGGJ3lrvp0SE1WCsgGYVFIizTooyCO9q8g4qOYJtCc_1vk1SSBpsH64IkNc0aQNtIzC80_jxClnlbkJzHxxtN95Hv3zqtBeCddX6UdiOFDxWD82IhM2AZ2Dws/s400/larry_king_family-thumb.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570475712268160498" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Ok he's failing to look younger here in street clothes. Does the camera add ten years, too? No, wait, it's the Ed Hardy.</span></div><div><br /><div>And then he ordered. He was a typical old person customer. He made old person requests and ordered an old person entree. When I told this to a co-worker back on the line, he immediately said, "What, like did he order almond and cashew chicken?" (yes)</div><div><br /></div><div>My favorite part of serving Larry King happened when I refilled water at another table as a favor to a co-worker. The middle-aged dad sitting there asked me, "Are you serving Larry King?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Yeah," I answered with a smirk.</div><div><br /></div><div>"How is it?"</div><div><br /></div><div>I shrugged nonchalantly, still smirking, and replied, "Fine. He's really just another customer."</div><div><br /></div><div>The man nodded, his eyes slightly glazed over. "Yeah...he's great!"</div><div><br /></div><div>I guess I shouldn't hold it against him that he was so starstruck. Maybe he's a ginormous Larry King fan. Maybe he has Larry King memorabilia all over his den and every Larry King interview ever on VHS, organized chronologically in a closet. Maybe he reveres Larry King like I do Ben Folds. Probably not, though. I'm just glad I found the one famous person around whom I could still act like a person with an IQ higher than 60. But I hadn't escaped the social awkwardness quite yet.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>The time came to offer dessert and boxes for their leftovers. They declined both, so I left a plate of fortune cookies and the bill, standing up on the edge of the table in a black, plastic check presenter. I went back in the kitchen and turned around less than a minute later to see if they'd paid yet. The check presenter stood, undisturbed, in the same place as I'd left it. I went about my duties in the bar and on the line, peeking nearly constantly to see if they'd done anything with the check presenter.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ten minutes went by, then fifteen. Not that uncommon, a lot of people sit around chatting at the end of their meal, but I got nervous nonetheless. Since it was slow and I didn't have anything much better to do, I went out into the dining room and stood by the host desk, not too far from their table, to more closely monitor the check presenter situation. After a few more minutes of chatting with the hostesses and other servers that passed by, I decided to hazard a walk-by of their table, even though the check presenter still stood in the same spot I left it. I <i>hate</i> asking a table pre-maturely if the check is ready, because then they think I'm anxious for them to leave, which is usually not the case. As soon as I got within speaking distance of their table, Larry sat up, grabbed the check presenter, and handed it to me.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dammit.</div><div><br /></div><div>His card had been in there the whole time.</div><div><br /></div><div>He must have slipped his card in right after I left the table, without moving the check presenter at all. Awesome. Now I've made Larry King wait 20 minutes to pay for no reason.</div><div><br /></div><div>I felt extremely sheepish, but in my defense, most people, you know, move the check after they pay, or lay it down flat or SOMETHING so that the server knows they've put some form of legal tender in that black plastic case. They sat a while longer after I ran the card and gave it back to them, so at least they weren't in a hurry. And he tipped me a generous 30%, so he couldn't have been too irritated. <b>I</b> was the irritated one, for failing once again to have a normal social interaction with a celebrity, one that didn't even phase me. Just more proof of my all-around awkwardness.</div>Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09979798822796292836noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-747493863431143618.post-8014588572635443602011-02-02T17:03:00.001-08:002011-02-02T17:49:16.228-08:00It's easy, mmmkayMajor item crossed off my bucket list recently: visit South Park, Colorado.<div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvXx-FVvDzLHqsnZqxDawkt4LoxyynYD-rROF2zLyctHgSwGIVOqUPL4fMYyLS4d5Y_RBmZ5feucA_NuDDXOHTrCWX-LEi2mnby0im3oCp6Y5GzFkuGCsopo8VT7_7KVHWV8lW6ARHzOg/s1600/IMG_2652.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvXx-FVvDzLHqsnZqxDawkt4LoxyynYD-rROF2zLyctHgSwGIVOqUPL4fMYyLS4d5Y_RBmZ5feucA_NuDDXOHTrCWX-LEi2mnby0im3oCp6Y5GzFkuGCsopo8VT7_7KVHWV8lW6ARHzOg/s400/IMG_2652.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569263485714168002" /></a><br /><div>I currently live less than a couple hours away from South Park, so I screeched at my boyfriend to pull over the car when we drove through on our way to Denver so I could take these pictures.<br /><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGVAwh8s6DCkltBjLdbuJpY9HYfKuw9OYylIq4WMk7JRNiBr4mC0pudnvP0sl-tXupFQiMF3k2JYDfXUsXz_kPRxyB20TqAMqSACuOsKJa7DHLauOsGWwJfyIUofB79qZAdl2aRskuWv0/s1600/IMG_2649.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGVAwh8s6DCkltBjLdbuJpY9HYfKuw9OYylIq4WMk7JRNiBr4mC0pudnvP0sl-tXupFQiMF3k2JYDfXUsXz_kPRxyB20TqAMqSACuOsKJa7DHLauOsGWwJfyIUofB79qZAdl2aRskuWv0/s400/IMG_2649.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569264410024847362" /></a><br /></div></div><div>There's not much there, a few gas stations and diners. The South Park of the show has a lot more going on than real South Park. There's no True Value, no plane-arium, no water park, no lesbian bar (I'm assuming), and no Tom's Rhinoplasty. </div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSDqCpS6jppbtgy0pj6FIcbGkiL2ybMdPURrMhFWMOmANiuSj530VA3TzFdXyMNonAp-XMK6H-VRqHSPGfnUtUxB6ToYugds1ausfpEQYXaktCauu1GVdKozt58PdVd-sasFbgYseyfsI/s1600/IMG_2572.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 306px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSDqCpS6jppbtgy0pj6FIcbGkiL2ybMdPURrMhFWMOmANiuSj530VA3TzFdXyMNonAp-XMK6H-VRqHSPGfnUtUxB6ToYugds1ausfpEQYXaktCauu1GVdKozt58PdVd-sasFbgYseyfsI/s400/IMG_2572.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569265100819500386" /></a><div><br /></div><div>However, the spirit of South Park in the show is pretty accurate. Very cold (now I know why those kids are always wearing hats and mittens), VERY windy, just your average quiet little redneck mountain town.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><iframe title="YouTube video player" class="youtube-player" type="text/html" width="480" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/-fy8MwMCXPU" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe><div><br /></div><div>Although we did nothing there but buy some snacks at a gas station, I feel a special connection with Stan, Kyle, Kenny, and of course Cartman after seeing in person the setting for all their shenanigans.</div>Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09979798822796292836noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-747493863431143618.post-35814694410185729282011-01-27T16:30:00.000-08:002011-02-02T17:01:48.314-08:00Steven Tyler is the new Paula Abdul<div>I don't watch American Idol often, but I did last night in a fit of boredom and it was totally worth it for these three minutes. You may be thinking it's because of this young man's touching, heartbreaking story and lovely voice, but you'd be wrong. He's clearly a special person and I sympathize with what he has gone through, but the real gold starts at about 1:45, when the judges bring in Chris' handicapped girlfriend...I'll let you see for yourself.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><iframe title="YouTube video player" class="youtube-player" type="text/html" width="560" height="345" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/gqBEVRx78FI" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>American Idol was going for tearjerking, but the tears I cried were ones of laughter due to the judges' failure to be anything but awkward. See 1:47, when J.Lo introduces herself to the young woman, "Hi, I'm Jennifer (slight pause) <i>Lopez."</i> You know, the super famous one. Then, Steven Tyler turns it into a homerun by invading the personal space of a handicapped girl who he just met, stroking her hair, whispering in her ear, and KISSING her twice.</div><div><br /></div><div>Um, what?? Inappropriate police!! Let's kiss and hug strangers who have no way of protesting or even backing away from us if they feel uncomfortable! Why? Because we're celebrities!! They are SO LUCKY to meet us!! I just love giving back.</div>Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09979798822796292836noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-747493863431143618.post-51485775819381913172011-01-15T14:54:00.000-08:002011-01-15T15:01:46.816-08:00Can I go back to cleveland now?Although it doesn't snow as much here in Gunnison, CO, I'm missing Utah and Ohio winters right now. Gunnison is one of the coldest places in the continental US.<div><br /></div><div>It is SO cold that...<div><div>1. even with the pellet furnace and my space heater running all day, the house still doesn't totally warm up on the colder days.</div><div>2. my car battery died...and couldn't be revived after over an hour hooked up to another car's battery because it was too cold.</div><div>3. the streets are NEVER free of snow/ice even if it hasn't snowed in a week because it's too cold to melt.</div><div>4. if you stand outside at night for more than a minute you can feel the snot freezing inside your nose.</div><div>5. I've started wearing socks indoors. I hate socks.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>No one warned me about this.</div></div>Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09979798822796292836noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-747493863431143618.post-47316422201790634462011-01-05T21:02:00.000-08:002011-01-05T21:21:39.709-08:00lots of linksI'm being a total hack in this post because I just stumbled across a crop of really funny websites/submission blogs. You know, like cakewrecks? Everytime I turn around, more of these pop up and they're all so hilarious I waste a half hour on every one without realizing it.<div>Surgeon General Warning: Do not click on any of these if you have a paper to write or laundry to do or a souffle in the oven, etc. I am not responsible for any time losses incurred as a result of these websites.<div><br /></div><div><a href="http://damnyouautocorrect.com/">http://damnyouautocorrect.com/</a> - Just another reason not to get an iphone!</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://whydidyoubuymethat.com/">http://whydidyoubuymethat.com/</a> - We've all gotten gifts like this. I love how many of them are cat-related.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://awfulfanart.com/">http://awfulfanart.com/</a> - I was laughing the most at this one. I can't figure out why distorted celebrity drawings amuse me so much. The Robert Pattinson one is amazing.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://foodnetworkhumor.com/">http://foodnetworkhumor.com/</a> - Making fun of food network hosts, which is all too easy when it comes to certain ones (*coughsandraleecough*). Whoever writes this site is devilishly witty!</div></div>Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09979798822796292836noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-747493863431143618.post-67040687868355715182011-01-02T18:04:00.000-08:002011-01-02T22:23:43.016-08:00So disappointed in myself<div>I'm in the middle of the Twilight series right now. *ashamed face* I blame this man.</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkm9R_Eb9-OTrDHQDOIMSDC9A2lQ0S9dmovOgAmHHcEGDgGO1u2oKxsDdjTQB8p73yJqErAbihz-8j-SB-m_h4O6cWgWb1xf9afgcyRVFA9tunvXCprSjnOS0eDCp8Nrjo3M7-p03mw38/s1600/Video+call+snapshot+16+%25282%2529.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkm9R_Eb9-OTrDHQDOIMSDC9A2lQ0S9dmovOgAmHHcEGDgGO1u2oKxsDdjTQB8p73yJqErAbihz-8j-SB-m_h4O6cWgWb1xf9afgcyRVFA9tunvXCprSjnOS0eDCp8Nrjo3M7-p03mw38/s400/Video+call+snapshot+16+%25282%2529.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557776665383174898" /></a><br />I know you can't tell from this picture, but his abs could bring about world peace. Or at least peace in my world, which is why, in an attempt to get on the good side of his mother, I agreed to give Twilight a try. I'd seen the movies and was underwhelmed, to say the least. Although Taylor Lautner's abs are a nice reward for suffering through the movies' underwhelmingness!<div><br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxa5byBLjPvCXs6vf_nbyvp6wZgIdGammr4TNeBZ8rsCFHRLZQht-I_bkbHWl57Q74LuSvOw5wrEpRnsJ2T0St9JD3VE8RXj_7JGJrmXWz-tYZk2NJgz1d27gfqDR1HgYDXKor6TfKFxA/s1600/taylor_lautner_abs1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 227px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxa5byBLjPvCXs6vf_nbyvp6wZgIdGammr4TNeBZ8rsCFHRLZQht-I_bkbHWl57Q74LuSvOw5wrEpRnsJ2T0St9JD3VE8RXj_7JGJrmXWz-tYZk2NJgz1d27gfqDR1HgYDXKor6TfKFxA/s400/taylor_lautner_abs1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557779590386973650" /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >mmmmmm. that's nice.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Despite my vow to never read the series, which I'd heard were somewhat poorly written and just cheap, unrealistic fluff for silly schoolgirls, I found myself engrossed enough after the first book to continue plowing through. I'm currently on page 381 of book 4 after starting the first book less than three weeks ago. *another ashamed face* After having read half the series, it's easy to see why they are so successful and yet so censured.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>pros:</div><div><br /></div><div>-Bella is very likeable in the books. She's awkward and clumsy, but also humble, selfless, smart, and trustworthy.</div><div><br /></div><div>-Stephenie Meyer has definitely fabricated a story that keeps the reader wanting more. The desire to see what happens next is the only thing that's kept my eyes racing from one page to the next.</div><div><br /></div><div>-Edward's (and Jacob's) devotion to Bella is heart-melting. The idea of a man, or two men in this case, being so utterly, incomprehensibly commited to and in love with you, flaws and all, is intoxicating.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>cons:</div><div><br /></div><div>-Edward and Jacob's unrealistic obsession with Bella. While many women (and gay men?) are seduced by the intensity of the romance, I'm a little too cynical to give it any credit. I also don't believe in the idea of soul mates, so maybe this would be more plausible for those who do.</div><div><br /></div><div>- The simplistic writing. Although Meyer is a good storyteller and paints some nice descriptions here and there, her style is not sophisticated. The sentences are short and simple, with a mostly basic vocabulary. The books are very easy to skim and I find myself occasionally skipping over whole paragraphs when I can tell they don't contain any vital or interesting information. This could also be considered a pro, I suppose, since it makes for a quick read. To put it briefly, you're not getting any smarter from reading these books.</div><div><br /></div><div>-A lack of overarching plot, or purpose to the series. While each book seems to have its own struggle or malevolent force to overcome, there's (so far, almost done with the 4th book) no plot thread binding all the books together, like in Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, or the His Dark Materials trilogy. Hell, even Star Wars. It's just a peek into the lives of some fantastical creature humans, with no hint at when we'll know they've achieved their happily ever after.</div><div><br /></div><div>-I've noticed a trend of telling instead of showing when it comes to character illustration. Instead of showing us a personality trait by watching how a character acts in a given situation, Meyer just tells us straight up that so-and-so is this way. Although it hasn't hindered the books' success, it's a rather elementary and forgettable writing style.</div><div><br /></div><div>p.s. in case you were wondering, I'm team <s>abs</s> Jacob.</div><div><s></s></div><p class="MsoNormal"><s><o:p></o:p></s></p>Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09979798822796292836noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-747493863431143618.post-26112317376259174982010-12-01T00:16:00.000-08:002010-12-01T01:33:52.822-08:00Things That Suck (vol. I?)<div>I've noticed I've been really negative lately because a lot of negative things are happening in my life at the moment, so why not make it official and put it on ye olde blog.<div><br /></div><div>1. cars</div></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkMTFjVtaIsy4UnpcQfiZY8MmTL8lOAxhz2qshJCte5BH5cWsmUx5vfgL-bwQVNuXwu9GJ7VXcqE6UIUvp3BDMcofOdwoFxlM3mDJw4N9l26xONm1w5pMiTx0qDBOOghjxZa_AAPbeHlI/s1600/2000_saturn_l_wagon_100000735_m.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkMTFjVtaIsy4UnpcQfiZY8MmTL8lOAxhz2qshJCte5BH5cWsmUx5vfgL-bwQVNuXwu9GJ7VXcqE6UIUvp3BDMcofOdwoFxlM3mDJw4N9l26xONm1w5pMiTx0qDBOOghjxZa_AAPbeHlI/s400/2000_saturn_l_wagon_100000735_m.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545642546590561570" /></a><div><div><br /></div><div>I'll do my best to make this brief, since fully detailing the history of my car's suckiness would take 26 paragraphs. I have a 2000 Saturn wagon. When I bought it in 2008, it had just under 60,000 miles on it and was in top condition. Since then, I shudder to realize I've spent somewhere in the neighborhood of $3000 on repairs.</div><div>My car hates me. And it's just me. On three separate occasions at two different mechanics, the car has been operating perfectly after being worked on for hours, the bills paid and the keys handed over to me, only to shut off spontaneously within a few miles of the garage. When taken back to the mechanics, the car behaves like a saint. They can't find a trace of the shenanigans that caused me to break down in the middle of traffic.</div><div>I'm currently suffering from the latest spate of this behavior. After two weeks at the mechanics (he was shorthanded and really busy, but I mean still, come on) and a number of parts replaced, I still have service lights illuminated on my dashboard and the spontaneous-shutting-off syndrome. All of this just reinforces my desperation to move to Europe where vehicle-free living is perfectly possible.</div><div><br /></div><div>2. Apple</div></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigchnvTUrzK-121aYxDTDcCuiGatzEZBbono9gXovhawqNsc6HFhIcjEW3mKDbjRlx6MFs6GrGy1fXnkM1GCtx8jerzdI28x_MpKU_4ij9bmBiWRuiRJlIWxuyftqeDDCRlF-YIGS4Hiw/s1600/apple_iiplus.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 396px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigchnvTUrzK-121aYxDTDcCuiGatzEZBbono9gXovhawqNsc6HFhIcjEW3mKDbjRlx6MFs6GrGy1fXnkM1GCtx8jerzdI28x_MpKU_4ij9bmBiWRuiRJlIWxuyftqeDDCRlF-YIGS4Hiw/s400/apple_iiplus.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545642230724399186" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">image from <a href="http://www.allaboutapple.com/museo/appleii.htm">http://www.allaboutapple.com/museo/appleii.htm</a></span></div><div><br /></div><div>For a company that was started to make computers for mentally handicapped people, they sure make it pretty hard to get in contact with them.</div><div>I'm having problems with my ipod (first and not last evidence of this anecdote that Apple is lame) so I set up an appointment on the Apple website at the salt lake store to meet with a "genius" (their label not mine). It soon became clear that my car would prohibit me from going to my appointment, so I looked up the number of the Salt Lake store to cancel.</div><div>Instead of connecting me with a store associate, it connected me to an automated computer system, but not before playing a lengthy greeting listing what Apple products my loved ones would most enjoy this holiday season.</div><div>Once I got to the numbered menu, none of the choices even vaguely resembled "talk to a store associate, " so I went with option 5 for "other miscellaneous questions." After letting the phone ring about 286 times, I realized that Apple was never going to let me talk to a store associate, or even a real person for that matter. The Salt Lake Apple store probably doesn't even have a phone in their building; the listing that I found for them is most likely a flimsy facade to temporarily pacify people like me who are trying to honor common courtesy by saving some harried Apple employee a little time during the holiday season. Sorry for trying to be polite.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. eating- No matter how many times I do it, I always just get hungry again a few hours later. Greedy stomach.</div><div><br /></div><div>4. working out- No matter how many times I do it, my abs refuse to resemble a washboard. Greedy stomach muscles.</div>Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09979798822796292836noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-747493863431143618.post-13322028086047231612010-11-26T18:12:00.001-08:002010-11-26T18:12:39.929-08:00Questions I Am Tired of Being Asked: 4th ed. How did you start playing the harp?This is not an interesting story people, but I suppose I get asked so often because the harp is a less common instrument. I mean, I don't think I've ever asked anyone how they started playing the piano. That could just be because I'm incredibly self-centered though.<div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzSG1zM-0OupGY7GS2y0KbNTj_ZXJUetMtmVBmGORR5f5zk9LDXzxcW1KwbEi1seJTXX_S6BpMQKL5TiClMKiHjL7er3pUbjsXCgg4ZZtmrnOuiGaNWy8rYg0F6w3ym1wd7YeBXzFtPd0/s1600/harp.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzSG1zM-0OupGY7GS2y0KbNTj_ZXJUetMtmVBmGORR5f5zk9LDXzxcW1KwbEi1seJTXX_S6BpMQKL5TiClMKiHjL7er3pUbjsXCgg4ZZtmrnOuiGaNWy8rYg0F6w3ym1wd7YeBXzFtPd0/s400/harp.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544040364248746402" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></a><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; ">Hey it's me! OR it's a picture of a stranger I took from a stock photo website. We'll never know.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><br /></span></div>See that woman on the left side of the picture my mom failed to include in the photo? That's my harp teacher, and my mom met her at a wedding reception she was playing at. When she took a break, my mom started chatting with her and asked if she gave lessons and if I could come try it out. I had never expressed any actual interest in picking up the harp, but that didn't stop my mom from setting up my first lesson, and the rest is history. She wanted a child who played the harp, and I had no objection to learning. I mean, why wouldn't you want to play the harp?</span><div><div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaKjjK3jqQvBFmxdbnWFP-lPRx-5o9OIYAae7xrijEah1IzehS0JCXxbTjGcqAj1C-APWrg6RMrAZUDUA8Dq8KMV-jTq19QmAdTQXvsGH4rlxm42hUxr3O7dJPOkDbgLxWpxZN6eUUE6o/s1600/home+009.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaKjjK3jqQvBFmxdbnWFP-lPRx-5o9OIYAae7xrijEah1IzehS0JCXxbTjGcqAj1C-APWrg6RMrAZUDUA8Dq8KMV-jTq19QmAdTQXvsGH4rlxm42hUxr3O7dJPOkDbgLxWpxZN6eUUE6o/s400/home+009.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544040996401898194" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 274px; " /></a><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; ">Ok, THAT one's definitely me. I was 17 and still had that ugly mole that I later got remo... um, wait! No, this a stock photo too!</span></div></div></div><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; ">At the same time, I never applied myself as hard as I could during those high school years of weekly lessons due to my crippling laziness. I enjoyed playing the harp very much and still do, but I was definitely more excited about getting my driver's license than becoming accomplished at a beautiful and unique instrument. Typical teenage ingrate. If I ever have kids, I'm shipping them off to an isolated farm during their teenage years.</span></span></div>Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09979798822796292836noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-747493863431143618.post-82820582197435411402010-11-26T17:39:00.000-08:002010-11-26T17:40:08.880-08:00Questions I Am Tired of Being Asked: 3rd ed. What ethnicity are you?<div>Or any other variation of that question. (Hint: I'm white.)<div>I wouldn't be tired of hearing this question if people didn't ask it so awkwardly. I think they are worried they'll offend me or be politically incorrect if they straight up ask me what race or ethnicity I am. Instead, people come up with really roundabout ways of asking me this, i.e.<div><br /></div><div>Why are you so exotic looking?</div><div>Your eyes look so Asian!</div><div>What is your genealogical background/ancestry/gene pool/etc...</div><div><br /></div><div>(Side note: Is it un-P.C. to directly ask someone what race/ethnicity they are? I would not be offended, but one girl I worked with years ago who was half black got really mad at me when I commented that I couldn't tell what ethnicity a certain customer was. Oh, and then she wouldn't tell me why she was mad, so I remain puzzled.)</div><div>Egyptian has been a common guess, along with Asian, but I'm about 99% Caucasian. Exciting, no? I do have a Native American greatgreatgreatgreat (more greats?) grandmother on my Father's side, as do many Caucasian Americans. Her name was Running Deer and she was Mohawk.</div></div></div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3N60kYL7eMXndgZKrX3x_Setc6lRSAgg2QGsmPbIF-WfQ7oTS6J7dyG2UKPL86dVQVbUCXMeFT9ZzK-ZB9lZ6pW-cBdhHLCkdvzWTGC3P7xdeCl21E-QlhmvfquDbJbgi_HZUp9Vu90M/s1600/POCAHONTAS01_kp43377c.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3N60kYL7eMXndgZKrX3x_Setc6lRSAgg2QGsmPbIF-WfQ7oTS6J7dyG2UKPL86dVQVbUCXMeFT9ZzK-ZB9lZ6pW-cBdhHLCkdvzWTGC3P7xdeCl21E-QlhmvfquDbJbgi_HZUp9Vu90M/s400/POCAHONTAS01_kp43377c.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544032706423770802" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 273px; " /></a><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; ">an authentic depiction of my Grandma and Grandpa on their first date</span></div><div><br /><div><div>However, I have a hard time believing whatever exotic qualities people see in me can be attributed to that tiny fraction of my genetics, so the original question goes unanswered. We can speculate that my mom fooled around with the postman, but he was white too so I don't know where that leaves us.</div></div></div>Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09979798822796292836noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-747493863431143618.post-85659577797452733152010-10-06T14:26:00.000-07:002010-10-06T14:57:35.632-07:00Questions I Am Tired of Being Asked: 2nd ed. So if you don't eat meat, like, what do you eat?No I am not kidding. Apparently some people really eat THAT much meat that they would starve if they couldn't eat it anymore.<div><br /><div>The problem is that whenever I am asked this, I never know what to answer because I barely have to think about it in day to day life- I am never struggling to think of things to eat.</div><div><br /></div><div>Some of my favorite foods:</div><div><br /></div><div>-any kind of fresh fruit</div><div>-peanut butter</div><div>-<a href="http://www.lifeway.net/">Kefir</a> (basically just a yogurt drink that's really good for digestion)</div><div>-cereal and the entire rest of the carb world</div><div>-lots of different kinds of soup</div><div>-Mexican food</div><div>-Indian food</div><div>-Italian food</div><div>-Chinese/Japanese/Thai/Korean food</div><div>-Middle Eastern food</div><div><br /></div><div>Let's not forget about all the meat substitute products available in all supermarkets these days. I can still have burgers, chicken nuggets, ground beef, and corn dogs. I have more recipes saved up that I want to try than I will ever have time for. And the size 10 dresses and pants in my closet testify that I'm not about to starve anytime soon. It is so easy to eat vegetarian and it disappoints me when this has to be explained to others.</div></div>Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09979798822796292836noreply@blogger.com2