A crossroads or a personality assassination?

(Yes, the title reflects John Mayer's newest album. I miss the old, non-A-list dating, non impromptu press conference outside his gym, non-unflattering-interviewing-so-much-his-publicist-needs-to-be-fired John).

So it's kind of embarrassing how much magazines used to excite me, mostly for their welcomed purpose of mind-numbing after a week (or few hours) of study and the escape of print media that quite literally decided my collegiate studies.

I used to joke that I should fake credentials a la Catch Me If You Can style to become an astrologist for Cosmo.
I recalled this career option with a chuckle skimming a horoscope today (on the beach- does that make it ok?) and reading something about being "empowered to make a Facebook change around the 11th." Oy. Seriously?

But lately, magazines bore me. Just ordinary. This is even after a 3 month sabbatical. The clarity (thank you again, John) is just so bright now.

Why does glitz not excite me as much anymore? Maybe realizing I am now at a crossroads of personality, what with not fretting over a long curbside wait yesterday or riding in the backs of pickup trucks with 5-minute-ago strangers (cute ones, I may add. Which makes it ok, right?).

Perhaps it's just maturity, perhaps this is just a hallmark funk of island living. The latter would warrant a huge mental change.
Wait, no it wouldn't...if I come back to reality I realize it's just really late and I'm spiraling into equal parts drama and genius - a pair quite well-acquainted.

Post-Edit:
This was posted in one of those moments, perhaps fleeting. I still do love glitz and glam.

Poker Face

On Halloween, I don't go for themes of 'skank' or 'scary,' but rather hilarity.

Por ejemplo, remember last year when I was Sarah Palin? or when I was a COMPOSER circa age 7? (The link at the end of that post proved an interesting foreshadow to this year's costume- what with the 'popping')


And this year, it was Lady Gaga, naturally... her getups are made for Halloween replication.
I was surprised I didn't see more...

(Blonde wig situation didn't work out... I'm not bitter or anything...)

I'm aware my face looks utterly ridiculous, but I believe part of costuming requires getting into character, hence my fun with Palin's accent last year via self-Method-ing Tina Fey, and this year's GaGa 'thizz face' of sorts...

Bubbles still intact at this point (it proved to be more high maintenance than I envisioned), with with my legit basketballer roommate Mackenzie as GI Jane (anyone who posts videos of Shaq & Dwight Howard dance-offs on my Facebook wall has my strait up respek'...)


Stopped by SpAly's party...they were McCain/Palin last year, and an old married couple this year. I can't wait to see them when we're 70...dressed like 20-somethings again!

The bubbles were falling off at this point, and hair getting static-y.

Yes, I drove in this. I had to recline my seat all the way down to fit in. I could only steer the wheel in 4 inch increments. Kids stared. I felt like a marshmallow (or the gauche version to the Carrie Bradshaw limo wedding dress moment). Rad.

And shout out to Amanda: I'm sad I missed you! And Criz, you too!


Then home after a rollicking time (poker face) on the town to watch the end of the Yankees/Phillies in my leotard.


How much longer until Thanksgiving? ;)

The highest form of flattery

I'm always working on the lifelong journey of not being validated by the world...suffice to say, it's difficult.

but surely admission to being positively validated externally is healthier than denying it?? At least for now, when I'm not Eat-Pray-Love-amped-on-nirvana-24/7 yet? (Oh, shoot, now I'm self-comparing...)

Eek, I hope.

Remember when I was featured by Siovhan? Read this to discover one of my funny quirks...

It's kind of nice to know people think you're alright, even when you're leaning over the kitchen sink performing a saline sinus cleanout on yourself...

(I will spare you further details.)

New hobby!

You know its a new hobby when your mind races with thoughts of future creations...

To send my card to your nearest and dearest, go here!

xo

Like a Malawian baby or a poodle

Every Monday at 8 PM, I can be found grinning ear to ear with glee gawking at Gossip Girl.
(If I am eating my weight in Diego's chicken nachos, I will be squealing too).

However, even though episode 1 filled the void, I was skeptical.

But episode 2? DELICIOUS. I laughed so hard at Chuck's quote I actually, upon request, verbally repeated it back to my roommate who was in and out.

(“For people like us, a college degree is just an accessory, like a Malawian baby or a poodle.” - It got it's own +1 here)

Episode 3:...MEH. Sotheby's auctions and money is getting boring. Back to the drama, please!!

Episode 4: Lizzie McGuire Goes to College. Over it. The best part was again, Chuck Bass's quote along the lines of "NYU men don't wear shoes, they wear sandals."

CANNOT wait for Episode 5, when Georgina is back to liven things up. Pardon my French, but vicarious bitching never felt so RIGHT.

Also, sometimes I pretend like I'm a cool pseudo-hipster (you know the ones that subsist solely on coffee, cigarettes, and crack) but really, I do love love love the music they play and compulsively download it as soon as I find out what it is.

Phoenix? LOVE. Try this and this.

That is all.

Sesame Street Mad Men

I do not kid on this one...



Why weren't they this clever circa 20 years ago??

Another Sesame memory:

When I was little I was afraid of our pool vacuum cleaner...

(you know, the contraption that rolls around the bottom and attaches to the side via a tube?)...

...so I called it OSCAR and shrieked whenever it came near.


I lived on the beach until I was 11, so never mind that before the pool, I had most likely been swimming with stingrays, sharks and other little Pacific Ocean critters...

Most likely with Al, my childhood partner in crime...

Just about the cutest thing.

The last time math was fun was when my middle school algebra teacher did a "NEAR...FAR" Grover imitation (with hands flailing- he was hysterical) to better explain the concept of positive and negative numbers.

What's your favorite Sesame Street memory?

REAL 'Reality Shows'

I've made a new resolution that whenever I become infuriated that I haven't slept well, I'll put my frustrations in perspective with these kinds of stories.

Exhibit A: MUGABE IS DELUSIONAL. THE END.

Exhibit B: To think THIS kind of sentiment will only grow as WWII fades deeper into memory is so tragic I can't even conjure words. Yeah, I know if we're looking at numbers, Stalin and Pol Pot and others killed far more people, but SERIOUSLY?!

Exhibit C: As if we didn't expect or suspect this already...

I'd take vomiting anyday...

I was telling a friend recently that whenever I'm around someone who I'm potentially interested in, (which does not happen very often at all because I am extremely picky as well as 'really intimidating'), I am serially shy until the awkwardness phase turns into a comfortable one.

Probably stems from all my former self-conscious days. Which is annoying, because it only makes the situation more awkward when I cannot contribute. I think I've learned to subconsciously counteract this habit by being a semi-good question asker. But then inevitably the ball gets placed in my court and then it's all over.

Awesome.

But then my friend argued that being a word vomit-er with a potential interest is more dangerous, because then they have material they can use in their case "against" you.

But no cool guy wants a boring girl!!! I'm convinced being a word vomiter would be more attractive.

Or one of my friends confesses that her inner-most secrets are more often made known to airplane seatmates, not her friends. Whereas instead of talking miles a minute at miles-high altitudes, my interaction with plane strangers consists of head-nodding yes or no if I or they need to get up past me.


So what are you?

a word vomiter

or

serially shy?

I'm curious...please footnote your thoughts and stories



PS: I can't think of "word vomit" without thinking of Mean Girls (ah such a classic!)...

Reflections on my 21st bygone year

(Or "Musings on becoming legal")

On paper, it was maybe one of the worst years to date (eh, no that would be high school). I probably logged more hours in doctors offices and pharmacies in the first half than time spent out with friends. But in terms of learning, I couldn't have asked for more. Really. Sooo cliche: sue me.

Here's a little recap:

Experienced the highest recurring form of physical pain to date, popping ibuprofen and narcotics like candy, including racing up and down I-15 (Provo-SLC) with ice packs pressed to my freezer burnt face for injections and various therapies. A low point was popping some Percosset with intentions to snuggle the pain off in bed, then having my professor call to say I needed to get up to campus in the next half hour to have him sign an "Incomplete" form and submit it to the registrar's office.
I'm better, for the most part.

Learned that driving under the influence is just...not good.


-Oversaw Daily Universe packages for 2008 election coverage.

Learned Tina Fey is a goddess of satire.


-Went to Wyoming for Thanksgiving.

Learned that wide open spaces may in fact be really great...for the rush of galloping a horse.



- Attended a Buddhist wedding of my lovely hippie cousin and her dear Brazilian hubby in Santa Cruz...

(Isn't that the coolest picture of a bride?!)

and also a traditional Mormon wedding reception for another cousin in Orange County.



Two of my four best friends from Spain study abroad also got married.

Learned that love lives.

(Speaking of: men with psychotic wanderlust, intellectual arrogance, and/or cruel casanova complexes need not inquire within. -The Management)


-Spent the summer at the lake, (no malls, gyms, movie theaters or chain restaurants to be found within an hour radius)...ate lots of ice cream and enjoyed myself and my family (and Rayflyer).

(an awkward family photo (mom's hand on Katherine's stomach?) but it's all of us, nonetheless...)

Waterskiied, sky-skiied, and taught myself how to paddleboard.


Took an over two hour Hobie Cat excursion in gnarly waves and wind with my dad (including incident of capsize).
Relaxed. Read a lot of books and blogs. Wrote.

Learned that I can be happy outside of cities. At least in this interim period...


-Met Anderson Cooper, who inspired me to do international foreign correspondence work.

Went to Prague with three of my best friends, only to learn that I don't want to be a foreign correspondent: something about needing to take a crash surgical course in the event that you have to perform surgery on yourself was the kicker.


-Accepted that being a high-functioning individual also requires a high-vigilance and maintenance of well-being. Reconciled that I'm not done reconciling some things, but I'm definitely more myself than I've ever been. And really, I haven't been happier, more sure, determined, or more carefree.

Learned that irony is comical.


-Planned my next adventure ... to Neverland ...
where I will be thrown into "outdoors-y-ness" for the first time. We shall see if 15+ summers in the New England forestry have given me sufficient bug-squashing confidence.
(Last hurrah before the big-city life of my 4-year-old dreams! eee!)


OH, and I went auburn a couple days ago (the closest I will probably ever come to my redhead sisters)




It's true that really don't understand the lessons learned from trials and successes until you reflect upon them.
Thank you, readers, for indulging me.

22? Bring it.

On jerking myself around

"The most important reviews are the ones you give yourself."
- Carrie Bradshaw, after her first NY Times review
Season 5, 'Critical Condition'


Getting to know one's self is a lifelong quest, yes.

But this much I am sure: a healthy relationship is one where your own self, however developed or undeveloped it may be, is not surrendered or hijacked parasitically, but rather allowed to develop and flourish both healthily and independently of the other. Of course, it is always nice to see eye-to-eye on things, and certainly, a relationship is one that grows together in some, if not, many aspects.
But ultimately, the "oneness" starts at one's self.


Arguably my best and simplest revelation this summer:

I am the biggest jerk to...myself.


If we all treated ourselves with due self-respect, we'd see healthier relationships.
I'm not too proud to say that starts with me.

Shout out to Denmark

I know I know I'm not supposed to be blogging. It's one of the things I thought about in my hour spent in the fetal position.

Anyway,

So regardless of the fact I'm practically 20th generation American (one on the Mayflower even), half my ancestry is Danish.

I mean, how did you think one could be called "shorty/runt/petite" by family at 5-feet-11 & 3/4 inches?

(Precise fractionated height due to being measured at a morning doctor's appointment a couple days ago. Maybe I'm really 6' at high-noon? What is 1/4 inch anyway: the flattest of flats put me at 6')

So needless to say I've been obsessed with all the talented Miss Brittany has done in Copenhagen...like this post and her blog in general. ("Brilliant")

And watch for the Danish shout out in this hilarious new ad campaign.

I believe in Denmark...after all, it's why I'm standing here today: all 5' 11 & 3/4 inches.

22 in 2

I am 22 in 2 weeks.

My due date 22 years ago was September 1. Thanks mom, for carrying me an extra 12 days. Fortunately, I compromised by weighing in at a mere 9 pounds, 8 ounces: the smallest of my sisters, mind you- (I still am at 5' 11 & 3/4")

I don't subscribe to astrology, but I still find light amusement in chick magazine horoscopes (don't we all).

(Kate even declared her college major on a Cosmo quiz's results.)

This one, I think, is the most shockingly downright true reading I've seen.


VIRGO (August 23-September 22)

The forecast: Count on the new moon to offer fresh perspective after weeks of soul searching.

(THANK YOU SUMMER! And hello, fall sweaters and scarves! I've missed you guys!)

Work mode: In the zone. Mercury refocuses your waning attention- that means you'll spend less time uploading your Labor Day montage to Flickr and more time knocking out that must-do list.

(Ever since I got back to Provo, I've been in zombie mode. I've forgotten things like chocolate bars in my desk and calling people back. Whoops.)

Love life: A new crop of guys is ripe for the picking, but remember: The best ones aren't always in easy reach.

(HA)

Objectophilia

If I possessed this syndrome, I would elect for a polyandrous marriage with cities.

Just saying.

Laundromats: the new adorable

Last week, my sister and I took 3 hour Sunday naps that were halfway punctuated by my other sister bringing us fresh cookies out of the oven.

We decided it was the best nap we'd ever had.

Today, I vegged out to good old Regina Spektor...from "two birds on a wire" to "ancient bruises"...ah, she's marvelous.


ALSO. Whether it's the darling Aryan-Euro boy or her luscious dryer lair, I'm kind of in love with this video:


I am no Harry Potter aficionada, but I would submit that she is a Moaning Myrtle laundromat equivalent (in a good way).

Also unrelated but worth a self re-quote,

"Nothing is the new fabulous."

To write, or not to write?

All this contentment has given me a lot of time to think about writing a book about my sojourn to New Zealand next year, where I will explore not only the majestic countryside but also the various themes of my life.

So naturally, I've had to calm myself down and make points of reference to some of the travel books I've read, so I can gauge how much of myself I would decide to weave into my potential travel piece and create something unique.

In a Sunburned Country- A travel book in its purest form, written by NY-Times acclaimed author Bryson who goes to Australia for the sake of travel writing. Although I appreciated his extensive research on the country and sense of humor, I found my urgency to experience Australia decrease (he spent too much time in the Outback), realizing Australia's real draw is the ocean (Great Barrier Reef and surfing 'mecca' Brisbane).

A Year in Provence- ethnographic account of an older, semi-retired couple who pack up their life in England and experience every European’s dream of living full-time in the countryside of Provence, France. However, they majority of the way they spend their days is not traveling to nearby chateaus or taking walks along the beach in Marseille, but reconstructing an old farmhouse they have purchased and interacting with their neighbors—pandering to universal themes of home ownership and community, not necessarily travel.
A TV Mini-series was produced, 1993.

Japanland: In Search of Wa- An American documentary filmmaker with day-job burnout and judo hobby, who spends a year in Japan scrappily forging her way around the terrain finding experience, joy and ultimately, peace with herself. I think this was my favorite of the four I mention here, because the author was an extremely compelling writer, personable and funny, who more often than not, left the reader to draw the more emotional conclusions. The adventures Karin Muller finds herself on are unforgettable: filming the Tamagawa cult in desolate mountains of which even the Japan Tourist Information Center has no knowledge, following a homeless man in Osaka, and also studying what fuels the traditions of sumo wrestling, geisha-dom, and the national pachinko addiction.

Eat, Pray, Love- A soul-searching adventure by Elizabeth Gilbert through Italy, India, and Bali that touched mostly on retreat, renewal, and re-learning how to give and receive love. I read this almost two years ago, and the most poignant thoughts that come to mind were a) her eating not one, but two crusty-soft pizzas in Naples (Eat), b) meditating in an Indian ashram and reaching a level of serenity never experienced before (Pray), and c) indulging in an outdoor shower in Bali (as well as the boyfriend she picks up there). And of the four, interesting to note this the only one with a highly anticipated movie deal starring Julia Roberts.

Gilbert (Eat, Pray, Love) spoke on creativity in a recent TED conference. And I just love how raw, candid, funny and happily at ease she is about her creative process, that it gives me hope that I'm still in the right (write?) place. It is quite inspiring...

"[The belief that] creativity and suffering are somehow inherently interlinked...[that] artistry, in the end, will ultimately lead to anguish...is odious."

Don't miss her closing segment (starting at 15:38) how the creativity of expression is a glimpse of God.




Maybe I'm just grandiose and doe-eyed with all my thought processes of "The world is my oyster! I can be anything I want to be! I'm going to go soak up life for all it's infinite worth!" so I welcome your suggestions. Would you read a book about New Zealand, authored by yours truly?
(Doubtful sentiments also welcomed.)

Thank you in advance.

Contentment

Sun-kissed.
Family- blissed.
Nothing-missed.

Forest-soothed.
Lake-seduced.
Stress-reduced.

Makeup-free.
Care-free.
Pain-free.

Laughing.
Learning.
Cooking.
Cruising.
Discussing.
Dancing.
Reading.
Writing.

Swim suit-wearing.
Hairbrush-neglecting.
Sunset-watching.

Lobster-eating.

Content.

I also hate Christmas, too!

(Kidding).

Okay, so the dislike of murderers, the inexcusably tight-wadded or, say...Massachusetts drivers ("MASSHOLES") is universal.

However, for me, I'm realizing, I dislike some things that most people like, if not, LOVE.

Consider the following grounds to call me a Debbie Downer:


Candy
Except for Trolli Peachie-Os about twice a year (I'm weird), high fructose corn syrup alone is not my kind of sweet fun. I prefer the old school sugar and butter derivatives.


Swings
Yeah, that old childhood park pastime. Well, they make me dizzy and nauseous.

I distinctly remember a kindergarten "Glad/Sad" workbook exercise and marking an image of an elephant swinging as "Sad." I was a sharp little tot, probably bored with such petty exercises and wanting to answer 'truthfully' to stir up some non-conformity.


Soda/Pop
When I tell people I don't drink soda, they usually respond with some kind of form of "Good for you/Oh man, you're so healthy/Wow, I wish I could give it up too."
No, people. Seriously, it's not even for health reasons.
It's simply because I think it tastes like candy (see above) in liquid form, and to top it off, IT BURNS.

Liquid candy + burn factor equals NOT my idea of fun. It continues to shock me how much of an anomaly I am this way. Don't other people see this???!!! Something that tastes rotten and HURTS YOU AS YOU DRINK IT (and I'm not even addressing the osteoporosis).

Might as well have NyQuil or Robitussin- stuff is all the same. The only soda you'll ever see me gag down is half a glass of Ginger Ale on airplane flights (to keep my stomach at ease).


Milk Chocolate
It has to be dark (without lecithin wax filler) or it's not of any interest. You can now see that without candy or any chocolate Hershey or Nestle products, how Halloween ties with Flag Day on my 'fun holidays' list.


Roadtrips
I must preface this by saying that wide open spaces intensely scare me because I conjure some strange grandiose subconscious notion that all civilization will vanish before I've had a chance to return.

So...long periods of time spent staring out at them? My idea of hell!

Oh did I mention I have legs (inseam: 35") and would rather be in bed to do most everything.


Dogs
How could I be so heartless? Well...my first experience with my little neighbor buddy's dog was really traumatizing.
It's name was Mistral. It was seriously hyperactive, bipolar, and also had some kind of vicious ailment like leukemia or something.
Dog was evil.

It was not disciplined properly I guess (but my memories of Mistral also involve my friend's mom yelling at it to stop and chaining it up), so it always jumped up and barked in excess quantity and decibel level. Nasty creature.

(Later, I would find out that 'Mistral' is the name for seasonal winds in Provence, France (like the Santa Anas of Southern California, I think). Well, as you can see, Mistral was the dog equivalent of an unwelcome Santa Ana.)

PLUS: my little sister Katherine was once bit by a dog (Siberian husky). Foul and wrong!

I'm sure if I had a dog like Old Yeller or Lassie, I would feel differently, but honestly, when I see a dog I see 'unnecessary mess' written all over it: unnecessary food going towards an un-eatable specimen who will crap unnecessary feces over MY terrain.

('MY terrain' being the world).

And why in the world would I want to go up and let something that doesn't talk 'sniff my hand'...for all I know, it's going to bite it off!

Help wanted for phobia instigation

I do not understand claustrophobia.
Truly.
I get a rush from huge crowds, I wear full-body blue suits with pep, and think that being sardine packed in a subway is, while not the most hygienic place, at least somewhat cozy.

In fact, I find wide open spaces ominous and scary (I'll explain more tomorrow).

Am I totally weird? Because I feel like everyone I know has some shade of claustrophobia and I'm missing out on some great club in which we can commiserate universally. I feel as though I'm sitting at home, while day after day, my friends attend a party I am not invited to. Please tell a story ("footnote it") below, and perhaps your stories will freak me out enough to develop it.

Yes, I'm asking you to take it upon yourself to help me become claustrophobic.

Thank you!

Blue Suit Riot: Episode I

Oh heeyyyy, what did you do today?
I went waterskiing in my new blue suit. yeah....

Strapping in.

The fluorescent orange dorkvest completes the ensemble nicely, don't you think?

Let's rock n roll!

Giddy up!

Literally COULD NOT SEE for the first 30 seconds up.
One of the scarier half minutes of my life.

(Everytime thenceforth when water sprayed my face, I couldn't see until the wind cleared the face enough to see again. Oh, the (totally-worth-it) travails of blue suit waterskiing...)

Spectators who came for me! (hah- completely by chance!)
Too bad I couldn't see their reactions...

Helen Keller School of Waterskiing

"Unzip me, I can't breathe!!!"

to be continued...