Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Michelle introduced me to the blog called taza-and-husband, it's about a Mormon couple that lived in New York. They have since moved to DC, bought a light pink convertible pink bug, and taken lots of Polaroid photos. Her blog has a large following, and it seems that everything she posts is just so 'cute'. Lately, she's been doing a series based on her reader's lists of little things that make them happy. When I read the first one I realized that many of the things that made me happy weren't small. Like home, my parents, and my grandmas make me very happy, but they are definitely no small thing. The more I thought about it the more my list kept growing, but of big things that make me happy. Yet, after reading through more of the lists I could not help but relate. I kept thinking "oh! I totally forgot about that!" and "There are small things that I like". So to celebrate the fact that I'm not all about the big things and can celebrate the small I post my list here, even if these small things seem to happen rarely - so I guess they are kind of big in that sense. But no matter, here's my list (partially stolen from other lists, I swear I'm not a bad person):
1. pretty ribbon
2. warm summer nights
3. exploring new places with my hubby
4. pop standards, jazz, and cajun music - especially on Saturday mornings
5. dancing outdoors
6. wrapping up in a warm blanket after being cold and wet
7. all day read-a-thons on my couch
8. waking to the scent of lilacs wafting through my old bedroom window and seeing the cherry blossoms outside.
9. wide open spaces
10. waking up to the sound of a brook, warm inside a sleeping bag but with a cold nose.
at 8:12 AM
Thursday, April 30, 2009
So, I finished my paper on Tuesday! Congratulations to me. I also made it to work and did my visiting teaching (woot). When I got home I looked at the schedule I had planned. I apparently thought I would have enough energy to go take a Bikrahm yoga class. John saw my plans and urged me to go. Confused as to why I was even trying, I dragged myself down to sugar house for a class, I even squeezed in some grocery shopping on the way.
It felt great to take a class! To move my body again. I forgot how emotionally attached I am to my body, if that makes any sense. Exercise is detrimental to my physical and mental well being if I don't do it. I've always noticed how much more clear my mind is after a dance class, or how I am less stressed about things when I've been exercising regularly. The thought of having a job where I am sitting down all day just kills me inside. But yeah, I even went running up Memorial grove canyon yesterday and through the avenues - I'm really going to miss that.
But yeah, the class wasn't even the best part of that evening. When I got home the apartment was spotless! The dishes were done, the carpet was vacuumed, the clutter was cleared, and there were fresh flowers in the vase. John definitely knows the way to my heart. Maybe I should write a post every time I can't stand the mess in our home. Either way, he was really sweet. I'm going to try and make it up to him tonight by making a batch of the Glauser's famous potato rolls. Yum!
at 12:10 PM
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
I've been dreading today for the past four days, and it hasn't started out very well. I woke to finish my PS paper on Tiananmen Square. After my failed attempt at mustering the will to edit I began to make myself a grilled cheese sandwich. While grabbing the first piece of bread out of the bag I took the butter tray off the shelf, threw all the dirty dishes on the counter into the sink, shoved the garbage from the counter into an empty box jutting out of the trash bin, and searched for the frying pan in the drying rack. As I picked up the cooking spray off of the microwave I noticed a greasy ring left in its place. Ignoring my urge to cry at the grease ring, the mold I found in the dish in the sink, and the wilting flowers I went ahead and opened the butter tray to begin my sandwich preparation. Irritated at the remaining slice of butter left I buttered one side of the bread and somehow managed to drop the knife. Within one instant the knife managed to bounce off of the floor, onto my toe, and back onto the floor again. With butter on my two I plopped the bread in the pan before finishing my preparation. As I clamoured to get the cheese out of the fridge and placed on the sandwich in time I thought my success was near at hand - even if I accidentally used an end piece. I flipped the sandwich and decided to make an instant cup of soup. I ripped open the bag and placed its contents and water in a bowl. As I made my way to the microwave I noticed a burning sandwich. I jabbed the microwave button to open the door. The aggressiveness of my jabbing knocked over the soda on top of the microwave (next to the grease spot) which then hit the bowl out of my hand. As the contents of my soup splattered the lovely fire alarm went off and I'm sure I heard something in the background clatter and clash to the ground. I was left a mess, with butter on my big foot, instant soup sprinkled along my black pants, the left over noodles in between the crevices of my toes, the smoke in my eyes, and the blaring alarm in my head - I was annoyed. I cleaned up the mess with a plethora of Clorox wipes - which were the saving part of this routine. The soup had fallen onto the broom and mop - a truly nasty part of our kitchen. This time, with little patience, I grabbed a stick of butter out of the fridge and used a huge meat knife to cut it and melt it over the burner before spreading it on the bread. With chunks of butter over the bread I successfully made a grilled cheese sandwich. Without a tray I put the butter on the shelf and took my sandwich to eat.
The apartment is a mess. I can't take it - but if I begin cleaning I won't stop. And if I don't stop I won't finish editing my paper. I won't turn everything in that I need to graduate. I'll also forgo going to work. At which point I will loose my job. As I will not have a diploma or a job I will have no way to secure a job or make money. I will then not be able to pay for food. Then I'll starve and die. And John will be really sad. Stupid mess.
at 8:24 AM
Monday, April 20, 2009
Childhood memories were brought back to life when I started listening to Elvis Presley again this morning. Does anyone remember the DTV valentine specials? My parents recorded it one year and it's still fun to take out and watch every once and a while. I found it on youtube this morning and also found one of my favorite songs as a child on youtube. I used to play by myself in my room and sing it endlessly - always skipping the word "satisfactual" and doing the full hand motions.
Friday, April 17, 2009
I unknowingly spotted the front of my t-shirt with top ramen juice. I'm hoping people think that it's a part of the giraffe motif. But let's not forget the frizzy hair, the lack of socks, and the poorly cared for skin. How can I be an adult when I can't even take care of my appearance? Somedays are better than this, but most days I feel like an exhausted four year old.
at 11:39 AM
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
So I'm a little concerned. My math professor enjoys tangents. I'm not quite sure if he does this for the students sake or for his own entertainment. Or maybe he truly is dealing with deep disconcerting issues by sharing them publicly with his class. Either way - it makes class worth going to, if not for the math. It's like watching t.v. - his character is amusing and slightly over-produced. I was fine with all his public declarations until the other day when he said something that struck fear to the center of me. He revealed through some playful banter with a student, that asked about getting our exams back, that he was from the East coast. He proceeded in the rest of his response, concerning our exams, to make up absurd excuses and finally in a mock break-down rant about how he took the weekend off and how if he were back East they would all choke and say things like "take a day off? You'll ruin your life and get no where". Yikes. I figured he wasn't joking about that last part.
Why would that scare me, you ask? Why would work scare me? Well, it doesn't. I actually love it and may sometimes even go overboard with my work if I enjoy it or see that I'm making progress. When it comes to work, I love to compete - with myself. I'm not the best standard - but it works, especially if I'm good at something. The way I handle life is the reason I have succeeded at anything (albeit those successes may be mediocre to others). But, I don't work well with fear as a motivator. I'm already fearful of finding a job in New York. Let alone succeeding in a job if I find one. Aside from that, I'm the type that needs to take breaks. Every six months I need at least three days where I don't have to do ANYTHING. This East coast mentality scares me.
Warning: the following may consist of a long, and possibly unimpressive/boring rant about my past . . just working things out.
But only recently have I been like this. In high school I was on scholarship at a dance studio, took A.P. courses, held two part-time jobs, and interned at various places for six months at a time. My first year of college was a breeze but I still worked quite a bit and tried to keep up with dance. The second year I took 20+ hours a semester, held two jobs, and danced. The third year I went part time at school while I worked two jobs (maybe three?) and danced with Odyssey II but took a summer semester. I should have graduated then. But fearful that what I had wasn't enough, I continued with my PS degree.
After my third year of college I was burnt out. I was confused. My friends were moving on, leaving me - by plane or marriage. I wanted more than what I had. I didn't know what it was though, it wasn't moving and it wasn't marriage. In attempt to feel satisfied with life I filled my schedule to the point where I didn't have time to breathe as I ran from one place to another. Aside from school and work, I began The Contemporary Movement, held a benefit concert, danced with Transfusion Hype, and received a dance offer from stiletto entertainment that I thought would give me the change I was looking for. It was the best company of it's type, they offered the best contract from what I had heard, I would be getting great pay, all my transportation and living costs would be paid in l.a. and abroad, and I would be the ballerina (albeit on a luxury cruise line) dancing three nights a week and seeing the world for the remaining days. I was ecstatic about the opportunity - even if other people didn't consider it a great accomplishment. A series of strange events altered my decision to go. The moment I received a call from the agent I told I them I would go. She said she would give me a few days regardless, as the contract was something of a binding sort - but would go ahead and mail it. In the days after my excitement turned to doubt - a really strong doubt that confused me. I realize now that the doubt I felt was a type of internal conflict. But I was in denial about it to the point that I was confused. I wanted to try to clarify my thoughts enough to convince myself that it was something I should do. I knew that I was being told not to go - but my desire to go was so strong. I couldn't find that certainty that I had felt before. I left for California with friends and left the agent to herself for far longer than I should have. In the end I obviously didn't go. I don't understand the relationship between fate and free agency - or if I even believe in fate. But I met John that October. I had waved and smiled at him for two years - and he chose that year to finally talk to me.
My attachment to John was far beyond anything I had experienced or believed I was capable of. It wasn't fear that held me to John. The conditions for our relationship were never contrived or lead by harmful motives. Which I had definitely experienced before. No one was against our relationship and no one was really for it to be honest. We were just dating. I had never considered what love was before I met John, and for months after our engagement I struggled define it. It came so clearly and easily for him. Something that baffled me then and still does to this day. At the beginning of out courtship John and I saw each other everyday for three weeks (I think) at which point there came a day when our schedules were too busy where we couldn't even see each other for a few minutes on campus. I vividly recall parking in front of the Marriott Center for Dance before technique class and just sitting in my car after my conversation with John on the phone. I felt as if the sky had darkened and the pine trees around me had grown ominously large and gloomy. The students voices faded and I felt utterly lonely. Before that point - I had only had felt fleeting moments of loneliness. Once as a child for friendship, in China for my family on Christmas, and the others for a half hour every New Years Eve from ages twenty-one to twenty-two. I let that loneliness I felt in the car last for a split second and hurried into class. I attempted to forget that feeling all day - avoiding the thought that I was becoming just another one of those clingy girls. But I've asserted to this day that it wasn't out of fear like I had seen with many others. But an actual biological attachment. My mind and body go through physical stress without John. And if he is gone for an amount of time it takes me a while to readjust when he returns. It's an odd thing to experience. Love, has yet to be defined for me. I'm sure it will all be very clear when I'm older and wiser. But I known that I'm attached to John, that in the lyricism of others "I can't live" without him for very long. Although I can't define love, familial or romantic, I sometimes wonder who loves who more. I'm sure people would shame me immediately for thinking such a thing. Why should it matter, right? And levels of love change over time, even if it can't be measured empirically. I just hope that one day I can say I love John more - because at that point I will know the definition of love. I will stop being the idiot I am every day and be able to list all the many reason I love John. Because right now, saying I love John because he helps me do the laundry, kills spiders even though he's more frightened of them than me, cooks for me, works for me, and thinks of me - doesn't seem enough. Love is far more grandiose to express it in such terms. I guess that is my folly - an immature one too. Yes, love is in the simple things. That I love John because he loves me doesn't seem right either. But I realize every day more and more that I live to love him because he lives to love me. Why is that wrong? It isn't desperate or base. Why can't serving one another and letting our love grow not as beautiful as something found in the movies. That is something I can understand - something that I believe leads to joy.
I'm not quite sure if I made any sense in this post. I'm too tired to go back and read for clarity. I'm not even quite sure why I ended up writing what I did - or what I wrote for that matter. I'm being redundant. Anyways. Life if short and I'm wasting it by not studying. I believe that was the entire reason I began writing. Sad thing is, when friends of mind write these types of blogs they note it at the beginning of the blog so that readers can jump to the ending - but I can't do that because I really have no conclusion of any sort. Here's my attempt at one:
1. I'm afraid my work ethic isn't strong enough for the East coast mentality.
2. I used to be kind of successful (in my own terms) because I pushed myself but now am burnt out.
3. I have motivation to do more now because I fear failure but am frightened that I will tire quickly and end things too soon. Thus, I haven't started anything and just sit at home worrying.
4. Reminisced about college carreer.
5. Reminisced about opportunities past.
6. Recalled that it was all to meet John - even if I'm not sure it was fate.
7. Blathered on about love like some drunken Frenchman. Ah, oui, c'est l'amour.
There's my sad attempt at concluding. And now I leave you all confused and lacking. Go read granollasdodallas.blogspot.com or michelleglauser.blogspot.com or taza-and-husband.blogspot.com. They will all fill your procrastination needs as they have mine.
at 8:19 PM