Barack Does Whatever He Likes

I found this on YouTube today, and I thought it was hilarious. Maybe it's because it makes fun of Obama, or maybe it's because I like the original song so much and have a little dance to go along with it. I'm not exactly sure what it is, but I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

Hello, New Year. Nice to Meet You.

I have a few things on my mind right now, and I'm not sure why I'm about to post them on the internet. Sometimes I'm not even sure why I have a blog at all. I'm generally a pretty private person and keep a lot of things to myself. Anyway, here's a look inside my very cluttered mind. Enjoy.

• I don't want to go back to school on Monday. I know Laura would tell me to be positive and make it a great semester, and I'll see what I can do, but I don't want to face the winter or my classes. Three 400 level Writing classes? What have I done to myself? The good new is all my classes are either in the Smith or the Spori. No more hiking to the Hinckley and Ricks Buildings for me!
• I want to combat the media's influence on young women. I want to help girls feel powerful and achieve great things. I'm looking into different programs and trying to find a way to get involved.
• My little dog leaped halfway across the table and nearly ate my face today. I screamed. It was simultaneously hilarious and terrifying.
• I wish I would have gotten involved in more extracurricular activities.
• I don't like feeling left behind.
• Starting the first day of the semester, I'm going to be a healthier person. I'm not going to eat junk food all the time, and I'm going to create an exercise schedule and stick to it. I want to be like my grandpa--still running around and beating my grandkids at ping pong when I'm 74,
• I kind of have a little bit of a crush. It kind of took me by surprise, actually. He doesn't know, and it will probably stay that way because I'm still 14 when it comes to guys.
• I really want to get a dalmatian, but I have to wait until I have a place for it and time to take care of it.
• Skidmark, my golden brown '87 Honda Accord, is gone. I'm excited to go car shopping in the summer!
• I think I would rather move to San Francisco than get a church magazine internship, but I'm still planning on applying.
• I'm going to be 25 this year. Nigga what?
• I don't feel like sleeping right now.

Chucky Versus Supermodelquins

Does anyone else hate the Old Navy mannequin commercials? In case you need a refresher:



These commercials creep me out! Isn't a mannequin essentially a life-size doll? And when you think of creepy dolls, who comes to mind? Chucky, anyone? Not that I've ever seen Child's Play, but seeing his face was enough to scar me for life.

http://www.kollectablekaos.com.au/images/14in-Bride-of-chucky.jpg

Not that when I see one of these commercials, I automatically think of Chucky, but I think that's why they creep me out. But even if I didn't find them creepy, I would still find them obnoxious.

Anyway, I finally decided I had had enough of these talking mannequins, so last night I decided to send Old Navy a quick email, which read:

I just wanted to tell you that the Old Navy mannequin commercials are creepy and diminish any desire I have to shop there. Thought you should know.


I got a reply today:


Dear oldnavy.com Customer,

Thank you for sharing your concerns with us regarding our Supermodelquins advertising campaign.  We take feedback like yours very seriously and were so sorry to hear that you found this campaign to be objectionable.

Old Navy advertisements are intended to reflect a shopping experience that is fun for the whole family and we apologize if you found our ads to be offensive in any way.

We've shared your comments with the Old Navy marketing team and our advertising agency so they can be taken into consideration when developing future advertising campaigns.

Again, thanks for bringing your concerns to our attention.  We hope you will continue to let us know how we are doing.

Sincerely,

Linda
Customer Service Consultant


Haha! It feels good to know that my opinion counts, and that I can save the world by tearing down one bad commercial at a time! I think I'm going to start speaking my mind more often. 

By the way, if you are interested in purchasing your very own collectible Chucky, click on the link below his picture.

I Just Found the Weirdest Video

I went on YouTube for a specific purpose that I am too exhausted to recall. Instead I clicked on this weird-looking video.



Back to homework...

Things I Can't Wait for That will Happen This Year

• To get out of Rexburg tomorrow (and forever, but that comes later)
• To see my relatives
• Thanksgiving dinner
• Pie
• Thanksgiving leftovers
• The Christmas lights at Temple Square
• No more editing papers of people who shouldn't be English majors
• To inflate my Christmas tree
• Christmas!
• To be home with my family
• To drive my car
• Ping pong

Youngest Child Syndrome

If you haven't watched The Fuplers on YouTube, you are missing out. So funny! Here's an episode I just watched:



Ah, the youngest child syndrome. I remember when Josh was little and one of us would "barely touch him," which would send him dramatically flying across the room and onto the floor where he would yell until his assailant was punished. But I can't really remember how much of that is accurate.

I love my little brother! Look how much he has changed over the last few years:

2004

2009

Photo by Laura

He's working on his Associate's now, and then he's planning on transferring to a university. He's thinking about being a dentist, but I think he should be a graphic designer. I've always considered him artistic and creative, and I think he would be good in that field. But dentist is cool too--lots of perks and nifty gadgets. I'm excited to see where his life takes him.

All Questions, No Answers

Sometimes I feel sick to my stomach when I think about the future. Am I the only one? I just get scared. How am I supposed to take care of myself? How am I supposed to find a real job? Am I really good enough to write professionally? Do I even want to write professionally? What am I going to write? Who am I going to write for? Where am I supposed to go? I've been going to school my entire life, and I've BS'd my way through a good portion of it. 141 days till graduation, and I don't feel prepared at all.

I miss summer and feeling like I'm part of something:




I hate being cold.

I have a zit forming just under my bottom lip.

Craigo's is having a $5.49 pizza buffet tonight. Nothing like smothering your worries with savory tomato sauce and artery-clogging cheese! You in?

Twitterpated

Dear lovebirds,

You are in the library, surrounded by people trying to do their homework. Maybe you didn't notice. The library is busy during this time of day, and people often struggle to find a free computer. The two of you are taking up two computers, but, rather than looking at the screens, you are gazing into each other's eyes. You are facing each other, knees touching, hand in hand, faces three inches apart, whispering about how attracted you are to each other, and occasionally reaching up to stroke the other's face. You are also sitting five feet away from me--just on the other side of the table. Please stop.

Sincerely,
Me

Stumbling

First of all, I want to say to my friend Shanae: you sang a beautiful solo tonight, and my roommate Dorthy was so impressed, she said, and I quote, "That girl needs to make a CD!"

Second of all, I don't know what to write about...

Third of all, have you ever heard of StumbleUpon? Basically, you check your interests on this site, click the "Stumble" button, and it finds random websites that you'll hopefully like. Here was something I stumbled upon today:

I'm going to have to try that someday. It reminds me of certain friends of mine who used to stare at the ceiling with feigned interest to see how many people they could get to look.

Baby Hands

While working at Jansport during the summer of 2008, my friends and I used to ask a "question of the day" to keep ourselves entertained. In order to consume a greater amount of time, these questions were meant to be as thought-provoking as possible. One day I asked, "If you met someone who was a perfect match for you--the only thing wrong with this person is his or her baby hands--would you date them?" For clarity, we're talking not talking about little hands, but actual infant hands on the ends of average-sized arms. What's interesting is that when I've asked guys this question, they usually answer positively, while girls generally squirm until they shamefully admit they would not date a wonderful guy with baby hands. My guess is this distinction between genders comes from a typical woman's desire to feel protected by her significant other. How is your boyfriend supposed to save you from muggers and rapists if his fist isn't large enough to even bruise his opponent?

This year, Burger King came out with a new commercial that, for us, was very nostalgic:




Would you date someone with baby hands? Let me know on the poll!

Distant Dreamer

I normally don't remember my dreams, but I remember last night's--most of it, anyway.

I was in an airplane with Stuart and Danielle, I think. The plane landed, but instead of slowing down once we hit the ground, it started accelerating. Pretty soon, the plane was off the runway and speeding along the grass. Meanwhile, rather than fear for our lives, my siblings and I were wandering around the plane, peeking out windows, feeling more excited than scared. To avoid crashing and dying in a raging inferno, the pilot took off again until he could figure out what was wrong with the plane. It was a really shaky takeoff: the plane was wobbling back and forth, and we flew low for a while, nearly getting tangled in some telephone wires, which, if you ask me, were a little too close to the airport in the first place. I vaguely remember something about parachutes. Maybe the pilot was about to abandon us or something.

That was it.

I always seem to wake up from my dreams right before imminent death. Just saying.

Just for fun, I Googled "dream meanings" and tried to interpret my dream with dreammoods.com. All the "symbols" in my dream seem to point to high goals. At the same time, however, being in danger signifies "substantial losses in business and discouraging prospects in love" and that I need to be more careful. Parachutes mean it's time to "bail out of a situation." So I think my dream means that I am going to bail out of Rexburg in April (am I obsessed with graduating or what?) and follow my dreams. I'll just ignore the being in danger part.

Enjoy "Distant Dreamer" by Duffy:

A Lesson in Happiness from Nathanial Hawthorne

It was the 2001-2002 school year--my junior (and least favorite) year of high school. I was taking honors English from Mr. Bowen, a string bean of a man with a horse's teeth and a poofy mustache. A track star named Danny sat either in front of me or behind me, often eating a small can of Vienna sausages. We were reading The Scarlet Letter.

I must admit, I accessed my fair share of SparkNotes that year. Actually, now that I think of it, the only book I remember finishing in that class was Of Mice and Men. I was such a good student. I can't remember all the books we were supposed to read, but I remember being bored out of my mind. The most dreadful book, by far, was The Scarlet Letter.

Now I'm taking Early American Literature, and I'm reading The Scarlet Letter once more. It still isn't my favorite book, but I must say it's more tolerable than I remember. I think I can appreciate it more, or at least understand it, now that I am better acquainted with the stylistic usage of language common in nineteenth century literature. High school students should really be reading something a little more action-packed. I mean, I'm nine chapters into this story and so far a woman has been publicly scorned as an adulteress, and her child is kind of weird. I did find something interesting today, however.

Reverend Dimmesdale's health is failing, and he refuses medical treatment, insisting he would rather die and leave behind the earthly woes of his sins, taking the spiritual woes to the judgement bar than to have the doctor, Roger Chillingworth, waste his skills by healing him. Chillingworth misunderstands, assuming Dimmesdale is simply eager to be reunited with his Creator. Dimmesdale corrects him, saying, "Nay....Were I worthier to walk there, I could be better content to toil here."

I found that simple, yet profound. If you are living a moral life, you are happier. Wow. Now that's deep. And while I sound sarcastic, I'm not. That's the most beautiful sentence I've read in The Scarlett Letter so far.

I'm a Machine!

In my Family Interactions class, we were recently discussing education, or gender roles, or something--I honestly can't remember--but this guy expressed his opinion that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints places a man's education above that of a woman's. Needless to say, he was verbally mauled by several girls in the class. Sorry, but I have to agree with him.

In the September 2007 New Era the question was asked, "What is more important for women after they get married: to finish an education or to start a family?"

The answer:

"President Gordon B. Hinckley has often stressed getting a good education. To the women of the Church he says that education 'is the latchkey to success in life,' but in the next breath he reminds us of President David O. McKay's teaching, 'No other success can compensate for failure in the home' ("To the Women of the Church," Ensign, Nov. 2003, 115). While education is important, it shouldn't displace the importance of children and family--for either men or women. Your choice to have children does not have to exclude finishing your education, or vice versa. A classroom is not the only place to gain an education. Many part-time or distance study options are available to you if you want to finish your education. Even if you have completed the degree you were seeking, you can always become more educated through personal study and experience."

So, according to the church, education is important as long as it doesn't interfere with having children. It does say this is true for both men and women, but who does the church encourage to stay home with the children? Women. Who, if anyone, is going to have to sacrifice their education or at least put it on hold? Women. Who's going to bring home the bacon? Men. Who's education is more important? Men's. I'm not disagreeing with this reasoning. I think that if a man and a woman are married and have agreed the wife will stay home and rear their children while the husband goes off to work every day, then his education is naturally a higher priority. The wife can seek education as time and money allow, but she doesn't need to have a college education to be a stay-at-home mom. It's not a matter of whether or not her education is important--it is. But it comes second to the breadwinner's education. How many times do women in the church hear that they need to have an education "to fall back on" if for some reason their husband is unable to provide for the family? Thus, a woman's education becomes a plan B.

Obviously the church supports education--a great deal of tithing money goes to supporting church-affiliated schools, and General Authorities clearly urge all, regardless of gender, to seek higher education. The importance of a woman's education is specifically addressed; however, more often than not, I feel like I am being urged to get married and make babies. Families are wonderful, and I am very excited to have my own someday, but sometimes I wish that, every once in a while, someone would get up in a Relief Society meeting and talk about careers and how women can make a difference in the world in ways other than being a wife and mother. Maybe they do, but it doesn't happen often enough if I can't think of a single instance. It seems like every visiting teaching message, if it isn't about appreciating Relief Society, discusses the importance of motherhood. I completely agree! But what am I if I'm not a mother?

For a while, there was a poster on campus that I saw every day on my way to class. In big letters, it said, "Preparing for the Future..." and it had pictures of a young woman playing with her baby and another young woman planting a flower. What about the unmarried women who graduate from BYU-I? What about the LDS woman who never marries at all? What is her role in society? I'm sure she can plant flowers too, but why can't the school add a third woman who is dressed in a business suit and holding a clipboard in her hand? In my FHE group alone, there are twice as many girls as there are guys. Only two of those guys are neither engaged nor dating someone. A similar ratio has existed with every BYU-I approved apartment complex I have lived in. Chances are, a significant amount of women will leave BYU-I without rocks on their fingers, and those women are not any less valuable because they are not yet mothers. In fact, they will have many opportunities opened to them because they don't have families to care for.

I guess my main point is that I am more than just a baby machine. Do I want to fall in love and have a family? Of course, I do. Do I feel like that is all I'm capable of doing as a woman. No. I have no intention of sitting around on my hope chest, waiting for Mr. Right to come along. I hope he shows up someday, but until then, I'm excited for my post-grad adventures of finding and working a "real" job and finding my own way to contribute to society.

P.S. My title is a tribute to Buster Bluth and his hand.


Check out this video too. It's an amazing Buster montage, but it won't 
let me embed it. Lame.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mJqjLN9wAmU

Growing Up

This morning, I was supposed to wake up a little after 7:00 to participate in a service project at the sand dunes. My roommate, Megan, woke me up as promised, but I remained conscious only long enough to give her the stink eye. I got out of bed about an hour later, ate some Lucky Charms, and decided to hop on Wii Fit before people came home and began the regular Food Network marathon. I did a series of hula-hooping, lunges, running in place, and downward facing dog for two hours. Then I ate some of Natalie’s potstickers, impatiently scorching the inside of my mouth, as I waited for a shower vacancy. Then I pigged out on Harvest Cheddar Sun Chips while I watched Natalie take her turn struggling with the yoga poses and cursing at her “trainer.” Throw in a lot of school, a dose of Kate Nash, and the occasional trip to Wally World for the bare necessities, and this about sums up my life.

When I was a little girl, my ambition was to one day become a dolphin. I even dreamed in dolphin-vision on a regular basis. I had this recurring dream where I would meet my human friend who would always be waiting for me on the dock with her toes dangling in the water. I would let her cling to my dorsal fin and ride on my back as I leaped out of the water and did the famous tail walk. My psychiatrist suggests that I watched a little too much Flipper as a child. Once I realized animorphing was not an option, I decided I could settle with being a dolphin trainer. (I was so excited when Stuart was considering a dolphin trainer internship at SeaWorld a summer or two ago! I was preparing myself to live vicariously through him. I still wish he would have done that.) Since my dolphin obsession days, I have wanted to be everything from an ice cream man to an astronaut, and in a little over six months, I will have a degree in Professional Writing.

If you would have asked me in 2003 (the year I graduated from high school and began my five-year BYU-Idaho career) where I imagined myself in the year 2010, my response would not have included a mission, and, I’m ashamed to say, possibly not even a Bachelor’s degree. I would have been married to a tall, handsome, and charming dental student, and I would probably be carrying around a screaming baby. Ask me today, and I would say that I don’t really make a habit of predicting my life beyond the end of the semester. Every day, it becomes a little more obvious that the future isn’t something that can be planned. This time next year, I will be working. That’s all I know. That's not to say I don't set goals or have an idea of what I would like to see happen in my life; I have just finally accepted that things don't work according to my schedule.

But I’m happy! I have absolute freedom! Yes, it would be great if there were some fun guys to date who weren’t preemies or who didn’t just return from their mission last week, but I have learned to be content with my single status. I can do whatever I want! I can go to Europe and live out of a backpack for a month, which I did; I can drop everything and go on a cross-country road trip, which I will do; and I can move anywhere in the world after graduation. I’m thinking about teaching English in Korea. My furnished apartment and airfare would be paid for, and I’d have a salary and something impressive to put on my resume, so why not?

The only problem with my chronic bachelorettehood is that I recently had an interview with my Stake President:

“How long have you been home from your mission?”

“Almost two years,” I respond, the muscles in my face tightening as I prepare for the obvious follow-up question.

“Are you dating?”

“Not really,” I say, feigning shame.

“Do you want to be?”

“Sometimes yes; sometimes no.”

So now my Stake President, whom I love, by the way, wants me to make myself available through “mature flirting”—a touch of the arm, a witty joke, etc. I agreed to try, although I considered his challenge most inconvenient since I had just resolved that same day to never worry about guys again. Unfortunately, there is still the issue of no one being around that I would want to maturely flirt with. Maybe I’m too picky. Maybe I need to get out the apartment more often. I'm just too busy with editing projects and reading long, boring articles and essays to be super social.

So the moral of the story is that life never goes according to plan, but you probably already knew that. The good news is that life is still good.

Back in America

Thursday night I was sitting underneath the Eiffel Tower, the next night I was wrestling on the trampoline with my little cousins in Utah, today I rode in a car all day to get back to Washington, and tomorrow, I'm starting my job search and Kanye's workout plan. Time waits for no one.

The trip had its ups and downs, but I loved my month in Europe. I went to Ireland, Wales, England, and France. I saw the homes of famous authors and poets like Jane Austen, William Wordsworth, and Shakespeare; I saw the castles and palaces and the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower... Obviously awesome. However, I have decided that I will never travel with a huge group of people again. It stressed me out, and I wasn't even in charge. I don't know how those professors do it, but they are amazing!


Things lacking on this trip that I am grateful to have again:

• Drinking fountains
• Rubbish bins (garbage cans)
• Public restrooms with paper towels, more than one working hand dryer, and (in some cases) toilet seats
• My cell phone
• Salad dressing
• Deoderant (really only a problem on the crowded Metro on a hot day)
• Washer and dryer

Things lacking in America that I will miss:

• Good chocolate
• The Louvre
• Cute Irish guys
• People who think I'm cool just because I'm American
• Tarts, unbaked chocolate, and other delicious pastries

In reality the second list should be longer, and I could definitely go on, but I'm still having problems staying up late, and I'm pretty much dead. Here are a few pics. Oh, and just so you know, I love Paris.

I love warning labels! They have the best pics. This one is on the Salt Lake Express.

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I'm a Star!

I am tired. The semester ended last Friday. I started classes for the British Literary Tour on Monday. I am on campus from nine to four everyday. No break for me. I am tired.

But I have good news! I have been working by butt off to raise my GPA, which was a 3.8 for the winter semester, bringing my cumulative GPA up to a 3.3! If I keep up the pace, I will graduate with a 3.5 or 3.6. Hooray for making up for slacking the first 3 years of college! The only problem is the toll it takes on the social life. The other good news is I leave for Ireland in a week and a half, and I really cannot wait even though the teachers are really frustrating with their lack of instruction, but I can handle it. I'm going to Europe!

One of the questions I have come to dread is any that deals with my post-graduation plans. I realize it is a fairly common and reasonable question, and I hold no grudge, I just don't know what I am going to do. BYU-Idaho offers internship expeditions in different cities around the country. From what I understand, they take students to different companies and hook them up with internships that deal with their respective majors. There is an expedition going to New York in the fall, so I think I might sign up for that, and maybe I'll be able to find a sweet job with a magazine or publishing company or something. Or maybe not. We'll see what I can do.

Sorry for the boring post. I'm tired. It is raining here and all the worms have wriggled out of the ground to perish on the sidewalk. The soles of my chucks are covered in worm guts.

For your viewing entertainment, here is my final project for my fiction into film class. Good thing we weren't graded on our filming skills.

My New Title

So once again I was trying to invent a sastisfactory title for my blog, and all of a sudden the song, "Fergalicious," popped into my head, leaving no room for any rational train of thought. I am now Megalicious. If you have been living under a rock and don't know the song, here it is: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HQetLQRab8c. I couldn't embed this one.

Skinny Legs

So I was walking to class this morning and saw something like this only with pants:

Which reminded me of this:

Later, as I was walking into the library, I passed a guy who sounded like this:

And sometimes, when I wake up, I look like this:

My Blog's Tragic Title

I need a title for my blog. I didn't like it, so I set out to change it, but as I was unable to think of anything, I gave it a temporary, somewhat generic name. I want something creative--something me. I do, in fact, believe that life is good; however, the name just doesn't satisfy my creative needs. And maybe I'm not creative, and that's fine, but I would at least like to pretend that I am.