My Theme Song

Smelling like shark bait -- ooh ha! ha!

I just got back from a shindig involving fried Nemo. And if there is anything in this world that I hate more than grating cheese, it's smelling like the food I just ate, or in this case, the food that was being eaten around me -- since I am pro-fish life and not death by pro fisherman. I'll admit, I'm not on PETA level...yet. My advocacy arises more from the sheer lack of stomach for it. But I might as well try to save a life along the way. If one more person in the world ate one less one fish, there would be one more fish in the great open sea, singing his tune of happiness instead of being canned tuna. And I would be one less girl smelling like shark bait -- ooh ha! ha! I just got out of a shower, however, and smell like Dove bodywash. Much more acceptable.

Despite my soapbox (see ranting platform above), I'm really glad I went to the little get together. My sociology friend just got back from a four month, somewhat shady, four month stint in Mexico teaching English and our other friend is back from Arizona for the weekend, where he is undergoing drug rehab. So we got to celebrate his six months of being clean with a little "under the sea" magic. It was great to be in a real house with a real family tonight. I think that was what I liked the most about it (along with being with great friends). It's been a hard day for some reason. I won't lie, this week has taken a lot out of me. Sometimes I have to battle with myself, and that requires so much energy -- fighting sadness, anxiety, homesickness, uncertainty, worry, etc, etc, etc. Today I called my mom without anything to say, but it was the only thing I could think of to do at the moment. I didn't even talk, really. I guess I have safety blankets. But don't worry! I'm a big girl (I went to the gym to work on that...) If you listened to Colbie's song below, it's got an emotional soul to it, but she says that she's FEARLESS. This is what I fight to instill in me. It's a choice. Do I have faith? Or do I fear? How many times in the mission did I have to choose? Oh, like every day. It's not a new experience. Nor will it ever be an old one. I have to have faith in my future and put fear aside. I wish people would fry up fear and put it in tacos instead of poor, innocent little fish. But not wanting to be Debbie Downer, life, despite obstacles that push us to grow, is pretty darn great. I mean, I wore my tie-dye shirt today. Can it really get any better than that? Albert Einstein once said, "Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow." I think I'll take that motto out for a spin.

I learned from yesterday I will NEVER be able to watch a movie past 10:00 pm without falling asleep. It has become muscle memory behavior.

I lived today by eating my weight's worth in beef. I will put this as something I learned from by this time tomorrow.

I hope for warm sunshine, a long walk, tacos, and strength tomorrow.

Sitting with my top button undone...

Here I sit. It's 10:26 pm on Thusrday night, and you can obviously see that by writing this blogpost I am at the library studying for my finals. Really. I'm in my office at work. My eyes are starting to blur. I hope what I am typing is coherent. I really should go home. Maybe I will when I'm done blogging--er I mean when I'm done studying. I just thought I should let the world know how incredibly unformfotable I am at this very moment in time thanks to a wide variety of greasy and sugary food I ingested today. And for anyone who knows me, they know that this was only asking for trouble. I'm wearing my skinny jeans, and right now they make feel anything but. I literally had to undo the top button to sit at my desk comfortably. Let me give you a vision of the food that is causing my bulgy, bloated belly to burst the buttons.
BIG bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats
Half of a king size Snickers
Big doughnut
Two pieces of pizza
Lunch at the Canon Center (for those not familiar with freshman life here, that would be code for "freshmancafeteriathatgivesyouthefreshman15." I had several plates.
Dinner at a pizza/pasta buffet, including dessert.

Seriously? This is sick. And that's exactly what I am right now. My stomach is a complete disaster. I can't even eat a hot pocket these days without having issues! Now that is sad.

Ok, well it is now 10:32 and I can barely read this post. Maybe I won't take the final like I had planned tomorrow. There's always Saturday! If I live to see the day...

Reason 146 Why I Will Never Marry

Well, let's face it. The whole ding dong world is getting married. Maybe I should feel some peer pressure. Maybe I should be jealous. Maybe I should even hate them and then throw myself at somebody, hoping the collision leads to marriage. But really, today reminded me of why I will never marry...

I do NOT want a bridal shower.

A girl in my sociology group started dating her fiance the same weekend that James and I went on our first date and they pretty much decided to tie the knot after a week. They're getting married right after school gets done. More power to them. But anyway, the point is that whenever you get married, apparently it is custom of the odd, ritualistic American women to throw themselves what they call "bridal shower." I think in the world they call this "bachelorette party," but I heard those usually involve more than the innocent can handle. Instead we sit around and eat mozzerella sticks, little smokies, pineapple, and drink water...with a lemon in it to add a kick. We eat and merrily sip our water as the bride-to-be one by one opens her gifts, anxious girlfriends awaiting a look of approval as she sees what is inside each one. Occasionally a rebel is invited to the party and brings something scandelous, to which the bride-to-be giggles in response, and which sets everyone off giggling, as well. And then you eat another mozzerla stick.

A bridal shower. Yes, I went to one tonight, and yes, it played out as expected. The only thing I wasn't expecting was the taquitos! Man...getting a little spicy there! To make a long story short, it was lovely and utterly awkward, and I left after paying my due respects. I left not dreaming of my own wedding extravaganza, but instead said to my friend who felt just as awkward, "Jess (because she has the coolest name, ever), if I ever have a bridal shower where I just invite people to come and watch me open presents, shoot me." And then we went home.

Bottom line. Just reason 146 Why I will never get married.

The Resurrection of Glee is HERE

It starts tonight! It starts tonight! It starts tonight!

sunday kind of love

there are just some songs that no matter how much you listen to them, you can't help but feel so completely and utterly full and content. sure sexy back had its moment. but i'm talking a song with substance, a song connected to life, a song that makes you throw your head back, close your eyes, and smile. I'm talking a song that takes you back to a place you've never been.

welcome etta james.



i want a sunday kind of love...

This Paradox Called Life

As I was eating M&M's at a somewhat alarming rate, maybe out of the sheer love for them, but probably mixed with an increasingly growing anxiety, as well, I couldn't help but ponder what only the greatest of minds have pondered - life. La vida. Man! Those peanut M&M's are good...Anyway, back to my brilliant episode of thought. I couldn't help but think how funny it is that life can be so great and so wonderful and so perfect, and yet at the same time, it can be full of so much uncertainty, panic, and fear. Does the sense of perfection seem too good to be true, causing the cynic to read forbdding doom into the fairytale? Are the evil forces of the universe hurling their unmerciful darts of dread upon a helpless, happy victim? Or is life just like that? M&M's. Brain food.

Sometimes I try to step out of my hectic and chaotic world, slow down, breathe, and think about all the good things that I have going. It's easy to forget sometimes. As I counted my blessings, naming them one by one, I realized that life is pretty darn good right now. I'm getting a top-notch education, doing well in my classes, was offered a research position with the promise of getting published, won money today (a definite sign of good fortune), have an amazingly supportive and loving family, am dating a great guy, am blessed to be able to keep in contact with amazing people in Argentina, have the Gospel in my life, have a roof over my head, clothes on my back, and plenty of food to eat every day. I have a great job with an amazing boss. I get to tutor amazing kids every Wednesday and am reminded of the joys of youth. I have wonderful roommates who not only live with me but are genuine friends. I'm healthy enough to train for a half-marathon. The sun is out and it's warm. There are gardenburgers in my fridge and Frank Sinatra on my iTunes. Really. Life is good.

So why then, with all of these good vibes and showers of good fortune, do I find myself tossing and turning at night worrying about life? I worry about my classes this spring and summer. Should I take extra analysis classes for sociology? They would help me get into grad school and would help me if I take the research position. But do I want to go to grad school? Do I have time to do research and take a full load and work? Do I do an international development internship Winter semester? If so, what do I do about housing? What do I do about my job? Will I lose it? Will I have to come back and do more classes in the Spring? Will it be easy to get housing? And what about that great guy in this whole mix? Do I take the GRE this summer? If so, when can I study for it? How can I study for it? Or do I take the LSAT? Or do I apply to the social work program? Why is the sky blue? Where do babies come from? Are we there yet?

Questions, questions, and more questions with very few if any answers. I wish someone would just tell me what to do and life would be much easier. In making these two opposing lists, however, I have seen that despite what I see as problems or worries, life is still pretty darn good. How many people around the world would love to take on the worry of trying to decide what college class to take? Many just hope to be able to one day read and write. How many people would love to wonder whether or not to do an international development internship? Millions wonder if they'll ever get the help an internship offers. In reality, my worries are blessings. I can see that, or at least I try. I guess what it all comes down to is faith. We don't know what the future holds in store for us. But we trust that someone does, and that in the end, the path we choose will lead to happiness. And hopefully we find joy in the journey. Hopefully we can live each day to its fullest. Hopefully we can see beauty in each whispy cloud, find warmth in each smile, and find hope in each morning.

That's my goal anyway.

After I buy more M&M's.

Gee...

Gee I hate the snow,
I think you all should know.
Even for God, this is pretty low,
It's Springtime! And snow...two days in a row.

Gee I hate the cold,
If I may indeed be so bold.
It's really getting old,
That's it. Where's the sun? I fold.

Gee I hate Spanish lit,
Maybe I'm just a twit.
Or I could just be having a fit,
More like rage -- yes, that's it.

Gee this is all so deep,
Profound poetry, no simple feat.
Did I say feet? Yes my feet smell.
And so does this poem.

Basil - The Spice of Life

Last weekend I had the opportunity to return home for the funeral of my great-grandpa, Basil Banks Schofield, an example to everyone that despite being 95 years old, without his wife, in a rehabilitation center surrounded by white hair and gums, there was still room for a laugh. The last time I saw him was over Christmas when I went with my mom to visit him at the rehab center. Up until December he had been able to be at home down in south county on his "ranch." Despite his increasingly failing,frail body and his sometimes wandering mind, however, his wit was still as quick as ever.

We had arrived just as dinner was being served -- manicotti, if I recall correctly. (I always eye hospital food with a weary eye and never want to look too closely.) We were sitting at the table with him surrounded by fellow patients in gowns and catheters. One old, little woman in a wheel chair kept trying to stand up and bolt out the door, setting off the chair alarm (who knew!) every five minutes. Maybe she was caught up in memories of more youthful days. Or maybe it was the manicotti. The guy next to me was in a wheel chair, as well. He just sort of watched us. Meanwhile Basil got his dinner and immediately wanted to bless the food. Of course everyone else was already eating, which slightly offended the old bishop. "Well we need to say the blessing!" he said to us. "I think you'll just have to say it to yourself, Dad," his daughter replied, trying to soothe his apparent irritation. "Well they need to get quiet," he said in defiant response. "I think you're just going to need to pray, Dad." And then I watched as he bowed his head, cleared his throat, and in a sudden loud and bellowing voice, shattered the thick silence that only a room full of old people can produce, "Our Beloved Heavenly Father....(exaggerating the "Beluuuuuuuuuuuuved") Every old ear shot up at the sudden supplication. The old lady sat still in her chair looking at him, her grand escape forgotten for the moment. Great-grandpa continued with his prayer and when he finished he opened his eyes and began chuckling. "That sure shut 'em up," he said, and he winked at me.

Apparently my great-grandpa has a mouth and I never knew it. That night, and many days while in the rehab center, he took great pleasure in swearing. He would yell, "Dammit!" and his daughter would say, "Dad, are you swearing?" and he would reply, "Dammit Donna! I don't swear!" and then engulf himself in a deep, contagious chuckle, one that I heard so many times growing up. For some reason I loved him even more after seeing the joy he got out of using swear words.

He winked at the nurses probably 10 different times that evening. His daughter told him to stop being a dirty old man. He never denied it. He just chuckled.

My great-grandpa was an amazing man, the most genuine man I've ever known. One look at him and you felt like you knew the real him. He lit a room up with his sense of humor and his interest in whoever he was talking to. He was a cowboy. He was a pioneer. He was a lap to sit on. He was an ear to listen. He was the patriarch of an amazing family and the ultimate example of faith and enduring to the end. I know that he continues to brighten up the lives of those whom he is with.

Maybe in the roll of the thunder I will hear his bellowing chuckle.

Basil's Obituary