Thursday, May 31, 2012

Letter to Me #1--Lindsey in 4th grade

Dear fourth grade me,
    I'm you! From the future! Isn't that great? You probably think this is REALLY cool, I certainly would. (Well, obviously) But you aren't even anxious or worried as to why on earth I'm here, I know the worry would certainly cross MY mind (but I've seen more sci-fi than you have, yet).
    You probably have a million questions for me, I know I would. But I'm not going to tell you everything. You'll learn about why you can't cross into or edit a fixed point in time about ten years from now, from a nice Scottish man in a British accent (yes, we DO do that rather well for our age, everyone DOES say so, I know...it's going to come in handy later, I promise. You'll find out middle of your senior year).
    But here are a few things I want to tell you:

1) We get to actually live in Sanpete County:

I know! I know, it DOES sound like a nice place to live and you ARE terribly interested to visit now you've done your county report on it (You're going to miss it when Mrs. Dance brings out the brown recorders, but who cares).

Well, you, or rather I, but I guess we, end up working for the local newspaper. Yes, just like Lois Lane. Surprisingly, that joke will get old. But it will never completely lose its flavor, especially since we share initials with her (just realized that at work today).

{Between getting mugged or captured, she was an EXCELLENT reporter}


{And, yes, that's why Phyllis Coates is still our favorite Lois; because that's how she rolled}

We live in an apartment with three other lovely girls who are some of the best roomies ever. We have lots of friends, eat locally raised Turkeys, have seen the Manti pageant, and can call ourselves a local. And that is a rather odd sentence.



And it's better than we could have ever imagined.

2) You really shouldn't care so much what people think.

You are entirely too young for it.

I wish I'd realized that when I was you. I'm so sorry.

Plus, it will only get worse and bite us in the butt come high school. That's what will really ruin our school-age chances with guys.


You will notice that the girls who get guys are the confident ones. And your few, gleaming times with guys before college will be because you are confident around them.


I am the last person anyone might expect to say this, but it truly doesn't matter what others think of you more  than what you think of you. 


3) It really doesn't matter when you don't win the spelling bee. 

Yours is the last year it really gets done, you KNOW you can spell circles around the class, and you do stuff which is more important anyway, like trying to think of what people really want for birthdays or when they're sick--much more important than spelling, and you do both better than I do.


And, as you will realize when you watch your first episode of psych, that's not really (y)our scene anyway.

4) You will have to get braces again.

But I promise it's legitimately going to be ok. We enunciate better and our teeth are freaking gorgeous!



5) Don't cringe too much in few years when you look back.

Yes, I admit, already we have had some cringe-worthy moments. But everyone loves us as we are. All those wonderful people who write things like "don't ever change" in our yearbooks really mean it. Not just because they need us to laugh at (although heaven knows some of them do need it sorely), but because they genuinely enjoy the fact that we are opinionated, zany, and argumentative. We add needed color to the social scene. And they love us for it. That girl who reduces us to tears at Freedom Elementary (no, it is not that exciting a school as you think it will be) is just jealous (probably) and very wrong (definitely).



And someday all the old-fashioned things we love will come into fashion and Mom will have to buy it. So take some comfort in that.

6) Boys are jerks. Well not all of them, but even the jerks make us better.





The one who breaks up with us over an answering machine teaches us both the comforting value of Chinese food and the fallibility of the Backstreet Boys. And we learn that any boy that breaks up with us over our beliefs is simply not worth it.

The baseball fanatic teaches us how awfully fickle they can be, their overall stupidity, and how easy it is to run into someone you desperately wish to avoid. But he also teaches us that we can do better, and that hiding in the history classroom is no way to break up with someone.

The one from seminary teaches us just how wrong we can be about people sometimes and to not let a man break a friendship, especially before a dear friend moves. Not worth it.

Our first date teaches us how the whole dating thing works, and convinces us we will not be alone forever.

The one we pine after for a year teaches us that we have a thing for the edgy ones, it cannot be denied, but sometimes we are spared our heart's desire for a good reason.

The one we find after Europe (the third Europe) teaches us that some things really never end--even if they do go through a really unique metamorphosis. This boy is like metamorphic rock, think of it that way.

The first two in college teach us that you can't judge a book by its cover, and that goes both ways. I would warn you away from them, but it REALLY is something we need to learn.

The one after that teaches us what we deserve.

Beyond him I have no idea, and I've left some out so it's all new for you.

7) Let yourself chase your dreams.

We are too squeamish to be medical. Yes, Dad is so proud of Michelle for being a lawyer and thinks we'd be good at it.

But is that what we want?



You know how much we love making up stories (even though that one about the haunted portrait in the abandoned mansion on a craggy island needs serious work)? Keep it up.

Because in four years we are going to sit up in bed and fall completely in love with it when we realize we can really sit there and make up stories, like we always do for Mom, and be paid for it.



We are going to be amazing when we grow up. See you in ten years!

Love you, you/me.

Sunday, May 20, 2012

Why this Weekend just might be the end of the world as I know it

Hello World!

No, I have not died and regenerated into a pessimist, if the title has made you question that. And there is a legit reason I haven't posted at all, and I'll explain that later.

My life is just...interesting...right now.

Here's why I think this weekend might just be the end of my world:

(A) I started reading The Hunger Games.

Yes, I started reading them even after I vowed I was not going to get swept up in "that hype."

But then my cousin who's not a reader liked them.
{Maddie and I are just about as close as you can be, even though I look stoned here}

And then Josh Hutcherson and Liam Hemsworth had to be so freakin' gorgeous. In about ten thousand photoshoots my friends graciously posted on Pinterest.

I really wish I could get these on the same line. 


{Oh well, they're still hot}

And then I thought it was awesome that josh went and adopted that puppy and was adorable with it.

Not even fair.

And then I saw this video and got interested.


And THEN, Mal graciously let me borrow her super-special-awesome paperback boxed set.


Yeah, when I say I've "started" them, I mean I work 8-hour days and I'm already on the first couple pages of Mockingjay now.

I mean Paige, my lovely roomie now that I live in Ephraim to intern at the Sanpete Messenger (more about my new roomie and new job in following posts), came home from school and startled me an intense part of the first book.

I mean I now check Mean Girls of Panem EVERY FREAKING DAY when I come home from work because I laugh so hard at the combination of Mean Girls and the Hunger Games. After Catching Fire, it ALL makes such perfect, hilarious sense.

To all my friends who love this series:

There. I'm hooked. Are you happy now?

(B) I took my first sick/working at home day and realized that I am probably the most un-productive cold sufferer EVER.


I just sit on the couch and drink lemonade.


It's like when I get sick, the fatigue just turns off my brain's let's-get-spit-done centers and fills it with apathy zombies.

Which is why I am taking it easy so I can get better and be awesome on Monday, getting back to the normally proactive, get-spit-done person I normally am at work.

(C) Grooveshark was down for a few hours and I thought it would be for much longer. I hate to be a drama queen, and I was going to go on this huge moan-fest about the site being down (HOW AM I GOING TO LIVE ALL WEEKEND?) BUT I just checked and it's back online!! Thank you tech wizards who keep websites alive for reviving my music I.V. so I can get on to my NEXT item without losing all sanity.

(D) Technically I was supposed to write more for the paper than I have while I've been sick but NOBODY is giving me anything to work with. Yay. Plus the whole unproductive-because-of-sickness thing. I'll try to get one more thing done before I move on to the NEXT item on my list.

(E) I thought I had passed the mark of "If you say you don't want to be called as such-and-such then that's EXACTLY what you'll be called to!" For two years I have been saying "please please PLEASE don't call me to teach Gospel Doctrine!" And in three different BYU wards and a Roy singles' ward, it didn't happen. So I REALLY thought I was safe now.

Not really.

My friend Ben, well, I call him Spartacus but he's Ben, knocked on my door the other day.

He needed someone to cover for him. So GUESS WHO's teaching Mosiah 18-24 tomorrow?


Yeah. That would be me. Ugh. I hate teaching. I hate and I've never done it, because I already know I'll be rubbish at it.

But now my lesson is planned and, oh look, besides sneaking in a Monty Python reference ("that's the violence inherent in the system...you see him repressing me?") I realized that King Noah's society is like Panem under the Capitol. But that's another story for another Sunday.

Because there's a story this Sunday that demands my full attention, which leads me to:

(F) Reichenbach. 


That's right. This little Sherlockian has been biting her nails (metaphorically, I never got what was comforting about it in real life) all weekend because the season finale of Sherlock is on this Sunday. Masterpiece Mystery is awesome, and I'm proud of myself for NOT watching it on an illegal website before it came to PBS in America.

{I know, right? I'm proud of me too! And I'm just as surprised as you are, Benedict, you cheeky man!}

(That's not me saying that we should still get it later than Britain...because I think we should get it on BBC America at the same time as British fans like we get Doctor Who the same time as they do--it's even written by the same man, Stephen Moffatt, so there's not even bound to be an issue there. We even care as much as the British fans WHAT A NOVEL CONCEPT!!!!!!!!!)

{That's what we DO!!!!!!!!!!}

(Ok. I'm done with all-caps sarcasm for today. I'm sorry. It's just the pre-Reichenbach stress, I swear.)


I am FREAKING OUT!!!!! OK????!?!?!!??



The worst part of it all is, I know, I just KNOW, that I'll be going over the episode every night after it. WHY?? Because Stephen Moffat, the king of Trolls, has looked at the Reichenbach theories on the internet and says there's some vital clue everyone's missed. 


So when I'm not at work, I'll be closeted in my room with food receiving no visitors and going nowhere except FHE. 



So this will be me. In my mind palace, obsessing and fangirling over something that probably shouldn't occupy my Sunday, but I've been SUCH a good girl for waiting it to air legally, AND I'm teaching Gospel Doctrine even though I don't desperately want to. 

And then I'll go back to my idea of posting spiritual things on Sunday. At least until Downton Abbey returns, and then Sunday posts are fair game.

Sunday, May 6, 2012

The Pierce Brosnan Look

Anyone who has seen his Bond movies or the Remington Steele series knows the look I'm talking about:


{I took this myself from Hulu because Google didn't have the look in the polished one I was looking for}


That look that he can give a girl where it looks like he thinks she's the greatest thing in the world. That is why we all really love Pierce Brosnan. Don't get me wrong, the good looks, dark hair, and blue eyes--not to mention the dreamy accent--do not hurt a thing. At all. Remotely.

But that isn't what really earns Daniel Craig's predecessor his dreamboat status. It's THAT look, in all its variations, that really makes us swoon.

 
 

Here's the best Google had of That Look. And, yes, I was being picky, so deal with it.

The sad thing is, I wouldn't have realized this, ever. EXCEPT:

1. I see him give Stephanie Zimbalist's character, Laura Holt, that look a LOT on Remington Steele, my newest TV obsession.

2. A conversation I had whilst tying a quilt.

My mom and I went and did our ward's service day this morning. She strung backpacks, and I learned a little something about tying quilts. 

I was working with Melanie Olney, who I had known of in our ward but never really talked to much. In fact, until I found that she, too, loved Remington Steele, I had never imagined we'd have a conversation like two old friends, which is what ended up happening.

We were talking about how the best thing in the world is when a guy treats you right and how important my Mom always taught me that was. I told her about this guy who treats me like I'm special, like I'm the most special thing in the world. 

"And, to him, you are," she said.

Guys of the world, PLEASE attend:

Study that Pierce Brosnan look. Learn it, and when you think a girl is truly the best thing, use it on her. Don't hold back because you're afraid of getting hurt. ANY girl worth her salt who gets that look will be affected.



Girls of the world, THIS part is for you:

Someday you will find a guy to love who gives you that look every day. You will make some nice man's life beyond complete and he will show it by flashing you that Brosnan-like charming smile at the moments you least expect it.

Every woman deserves that smile. 



"Only Dull People are Brilliant at Breakfast"

One of my favorite Oscar Wilde Quotes ever:

---Oscar Wilde

It gives me hope about not being a morning person. I never have been, and this morning was no different. It might not have been so bad, but I had a delayed allergic reaction to the flora of Rock Canyon from an adventure last night--more details to come--and I woke up beyond miserable after five hours of sleep. My muscles were sore from my adventure the previous night and I felt beyond ill. 

As I struggled for the energy to finish moving, I wondered "Is this what the people in the 5-hour-energy commercials feel like?"

Thankfully, I am not so stupid as to buy that rot. And I guess it means I'll sleep better tonight. 

I got a little bit short with my mother, which made me feel awful. But we both know how hard it is to be perfectly nice when you're tired.


Zooey Deschanel gets it.


I had further struggles when my Mom decided we were going to get up to drive back home at the crack of before dawn. 

So if I have ever been unpleasant during the morning towards anyone reading this, consider it an apology. I would call it an excuse, but my Mom doesn't sleep much better than I do, and I swear her internal clock is set for New York City. On any given day, it is almost certain she'll have been up for three hours before I'm awake.

But that's ok. Why? Because I am a night owl, which means that, at any given time, one of us is on the top of her game. And even though we don't do a lot of things the same way, even though it was hard for us to communicate sometimes, we want the same things and we love each other as mom-and-daughter should.


And maybe someday I'll be like Sutton Foster as Princess Fiona in THIS little number from Shrek:

{My Mom caught me singing this once, said "What?!?" and I called it wishful thinking}