Archive for Realizations

Planning a wedding

So, guess what, internet… I’m planning a wedding.  For myself.  Because I’m engaged.  I figured you should know.  So I think I’ll share some of my thoughts on planning a wedding, specifically in Utah.

I recently printed out a checklist of all the things I have to do before I get married.  It’s a long list, but we’ve been working on cutting out things we don’t need.  Like a wedding coordinator.  Why would we need someone to tell us what we want for our wedding (which will be in a free venue, mind you–a huge perk to LDS-dom–in a beautiful, pre-decorated castle), and what we want our decor to be in our also-free reception venues (two receptions, one south, one north Utah).  In this day of the internet, where I can find all the ideas I need (and some I don’t need) for this stuff, what would be the point to pay someone to look on the internet for me?

Another thing I’ve crossed off because we don’t need it?  Bridesmaids.  For an LDS wedding, there’s not a huge procession where all the women involved have to wear matching dresses.  In all reality, I don’t see a point in having bridesmaids except to pose for a few pictures wearing dresses that are only flattering on 50% of the girls (unless you were part of the “popular” crowd, where all of the girls you would ask to be your bridesmaids were carbon copies of each other.  This is probably what my insane roommate’s wedding will look like, however.  I believe she is also engaged.  Although, I haven’t had occasion to ask, or even talk to her.  But that’s beside the point.  In fact, I don’t even know if I’ll find a maid of honor.  I’ll probably just have my mother help me out.  I can’t imagine asking one of my few female friends to do it–I’m not necessarily close enough with any of them to ask anyway.  I can’t imagine any of them WANTING that kind of responsibility on my behalf.  It just seems very silly when I have a mother and myself who are both very capable of taking care of ourselves and this occasion…  Although, this may mean I will likely have the tamest-ever bridal shower, filled with gifts like nice hand soap from Bath & Body Works or a gift card to Maidenform or Target.  Perhaps a nice bath rug or framed picture.  Which is cool, too.  That’s how I roll.

Let’s see, what else… Ah. Reception entertainment.  Now, we haven’t necessarily nixed this concept altogether.  I’m actually throwing around the idea of hosting an drum circle for the So-tah (southern Utah) reception, inviting all of J.D.’s percussion friends and letting them have at it with their djembes. Which I probably didn’t spell right.  Other than that, there will be plenty of children running around to keep everyone entertained.  I think we’ll have a table for them, though, with coloring books and games so they’re not SO all-over-the-place.  Haven’t decided if we’ll do much dancing.  I can’t say I’m really INto the whole Utah dance thing… I still have memories of those awkward middle school “dances” (which I ended up calling “stands” because that’s really all it was–standing, perhaps swaying, and doing a lot of perspiring) and remain jaded.  Oh, and church dances.  Those were relatively similar.  I was never really into the whole standing and swaying thing.  I just ended up talking a lot and being three times my awkward self.  I don’t think I ever talked so much in my life than I did when I was swaying awkwardly in tandem with a young man who was far more adept at keeping his mouth shut than I was.

Probably why I went to prom with my 11-year-old brother…  But hey.  J.D. loves me for it. 🙂

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Just a few random thoughts

So, it snowed again today.  On April 12th.  I’m beginning to think somebody around here is praying hard for snow, and I’d like to find them and ask them to pray me a summer job, ’cause that would be AWESOME.

I have also determined that being a musician is kind of like having schizophrenia–You have some lucid moments, and the more you take your medication and practice, the more frequent those lucid moments become.

I was also sitting around eating ramen the other day and began wondering… If you get the beef flavoring of ramen from cows, chicken from chickens, pork from pigs, where do you get the oriental flavoring?

I was recently talking to my boyfriend about his yearly camping trips he does with his family, and trying to convince him that I don’t like camping.  Pondering on why I don’t like camping, I came to the conclusion that the only reason I really don’t like camping (I don’t mind not showering, sleeping in a sleeping bag) is simply this: I like toilets.

That is all.  All of these are thoughts I have had the past little while and do not feel like making one entire post per thought.  And I still refuse to get a Twitter account.  Silly, silly twitter…

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Not really dead…

So, it’s like, been a while, ja.

I really should be getting ready for bed right now, but I went a read my little brother’s blog a few minutes ago and it inspired me to let “my readers” know that I’m not dead.  Really, I promise.  Just at school.

One note — I got my hair cut a few weeks ago, and now it’s really short, but when I  sweep the bangs back, I really DO look like a Mom.  Like, it’s total soccer mom hair.  On a related note, I am also “Mom” amongst a few people in Opus (the small chamber choir at my school).  Thanks for giving me that large pack of wet-naps for the Opus trip, Dad.  I love being Mom.  Of course, nobody wants to date Mom.

More on that later.  Maybe.

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The pratfalls of growing up

Recently, I’ve had a hankering for play.  Of course, with nobody to play with, I’ve begun playing a cheap X-Box version of Tony Hawk American Wasteland to wile away my hours of free time.   Amongst all this free time, I have had a lot of time to reminisce about my childhood and lit upon all of the fun I had at McDonalds and other places with those playplaces.  Those cramped tubes, those unsanitary ball pits, those smudgy windows where I could wave to Mommy and Daddy as they undoubtedely wished they could be up there playing as well.  And then I remembered the day when I was no longer allowed to play, when the hand of the Hamburgler was no longer far over my head but somewhere around my ears and shoulders– The beginning of the end of my childhood.  Some may say that it was a rite of passage, and indeed I was mildly excited when I realized that I was no longer considered a “little kid,” by the mere fact that I was finally tall enough not to be allowed into the mazes of tubes and ladders and slides — no longer allowed through the three-foot diameter portal of joy.

But, as the initial excitement of growing up faded away (relatively quickly), my brothers and I fell upon the question of why they didn’t make claustrophobic tube playgrounds for “big kids”?

Of course, the concept of playgrounds for adults is nothing new — in fact, Germany has begun construction on such a thing, including chess and badminton and — things adults already do.  But what about the colorful tubes?  Windows you can peek out of?  Those tic-tac-toe boards?  The “captain’s ships”?  The wonderful smell of sweaty plastic?  The fun of being smooshed up against some other random kid while trying to pass each-other in opposite directions?  The bumps and bruises on your knees from crawling around on all fours?  And getting lost in it all like there’s nobody that can hurt you in your protective spaceship/homebase/cocoon/hive, and forgetting that Mommy told you that you have to clean your room when you get home?

Quite frankly, I miss it.  And I’d assume that there are plenty of other college students and even parents feeling the same way as they watch their younger counterparts peek through windows and wave at them and appear at the bottom of the windy slide moments later in a fit of giggles as their hair stands up from the massive static accumulation.  Don’t we need the colors to interrupt the mundane blacks and grays and browns that permeate our society?  Don’t we need a metaphorical way to block out the world and have the chance to just peek at it from behind protective clear plastic?  Don’t we need a break from Sudoku and crossword puzzles and video games?  Don’t we need a place to call our “captain’s seat” until we’re bored and we can just hand it over to the next person without any risk of a huge corporate failure and need for a bailout?  Don’t we need to invigorate our senses with that musk smell that is apparently all the rage?  And what better way to meet your future soul mate than by awkwardly bumping shoulders and hips as you pass by with awkward hello’s and mumblings of “gotta get to home base”?  And we could all do with a few more bruises on our knees!  Last of all, couldn’t we all do with the sudden amnesia and carefree attitude that comes with entering into that impenitrable castle of plastic?

So, scale up the tube diameter, add a few more twists and turns to keep it interesting, amp up the classic rock, keep the smoothies flowing — what could be better?

It’d be the most fun I’d ever have working out.

playland

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I decided…

I deiced that I really like it when the moonlight filters through my blinds and onto my bed at night.  It brings me joy.

That is all.

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Shameless Plugging…

As I have no alternative means of advertising my blog other than using every tag possible so my blog will turn up on every random search (see previous post on how my blog seems to have been found through various search engines), I find myself plugging mentions of this little site in every day conversation as often as possible.

As it is, well, nothing great, and nothing beyond perhaps sixty posts, 4,000 hits, and the most popular post being nothing but a list of 50 things to do with bobby pins — nothing to rival the great “Sneeze,”– I often walk away from these conversations ashamed at my naiveity (naievity, Nai-eh-vih-tee) and unfounded pride in “this here establishment of word-processing.”

Thus, I bring you this wonderful demotivator and end this here, for I have not posted in a while and I must sleep now, for the morning comes quickly on days when I have piano class II at 8:00 in the morning.

blogging1

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What ever happened to the Good Old Days?

I was quite put-off the other day when I lazilly awoke on a Saturday morning and instead of getting up to relieve my bladder, brush my teeth, or fill my stomach, I instead decided that it would be a great idea to turn on the Saturday morning cartoons (which now run very LATE into the morning).  To my joy, on next was one of my very favorite shows from my younger years, “Yu-Gi-Oh.”

I admit, I was quite enamored with this anime show in my late elementary school and Jr. High years, as well as the very concept of anime and anything to do with Japan.  Of course, this episode was abruptly cut off with the onslaught of my “emo semester” during which I learned what it was to be a “well-rounded” and cynical teenager, and that anime, was not in fact, accepted by the general populace as an acceptable obsession.  But that’s beside the point.

To my disdain, they seem to have decided that the staple, main character, and NAMESAKE of the show has been instead replaced with some kind of lame-sauce chouvenistic man-children going to school to learn how to play the card game that is the main concept of the show.  There was not mention of Yu-Gi-Oh, or any of my favorite characters from the show.  I was rather peeved.

But alas, I kept on watching.  I don’t know why.  The laziness, I suppose.  I watched for an entire hour.  And I felt old.  I bet you now kids are watching this and have no idea who Yu-Gi-Oh is.  Or Ash, I bet they did away with him, too, from Pokemon.  You know you’re getting old when you’re watching a cartoon reminiscing about previous characters that the rising generation of youth haven’t even heard of.  I know I’m still young, comparatively, but I’m using the phrase, “when I was young,” with increasing frequency.

Do over?

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