Thanksgiving week: A Synopsis

My current mood is pensive- mainly due to Ingrid Michaelson, whose subtle tones and thought provoking lyrics are currently swimming from my earbuds at this moment in time. You know how some songs or kinds of music can just put you into one of those frames of mind? You find yourself sitting, thinking- what did I do right today? What didn't I do? What could I have said better? What could I have left unsaid? Did I have the courage to do something brilliant today? Anything so magnificent that maybe, just maybe, someone might remember it forever? I don't know why I don't live every day by asking myself these questions every morning. Perhaps I should begin such a practice. In the mean time, here is a very eclectic [as usual] accounting for some of the thought processes/ events that have happened lately.

Number one: I considered this week all of the photographs that I could be in- in the background. Not MY photographs, or my friends, or ones that I could end up being "tagged" in on facebook. But the ones that strangers take that you end up being in regardless of your concern or permission. What incredible number of family photo albums could I be in, on dusty shelves across the world? It's a scary albeit ridiculous thought to consider, yes, but... for a moment at least, humor me and consider it.

Secondly, the art of giving thanks. For it is an art, I hope you know. That was a trick- the world would have us believe that being grateful is an art- something that only talented and often educated peoples are granted. Not so. One ought to practice being grateful at every given opportunity. It is one of those moments when you will be as human as possible: in the good way, of course. Let me take the opportunity to tell you all that I am grateful today for the following: my family, as wonderfully different and genuine as they are; my brother Alastair in particular, who is serving the Lord on a full time mission. I don't know if you out there reading realize how great that kid is. I'm thankful that I have at least some inclination. My friends. Experiences good and bad and the lessons I have learned from both. The gospel of Jesus Christ. The Book of Mormon- an incredible book that I learn from every day. Every page is as real and true as I sit here typing. If you don't have one, you NEED one in your life- contact me and I will send you one for christmas. No joke. I'm also grateful for christmas trees, my crock pot and pancakes today.

Thirdly, christmas. Christmas shopping is perhaps the best activity on the planet. University mall just opened an incredible christmas shop that is very inexpensive, has an overwhelming cinnamon air and is officially my new happy place. We decorated our tree last night. If you live close, forget Temple Square- visit MY APARTMENT for a christmas light experience. It's beautiful. Rumor has it that if you make a wish while touching our christmas tree, it will come true. So come visit. Unless you are boy- you can come later this week, when we finally get mistletoe (wishing is something, but mistletoe might help your chances).

That's about all I have time for right now. And no photograph- sincere apologies- because I can't be bothered to locate my cord and plug it in and download and upload etc. Next time, I promise.

Movie of the Month

I'm sure I've mentioned this before- there are certain movies out there that are just inspirational. This is one of the few that makes my fingertips tingle, and writing is all I want to do. I appreciate this movie for a number of things. Firstly, it's superb writing. I have said it time and time again: there is a lot of crap out there that is in no way worthy of remembering. This script is not one of them. It is genius: realistic and optimistic of the goodness in people that we tend to forget. I appreciate the dynamic of the family: how it is focused and celebrated. The characters- each one- are beautifully sculpted and relatable. And lastly, the music is refreshing and enjoyable (props to Sondre Lerche). If you haven't seen this movie: go get it right now- pay full price if you need to, you won't regret it. If you HAVE seen it... watch it again!

Brushes With Death

I'm going to level with you, blog fans. I am quite helpless these days! Fate seems to have it in for me- and if I believed in fate I suppose that fact would scare me. I have had 3- yes, THREE- brushes with death in the recent present. First of all, in the form of an electrical scare. I was drying my hair one night, getting ready for a night out on the town with the girls. It was hot in the bathroom and I was feeling sort of dehydrated, so I ran myself a cup of cold water and proceeded to sip on said water as my head was angled in a manner that accommodated the blow- dryer. As such, water spilled directly into the mouth of the dryer, prompting very scary electrical noises, sparks etc. I fumbled frantically to switch off the dryer and flung it across to the other side of the bathroom (yes, toward the damp shower- again note my hopelessness).

The second brush with death isn't really a brush with death, but merely a brush with the thought of death. I had a bit of a health scare when certain symptoms prompted me to consider the possibility of breast cancer. Although I am very young (despite what Provo Culture tells me), I panicked a little when I considered family history of breast cancer. I got myself checked out, which was in and of itself a rather traumatizing ordeal. I had always hoped the first person to explore that territory would be a husband. Nevertheless, I chatted a mile a minute as it happened, and through ultra sound tests etc. The results of my tests were normal, and it seems that I have nothing to worry about- which is a huge relief. You might wonder why I have plastered this information all over my blog. My reason is simple: to urge you female readers to be careful and check yourself regularly! Women should check themselves at least once a month. It should take no longer than 15 minutes and is a cautionary way to make sure to stay smart. For information of how to do this, visit http://www.arimidex.com/self-exam.aspx

Thirdly, today on the way to church (giggle at the irony), the car I was in took a pretty hard hit. As sheer typicality would have it, I was the passenger to be sitting at the point of impact and, as such, am sporting a cartoon-esque bump on the head. After a quick google, I can determine that I only have a mild concussion right now- hopefully it won't get worse! The real sympathy must be lent to both drivers. I would feel awful if I hit a car, I know it!

All of this being said, you will be happy to know that I live to blog another day, as it would seem. And while we are on the subject: I realize that there is much catching up that must be done. So in a bid to keep myself from sleeping, which might not be good for me right now, I will do just that!

In the News...

Solmali Woman Stoned to Death for Adultery

BBC World News

A 20-year-old woman divorcee accused of committing adultery in Somalia has been stoned to death by Islamists in front of a crowd of about 200 people.

A judge working for the militant group al-Shabab said she had had an affair with an unmarried 29-year-old man.

He said she gave birth to a still-born baby and was found guilty of adultery. Her boyfriend was given 100 lashes.

It is thought to be the second time a woman has been stoned to death for adultery by al-Shabab.

The group controls large swathes of southern Somalia where they have imposed a strict interpretation of Islamic law which has been unpopular with many Somalis.

You Can Have Whatever You Like...

Conversation at work this morning...

Me (singing along to my ipod): You can have whatever you liiiiikkeee...

Lacey: Oh my gosh, no you can't

Me: Yes I can! T.I. says so...

Jordan: He wasn't talking to you!

Me: SHUT UP, yes he was!

In the News...

Deputies Search for 2 Fugitives

My boss came in this morning and told me about this: http://www.ksl.com/?nid=148&sid=8702655 which went down on his street last night. If you live in the nearby area, lock your doors and BE CAREFUL!

Find of the Day

Many thanks to Lacey for this one! In case you can't see it, it says "Eat, eat eat! And always stay thin! Fat- the enemy that is shortening your life- Banished! How? With [sanitized] Tape Worms (Jar packed)... Easy to Swallow!"

Hail the fifties!

QUESTION OF THE DAY

What is the point of the Penguin? I know they're cute and all, but WHAT DO THEY DO for the good of humanity? What do they provide the human race with (because honestly humans are the superior species- and don't give me that animal loving crap. If you donate money or time to animal charities and not human charities, consider yourselves undeniably wicked)?

In the News...

MAN STABS HIMSELF TO AVOID WORK

We all know there are some days when you just can't face the thought of going into work. But one man in Denver took a rather extreme approach to throwing a sickie, local police say - he stabbed himself and claimed to have been attacked by three men in a ploy to get off work...

To read the rest of this story, go to http://www.metro.co.uk/weird/article.html?Man_stabs_himself_to_avoid_work&in_article_id=762403&in_page_id=2

Reminiscing... Because That's All My Mind Will Allow for...

I know that you will all think I'm lying for sure, but I will admit that lately my thought processes have revolved around me me me, and as such, my writing capabilities are restricted to, well, me.

Case and point: while writing a paper yesterday, I defined the word (as was the assignment) "spank". Today, my professor emailed me to tell me how much he liked my commentary on the different household applianced that could be used for a good hiding, including the slipper- my mother's weapon of choice.

The Americans have a saying (and as it usually goes with the Americans, it's short and leaves the unsuspecting foreigner quite puzzled): TMI. Which means, Too Much Information. Apparently my filter is not functioning.

Anyway, I am sitting here with the intent of writing a few children's book manuscripts that do not, preferably, include abduction, terrorism, poo and lying, but all I seem competent of is revisiting my childhood.

And so, it's story time!

HOLLIE'S FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL. EVER.

Before I begin, I would like to make you all aware that the day I will soon recount marked the first day of my near seventeen year love affair with education. If I'm honest, the last year has been rocky and we're thinking of breaking up (but we probably won't, for the sake of the degrees etc). Regardless: this "first day" was the first of nine first days- and that's nine schools, not nine grade beginnings etc. Are you sympathetic yet?

I don't recall the weather or anything like that. I wasn't nervous, as most other "first day's" seemed to go, just excited. Mum did my hair as she always did, but the vibrant and pretty bows were put away for less serious matters. I had a uniform. I wore knee socks, a grey skirt, a pale blue button up shirt with stiff cuffs, a navy blue striped tie and a cardigan. My shoes were new: black and polished from Clark's. Daddy helped my with my tie and Mum took a barrage of photographs, standing by the stone fireplace, and outside too.

I didn't let go of my lunchbox until I arrived at the cloak room at the school. It strikes me how funny it is that they call it a cloak room. I guess the British cling to the old more than I'd expect. My peg had my name above it. I hung my coat (which was long and made me feel like an elegant lady) and placed my blue plastic lunch box on the bench underneath it.

The Mums stayed with us for a while as we all got our bearings. I can't say that I remember too much about this chaotic part of the day, except for a very brief flash of panic when she bent down to tell me had to go now, and I should have fun and make friends. My attention was on the sand pit that my hands were buried in.

My teacher was Mrs. Booth, which made Alastair laugh because it sounded to him like "boob". We sat on the carpet around her chair and of course I can't remember what she said or taught or read. I can just tell you that the letters of the alphabet were pasted to the wall above her head and I sat next to a girl named Janine Brown. She had a thick fringe and her blue shirt collar was askew. She wasn't as neat as me.

I wonder if elementary school teachers have the ability to see a child and just know how they will turn out. I suppose that's a very rude and insensitive thing to say- especially as, when I think about it, the likelihood of that teacher truly knowing how their little students turn out is not very great. So I guess my question is- how judgmental do you reckon these grade school teachers are?

St. Chads Primary School lasted a year and a half- the highlights of which include me playing the Queen in the class presentation of Dick Whitington and His Cat (my lines were "A cat? What is a cat?!" and "Oh, Captain! We MUST have that cat!"), my first boyfriend by the name of Christopher (or something like that), beating everyone in running on sports day, painting a blossom tree in Mrs. Faulkner's class, and remembering that the floor in the assembly hall was made of wooden slabs. I also remember playing the letter "L" in another class play which was all about the alphabet- which I praise my parents for sitting through.

It was probably the best of all the "first days". The worst was John Bamford's Primary school, when Melanie Burton, surrounded by the other girls in the class, smugly looked around and announced "all those here who have been at John Bamford's since Reception class, raise your hand." Yes, I was the only one who couldn't raise my hand, and yes, that made me feel like I was the most tragic girl in the universe. But That's another story.

A couple of disclaimers: firstly, my mother very rarely used her slipper. She just threatened us with it, really. I don't think Logan or Connor could tell you a single time they ever saw it. Alastair could probably tell you some stories though! Secondly, Melanie- if you're reading this, please know that I really don't care about how rude you were to me on my first day of school. I mean, I cared a great deal then, and it made me not want to go to school ever again, but I'm over it now. Completely.

Vent (verb)

I would just like you all to know that the purpose in my writing presently is to chastise myself sorely for my un-productivity today. I have sat in the same very hard chair in the library for close to 6 hours today, staring at my computer wondering how on earth to execute a paper and am appalled at both my lack of progress and my ability to squander away time as though it were nothing but blades of grass that nobody ever cared to walk on, look at, pick or do anything with.

And while I realize that that last sentence makes no comprehensible sense, I must go on: why, oh why, am I here, doing this, if my head is not in the game? I would very much like to have the same resources that rich time wasters have: if such were the case, I would not worry that I did not have the money to do what I wanted, when I wanted. Isn't it disgusting that you need MONEY to do STUFF these days? When did life get so complicated? I have half a mind to quit school and sit at a desk and write until I make my million in something as brainless as the Twilight series.

But then, we all know that that would be impossible because at the rate I'm going it would take me three hundred years to write even a chapter of ANYTHING because I seem to have lost my brain.

I would also like to point out to the world that one good thing happened today: I was asked to read a part of a paper I had written in class.

In retrospect, I will write to you all this time next week and say "wow. crazy week. it's over. life's good."

So really... what's my point?

What I'm Listening to

Come Thou Fount. Alastair asked me to collect an array of different versions and whack 'em on a CD for him. It is a beautiful song.

Dream by Priscilla Ahn. Fast becoming one of my favourite songs.

The Ghost Busters theme song. Do not pretend you've never gotten down to it.

Crock Pot Love, and Other News

I know I have been atrocious and have not written in quite some time. It's not as bad as my aunt, who for the past 3 or 4 months has been insisting that a new post on her blog is just around the corner. What LIES (yes, Jules, I am now publicly reprimanding you. I am THAT sick of reading about SeaWorld, which happened a HUNDRED years ago).

Anyway. In my absence let me tell you all that I had a mini crisis/ breakdown/ what am I doing with my life type situation. My fabulous friend Haili calls it a mid-college crisis. I will spare you the details and just tell you that I stole away for the weekend, out of Provo, away from school, to recoup.

While recouping (which entails a huge bed, no alarm clocks, hallowe'en movies, my own bathroom, trick or treating children, hershey's kisses and some tragic lifetime-hallmark movies) I will say that the only complaint I did not cook. For 4 days. FOUR DAYS without cooking. I didn't cook. No cooking.

And so, when I got home on sunday night- well, I was too tired from recouping, so I didn't cook on sunday- on MONDAY night, I got straight to it. I did a pot roast for the very first time in my entire existence using the genius of the Crock Pot (girls- don't wait to register. go get one right now. Or borrow one from Lawrence Palmer, apt. 97- he has like 3). I also made pumpkin spice cookies.

Right now (wednesday) I am cooking potato soup in the Crocker. I am going to leave it on while I run out to a review for one of my classes.

Advantages of crockers: they make your house smell like a HOME. You could walk into my apartment right now and half expect your mother to walk into the kitchen. It's THAT good. Also, you can just throw whatever the heck you want in there and it will magically be done in 5 hours. Whereas this may seem like a negative aspect of the crocker, it develops a sense of patience, which I think we all need. Moral of the story: Crockers enrich both diet and humanity.