Reflections: 3rd Grade

I just went through and de-junked a bunch of old stuff, and I came across this treasue.  Yeah, this is my reflections piece from 3rd grade.  I got a ribbon.  This was before graphic design was in!

Who can I contact about this?

How come we say "aren't," but not "amn't?" We really should say "amn't." I know it sounds weird initially, but let's break this down. I am right, aren't I? I am right, are I not? ORRRRRRR...I am right, amn't I? I am right, am I not?

Walden and Antarctica

"I went into the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life and see if I could not learn what I had to teach, and not, when I came time to die, discover that I had not lived." -Thoreau

I think I’m going through my Thoreau stage of life. I mean…I don’t necessarily want to take off to Walden Pond and live in a shack, but I reflect often about the meat and bones of life and what practices really yield true happiness and true growth, and then I think about everything else. It seems like there are so many “everything else” type distractions from “the essential facts of life” and often time and energy is squandered on fluff that just does not matter. I get tired of the bright colored time wasters and want to spend my time on fruitful life-giving activities.

When I went to the University of Utah, I had the honor of being in a poetry class taught by Utah’s Poet Laureate, Katharine Coles. I think she encompassed this Thoreau-ism nicely. She talked about how she once had long, beautiful, flowing hair and would spend hours upon hours fussing about her hair until finally she realized all the time that was being wasted on her hair and she shaved it off. She’s had a shaved head ever since.

I’m not saying the solution to really living is shaving our heads, but the metaphor is beautiful—each person can search to identify what distracts their energy, focus and time from really living and cut it off to spend time on practices that make life joyful. This can be different for each person. Katharine Coles recently spent time in Antarctica writing poetry and learning about the sciences.

I think I'll spend some more time thinking about what my Walden Pond or Antarctica really is and report back, but for starters, I simply want to slow down.

Dear Tooth Fairy!

I really miss being little. Not just because it was awesome to have a care-free life of no responsibilities and endless imagination time, but also because I said and did the most awesome and hilarious things ever.

Last night, I found this old treasure--a note I wrote to the Tooth Fairy.

My adult head specifically remembers losing my tooth and really hoping that the Tooth Fairy would still give me my prize money, despite my negligence. I also love the added value statement of it being a molar...not just a regular tooth...so obviously I would need more money for it.

Enjoy!



Sidenote: I always thought that the Tooth Fairy rolled around at night in a red fire engine. Did anyone else think that?

My Poem to Welcome Summer

Capsaicin’s Mother
She straps on her snake-skin heels,
torch lights her cigarette,
charges outside like a Spanish bull,
and cries "there will be no mercy when we're burning in hell!"

She stops at the local station to fuel,
gas gushing down both sides the flame-orange and black bike
forming a river of combustible temptation sweltering down the concrete.
She smiles, tosses her cig in the stream and heads to Death Valley.

When she arrives in the Center,
she is more than fuel-fired charcoal;
she is more than Red Savina Habanero,
or petrol, or desert, or Venus.
No Scoville will tell her what she is or what to do,
so she settles down, flips off the sun,
and sets up her lawn chair to stay.

Charlie Brown Parents Man

One of my glorious work tasks is to take notes at our weekly sales meetings. There is this one guy on the team who I literally cannot understand one word that comes out of his mouth. No, he doesn't have a speech impediment. No, he is not from another country. He is a 100% native English speaking American. To me, he sounds like he is talking in the back of his throat in a microphone under water.

All I hear is "maovneoa amoewha mfasdh aheouf emeoa aswemmah."

It's like the parents on Charlie Brown every time he talks.

Is it bad if my notes for him are as follows:

"Things are looking good in aAlaskeieano. We're having some problems regarding frigmaticlsih, so if everyone could halibpul muawaw waajle, that would be extremely helpful. Also, it is ABSOLUTELY lucrative that we frimahlwu woafh aweoiht. So, if everyone could awouiehfaw and oeoauvoea lallll, our company would really benefit. In fact, make sure all your teams know to muwhy49erawowwwlll, or we might not succeed."

Hmmmm? Crap. What?!?!

I Reek of Russia and I Love It!

Highlights from Russia so far:

1. Told everyone I was coming to visit them on Saturday...Jeni and I BOTH thought it was Friday, so I managed to ditch everyone, while having a nice gulyat' in Moscow.

2. Saw Faberzhe egg special collection at the Pushkin Museum. AWESOME. I want one for my birthday.

3. Asked someone to take my picture on Red Square and it turned out to be Alice Cooper's band. They got mildly flirty with us and asked us to come to their concert. Alice Cooper is a bit scary, so we'll have to see about that.

4. Sloshed through throw up on the metro. I feel asleep for like one station and I got up in a panic and as it turns out...someone else had a panic and managed to barf right on my standing place, and I literally had slippery throw up feet. Was wearing flip flops. Had to pay 39 rubles for "gas water" that Jeni poured on my feet while I winced in grossed-out-edness.

5. Meet up with sweet Larisa O....my favorite companion ever, and some grossies tried to pick up on us. One of them pinched Jeni's butt. I punched him in the shin.

6. Missed the last bus to Rosinka (a place no one in Russia knows about)--missed it NOT because we weren't there on time, but probably because we were not on the correct side of the street. Yeah, then we sat and twirled our hair and smiled at boys who naturally asked us if we wanted a ride. Turns out they were from Georgia (country, not state) and their dads were in another car giving us the mafia/creepster look. We didn't know the address (totally RUSSIAN SELO type of place where it's just Rosinka and a house number...no address), so we call the emergency number and find out it's close to a place called Mitino. We pray in our hearts. God sends Russian guardian angel driver, who doesn't know where Rosinka is either, but finds it and doesn't charge us anything for the ride, because it was so "priyatno" (nice) for him to be with us. Wow! I love being cute.

7. I smell like chimney just from being here. No really...I do.

P.S. It's now Sunday...the day that comes after Saturday (aka Fake Friday)

Blonde Attack

You all know what I'm talking about, right? Moments where your neurotransmitters scream "no" and and fold their arms in strike. Moments that sneak up out of nowhere and cause embarrassment and surprise. Moments where you wish you had a real-life rewind time button. Moments where the peroxide seeps a little too deep into your skull. You know them. They're called Blonde Attacks.

My most recent Blonde Attack.

Me: So...you're going to be a lawyer? What kind of questions do they ask on the LSAT?(Yes, I already know, but I wanted him to keep talking to me).
Hottie: Here, let my show you my LSAT study book.
Me: Wow! These look really hard. It would take me like AN HOUR to finish this test.
Hottie: Actually, the test is about 2.5 hours long.
Me: Oh.

An hour? Oh dear. I hope I didn't ruin my chances of seducing him. He's v. cute. I am just going to have to practice saying really funny and smart things to him from now on. Any ideas?

I am my own book club

Since I am taking those awesome graduate courses that equals a candy semester made up of reading shiznet I would've read anyway, I thought I would at least provide the world with a short review/random thoughts about the books I've read so far. Here goes.

Crime and Punishment

Hello...anxiety central. I felt like a total creep while reading this book, but didn't lose interest. The characters and psychology are so real, and it twisted my mind to identify, in ways, with the characters, and also to completely separate my ideas and thought patterns with those portrayed in the book. I both loved and hated Raskolnikov (fyi: Raskolnik in Russian means "religious desenter;" yeah, I looked it up and now I can impress my bloggership). Mostly, I felt sorry for Raskolnikov as he was portrayed as a real person and a criminal--a loving son, brother and boyfriend, a passionate and compassionate member of society and a complete psychopath and murder. Lesson learned: root yourself in real life moments, attach yourself to real people that force you into understanding, socializing, and partaking of reality, rather than letting the creative and analytical sides of your brain turn into Crazy and float away in theory, until you've lost touch with reality and done something you can't take back. Recommended: Yes!

Eugene Onegin

Classic tale of idiot man, driven by passions, always looking for something better and who doesn't figure out what's important and valuable until it's too late. The book is translated poetry. I'm hoping to read it in Russian, because I have a feeling it's a lot better in Russian, but it's still good in English. I bet a good comparison is like an iced fountain diet coke (Russian version) vs. a hot bottled diet coke (English)...still good, but just not the same. Lessons learned: Every Tatiana has an Onegin, and pull your head out of your butt, Onegin. Recommended: Yes, but read in Russian, unless you don't speak Russian, then read it in warm, flat, but still fizzy and quite caffeinated Diet Coke.

Anna Karenina

Snore. Snoresnoresnore. I couldn't figure out why I had to listen to Anna bitch and whine for all those pages. If you want a happy life, Anna, then make good choices. She really could have thrown herself in front of the train about 700 pages before she did. Lessons Learned: Watch TV (Lost or American Idol) instead of reading books. Recommended: If you're gonna read a MILLION pages of Russian Literature, read Brothers Karamozov.

Dead Souls

Confession: was supposed to finish, but have only read 148 pages. More later.

If I were made out of paint, this is where I'd be