Grab Bag (Another, Happier, List)

1. I love the BBC. At midnight 90.1's nighttime jazz transforms magically into BBC's morning news and dissuades me from never listening to the radio again. Specifically why though: BBC reporters don't mess around. There's no dancing around propriety or serving special interests. Last week a reporter was interviewing a Russian diplomat about Georgia and asked straight up: "isn't your policy toward East Acetia (sp?) the exact opposite of what it was when you were dealing with Kosovo?" [the diplomat fumbles: "you got mad at us then for that so we changed it..."] And tonight, an anchor was interviewing the union leader for Boeing. "Boeing didn't give you the 13% pay raise you wanted, but didn't they give you a 11% raise" [The union leader changes the subject to pocket-padding executives.] "Let me read you an email from a guy in San Diego who thinks your demands are ridiculous." I love that they're allowed to pick fights just because their accent covers all traces of animosity or ill will. I wish I could do that.

2. Other People's Lives. Have you seen this film? Will you please? Set in East Germany. Though it takes full advantage of the communist color scheme (if color came in chords, it would be a minor chord, what do you call that visually? I love it. I wish my entire house was paneled in dark wood and I could wear only grey), and is not life-sucking or depressing. Very tense, almost soul-breaking for a minute, but just a very very gorgeous film
Can we talk about Germans? Like the bizarre swing from Goethe and gay Berlin to communism to Rammstein, industrial art, and trains that always run on time? Why is this sounding so familiar? Dear my German contingent: any insights?

3. Black Amethyst. Bath and Body Works won me over again. Not since junior high school have I been so excited about lotion. I love their new flavor: not as overwhelmingly sweet as Rose Sandalwood, which I was a fan of but couldn't commit to, but just as warm. I love it. Also, I met the most beautiful man I have ever seen in Park City's BBW. And by beautiful I mean I was staring at him thinking "you're gorgeous" and then he spoke and only then did I realize he was a man. Gorgeous. Erik. Totally helpful and he barbed his way into my heart. He told me he could tell I was from Provo. Ouch. Insulting people is the best way to fall them in love with you. I recognize that this steals all thunder from my post about Provo. I love the place, insult it and beware my wrath, but that's not a nice thing to say to a girl in Park City. (I like to think it was the light in my eyes...)

4. First X-country meet went very well. My runners are great and will only get better. Sunny fall Saturday morning on BYU's track. Orange slices. Not a bad way to kick off a Saturday.

This doesn't mean that I'm not still thinking about Mexico. But it was a very lovely Saturday.

A Subtle Nudge

So some friends are starting a podcast and it promises to be amazing. Check out the promo under the "Check Me Out" portion of my sidebar. Word of Mouth. And stay tuned.

Reasons why moving to Mexico is a good idea: (#1)

1. They want me to teach more Geography. Which supposes that I have background enough to teach Geography at all. Which is not even minutely true.

2. My 5-paragraph essay lecture flopped today. I didn't finish it. I made the kids write. They probably didn't feel succesful which means they'll never forgive me or the 5-paragraph essay which, while not the be all and end all of writing, is a damn fine beginning.

3. My internal swearometer is through the f-ing roof.

4. We have a X-country meet tomorrow. I don't know who's coming. Or if they're coming. Was that my job? To chase kids around and remind them to come to practice? Don't they want to play sports? Run? Isn't that the whole point of extra-curriculars, that I wouldn't have to get after them to participate? Aaaach.

5. We've been talking about Gilgamesh--about how the (nameless, interesting) harlot who seduces Enkidu represents civilization (they loved this one) and how there's a big hairy beast in all of us who just wants to run with the antelope and eat grass. True. On the beach.

6. I went to campus today for a poetry symposium and it was elitist and self-important and lovely. Am I really too practical for academia? Really? My perceived failures in this first couple of months of real life beg to differ. I keep scouring my brain for some super esoteric interest that I'd forgotten about which I could hole myself up in an ivory tower writing about. Hopefully that someone would pay me to write about. (Barring that, it seems like waves on a beach would be really conducive to finding an inner rhythm to write poetry to.)

7. This sucks. I tried the postitive thing and the denial thing and the buying cute stuff thing (how many times can I go the Gap in a 3-month period, really?) and it comes down to this: trying to build a new life in a hometown is gut-wrenchingly hard. They're paying me to work hard and long and a lot. And I'm not a total slacker either. I'm tired and I'm still sick and I can't express how delicious the idea of handing in an on-the-spot resignation, packing my stuff into my car and driving to the ocean sounds. Delicious. Better than this year's peaches.

2008 is Great

This time last election season I was learning the conditional tense in Armenian and figuring out how to eat as little cafeteria food as possible. That is to say, I missed out on most of the action. This year I've been eating it up.
I hope to write more later but: I think that Palin was a genius. Let the press knock her (and they have), but I thought her speech tonight was spot-on. She held herself beautifully and did precisely what a good VP should: defend the nominee and knock the opposition. I cringed when the cowboy hats appeared toward the end of the thing, but I thought she was glorious. Also, the only possible way that McCain could even have a fighting chance.
So now I'm torn again. Sigh.

On being torn: point for adult me--I own Nyquil! It's in my bottom drawer. I can't tell you how happy I am.

Twenty-five

Kid half: Of course you should keep blog hopping and should also check out that summer playlist you found. And go to that pre-Sundance screening on campus tonight. Plan lessons later. Read history books later. You can sleep next weekend.

Adult me:

Adult me (I forgot to take off the duct tape, sorry): You should definitely sleep tonight. You're sick and your kids will see right through you. And you have cross country tomorrow.

Both of me: when the room is spinning it is time to take a nap.

Provo is where I live

I was on campus for a second today and it was lovely and I ran into a friend and spent money at the bookstore (and did not return the half-dozen library books that have been in my car for the last week because the BYU operator is not omniscient which was the very essence of disillusionment and the library was not open) and prepped myself for the onslaught of hate.

Since I was in elementary school I've had to deal with people bagging on my hometown. They call it the bubble, they knock the culture, they make fun of the moms and the dads and the kids and though I'm not going to do this as diplomatically as my much more mature sister, I want to get the message out where I can: if you don't like it leave.

Yeah yeah, you're going to school, yeah yeah, you want to get married just as desperately as the rest of us, yeah we are paying for the roads where you park and supporting the Thai food place when you're gone for the summer, and also my friends, are you really telling me that there aren't people you don't like in California?

Provo's great. It's beautiful and clean and people are nice and I'm tired of you dogging my town.

That's it. :)

Decorating

I'm decorating my room. The furniture is set how'd I'd like it, I love my duvet covered day bed (fantastic idea, Anne), surfaces are still cluttered a bit with odds and ends I haven't found tupperware or cigar boxes for, but today I'm focused on my walls.
This stage is a big deal for me, and I couldn't have done it before today. That is, it seems a sort of definition: this is who I am right now and how I'm feeling, and granted sticky tack is designed to be removed (though after last month's flower-mosaic fiasco I'm not sure how true that holds), but there's something about sorting through paintings and postcards and family pictures--deciding what to display and what to keep in a box--that puts a fine point on where I am.
It's also a big deal because it's another sign of commitment to my apartment. I find myself constantly watching for the door--trying to find possible exits of out of any commitment I've tangled myself in. (I'm pretty sure if I needed to I could quit my job with 2 weeks notice and if I was doing something cool like moving to South America they might even applaud the effort...) I have been rethinking my decision to move to Orem: I should've waited and moved in with friends, I could move out and find a place with Erika and on and on. But today I took a stand. I put up my postcards. I put up Mrs. Dalloway. I sorted a little and dusted and unpacked. I'm sticking.