When Stories are Just Stories

There's something about books and the written word that gives them crazy power. This is especially true if they become popular. I mean, people forgot to eat and bathe just to find out what happens to Dumbledore. They captivate people in a way that TV and videogames can never do in the same way. Books have the power to spontaneously cause millions of kids to start reading again. Even if the book is crap *cough* Twilight *cough* at least they're reading. There's a crappy side too though. Books also have the power to offend a million people as well. For the life of me, I can't bring myself to understand this second part. Sure, if the book is decidedly false, slandering and presented as truth, then yes. I get that. Be offended by all means. But... when they're just stories... then that's another matter.

The DaVinci Code and Harry Potter stick out in my mind the most. Decidedly, it's mostly religious groups that find these books to be so horrid. I can kind of see it. I mean, The DaVinci Code challenges Christian foundations and beliefs by suggesting things like Jesus had a wife and it so happened to be Mary Magdaline. People just freaked out. Some even went so far as to say that Dan Brown himself was the anti-christ. Why? Let me ask a question. In which section of your local library is The DaVinci Code located in? Non-fiction? In the Reference section? No... they're all decidedly in the fiction section. Yes, fiction as in... not true. The DaVinci Code is a story. A fabrication. Dan Brown knows it. He doesn't try to present any of his novels as fact. As a Christian, I read this book and my faith was not shaken. I didn't question my beliefs after finishing it. I read the book and enjoyed its genious. His stories are amazing and well-written. He does his homework and does a lot of research for his books. Just because I read it and enjoyed it, does that make me horrible? A hypocrite? A traiter to my faith? No. It really, really doesn't.

There were arguements that Harry Potter was encouraging children to engage in witchcraft. Does it? Not anymore than Huckleberry Finn encourages kids to drop out of school or Robin Hood encourages them to steal. Is it the magic in the book that's the problem then? If that's the case, then I'd like to point out that one of the most beloved Christian authors just so happens to be C.S Lewis who wrote The Chronicles of Narnia. Guess what's all over those books? Magic. Wizards. Unicorns. We forget that children, as naive as they can be, still know the difference between fantasy and reality. If children can tell the difference between stories and reality, why can't adults?

Ultimately, what bothers me most is not the fact that people are offended, (because they're always offended by something) but that they don't know why they're offended. Many who rally against these books have never read them. They just have a vague idea of the plot and decide to hate it. I would respect these people so much more if they would read these novels, use their brains, and examine their own beliefs as they stand after the books are read. If then they are still offended, then that's their right. Listen, if something as trivial as a book, song or movie is enough to shake your faith, then I would dare to say that your faith sucks. If you truly know where you stand and what your beliefs are, there is no book in this world that will offend you. I'm a Christian and a Harry Potter fan and I'm totally okay with that.

All I Want for Christmas is My Sanity

Anger. Fear. Agression. The Dark Side of the holidays are these. Yes, my friends, it's that time of year again when people lose all compassion and kindness for their fellow man. They trample the elderly and beat you over the head with a cub scout to be first in the doors for a sale. Santa what? Jesus who? Who the hell cares, just buy stuff and buy it now! What happened to us?! When did Christmas become so awful? Why when I think of the holidays, does my eye start to twitch?

When I was a kid, I loved everything about Christmas. The colorful lights and music, the egg nog and family. And of course, the presents. Everything seemed to glitter and have a glow to it. Now that I'm older, Christmas has about as much magic in it as the DMV. Some of that probably has to do with that damn kid in 1st grade who told me there was no Santa (thanks a load d-bag). But I think a lot of it just comes with being an adult. I no longer take time to admire the decorations, unless they're my own. If I see someone with a whole bunch of lights on their house, the first thing that pops into my head is: "Geez, their electric bill must be through the roof!" Not very magical. Now I'm not worried so much about making snow angels but about presents and how I'm going to buy them. I constantly worry about money and let me tell you, it sucks. I miss being awed. I miss actually liking Christmas carols.

Christmas has become a long, drawn out process of everyone telling themselves that they don't have enough. We don't have enough stuff. We don't have enough money in which to buy the stuff. We don't have enough time. It's sadder than a wet reindeer. You know something... we have enough. In fact, we have too much freaking stuff. If all of us only got one present this year, that's one present more than a LOT of people are going to get. But we bitch and whine and moan over this junk. Stuff that we're just going to exchange the next day anyways. So... what does Christmas mean to you? In the middle of your holiday shopping will you be willing to smile at that crazy ass person who cut you off in the intersection? Could we maybe forget about the damn x-box for 2 seconds and help that lady over there who dropped her wallet? We need to remember that Christmas stands for something. It MEANS something. And all that it stands for and means has to do with other people. We need to quit being mean, petty and self-absorbed and remember how to love. Now, with all that said... gimmie my presents!

My Thoughts on 2012

Unless you've recently decided to go the way of Obi-Wan Kenobi and become a hermit, you've heard about what we're all in store for in 2012. Just incase you missed the memo: we're all gonna die. And it's not like, some run of the mill asteroid coming to destroy us. Nope. Think of all the ways that a natural disaster could kill you. Ok good. Now think of all of it going on at once. Pleasant, no? From my understanding, that's what's going to happen in 2012. Everything. Solar flares, volcanoes, tsunamis, cannibalism, earthquakes, fires, blackouts and the stay puft marshmallow man. All of it. Just yesterday I watched some show on the Discovery Channel that was explaining our demise, step by horrifying step. Solar flares lead to blackouts, blackouts lead to riots and no more Nintendo wii. Without the wii, people start fires out of boredom and everything burns to the ground right before Yellowstone erupts in a giant cataclysmic explosion. Something like that. Then, just as I was beginning to worry that I didn't have enough money in which to build a giant underground shelter where I could live out my days eating Twinkies until the giant ash cloud clears enough to see the sun... I remembered Y2K.

Do you remember Y2K? We were going to lose all our technology in some strange computer version of a mental breakdown and all our savings, personal information, health records and precious documented Taco Bell receipts would be gone forever. Forever! So we stocked up on a years worth of Spam and lima beans and bought water purification tablets. We converted all our money into bars of gold and bought a gun in which to protect said gold (you laugh at all of this, but this is pretty much what my family did). And what happened when that ball dropped? We all closed our eyes and clenched our teeth and... confetti got in our hair. Nooo! Then we ate spam and lima beans for months and felt stupid. Fabulous.

I do believe, my friends, that the probability of December 21st, 2012 being the end of the world is no bigger than tomorrow being the end. Or March 1st. Or 50 years from now. The great thing about being a Christian is that we believe that we don't know the day or hour when it's all going to end. And that's cool. Because if I knew when it was going to happen, I'd spend a hell of a lot of time freaking out. And who needs to spend their last days in panic and fear? Not me. So, in conclusion: the movie looks like it's gonna suck, and find something valid to freak about. Something that we can do something about. Like world hunger. Or Jay Leno.

Save the Concerts From the Jerks!

This weekend I decided to blow my eardrums out, have my insides liquified by sound waves and assault my nostrils with the B.O. of hundreds of people; many of whom were standing on my feet. I'm talking, of course, about a concert. I love concerts. Even though I can't really hear the lyrics because it's so damn loud or the acoustics suck *cough* fiddlers green *cough*. Even though I can't see most of the time unless everyone simultaneously sits down or I get a glimpse of the lead singer underneath someone's armpit. It's still fun. The energy is nuts and all the sudden I begin to feel like crowd surfing. I don't, mind you, I just feel like it. Or perhaps starting a riot. Because all that energy's gotta go somewhere. Which brings me to my next point.

Why, oh why, are there so many dumbass people that ruin everything? I have yet to go to a concert, sporting event, or other huge public gathering where I haven't been assaulted in some way. I've never been beat up, I'm talking about the nacho cheese down my jacket. Drunk guys falling from 2 rows up onto my head. Once I was at a hockey game and some guy threw his cup of tobacco spit and it hit me and my friends (yes, ew. really, really EWW!). Most of us can jump around and yell and have a freaking great time without punching anyone in the mouth. Or trampling some short person at a concert. It's not cool and it ruins everyone's time. No one wants nacho cheese in their hair! I really, really didn't come to a concert to get hit on by some sweaty, drunk, beligerant, shirtless guy! It would be nice, for once, to just be able to sing and head bang to my favorite band without getting shoved around by rude people. Stop being ass hats and let the rest of us have a good time.

Karate Kids... Ugh.

I just read a disturbing article... http://edition.cnn.com/2009/SPORT/10/08 ... topstories. If you don't want to read it, basically there's this five year old. She's in karate. Cute right? Yeah, adorable, except that they've given her a black belt. Yes a black belt at, five. I want you to think about that for a minute. This little girl probably doesn't know the full alphabet yet and they've given her a black belt. Don't get me wrong, I would have loved to start training when I was five. I just wasn't that motivated. But would I have liked to have a black belt that young? No. I didn't even want one at 22 because I didn't feel ready. To some, this article looks like a great accomplishment. Oh wow! She must be amazing! But I want to point out a few things. Martial arts in any style is not simply about punch, kick, yell. There's a huge amount of wisdom, respect and knowledge that you gain from practicing the art. By the time someone reaches black belt rank, there should be a deep respect for what they've accomplished and what it means to be a part of their style. How could a five year old possibly grasp any of that? Granted, some adults are complete tools and get black belts and swelled heads... but generally most of us are aiming for self-improvement and humility.

This particular sentence sums it all up: "Vinod says what Varsha has done in 3½ years takes most people eight years to learn". It takes eight years for most people because it requires time, effort and a hell of a lot of understanding to become a black belt. In fact, it's not just black, but all the belts that require time to process what you've learned and to respect what it means to be a particular rank. Most Sensei's will withold a certain rank, not because they think the student is physically incapable, but they feel the student just isn't ready. No doubt this little girl is talented. She had to pass testing for her rank and let me tell you, that's not easy. However, no matter your talent or knowledge, the fact of the matter is, she's five. She must weigh 50 pounds. If anyone older than, let's say, 10 attacked this little girl, could she defend herself? Maybe... or she might curl into a ball and cry for her mommy. She'd punch and there just isn't enough power in those little muscles to really do anything.

What I'm saying is; I don't think it's right to give out a rank that high to children. They may be amazing. They may be better at kata or weapons than any adult. But they lack the understanding and maturity to respect what they're doing. Plus, honestly, you could just pick her up and put her up someplace high where she couldn't get down. Hai, you be big black belt now kid! Give the kid a lower rank and have them keep it up until they're older. Then they will continue to grow in mind and body. Besides, it should never be about obtaining a certain rank in the first place. "You wear your rank in your heart, not on your belt."

Hallucinations: Essential to Every Corporate Gathering

There was a work meeting today. There's always a freaking meeting. It actually wasn't that boring. I didn't want to stab my thigh with a fork just for something to do. Regardless of the lack of forking, my mind drifted off into the abyss anyway. I can't help it. If they're not talking about ninjas or breakfast burritoes, I'm just not the most attentive audience at 8 in the morning. I don't know what they expect when they don't provide food. Or at the very least coffee... or margaritas.

Anyways, here's a question. You ever sit in a meeting or other public gathering where everyone's polite and attentive and get this incredible urge to do something utterly stupid and ulitmately career-ending? Not because you hate your job or you even want to, but just because your body is sitting still for so long and wouldn't it be oh-so-fun? For example, I'm sitting there, looking at the speaker and drifting off (because I'm well trained and can look in your eyes, nod, and still be thinking of rollercoasters at the same time) and I stage an outburst in my mind. I get up on the table, pump my fist in the air, declair that I love fruity pebbles without milk and then calmly sit back down and fold my hands on the table. You know, something like that. Or y'know, taking your shoes off and putting your feet up on the table and having a nap... or excusing yourself and coming back several minutes later with an egg mcmuffin. Maybe quietly getting up, walking up to the speaker, taking off your gloves (because you can have gloves on in your mind dammit) and smacking them across the face with em. You ever wanna do any of that during a meeting?

It's kind of frightening when you realize just how easy it would be to end your job right then and there if you somehow lost that brain filtering ability. Just that split second of insane, cant-sit-still-anymore-ness and you've lost your job and probably a few of your work friends. Still, wouldn't it be fun to see their faces? Oh the gasps. The drama. These are the things that I think about during meetings. One of these days, just once, I'd like someone to just act on it. My day would get so much better and hey, I'd even pay better attention to meetings from then on. No burritoes or ninjas required.

You're mean. I'm telling.

I've written about my growing road rage, and at the risk of sounding like a hypocrite, I cannot for the life of me figure out why so many people are so angry all the time. The other day, I was driving and was going to turn left, I yeilded to a lady coming from the opposite direction so we didn't, y'know, crash and die. She turned too. I turned after her and was directly behind her car. Not like, tailgating mind you. Just behind her. Standard 2 car lengths and what-not. I don't ride bumpers because I don't want to smoosh my car. Anyway, she decelerated until she almost stopped for absolutely no reason, so I passed her. She then promptly screamed at me out her car window and made obscene gestures. Why? Who the hell knows?! People are just... angry. Visit your local library sometime if you really want to see anger over nothing. Such as those who bitch and complain over how slow the FREE computers are or how their FREE book isn't currently on the shelf. You ever wait tables? You ever had someone make you cry and think you're worthless over some cold mashed potatoes? I have! It's ridiculous. If you wanted perfect potatoes that aren't instant (because you're at a freaking Perkins and there's no real potatoes in sight) you probably should cook them your own lazy self at home. Then when you try to microwave them, it's like the microwave degrades the food somehow (as if Perkins food isn't horrific enough) and they get all pissy. What do you want the waitress to do? Heat them with her laser eyes?

What I'm trying to say is, calm down people. We don't need to be so angry at each other. We don't need to insult someone's humanity because your big mac is taking 4 seconds longer than your last trip to McDonalds. People get so angry over nothing. Nothing. I have a theory. These people with anger issues have nothing worth caring about. Nothing truly meaningful to be angry about... like whole countries starving and people dying. No, they don't care about things like that. All they care about is themselves and getting their stupid blockbuster rental that damn well better be on the shelf. So... stop being angry, stop being selfish and stop making your local librarians want to hang themselves over your missing book.

Sunny, not to mention burning, California

I just got back from California. It was awesome but different... (differently awesome?) I had this idea in my head about what northern Cali would be like this time of year. Green. Lush. Grapes. But... not so much. California in the summertime is pretty much like the African savannah. Dry. Brown. But still grapes somehow. There's two types of California weather in late summer: sun and wildfire. I still loved it though and got to do a bunch of things I couldn't in Colorado. Like Cliff diving for example. Sure, you can cliff-dive here... but you'll get hypothermia from the water. If you can find water. Let alone water deep enough that you don't smash your dome on some pointy rocks. As I biked around Yosemite, I fell in love. Even if the waterfalls were all dried up, it was freaking gorgeous and I just wanted to fake my death and live there as a very happy hobo. I would recommend Yosemite to anyone and everyone unless you despise nature and/or giant granite monoliths. Or if you really, really hate big giant redwoods.
If you ever go to California, go to San Francisco. Just don't go to Chinatown. I've never been so scared of being mugged by an 80 year old crazy person in my life. But once you get to the "richie" section and you get to see all those pretty Victorian-looking houses all crammed together like an easy game of Tetris, you get over the scary crazy people. I still have yet to figure out the houses in frisco, as they look barely wide enough to admit a human being, let alone a couch or something on moving day. I'm not sure about the physics of the whole thing, but it seems to work somehow. Did I mention the cables that impede the view of the sky no matter where you are? Claustrophobics beware. It's kind of like being in a wierd tunnel. A tunnel with trolleys. But hey, if you lose your balloon after you step out of the Red Robin, at least there'll be something to catch it. All in all, if you can get over the haze of wildfire around everything, northern California really is beautiful. If you haven't gone, go.

Avada Kedavra-ed

I tried not to do it. It's ridiculous. Magic and wizards and little children running around in robes... but somewhere in college, I caved in. I read the damn books. Now I'm hooked. I'm sucked into the vortex and I can't get the hell out. Not that I want to get the hell out... I'm talking about, of course, Harry Potter. What is it about this book series that grabs us and pulls us so far in that there is no hope of escape? Few things give me goosebumps, but when I hear the stupid theme song for Harry Potter it's game over. I can't help it, I love it. The thing that gets you isn't necessarily the writing, but the characters. The writing is okay, and gets better and better as the series continues, but the characters have such an element of humanity to them that we can relate (even if we don't have that magic thing going for us). It's also cool because my generation grew up with them. They were a few years younger than us, but it didn't matter.

Even with all the supernatural stuff running around in the plot, there's still a very strong emotional attachment to the characters which makes this series unlike any fantasy books I've ever read. Magic is fun and stuff, but when people die in other fantasy books, I really really really don't care. It's more of a "oh, guess that sucks" moment instead of bawling over my copy of the Half Blood Prince at one in the morning because Dumbledore just got sent to that giant cauldron in the sky. It mattered. I was sad. Damn near depressed. That's why the books are good; I care. I freaking care what happens to the characters and that's more than I can say for a LOT of books that I've read. That's why I can't get out even if I tried. I've tried to write a few short stories but I could never form the emotional attachment to the characters that's so crucial to the reader. This attachment is what turns a "meh" story into an amazing story. Props to J.K. Rowling who just kept getting better as the years went by and ended up turning all of us into her minions.

Rage of the Road Variety

I never used to be an angry person. In fact, I don't really consider myself an angry person most of the time. But recently, I find myself wanting to stab people in the eye with a toothpick. Or perhaps many, many tiny needles. Can no one drive? Anyone? Anyone? Yeah, didn't think so. It all started with my recent Thursday commuting to Karate. It's not that far. An hour at most. That's unfortunately based on the assumption that traffic is, y'know, moving. Or it isn't raining. Or there isn't something shiny on the side of the road that everyone must slow down and look at. We live in Colorado people: land of insane blizzards and the occasional flash flood and you're going 30 on the interstate because it's sprinkling outside?! What is the problem? Why are there people who insist on being in the left lane when they're going the same speed as the slowest person on the interstate? Why? WHY?! All I wanna do is get to Karate before it's over at 10 and not get killed in the freaking process.

Now it's not just Thursdays. It's everyday. Yes, everyday I'm cut off by someone who then drives 10 miles below speed limit. Everyday I'm left white-knuckling the steering wheel because they just HAD to make that left-hand turn while I slam on my brakes to oblige their adrenaline rush or whatever the hell it was they were going for. They say more people die in car crashes than air planes every year. Yes, I believe that now.

I know that it could be worse... much worse. I've driven through Vegas. Los Angeles. Spring Hill Florida (don't laugh, you have NO idea). But seriously. This is madness. I'd rather be on the road surrounded by student drivers because at least they're trying to be careful. That's a lot more than I can say for the people I encounter just going to work everyday. I understand those with road rage now. Also, I have a paintball gun. Just throwing that out there next time anyone decides to cut me off, go slow and then flip me off when I pass them.

An Unhealthy Overactive Imagination?

I do this thing sometimes in my head. It's completely unhealthy and not the least bit rational. It's what you'd probably call "worst case scenario" thinking really. Here's how this goes down: So I'm in a cave the other day. We're crawling around in really tiny spaces, getting super muddy and I start to think: What if there's an earthquake and we get trapped? What if we run out of air down here and suffocate?! This is all despite the fact that, A. We live in Colorado and there aren't friggin earthquakes and B. We really weren't that far underground to run out of air... I mean, you could see sunlight most of the time. That's what I'm talking about. Or I'll be in a movie theater and start to think: If I was a terrorist, I'd totally infect the arm rests of a movie theater because it would spread really quick. How come they haven't thought of that one yet? What? Who thinks stuff like that?

Don't judge. Have you ever wondered how you would react if someone you loved died? You begin to play the whole scene out in your head; the phone call to your desk at work, how you would react and how you would be devastated and tragic at the funeral. You've done it. Don't lie. So why do we do this imagining of horrific things? Why when I'm in a crowded room do I think about what would happen if there were a fire? Or sudden volcano (I hate those sudden volcanoes)? I think it's because we want to mentally prepare ourselves for the horrific. I mean, if we never think about stuff like that, how are we going to be the hero in that situation? How can you save the bus full of nuns and children from rolling off the cliff if you never imagined how to do it in the first place?! You'd be totally unprepared! So see... I'm not irrational when I'm thinking of stuff like: What if I turn on the tapwater and nothing but spiders pours out? I'm prepared.

Ten Movies I Bawled at

I detest crying. Especially in front of people. Even when I'm in a dark theater where no one can really see me, I feel like the world knows that I'm crying. But that's what happens when you get all involved into the story! I couldn't help it. I was powerless! Here are the top 10 movies that have made me cry. Curse you hollywood and your emotional manipulation!

1. The Fox and the Hound. You know when the old lady has to leave Todd in the forest? When she's all singing about her heart and memories and junk? Yup. That right there.

2. Up. The first 10 minutes of this movie are so full of emotion. They never got to go on their trip... they never got to have a baby... so harsh!

3. Titanic. Who the hell didn't cry at that movie? (don't deny it, you SO did). I find it ironic that when thousands of people were dying and drowning, no tears... but when Leo dies, the floodgates opened. Very interesting.

4. Marley and Me. It hit too close to home. No one wants to see a dog put down. Not even an obnoxious one. Come to think of it, not even a rabid one (i.e. Ol' Yeller)...

5. Father of the Bride. I'm not married or engaged, but this movie made me wanna be! It made me cry because I think about how hard it must be for dads to finally let their little girls go.

6. Steel Magnolias. I don't know a chic out there who doesn't cry at this movie. Even though we've seen it a dozen times and we KNOW what's going to happen.

7. Little Women. Why, oh why does Jo have to die? It's so unnecessary! Curse you Louisa May Alcott for your sad, sad plot!

8. The Passion of the Christ. I think this movie experience pretty much went like this: Sit in chair. Cry for two and a half hours. The end.

9. Finding Neverland. When Kate Winslet finally gets to see Neverland... and then stays there.

10. The Lion King. I'm cool with it now, but when you're 10, and Mufasa gets trampled, it's totally game over.

There's probably more that I can't recall at the moment. Or am just refusing to acknowledge and type. I must admit though, I did get misty-eyed when the clone troopers carried out "order 66" in Episode 3...

A word on God

Why is it so hard to tell someone that you believe in God without sounding like a psycho? I mean, depending on the company, it can kill a really nice afternoon with awkwardness! When I go hiking or snowboarding or whatever out in nature, I can't help but think "Look at how beautiful everything is! God rocks!" But sometimes when you say it out loud, they give you this look like... "Oh. You're one of those people." Well that sucks! I'm not going to start freaking out and handing random people on the trail those little green New Testament bibles just because I'm enjoying nature. I'm not going to break out into a chorus of "Amazing Grace" every time I see a particularly inspiring pine cone lying on the ground. No! Man, I was just saying how awesome the mountains are that's all. So what's with the look? Calm yourself.

Looking through someone else's eyes, yeah... it's a little uncomfortable. It's a touchy subject. But look around. Is there any painter anywhere that can capture such beauty and depth? It's so freaking sweet that your heart aches. So then is it really all that strange to remember that God is awesome? Even if you're saying it around your friends? I don't think so. In a better world, it would make the day more fulfilling and not awkward at all. Yeah, so I might be one of those people. But it's all good. Next time I'll just be sure to shout some super loud hallelujahs-just for good measure.

Lies! Horrible Horrible Lies!

I saw "Angels and Demons" yesterday. Super good movie by the way, but it got me thinking (as all these Da Vinci Code-type-movies do), how much do we really know about our own religion? I mean, I'm not Catholic, but didn't the American Christian religion spawn from the Catholic religion? All that puritans separating from England stuff? I mean, think about how much is hidden away in those Vatican archives! Why is it hidden and not out for believers to see and study? Is it because they're trying to preserve everything or is it because they're trying to hide something? Or... is it all Hollywood nonsense and there is no Vatican archives?! I doubt it. I bet they have archives. You really shouldn't pull something that significant out of your ass. Even if you're a director. All I'm sayin is... it drives me nuts when I don't know something that could be super important! This is why Area 51 bugs me. The fact that I have no idea what's in there is not cool. It might not be aliens. They could have a midget in a bathtub eating skittles in there. It doesn't matter. I want to know. Why? Because dammit! If I can find the name of Nicholas Cage's pet iguana, I should be able to know whether or not there's a freaking mutant polar bear with lazer beam eyes hidden underground in Nevada! I don't like being in the dark. So it makes you wonder. How much is hidden in the foundations of our religion? Is it possible that some things were fabricated to cover something else up? Is it possible that all religions are hiding something? Something so big that if everyone were to find out, the religion would crumble?! It's crazy to think about. Then again... maybe I just watch too many movies.

Why are There First Graders on Zoloft?!?

There's only fifteen minutes before the students start arriving and I can't find a lesson plan at all. Nothing. There's a calandar... and some jolly ranchers in the teacher's desk... but no lesson plan. What was she thinking?! Getting sick and calling in and not leaving the sub a lesson plan? How evil. What are we supposed to do? Play heads-up seven up all 8 hours? Five minutes ago another fifth grade teacher came in to inform me that this class is "troubled", something that I hear almost every time I go in to sub for someone. They're all troubled. They're kids. Everything is a crisis. A typical day in the life of a sub goes like this. You can't really prepare at all. You can't even get there early because the damn phone system likes to call you less than a half hour before you're supposed to be at school. So y'know. Chaos and all. It's all different when the kids arrive though. It doesn't matter how "troubled" they are. I'm teaching. I'm actually teaching! My lord. I'm writing on a white board and using the stupid overhead projector and taking down names of the annoying kids. Crazy! I wasn't sure if I'd be a good teacher but then they come up to me with pictures of deformed dinosaurs that they've drawn for me with "miss k" written on it... and I think... I can do this! I can be a teacher. I mean, when you're an actual teacher you get to plan and be early and get to know the kids. It's gotta be a million times better. Yes, I think it's totally do-able! ... then again... that kid over there is sleeping... and that other one is biting his "best friend" on the arm. Again... sigh.

What? There's no Crying in Karate?!

I've only ever had one achievement in my life that made me cry. And I'm not talking about a couple of tears glistening on my cheek. I'm talking like, I had to turn around so everyone couldn't see me bawling like a freaking baby. It happened when I got my black belt. I'm not exactly an athletic person being as short as I am, so karate is the only "sport" that I've ever joined and not felt like a complete failure. I guess if you can't be good at a team sport, you can always enlist in beating people up. That I can do. Karate isn't just fighting for me though. In fact, I really would never want to get into a real fight. I don't want to hurt anyone. This statement would probably make most laugh because I'm so small, but the fact of the matter is that I really do know how to break bones. I just hope I never have to.

I wasn't ready to test for my black belt the night I got it. I'd told sensei time and time again that I didn't think I was at that level. I still felt like I was flailing around like a retarded monkey with a bo staff. But sensei, being the teacher that she is, disguised the test as a simple class exercise. Smart of her, really. I probably would have thrown up or ran out of the dojo the moment I got wind of a test. So when I got called up at the end of that particular class and she pulled a black belt out of her gi (like a freaking magician), my brain froze for a good five minutes when I shook everyone's hand and then I had to excuse myself so I could run to the parking lot and cry in my car. Some tough black belt. It was so unexpected and so awesome that there wasn't much else to do but cry. I was so proud of myself and wished that my family could have been there to see. Or even friends. Course then they'd have to watch the waterworks and I didn't need that. I still can't believe it even though it happened over a year ago. I just hope that when I get 2nd don someday, I won't have to run off the premesis like a sop.

You're in my bubble...and you're naked.

I would like to take a moment to comment on the gym. Not just any aspect of the gym... more specifically the locker room. Yes, the women's locker room. Generally a haven to all who are tired, sweaty and need a shower, the women's locker room is no longer a place that I want to be. At all. I need my shower. I need to get into my locker to change my clothes. But I am interrupted in my goings about because of all the nakedness. Yup. Nine-A.M.- retired-old-lady-wrinkly-nakedness. There's nothing wrong with being old. Nothing wrong with being naked. But there is something wrong with walking around the locker room for many minutes at a time talking to all your friends with everything just wafting in the breeze. That's just wrong! It's not just the old ladies. The younger women do it too. It disturbs me. When I 'm changing, I want to get my clothes back on as fast as humanly possible. In fact, I'm a strong believer in changing in the bathroom stalls. If you're going to be naked, be naked in your little corner of the locker room. Don't be doing squats in the middle of the floor. Don't try to talk to me about your granddaughter unless you've got some coverage goin on! I don't care if you have a perfect body, or if your body looks like it's been through a freaking taffy puller, stop parading around! It's effing awkward. Then there's that arguement; "we're all women, we've seen it before". No. Screw that. Just because we're in the same sex category doesn't mean I want to see you naked. In fact, that seems even more of a reason to not see you naked. Now, if you'd be so kind to pass me the nearest spork. I need to gouge my eyes out.

A little more mwahaha if you don't mind

I was watching Heroes the other day and I came to an interesting realization. I am captivated by villians. I can't get enough of them. Yeah, it's strange. Don't get me wrong, I like Luke Skywalker as much as the next person. And I definately don't like the real-life villians that go around like... eating babies. There's just something about being so incredibly evil and yet not caring that intrigues me. I would feel guilty. Guilty and all... dirty. If you killed half the people that Ben from Lost killed, you can't help but feel the need to take a shower. It's this lack of conscience that fascinates me. I just can't fathom living with myself after force choking someone. That and sometimes the villians are hot. Minus the caterpillar eyebrows, Syler is yummy. I'm just saying. The fact that all villians have that little bit of goodness in them that could alter their actions at any minute, well... that's just good television. The best villians are the ones that you aren't sure whether or not they're actually villians. They do horrid things, but then turn around and do something good. It confuses you and always keeps you guessing which is why villians are so much better characters than heroes. Unless the hero feel compelled to kick shins once in a while. Perhaps it's because I'm oh-so-predictable. Maybe it's because I'm determined to be good. Whatever it is, I heart them villians. I heart them much.

Socially Stunted. Squared.

I went to Greeley today. I wasn't entirely sure why at first. Because of boredom possibly? I mean, it's Greeley. It's boring. It smells like cow. But once I got back up here, I realized that my social life now is pretty non-existant. I know that graduating college is a huge reason for that. Being an adult sucks. You pretty much have to kill yourself working just to exist... where's the time to hang out? It's not fair that in college you have people around you all the time to hang out with and then once you move, boom. No people. Unless you're one of those 20-somethings that refuse to grow up and spend your weekends passed out on the couch of your old frat buddy. Then there's plenty of friends. Friends that want your free beer. But for the rest of us, life seems to go from crazy fun-ness to a big huge smack of reality in your face. Sure, you'll have the occasional friend want to go out dancing or out to dinner once a week if you're lucky, but it's nothing like college used to be and I freaking miss it. I miss movie night where we used to cram more people into our little basement apartment than we had couches for. I miss going to karate (soooo much!) and yes, I even miss TK. Not so much the stupid work and the cleaning up after piggish freshmen who don't know how to put ranch on their salad without spilling it all over the counter, but the people. TK is where I met most of my friends and even though the work was tedious and annoying sometimes, it was still fun. Admit it TK workers, it was fun. It's ridiculous how fast college went by now that I think about it. But then again, when I was actually in classes, the days just dragged on. I miss it so much. I feel like such a boring, anti-social adult now! What happened in that transition between college and career? It's cruel! Sometimes I wake up in the morning and go "Where's my dorm room? Where's the frisbee golf course? What happened to that 4 and a half years of my life I just ran through?! Take me back!" Damn responsibility. Stupid job. Just give me back my textbooks and dining hall.

Ninjas. On my snowboard.

Today it feels as if I was attacked by ninjas in my sleep last night. I went snowboarding yesterday and let me tell you... I suck. Despite this glaring fact, I still go because I love the experience. It was a clear, cloudless day... absolutely perfect snowboarding weather. No wind. Just the mountain and the sky. When you're 13 some-odd thousand feet up in the air, you begin to wonder who first had the crazy idea of going 40 miles an hour down a mountain on nothing but a plank of wood. Crazy bastard. And yet, there I was- rocking gently on a rather high ski-lift that seemed to be carrying me to the freaking summit. Up that high, the sky takes on a whole new quality of blue. It's undescribable. I felt as if I squinted hard enough, I would be able to make the faint outline of stars. It's that high. It's that blue. My awe of God's creation was brought to an abrupt stop however, when I came to the end of the lift. Curse you ski lift! How anyone can get off of the lift without falling on their ass is beyond me. It's going so fast when I dismount that I feel like I should tuck and roll. Instead I just flail and fall. Which is pretty much how the day went. Luckily, I was with a very understanding friend who would ski off a little ways and glance back just in time to see me (once again) on my butt in the snow. He didn't get impatient with me and my apologies were always followed by a "you're fine". By the time I was getting used to the board again, I was so sore that I could barely stand and kept falling only because I was so tired. Sigh. This trip just made me inescapably aware that although I do many things (like paintball and golf), I'm not especially good at any of them. Oh well. At least I do stuff. Even if I suck. Even if I feel like I've been ran through a meat tenderizer.

Vertically Challenged My Ass

In kindergarten I couldn't reach the light switches in my house. I'll now take the following moment to let you laugh until that Mountain Dew you're drinking leaks out of your nose....

Yeah. That's right. You tall people don't even know. I don't mind being a meager 4'11'' now, but my God... I did in childhood. You remember when they used to force you to take class photos? They'd shuffle everyone outside in your (freakin sweet) light-up shoes onto make-shift bleachers outside. Then they would order everyone tallest to shortest. No big deal- unless you're always (and I mean ALWAYS) the shortest. Perpetually stuck in every class photo on the bottom right-hand corner, I began to feel as if the business of tallest-to-shortest was more of some sadistic value system. The tallest being the coolest (hence on the top bleacher!) and the shortest being well... the runt of the litter and decidedly, un-cool. Junior high brought on more than one smart-ass kid that would regularly play keep away or, even better, take my homework and put it on top of the lockers. They knew that the only way I was gonna get up there was a ladder and a pair of platform shoes. Good times.

Now, I think I might have a bit of a complex... but I'm willing to accept that. I over-compensate by lifting weights (which honestly confuses me because that's what a short MAN would do but whatever) and by being a rather loud individual. Hey, you gotta raise your voice when you want to be heard from all the way down here. All in all, being short isn't as bad as you normals think. I mean, I never have to worry about being taller than my boyfriend, I wont develop bad knees or back due to my current altitude, and I almost never hit my head on anything. So yeah, laugh it up you over-sized-head-bumping-have-to-bend-to-kiss-your-significant-other-freaks. You're just jealous.

What if they find out I can only teach math up to 3rd grade?

I've finally become a substitute teacher! I'm so freaking excited. I mean... considering the fact that I started the application process in July of LAST YEAR, it's about time. Here's the thing though, I'm not sure if teaching is my thing. I'm pretty sure that it's just because I'm scared to death that I'll get eaten alive. I taught a first grade class the other day and it went just fine. Mostly. But then I tell myself that, yeah, of course it went fine... it's first grade. What am I going to do when I get called in and I have to teach middle-schoolers?? It's a scary thought. I have to keep reminding myself that this is what I've wanted to do for a while. Before I changed my major in college, I wanted to be a high-school teacher. This could be a way of getting into that. I'm not a tyrant by any means and I'm so bad at discipline! I'm just going to have to learn how to be harsh when I need to be or these kids are just going to treat me as a joke. I want to be the "cool" substitute that is fun, but I'm just not seeing how to do that and maintain control you know? I just hope that as time goes on, I'll begin to like substitute teaching and not get a freakin anxiety attack everytime I get that phone call.

Short, single and livin' with the g-mom

I'm 23 and I live with my Grandma. Wow, it sounds pathetic even in writing. Don't get me wrong, I love my Grandma. She's awesome and completely a smart-ass so we get along well. It's just that before I graduated, I had this whole idea of how things were going to be and none of that happened. I thought that I was going to be married or at the least engaged with a huge sparkly rock weighing down my hand. I figured that I would live wherever my boyfriend lived (although I've done that and it isn't always the smartest of ideas) and that I'd have this awesome job by now. I know it takes a while to get a good career after college, but it's been a year and I feel that I haven't gotten anywhere. I dunno what makes me feel more unsuccessful; the watching Dr. Phil every other day or the fact that most of my stuff has been in boxes for almost a year. I know that a lot of us returned to our parents or whatever right out of college, so I shouldn't be all whiny about it... but really. I want my own place where I can leave a pair of socks on the floor and not feel guilty about it. Where I can choose the food and possibly lose all this freakin weight I've gained. That would be awesome. Mostly, I just want to get all of my stuff out of boxes and into a life that I have yet to start.

Loved. Even when you're being a whiny punk.

I heard this song on the radio today on my lunch break. I'd completely forgotten about it but I love it! It reminds me that I'm always loved no matter what. It's best when you sing it at the top of your lungs because it makes you happy :)

More
by Matthew West

Take a look at the mountains
Stretching a mile high
Take a look at the ocean
Far as your eye can see
And think of Me

Take a look at the desert
Do you feel like a grain of sand?
I am with you wherever
Where you go is where I am

And I'm always thinking of you
Take a look around you
I'm spelling it out one by one

(Chorus)
I love you more than the sun
And the stars that I taught how to shine
You are mine, and you shine for me too
I love you yesterday and today
And tomorrow, I'll say it again and again
I love you more

Just a face in the city
Just a tear on a crowded street
But you are one in a million
And you belong to Me

And I want you to know
That I'm not letting go
Even when you come undone

(Chorus)
I love you more than the sun
And the stars that I taught how to shine
You are mine, and you shine for me too
I love you yesterday and today
And tomorrow, I'll say it again and again
I love you more
I love you more

Shine for Me
Shine for Me
Shine on, shine on
Shine for Me

(Chorus)
I love you more than the sun
And the stars that I taught how to shine
You are mine, and you shine for me too
I love you yesterday and today
And tomorrow, I'll say it again and again
I love you more

(Chorus)
Than the sun
and the stars that I taught how to shine
You are mine, and you shine for me too
I love you, yesterday and today
Through the joy and the pain
I'll say it again and again
I love you more
I love you more

And I see you
And I made you
And I love you more than you can imagine
More than you can fathom
I love you more than the sun
And you shine for me

Wait... there's a FIVE in the morning?!

For the first time in a long time, I saw the sunrise today. Fortunately, I'm one of those people who gets to sleep in until 7 or 8 and so I don't see too many sunrises. When you have to be up at five and you're all sleepy and cranky, something about a sunrise makes it all worth while. There's something exciting about the gradually lightening sky, waiting until the first sliver of sun is visable on the horizon. Best of all, I think, is when the light hits the mountains first. The light hits the windows of all the cabins up there and it reflects bright orange. Like dozens of mirrors all over the mountain. It's all pinks and oranges and the snow looks like orange tang powder. When you put that against the pale pale blue of the sky, it's an amazing thing. I was driving so I had to try pretty hard not to crash into the guard rails but how do you not look at something like that? I wanted to pull over and take pictures, but I kinda had to go to work. Figured that took priority. If someone would ask me why I love living here, I would just tell them to watch the mountains at sunrise. Then I think they'd get it.

Sticky floors, cheesy love scenes

I don't think I'll be going to a romantic movie alone ever again. When you aren't with a friend or a boyfriend you sit there with your tub-o popcorn and your unnecessarily giant bucket of soda and you just get angry. Not all at once of course. At first, you get all warm and fuzzy and all... sigh-y. Then you realize that the past two hours of hollywood glamour was pretty much that. Glitter, sparkles... pretty to look at, but essentially useless. I got angry eventually because even though men in those movies are given the romantic dialogue (which was probably written by a woman), I want that stuff! I want that stuff and I don't have it! I want some guy to just waft into my life outta no where and have him just happen to be the guy I'm going to marry. Even better would be finding someone and staying with someone. That's definately not happened yet. Then I started to get angry because don't I deserve that stuff? Don't I deserve to have all the heartache rewarded? I freakin think I do! Eventually when you've had so many relationships fail, you pretty much just want to throw your twizzlers at the screen everytime there's a kissing scene.

VD day. yes, indeed.

I don't care whether you're single or what, Valentine's day is ridiculous. Not because I'm bitter. Because it's true. As a woman, trying to buy something for a guy on Valentine's day is like trying to find a straight man in a hair salon. What guy wants satin boxers with hearts all over them? Or any sort of teddy bear bearing the proverbial "I love you". And women, do we really need a giant teddy bear to know that our man loves us? Because if we do then something tells me that the guy isn't doing his job. This is entirely one of those "hallmark" holidays. An excuse for us to rail on our men for forgetting to buy us flowers. Isn't it better to get flowers when you aren't expecting them? For no reason whatsoever other than he loves you? Not as an obligation to this frilly holiday, but as a sincere gesture. Don't get me wrong. I like chocolates and flowers as much as any girl. And with all that forced romance floating around, you can't help but feel slightly excited. Unless you're single. Which I am. In which case you shouldn't get depressed. Buy yourself whatever you want. Gorge yourself on dove chocolate and watch comedies all night. It doesn't have to be a pity party! Enjoy being single by God! It's not the end of the freaking world, and it's nice not to get dancing teddy bears anymore that sing "wild thing".

God, Jobs and Mint Ice Cream

I had an interview the other day. I thought I killed at it. Got tons of laughs and smiles and what-not. They seemed to really enjoy me. Despite the fact that there was 3 people taking turns grilling me about my teaching and organization skills, I was surprisingly calm. I was confident. A rarity. One of my huge things is worrying til I get grouchy and no one wants to be around me unless they're bearing a pint of my favorite ice cream. So I kept telling myself to not worry about whether I got the job. Don't freak out! Just give it to God because he'll take care of me no matter what. That's another one of my issues. It's hard to trust that God will take care of me and that I'll be okay. Which is stupid right? I mean, I'm fairly sure that the creator of the freakin' universe can handle my issues. I didn't get the job. And it sucks! I was disappointed but I didn't crumple into a ball. I just keep reminding myself that something else will come along and I'm gonna be fine.

I blog. Therefore... I've given in.

I don't blog. I just don't. What could there be to talk about that anyone else would be interested in? But then I thought about it, and there's plenty I could pretend to be witty about. And enough stories to interest the mildly bored. So here I go. I shall go forth and blog!