ManFriend O'Texas

Earlier today, I ended up in a familiar neighborhood of Provo. As I was walking down the sidewalk, I saw a friend of mine I hadn't seen in a while--he was across the street, talking to someone.  I kept walking, not sure who he was talking to and not wanting to interrupt. To my surprise, he saw me and gave me an enthusiastic wave. I took it as an invitation. When I got across the street, he gave me a big hug and immediately integrated me into the conversation. At its conclusion, we walked back to his house. Even though he was getting ready for a ward event, he still took the time to talk to me, and asked about my life! He even remembered silly details from the last time we talked. I inquired about his life, too, and we had a very pleasant conversation. He even gave me Mini Wheats! I LOVE Mini Wheats!  He sent me home with a whole back of them. We had an excellent discussion about food, and he let me brag a bit about my English placement test results--without making me feel awkward or anything! I love that he is honestly supportive and enthusiastic for other people. I'm sure I'm not the only one--he just makes people feel like they are awesome, and they do awesome things, so why shouldn't we all just share how awesome we are?? He's not threatened or self-effacing. He just builds people up. (Unless you're an idiot. Then he'll tell you so....but mostly so that you can fix it...or go away. :-) )Seriously, though, he defended me to non-present foes when I shared a "somebody did this and it bugged me" anecdote, and he even defended me to myself a couple of times. He has opinions, but wants to remain well-informed and likes listening to people. 

Anyway, the whole "event" was only about 45 minutes. But I felt so great. ^_^ I felt appreciated! I felt important! I felt blessed! AND I felt like I was going to have a really yummy breakfast of gifted Mini Wheats tomorrow morning. 

As a side note, I appreciate that this man friend also appreciates food. It makes me feel less crazy when I mention lamb-burger with feta and spinach, on ciabatta, with garlic aioli...like that is a totally normal topic of conversation. He isn't a "chef," per se, but he has a ton of sous chef experience and definitely appreciates good food. 

Such a short but comprehensive friend interaction was exactly what I needed to recover from my weekend. 

I am so blessed to have such good friends. I forget a lot. 

And it's good to know that lamb burgers (with an appreciative fellow foodie) are somewhere in my near-ish future.

Placement Tests

One last hurdle in my culinary school admissions: gotta go take the Accuplacer exam

.for English.  

...Whaaaat? 

I haven't taken math since my sophomore year of HIGH SCHOOL, and they are cool with my "30" ACT score for that. (I thought ACT expired after a few years??)

But apparently,  my "36" ACT scores in comprehension and grammar, and my English grammar MINOR, and the 6 EXTRA literature classes I took at the Y aren't good enough. o.O

Oh, well. At least I don't have to study.

Quotes of Joy and Grammar:

“One of the major problems encountered in time travel is not that of becoming your own father or mother. There is no problem in becoming your own father or mother that a broad-minded and well-adjusted family can't cope with. There is no problem with changing the course of history—the course of history does not change because it all fits together like a jigsaw. All the important changes have happened before the things they were supposed to change and it all sorts itself out in the end.

The major problem is simply one of grammar, and the main work to consult in this matter is Dr. Dan Streetmentioner's Time Traveler's Handbook of 1001 Tense Formations. It will tell you, for instance, how to describe something that was about to happen to you in the past before you avoided it by time-jumping forward two days in order to avoid it. The event will be descibed differently according to whether you are talking about it from the standpoint of your own natural time, from a time in the further future, or a time in the further past and is futher complicated by the possibility of conducting conversations while you are actually traveling from one time to another with the intention of becoming your own mother or father.

Most readers get as far as the Future Semiconditionally Modified Subinverted Plagal Past Subjunctive Intentional before giving up; and in fact in later aditions of the book all pages beyond this point have been left blank to save on printing costs.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy skips lightly over this tangle of academic abstraction, pausing only to note that the term "Future Perfect" has been abandoned since it was discovered not to be.” ― Douglas Adams, The Restaurant at the End of the Universe


“The rule is: don’t use commas like a stupid person. I mean it.” 
― Lynne Truss, Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation

Real Reason

I'm pretty sure the real reason I'm not married is that, before being married, I would have to be engaged.  

And that means engagement pictures. 

And that means me, in front of a camera, with a fabulous looking man... feeling like an idiot. 

I never know what to do with my face. Or my arms. Or the rest of me. So I stand there looking awkward. I'm not good at standing still! Any particular still shot of me is going to have a hard time capturing who I am, because very little of me is actually still. Ever. 

I have insecurities like everybody else has--I don't like my teeth, I'm too short or too fat or too white or whatever. I tend to get over those later.  Mostly the problem is a camera makes me uncomfortable, and that is not a natural state for me. So all my pictures look awkward--because I FEEL awkward!

I should work on that. 

...Or I could just stay single. ;-)

The Sound of Silence

I am very excited to someday, for some brief amount of time, live in a place where it is actually quiet. Not all the time--just SOME of the time. Simply put, no "filler" noises (ambient TV/music, talking about nothing) only there because the other people are uncomfortable with quietness. Also--the inspiration for this post--no neighbors blasting metal and screamo loud enough to hear it in my kitchen, OVER the dishwasher.

It takes a LOT of mental energy for me to process audio signals. It is difficult to listen to music or TV or other potentially engaging sounds at the same time as doing something else requiring focus--like, thinking. Sometimes I can, but it's not common practice for me. Background audio signals that I need to track is fine (children I'm babysitting, for example). But trying to filter other audio is hard, and very distracting. Once I do actually get the mental filter up (not an easy task), trying to get my attention becomes difficult--so I don't put it up often. Mostly, this leads to background noise driving me crazy--because my brain is processing all sound as equally important, and therefore gets overloaded and distracted. Especially when sleep deprived.

People tend to be surprised by this problem, as I am so flipping loud ALL THE TIME, especially when I talk. And I sing loud. And drum loud. And many other things...loud. But it makes sense, with the hearing loss I have had since I was a small(ish) child. If there's noise and you try to talk to me--without visually get my attention first, or calling out and get eye contact--chances are I'm not ignoring you. I'm just not registering--or not hearing you in the first place.  Sometimes this leads to me seeming very rude. 

Don't get me wrong, I love listening to music. I guess I just need moments when I control my own audio surroundings. My roommates and neighbors last summer were AWESOME about that. And I miss them. 

#Iwishmywallswerethicker

New FB Profile Picture

Started some new medicine. Cool and all, but one of the (minor??) side effects is...I have been awake since 7am yesterday morning. That's 38 hours. I have been actively Doing Things in those 38 hours, including cleaning my entire kitchen, making a roast, dulce de leche, and a meatloaf, going shopping, chatting with my Mom, doing my hair, watching a movie (trying to convince my brain to sleep), going on a lovely walk with Manperson Gamili, visiting with a long-lost hooligan and her newly created Tiny Human, AND completing a 9-hour load at work in only 7.25 hours. I was tearing it up, and I SHOULD be exhausted.  

And here it is, 9:13pm THE NEXT DAY, and I'm not only still awake, but not particularly tired. I took this medicine more than 27 hours ago, and while the initial Crazy Head Heartpounding Shindig has wound down, I'm still feeling odd about it all.

This must be what those "I put three Five Hour Energy's into a RedBull and then mix it with an espresso shot or two" people feel like. O.O 

needless to say, i decided not to take it again tonight. i dont to be COMPLETELY deranged when this all finally comes to a crash. o.o

Croutons

I realized that I have four HUGE loaves of sourdough bread at my house that never got delivered to people that wanted some. 

I feel a little like a punk. The bread was delicious, and they wanted some. And it has no preservatives in it--awesome for health, less awesome for forgiveness-to-the-baker-who-forgot-to-let-people-eat-it. 

Lucky for me, I have a dehydrator. And a rather extensive spice cabinet. Chef In My Head decided that I will make croutons and bread crumbs. I've never done either, but I can't imagine it's too difficult. This will be a mini adventure!

I don't eat croutons. 

But I'm sure SOMEBODY will! :-)

PS...I just realized just how many croutons ten pounds of bread will make. So....hit me up if you want some...for summer salads or light soups or whatever. o.o

Input from the Alter Ego

I laughed WAY too hard at this.  Then I realized--Shopenhauer wrote his Fourfold dissertation at age 25.  TWENTY-FIVE. I'm almost that age!  I felt the sudden scramble to review my life, frantically searching for some sign that I have used my time with purpose, that my life has had value, that I had made a difference somewhere.

Then the tiny voice in my head started laughing at me.  "Well, Self," she said, in a dry tone. "Might we even call this an... "existential crisis"? ba-doum *chhe*.."

Touche', dryly ironic mental alter-ego. Well played.