Meditation on Spring

I am feeling lucky today and it has nothing to do with it being St. Patrick's Day. No pot of gold for me.

Every year I forget how the winter has lowered my spirits until spring comes around. Suddenly, I feel alive and hopeful again. It's a time of rejuvenation and remembrance.

This morning, when I was enjoying a lovely walk down the hill to work, I felt lucky to be alive. And I remembered that I am. I'm lucky that I can see the flowers blooming, hear the birds chirping, and feel the sunshine and cool air penetrating my skin.

Sometimes I forget that these simple things are extraordinary blessings. Like everyone else, I have sorrows. Some are deep and cast dark shadows over my heart. And I question and doubt because all I can feel is cold and all I see is darkness.

But nature teaches me things. I believe in the natural rhythms and cycles of the earth. No matter how desperate I feel during winter, I trust that spring will come.

Today it came. 

And I remembered that the rhythms and cycles of life are not unlike those of nature. Sorrow will not last forever. I just have to trust that joy will one day come.

For me, this is much easier said than done.

But today I am lucky because I remember that this is true. And it makes all the difference.

Adventas in Strippa Shoes

Like the old song says, "rainy days and Mondays always get me down."

Actually, just Mondays. I'm okay with rainy days. But I dread Mondays. I'm always half-tempted to pray for appendicitis on Sunday night just so I can avoid the inevitable, unbearable Monday. Except that I can't actually afford to have my appendix removed since I have the nation's second-worst insurance program (the worst insurance being none) and so it's actually cheaper to face a no good, very bad Monday rather than an emergency health crisis.

Maybe you hate Mondays too. If so, this post is for you. Because who can resist smiling when you see a picture of strippa shoes?

Deep in the ghetto of New Orleans, on a nasty, roach-infested street called Orange Blossom (such a deceitful name), there lived a beautiful maiden named R'Lyndria (we called her Lyn) who took her clothes off for money (but we won't dwell on that). As a bright-eyed, eager missionary, ready to sally forth and preach the word, I wanted Lyn to find happiness. And she did end up getting re-baptized (long story). She also showed us her strippa shoes. They were amazing. We even got to try them on and prance around while we read inspiring scripture. Unfortunately, I did not take pictures of them while I tried them on, but my companion had her picture taken in them. So keep in mind that I cannot take credit for being the foot model in this photo.  

Hopefully this has cheered your dreary Monday somewhat.

Or perhaps you are perplexed, as I have been, as to why strippas need shoes at all. Need I say more?

The [day after] Mardi Gras Special

I was going to post this yesterday when it was actually relevant, but things just got a little too crazy.

Four years ago, the day after Mardi Gras, I returned home (wearing Mardi Gras beads, of course) after living in New Orleans for more than a year. If somebody had told me before I left what a big deal Mardi Gras is, I wouldn’t have believed them. But after spending two Mardi Gras seasons there, I discovered that Mardi Gras is as important as Christmas, if not more. Elaborate celebrations begin about a month before Fat Tuesday. There is a parade on Veteran’s Blvd every couple of nights, which makes traffic a nightmare. It would sometimes take us more than an hour to get someplace that normally only took 15 minutes from where we lived. Specialty Mardi Gras stores and King Cake bakeries are be madhouses the entire month. If you want a King Cake from somewhere besides Wal-mart, you have to order early. Schools and businesses are closed the week of Mardi Gras. People run around in glittery masks and ball gowns (or nothing much at all) and there’s enough alcohol flowing in the city to fill up the Mississippi. The eat, drink, and be merry crowd comes into town from several surrounding states. In short it’s a carnivalesque feast of indulgence, masquerade and spectacle.

The day after Mardi Gras, the city is still. If you didn’t see the Mardi Gras beads that are casually strewn on trees (and trust me, they stay there a long time), you’d never know that just hours ago a vibrant New Orleans was pulsating with life. It’s a striking contrast, particularly from an outsider’s point of view.

Mardi Gras is insane. Shocking. Horrific, even. But in a strange way, it’s beautiful because it’s important to the people of New Orleans. It’s a reminder to them of where they came from and who they are. And who can blame them for wanting to preserve and celebrate that aspect of their identity?

In Utah, our Mardi Gras comes in the middle of the summer, when we dress up as pioneers and pull wagons down the street in a parade. There are fireworks, and the homemade root beer is abundant (because everybody knows the pioneers had root beer). Businesses are closed and we spend the day commemorating the people who made it possible for us to have what we have and become who we have become.

This doesn’t mean that pioneer stories don’t get old; I personally have been tired of them since age six. (Probably because I don’t actually have any pioneer blood in me—I’m not a purebred, more of a mudblood, like in Harry Potter).

But if there’s anything my time in New Orleans taught me, it’s that claiming and celebrating our heritage is essential to the human experience, and that, perhaps, when we examine traditions in other places, we might find they aren’t so very different from our own traditions.

Happy [day after] Mardi Gras.

 

 

Reflections on Raisins

I recently saw the movie Benny and Joon. My favorite line in the whole movie was "when it comes down to it, raisins are just humiliated grapes." 

I couldn't agree more. I despise raisins. They ruin everything! Cookies, cakes, I've even seen them in main dishes (horrifying, I tell you). Several weeks ago, I purchased some trail mix at Costco. To my dismay, there were three times as many raisins as there were M&Ms. Which means I had to do a lot of digging to find an adequate amount of chocolate to go with my almonds (which I ate first), peanuts, and cashews. I can't say I'm entirely surprised-- trail mix companies are renown for getting the proportions of chocolate and raisins wrong. When confronted about this, they usually mumble something about raisins being healthy. But really-- can something that from far away looks like a  shriveled dead fly possibly be healthy? I think not. 

The only "humiliated grapes" I like are the ones from California that sing and dance. (They do a particularly funny rendition of "Rudolf the Rednose Reindeer" which can be found on youtube). Who can resist food that possesses unusual talent? I like Veggie Tales for the same reason.

Nevertheless, I can think of only one time where I would actually contemplate eating a raisin. Let's briefly consider what happened to the Donner-Reed party. If I had been there, I'm fairly certain I would have preferred those little boxes of Sun Maid raisins to munching on my family and friends.

But then again, I may have just chosen to starve.

An Announcement

Ahem.

I have an announcement.

It may come as a shock, but the word "losing" is not spelled "l-o-o-s-i-n-g." Due to the economic turmoil we are currently facing, I have been receiving quite a few e-mails at work from people who are concerned about "loosing" their money. And you know what? It's driving me crazy! Yes, it is silly that such a thing can make me want to pull out all my hair, but it does. My only talent is that I can spell and I find it disturbing that 21st century America does not value my talent like it should. I do actually wonder how people can expect themselves to be taken seriously when they can't spell. 

I know, I know. Pride goeth before a fall.

I realize that I am preaching to the choir. You know how to spell. Otherwise we wouldn't be friends. Just kidding. Mostly.

Confessions

I know you are all intrigued by the title of this post. Don't get too excited-- I firmly believe that a blog is not the place to share Deep Dark Secrets or make Shocking Announcements like I'm having an affair/I'm bulimic/I'm not sure I want to be a [insert gender] anymore/I'm convinced I'm actually a dragon.

These and many more secrets and announcements would be fascinating, but I'm going to stick with the more mundane. Here are just a few things that you may not know about me. Some are embarrassing things I've done while others are just some strange qualities I have.

1. When I was in fifth grade, Joy Bowen broke her arm while playing Capture the Flag. When she came to school the next day, she had a new blue cast and EVERYBODY wanted to sign it. People were nice to her during the whole six weeks that she wore the cast. Slightly envious of the attention she was getting, I decided it would be a good idea to break my arm, too. My cast would be green.  So one afternoon I repeatedly jumped out of our apple tree, trying to land on my arm in just the right spot to make it break. Unfortunately (or fortunately), it didn't work and after an hour I gave up.

2. I love the smell of lemons and limes, but I can't stand the smell of oranges. When someone is peeling an orange near me, I want to vomit. If you walk into any lunchroom in a high school or junior high (or, as the case was today, the 7th floor of Zions Bank), you will be hit with the violently nauseating odor of oranges mixed with sour milk, sweat, and garbage. Disgusting! Even in non-lunchroom scenarios, when someone has an orange, I smell the vile lunchroom scent and I shudder. 

3. Recently I saw The House Bunny on DVD. I am not proud of this, but it's the truth. It's almost as embarrassing as voting for Bush. To protect the innocent, I'll just say that a friend rented it and I agreed to watch it with her/him. Probably the hour I spent trying to break my arm was more productive than the 90 minutes I spent watching this awful, AWFUL show. After it was over, I immediately read Time magazine, but I fear the damage has been done; the brain cell loss was just too much.

4. I like Hip-Hop. I blame it on living in New Orleans, but the fact still remains that I enjoy "getting down" with the beat, and "shaking my booty" to the music. Secretly, I would like to take a Hip-Hop dance class, but I currently don't feel a need to make a public spectacle of myself so I refrain for now.

5. I fantasize all the time about packing my bags and leaving on a whim. This is not because I am dissatisfied with my life here in the Beehive state, but because Curiosity often shows up, luring me with tales of adventure that can only be had outside the hive. Recently, Curiosity has been trying to convince me to flee to the exotic isles of Greece or the colorful streets of India. Just when I'm about to yield to the cunnings of Curiosity, however, the painfully pragmatic Prudence intervenes, usually by sending me a letter called "bank statement."

I had a few more to write, but I just looked at the clock and alas, my 15-minute break from homework was over a half hour ago. I suppose I will have to discuss my views on Anita Stansfield novels at a later date.

C heerio!

Clips from 2008

Probably the three or four of you who actually check my blog thought I would never post again. This could have been true, except it would have been tragic if the last thing I'd posted was about Twilight. 

So here are some new thoughts. As we have seen another year "die" (I love the way Tennyson puts things-- and I do love "Ring Out Wild Bells" even though most people hate it), this is the time to enthusiastically make new unrealistic goals and write them down.

But I'm not going to do that. Sorry to disappoint.

Instead, I've been thinking about some of my favorite 2008 experiences:

1. Going to Monterey with my mom was a blast. We went whale-watching, ate at an amazing French restaurant called Fifi's where we could only afford the soup (but it was the best soup I've ever had), sat on the beach and talked, visited Point Lobos where we pretended we were photographers and took a million pictures of things with my mom's new camera, and laughed a lot. The sights were spectacular, but mostly I loved spending the time with my mom.

2. I discovered a new favorite play when we spent a week in Cedar City and saw "Cyrano de Bergerac" at the Shakespeare Festival. I was so moved by the beautiful language and story of the play that after it was over, I smacked into a glass door when trying to exit the building because I was still thinking about the play. Who knew great art could be hazardous to my health?

3.  During the summer I walked to the Broadway Theater after work to see some independent films. I love independent films and wish there was more appreciation for them. My favorite for the year is definitely "The Visitor", a touching story about a man who befriends an immigrant from the Middle East. Probably Republicans wouldn't enjoy it, but I loved it. Another great one was "Lars and the Real Girl". That one can be enjoyed by both Demos and Republicans, but probably only the bizarre people in both groups... ah, independent films!

4. I wrote a short story called "Destinations" which I entered in the 2008 Irreantum contest. It didn't win, but it was the first thing I had written in years and I was pleased with how it turned out. It reminded me that I like to write and should do it more often.

5. Books are always an important part of my year. In 2008, I read voraciously. I don't know that I can name a favorite, but I do love Jhumpa Lahiri's Unaccustomed Earth. Her stories are somber, but her prose is fluid and powerful.  She is definitely one of my favorite authors. 

6. Speaking of books, I discovered the SLC library and spent a considerable amount of time there. With my card, I can check out up to 100 books at a time. I've never quite reached that limit, but when I wasn't in school I did often have 15 or so checked out. I love the library-- it has the best selection I've seen in a long time.

7. In 2008 I finally went back to school. Sure, I'm not officially in the grad program at the U, but I took a class and that was huge for me. I loved it, too-- we read Don Quixote, Tom Jones, Evelina, The Wanderer, and Joseph Andrews, along with many critical essays that reminded me that English scholars are weird but I love them and want to be one. The class was a great experience and I look forward to (hopefully) taking another.

8. I moved to a great little apartment by the Capitol. I get tired of the word "cute", but the apartment truly is cute. The incredibly steep hill it sits on isn't particularly cute (especially during winter), but I love the apartment anyway.

9. I discovered Les Madeleines. Most of you know I love French anything and everything, but I especially love French pastries. Les Madeleines is the best French bakery I've been to since I was in, well, France. Delicious!

10. My best times in 2008 were spent with family and friends. Camille and I discussed books and played Guitar Hero. Maren and Camille and I talked about boys (they're weird), and I substituted at their school, Walden. My dad and I talked about the election, got frustrated with Republicans, and rejoiced when Obama made history. My mom and I had many conversations about writing, played lots of games, and laughed a lot. I loved meeting Nikki's new baby, Adria (she's adorable) and playing Phase 10 with Kim while we drank Cokes from Sonic.

All in all, I feel 2008 was a good year. Parts were hard, especially during April and May, but I survived and I've entered 2009 feeling like I accomplished things that have helped me progress. I love that feeling.

I look forward to another good year.