An Evening at Sundance

On Friday I had the opportunity to attend a Sundance gala and film courtesy of work (I was the RSVP contact for a Sundance business event and so I got free tickets to the film and the reception).

I had never been to a gala before, but I figured it was, like most galas I've read about, just an excuse to drink alcohol (and I probably would have enjoyed it more if I had), eat tiny food off of toothpicks that caterers in black bring you, and scan the crowd, looking for interesting/important people that would probably not give you the time of day unless you're also interesting or important (I am neither).

Yep. That's pretty much how the gala was, only we arrived on time and so there was hardly anyone there (definitely no one interesting or important) and it was held at O.C. Tanner, where we could look at incredibly expensive jewelry that was certainly not meant to target people like me who were there because they'd scored a free ticket from work.

I don't care if I ever go to another gala again.

Getting to the film proved to be more exciting than the gala, but not necessarily in a good way. When we got to the Rose Wagner Theatre where the film was being shown, we had to wait to enter the auditorium even though throngs of people were passing us to go into the auditorium. This wouldn't have been such a big deal (because I am not naive and I understand that, like boarding an airplane, some people get to go first) except that these people who were going in did not have a different ticket than I did. Their Gap jeans weren't very different from my Gap jeans and I didn't see anything that suggested they were VIP. But they shuffled in while we waited. And every time I moved to try and find out what was going on, I got yelled at by a grey-haired Sundance volunteer who looked like maybe she needed a Valium. Or I needed one.

Whatever. After we learned we'd gone in the wrong door and that was why we had to wait, they finally let us through. Luckily there were still seats available (they give out more tickets than they have room for) and so we settled in.

The film, Get Low, was just was I needed to destress. Starring Robert Duvall, Bill Murray and Sissy Spacek, the film was original, funny, charming, moving, and thought-provoking. Definitely worthwhile and I was reminded of why I love the indie film scene so much. We all thoroughly enjoyed it and I decided that, even though I think Utah is a boring state to live in 98% of the time (unless you are into the outdoorsy stuff), Sundance redeemed it a little for me.

I was hoping to see Bill Murray, but alas, he was probably busy eating tiny food and buying a diamond-encrusted Rolex at the gala.

Read Me, Seymour (A Book Review)

Last Friday, after what seemed like an eternal and what was an exhausting week at work, I came home ready to collapse on my bed and not move again until Saturday morning. To my surprise, there was a book on my bed with a note from my roommate who had just finished the book and thought I might like it.

Extraordinarily pleased, I opened it right away and began reading. From the first page, I was hooked. I was halfway through the book when this same roommate suggested we watch a movie. After the movie was finished, I stayed up until 12:30 because I just had to read the rest of the book. Yes, it was that good.

The New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance is a memoir told by 27-year-old Elna Baker, a young single adult who's forever trying to reconcile her doubt and her faith as she struggles to find her identity in the bustling streets of New York City.

It's charming. It's witty. It's laugh-out-loud funny. It's thought-provoking and moving. It's also edgy and irreverent at times. Sometimes it was painful. But I loved it because it is refreshingly honest and real. And I do not use the term refreshing lightly; think of an oasis in the middle of the Sahara.

She dares to say what probably many LDS young single adults think but few will admit. After all, it's not often kosher in LDS culture to be candid about sex, doubt or the desire to live in the world when not being of the world disappoints.

There were poignant moments when, even though it was her story, it seemed like mine. To me, that is great writing.

It's not a book that will ever grace the shelves of Deseret Book. In fact, most reviews I've read are polarized; people either love it because they can relate or they hate it because her honesty is too blatant, too edgy.

I was delighted. What a lovely way to spend a Friday night. Thank you, blessed roomie (you know who you are) for that little gem.

New Moon

On Saturday I caved. I hadn't planned on seeing New Moon since I didn't think Twilight was particularly good. But my curiosity got the better of me so I ended up seeing New Moon with a couple of friends.

My thoughts? I was planning on writing a review, but I read Eric Snider's review instead and found that I agree with him 100% and he says it so much better than I ever could. The only thing that Eric doesn't mention, possibly (and hopefully) because he doesn't feel this way, is that seeing Taylor Lautner (Jacob) run around in half of the movie without a shirt makes the movie worthwhile. No, I'm not 17 or a 40-year-old bored housewife who reads the Twilight series like it's the Bible; but I do have eyes, and let's face it–tan and toned looks good no matter what.

I also agree with Eric that his rejected Twilight and New Moon screenplays are more entertaining than either of the movies so if you need a good laugh, check them out. My friend thought acting these out with sock puppets would be fun, so there's a good idea for Family Home Evening.

Some Turkey Humor

I know it's been a couple of months since my last post and I thought I should post something today because it's Thanksgiving and I love Thanksgiving. But rather than post a long, boring list of 12,000 things that I'm thankful for that I don't want to write, and let's face it, you don't want to read, here is some silly turkey humor for you. Have a wonderful Thanksgiving!

"Bee" Open

Life is too short to not try new things. Especially things that maybe we've never been open to in the past. For me, this involves sports. Most of you who know me well know how I feel about organized team sports. Lame. Boring. Pointless. 

But lately I've decided that attitude sucks. Sure, just because I'm not an athlete, doesn't mean that I can't give those who are a chance. Maybe I'd even like it.

So I went to my first Bees game tonight. And you know what? It was really fun. Part of the fun was that we got the royal treatment. We had a suite filled with yummy food and drinks. The seats were great, inside and out. 

But most of the fun was talking with the people around us and cheering for the Bees when they did something well (which was not often, unfortunately. They lost to the Nashville Sounds by a landslide). It was just fun to be part of the crowd, singing "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" at the top of our lungs. (Interesting side note: We looked two suites down from us and saw President Monson and his wife also cheering the Bees. This confirmed my theory that it's okay to do fun things on Monday nights for FHE).

So I was reminded that it's important to "bee" open to new things in life. (Of course, within reason-- I'm not suggesting anyone turn their home into a meth lab). I just think we miss out on a lot when we refuse to look beyond our established interests and hobbies. 

Sure, I like to read. But tonight I discovered I like baseball, too.

A Long Overdue Update

I know. It’s been a long time since I last wrote. Probably you have given up on even checking my blog (except you, mom) and I can’t blame you. The past several weeks have been a whirlwind of trips, birthdays, moving, sickness, and the usual summer mayhem.

I don’t really know where to begin so I think I will just highlight what’s been happening.

Oregon

In the middle of July, just when the heat of our lovely semi-desert was becoming unbearable, our family loaded up the car for a beach vacation on the Oregon coast. It took a million hours to get there, but luckily no one cried, threw up, wet his/her pants, or yelled the whole way there. In fact, we were all pretty good. Things only got a little tense when we were looking for Interstate 20 and got lost because Oregon does not believe in clear road signs.

Highlights of the trip include discovering Rainer cherries (yum!), spending a week in a beachside condo, walking along the ocean, visiting the Newport Aquarium, whale watching (we saw two), Tillamook cheese and ice cream (best chocolate peanut butter ice cream I’ve ever had), beautiful scenery, a trip to see Harry Potter when it was foggy, playing games, eating crème brulee with Maren and Camille at a fancy little local restaurant, listening to the ocean, and visiting Cape Perpetua, which is a spectacular peak that overlooks ocean and forest.

I really love the ocean. This is probably because we do not have one in Utah (although some people here think that will change if California legalizes gay marriage). Anyway, all in all, the trip was a blast and I’m glad I got to spend a whole week wreaking havoc in a different state with the four people in the world I love best.

Las Vegas

Just three days after returning from the cool Oregon coast, it was time to head to sizzling Las Vegas for a birthday weekend. I was a Vegas virgin (and I still am a virgin, by the way—just not a Vegas one), but I went with my good friend who had been a few times before, so she knew what she was doing.

I wasn’t really prepared for Las Vegas. For some reason, I thought the Strip was MUCH smaller than it actually is. This means I brought all the wrong clothes and definitely the wrong shoes. I’m pretty sure I was the only person in Nevada wearing long pants. Yes, I was uncomfortable, thank you very much.

But we had a great time. Highlights include walking the Strip (which included being dazzled by the glitz and glamour), visiting the dolphin and tiger habitat at the Mirage, sharing a frozen hot chocolate from Serendipity 3, winning $2.25 at the slot machines, driving to Primm to ride this giant roller coaster, attending the Tournament of Kings dinner show at the Excalibur, visiting a really neat Titanic exhibit (no, Leonardo was not there, the locket was not there, and Celine Dion did not sing), watching my friend ride the rides at the top of the Stratosphere because I’m a chicken, walking down Fremont Street, enjoying excellent conversation, and sleeping really well because our hotel room stayed dark in the mornings.

I do not love the desert. Probably because we do have one of those in Utah. But I enjoyed my visit to Sin City and I thank my friend who abandoned her baby to come play with me for the weekend.

This blog post has run on too long as it is so I will just briefly mention that I had a lovely birthday thanks to family and friends. Fast forward to last week, moving week. Unfortunately, I started feeling unwell on Wednesday, but these guys in my new ward had a truck that could move my bed on Thursday, so I had to just do it. On Thursday I had a nasty fever and a stomach ache, but thanks to some truly celestial people, I got moved. I got to know my new place really well over the weekend since a terrible virus declared war on my body and I spent the next few days sick, sick, sick. I should give a shout out to my new housemates for supplying lots of Sprite and patience. You know who you are! Thanks!

Anyway, there are the past few weeks in a nutshell. I’m going to go take a nap now because all this typing made me tired.

Blogstalking and Soap Operas

I have a confession. I am a blogstalker. True story. I LOVE to read people's blogs, even if I haven't spoken to them in ten years. Lately, while I'm busy not dating or training for a marathon or finding a cure for cancer, I peruse blogs.

Recently (as in three months ago) I found a blog list for my high school class. So as I've been following and reading my former classmates' blogs, I have come to an interesting realization: blogstalking is a lot like watching soap operas. 

I remember when I was younger (as in somewhere between the ages of 5 and 15), I learned that we don't watch soap operas because they're addictive and they distort our perception of reality and they make us want things we can't have like handsome men and fancy cars. I'm not sure who said this-- it could have been a teacher, a parent, a church leader, or something I'm completely making up right now. In any case, I remember soap operas being a "no-no." (Note: this has not stopped me from indulging in guilty pleasures like Beverly Hills 90210, Grey's Anatomy, and The Hills.)

Blogstalking is no different than obsessively watching The O.C. or Days of Our Lives (by the way, whatever did happen with Bo and Hope?)

Many of my former classmates are now married with children. They make cutesy blogs that look like digital scrapbooks and frequently post pictures of their children, who usually have blond hair, trendy names like "Kyler" and "Braxley", and disturbingly high IQs, which are miraculously manifested at the age of two.  A nauseatingly cutesy sign declaring "We are a happy family" can literally be found on one of them (yes, I threw up a little in my mouth when I saw it), but they all say it one way or another. Fulfillment has been found in family and friends. 

Those that aren't married live another kind of life. They have recently climbed Mount Everest (with pictures to show) and now they are building orphanages in Africa. Or they are living in New York City and spending their evenings sipping wine and engaging in intellectual banter with artists and writers and scientists. The world is their open book and they aren't afraid to scribble their names all over it.

Then there is me. 

I turn 27 next month and my blog does not fit either category (which is one of the reasons I refuse to add it to my high school list). I read these blogs, and think to myself, in my 26 years of life what have I accomplished? ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! I have not written a book or produced a documentary about the prevalence of AIDS in South America. I don't have the doting husband or the adorable kids (it's probably for the better-- my kids would most likely look like trolls anyway). Basically, even though I'm a normal job-holding, taxpaying citizen, I'm a menace to society because I have no idea how to French braid, I'd rather die than climb Mount Everest, and I learned the definition of "mens rea" from Legally Blonde. 

In other, more concise words, blogstalking is akin to torture. And yet I keep going back for more. 

See. They're addictive, they distort my perception of reality, and they make me want things I can't have.

Just like soap operas.

But I like them anyway.