New Year's Resolutions 2012

I know that most New Year's Resolutions aren't achieved.  I even read an article recently on the science behind our failure to keep our resolutions.  It has something to do with our brains being overloaded, or something.  I don't remember all of it.  There was a lot of information to take in.  However, I remain an optimist, and a person who believes in the value of goal-setting to improve oneself.  The other option is complacency.  At the end of the year, I can tell by my tendency to lounge around on the couch in my pj's at any given opportunity that I have become complacent.  The new year is the perfect time for me to kick myself in the butt and work toward a better me.  For a few years my resolution was simply to break status quo.  That worked out quite well.  I conquered fears, started new good habits, and tried new things.  In 2012, I will be working on specific goals.  Hopefully I can stick with them.

1)  Stop using plastic shopping bags and only use reusable bags.  It costs more to recycle plastic bags to make them, they are a hazard to wildlife, and they release greenhouse gasses into the atmosphere when they break down.

2)  Lose ten pounds.  This will be the year I get back to my competition weight.  Trust me, this potbelly I suck in all the time is not cute.

3)  Stick to a budget.  It would be nice to pay my bills without holding my breath.

4)  Give more of my time and money to charitable causes.  There are so many with greater needs than myself.

5)  Study smarter.  I would really like to excel in my course work and earn a good GPA to get into grad school eventually.  Plus, the more I put into the learning, the more I'll be able to help people once I'm in my career.

So that's it.  Five simple resolutions.  I'm actually quite excited about them.  We'll see how having a passion for the resolutions plays out in action.  But as I always tell myself, your priorities are set by your actions, not your words.  Time to go do.

My Stupid Effing Research Paper

I think it could be said that I enjoy writing.  I think that's pretty evident in that I write a blog.  I'm having trouble writing a paper for my English class, though.  It's a research paper that needs to be 8-10 pages, with at least 8 sources cited.  I got to choose my topic, which is budget cuts to education, specifically in Nevada and Clark County.  On the surface, this seems like a no-brainer.  In a state that is at the top of the bad lists and the bottom of the good lists, you would think that writing a paper on why we shouldn't cut the budget would be easy.  The Clark County School District is one of the largest in the nation, and one of the stupidest.  I would like to make a note here that I have received all of my education in Nevada.  Most of it in the CCSD.  But from elementary to my higher education, I have been in Nevada.  I obviously don't think that I am uneducated.  But I'm the girl who still recalls third grade grammar and is baffled at those who don't.  I also like to be a know-it-all, so that helps.  But I can see times throughout my educational career where teachers and counselors didn't take the opportunity to push me further.  I had to take typing my senior year of high school because none of my school counselors told me it was a requirement to graduate until then--and that was in the Washoe County School District, which would like to think it's better than the CCSD.  I understand that the economy is in the toilet right now, so many public programs need to tighten their belts.  But education certainly shouldn't be one of them.

So, why can't I write a paper about it with facts to back me up?  The real question is, what difference does it make?  I feel like politicians almost want to perpetuate an unskilled workforce to cater to our tourist-based economy.  By not funding education, they are guaranteeing a population that has no bigger aspirations than dealing blackjack and inhaling everyone's second-hand smoke.  They are keeping our Spanish-speaking population, well, Spanish-speaking.  That way they can keep cleaning up our dishes in restaurants and making our beds in the hotel rooms.  They (the politicians) aren't ecouraging potential scientists, doctors and lawyers to go into those fields.  They are making sure we don't diversify our economy to compete with our precious gaming industry.  They are ensuring that generation after generation does not get involved in their children's education.  Even better, bad teachers are impossible to fire.  But if I write a paper about it for a hundred-level college course, none of that will change.

I know I should just take the assignment for what it is.  It's a tool to teach me how to research and make an argument.  I know this. I'm just making it more difficult than it actually is.  I can feel the fire in my belly when it comes to this topic.  I just can't seem to find the motivation to write the paper.  Maybe I'll take my friend's suggestion and actually submit the paper to the state legislation.  That might motivate me.  Maybe I'll take my other friend's suggestion and cry.  And get drunk.  And then write it.  That might work, too.  After all, I'm not tasked with saving the world.  Just write a paper.  Just write a paper about the school children getting f*cked out of a decent education so that I can get an A.  It's a crying shame, really. 

The Story Behind It

I am not who I used to be.  And thank God for that.  These days I am the happiest I have ever been.  In fact, my best friend, Christina, told me recently that she has never seen me so free, open and happy.  We've known each other for nearly 7 years, so she's seen a lot of ups and downs in my life.  Over the last couple years, I have truly reinvented myself.  I had a dream a while back that I emerged from an egg (this was way before Lady Gaga did that) and I just took flight.  Have you ever had a dream that just affects you profoundly?  This dream did that for me.  To me it symbolized a rebirth with new heights ahead. 

So, just a quick recap of the last 2 1/2 years of my life.  I became single after a steady 7-year relationship.  I made the decision to finally act on my curiosity about vegetarianism.  I finally got a chihuahua.  Ever since the Taco Bell dog, I have wanted a chihuahua.  I quit my 5-year successful banking career in the middle of the recession to go back to college.  Yes, I was financially secure and now I'm really broke.  But money can't buy happiness.  I rediscovered my faith.  For years I knew that I loved God and that He loved me.  But similar to when you find an old dear friend on facebook, I reconnected with Him.  I realized that I actually love myself, and I really don't care about what anyone else thinks.  The insecurity of my teens and 20's has dissipated.  It's so incredibly invigorating to live the life I have now.  I never knew it could be this good.

All that being said, I have been considering getting a tattoo for a couple years, as well.  I was drawn to the idea of a phoenix.  This is a bird that ignites in flames at the end of its long life, but out of the ashes the phoenix is reborn.  Its cry is a beautiful song.  I have known for a while that this is how I feel inside.  I feel reborn from a pile of ashes.  But I could never quite figure out how I wanted it to look.  I wanted a beautiful, colorful bird, but no pictures I looked at felt right.  I couldn't even really imagine in my head what the perfect phoenix would look like.  It needed some sort of twist.  Then, a little over a week ago, Christina said, "What if you got a tattoo of music notes from a song that is important to you, and it had wings.  The wings would symbolize how you've taken flight and you are living your life to be happy."  She had me in tears talking about it.  It was perfect and beautiful.  That could be combined so perfectly with my phoenix idea.  She then told me it would be my birthday present.

On Tuesday, I showed up at the tattoo parlor armed with my own pitiful sketch, some sheet music, and some pictures I found online.  After taking a look at the sheet music and my sketch, the artist quickly simplified the idea and drew something so perfect that I never could have done on my own.  Instead of the notes, he made the body a treble clef, and then added the words "felice mi fa" from my favorite Italian aria, which I learned to sing at the age of 13.  Christina and our friend, Julianna, were there to hold my hands and remind me to breathe as the needle pierced my skin.  At one point, it felt as though my ribs were being sawed in half.  After two hours of nearly unbearable pain, I got off the chair and looked in the mirror.  Tears filled my eyes again.  But this time it was because the artwork was so beautiful, and such an incredible reflection of who I am.  It will be there always to remind me that I deserve to be happy.  I have the strength to rise from the ashes of hard times with a beautiful song declaring my happiness.  I can be free and live my life to the fullest.  I also love the Christian symbolism of dying to my sins and living again in Christ.  When I look at the beautiful bird on my back, I see only myself.  That bird is me, spreading my wings, singing a beautiful song, and being happy.

 The last time I have a bare back

 It hurt.  A lot.

 My death grip on Christina's hand.

 Outline done.  I was crying at this point from the pain.

 All done.

 Beautiful bird.

Just so you can see the scale of it.

Bah Bah, Black Sheep

It's difficult to explain how I managed to be the renegade sibling in my family.  I didn't start out that way.  When we were kids, my brothers called me The Enforcer.  I'm also the mother bear of my family.  I have a zero-tolerance policy for anyone treating my family poorly.  Even within my family, if an argument comes up, I'll put the person who's wrong in their place.  I also take credit for raising my siblings.  Both of our parents worked, and when they divorced, I became a pseudo parent.  So basically, I was the one keeping everyone in check.  But now I'm the outsider, and I'm okay with that.

The year I moved away and didn't look back.  Two weeks before I started my freshman year of highschool, my mother moved us across the state.  I went kicking and screaming, and counted down the days until I could move back to our hometown.  I graduated from highschool in June, and moved out that summer.  The rest of my siblings are still there, with the exception of one.  My brother joined the Navy this year, and is now stationed on the east coast.  All three of my adult brothers have moved away for a time, but they have all gone back.  My little sister never left.  It's been 11 years since I made a break for it.  Rearview torn off.

The day my mom called me a "Lib".  I was wearing a cute shirt I got from Target that says "Peace is the way."  It has a peace sign on it and a flower.  After she hurled what was supposed to be an insult at me, I replied, "Should my shirt say 'Kill Everyone!!' or 'Violence is the answer'?  I'm pretty sure most people want peace."  I'll tell you what did it.  It was the peace sign.  Since my mother was a child in the 60's, she automatically associates the peace sign with hippies.  She doesn't like hippies.  We weren't allowed to have peace signs on anything when we were kids.  My mom and dad are both pretty conservative in their politics, as are my brothers.  I used to be fairly conservative, but I've become more socially liberal as years have passed.  One of my brothers is even quite active with the local Tea Party.  I say, to each his own, so long as he can compromise.  I'm pro-choice, and believe that all people should have the right to marry the person they love.  Oh, and here's the doozy:  I voted for Obama.  And just for the record, I'm a registered Republican.

I'm not married, and I'm not a virgin.  This goes right against the conservative Mormon upbringing I had.  When I moved in with my now ex-boyfriend, my mom was horrified that I would be living in sin.  Yeah, well.  I had to break it to her that he wasn't even my first.  Sex was never brought up at all in my house growing up.  It was just something married people did.  Not that I wanted gory details, but I was never subjected to "The Talk".


I love my family dearly, but I must say that I'm happy to have blazed my own trail.  This is obviously not an exhaustive list, but they are some major things that stand out right off the top of my head.  It's funny when I tell people I'm the black sheep of the family.  I have never done drugs, even marijuana.  I've never spent a night in jail.  Basically, all those things that are classically thought of as bad behavior.  I regard myself as a normal person.  I'm sure my mother wonders at times where she went wrong.  I'm also sure my brothers still talk about the time I had the audacity to call Sarah Palin an idiot.  But truth be told, they know that I will always be there for them, no matter the color of my fleece.

Self Doubt

Like most human beings, I can be insecure.  I also tend to be my worst critic, and I can be very hard on myself.  Part of the problem is that I surround myself with such amazing people.  Whether it's their career, college degrees, charity work, or home life, my friends are all basically super-stars.  Yes, this is a motivator and inspiration for me.  But at times I use it against me.  I start thinking that they are giants, and I'm just, well, measly. 

What if it was a huge mistake to quit an award-winning career to go into debt and go back to school to hopefully have a career that I truly love?  What if it takes much longer than planned to get through school because I suck at math?  What if my GPA isn't good enough to get me into grad school?  What if I'm not successful in my new career, and school was all for naught?

I don't believe I'm doing enough to make a change in my community.  I want to immerse myself in charitible organizations and engender a true feeling of helping others and impact lives.  I want the hungry to be fed, the homeless to have warm beds, every incurable disease to have a cure developed, kids to feel safe at school and at home, addictions to be healed, prejuidice to be eradicated, and women to be able to live without a man--particularly an abusive and/or alcoholic man that only degrades her and makes her feel worthless.  I just feel like I could do more than I currently am.

What if I never find true love?  You know, the type of love where I am loved for precisely who I am.  The type of love that allows me to finally let my guard down.  This is something I truly want to have and give at some point in my life.  Maybe it's because my 30's are knocking on the door and it was almost two years ago that my grandmother told me that I am an old maid.  Not to mention how jaded and bitter I am.  The end of my long-term relationship two and a half years ago really scarred me.  Remnants of the feeling that I'm unlovable creep to the surface from time to time.  I'd like to think I'm paring down the baggage from a 7-piece matching set to an overnight bag, but who's to really say?

Okay.  All of that being said, I had a great conversation with my best friend today.  She said something directed towards the general population that hit home with me:

It's amazing how self-doubt holds people back.  They don't believe they can do it, so they don't even try.  But if they would just do it, they would be surprised what they can do.

Bam!  This is precisely my roadblock for the day.  Myself.  The thing is, I know it.  I know my self-doubts are ridiculous, and I don't typically dwell on them.  But do I really embrace my strengths?  Do I go at something knowing 100% that it will be amazing because I did it?  Alanis Morrisette has a song called "Not the Doctor".  While the entire song isn't fitting here, there is a lyric that pops in my head: "See, this pedastal is high and I'm afraid of heights."  I need to climb the pedastal that I put my friends on and leave my fear of heights behind.  I know I am capable of great things.  There are accomplishments to my credit that I would truly admire in someone else.  So, enough of the self-doubt.  Time for the self-embrace.  Time to own who I am, my aspirations, and my dreams.  Time to throw caution to the wind and live with abandon.  Time to realize that I am eye-level with the giants.

The "Making Eyes Couples"

In the general progression of a releationship, before couples make love, they make out.  Before they make out, they make eyes.  You know what I'm talking about.  The intensely flirtatious look that women give to men that says, "I really hope this bonehead understands that I'm into him." Men give a look in return that says, "This chick is totally hot and she's looking at me.  I wonder if she's into me?  Or maybe there's something on my face."  It's during that initial phase of attraction when you're getting to know someone, and on outward appearance they're checking all the boxes.  Now it's just time to make sure that they are worth putting the effort into.  So you make eyes to let them know to stick around for a bit, and maybe--just maybe--it could blossom into something more.

I've noticed them around campus this week.  The "making eyes couples".  Three weeks into the semester students are now starting to warm up to their classmates.  They talk about the homework, upcoming quizzes, the crazy teacher.  Perhaps at this point they are starting to share more personal information about themselves.  And potential couples are starting to connect.  You can spot these "making eyes couples" pretty easily.  They stand closer than normal.  Smile wider than the conversation requires.  The girls look up at the guys from the corner of their eyes to make themselves appear more delicate and feminine than usual.  The guys smile down at them and move their arms awkwardly to avoid an accidental brush of hands.  You know what the brush of hands means.  It means hold my hand, stupid.  The guys aren't ready to communicate this yet.  They haven't quite figured out that the girl is interested and they don't want to rock the boat.  These tender young lives, away from the hierarchy of high school, are realizing there really are a lot more fish in the sea.  Their eyes are on a particular prize catch, and they hope it won't be too much of a struggle to reel them in.  It's darling, really.

It has been a long time since I had this experience myself.  Making potential relationship eyes is different than making potential hook-up eyes.  But honestly, the last time I made eyes at someone with the goal of having a long-term relationship was nearly a decade ago.  It's worth mentioning that it worked.  However, in the two years since that relationship ended, I have not made serious eyes at anyone.  My look of interest is tempered by my guard.  You may be good-looking, but you aren't getting past the velvet rope to my heart without waiting for a long time.  And there is no VIP list.  I just don't make "ask me and I'll say yes" eyes anymore.  Maybe you need to be young and innocent to give someone that look.  Your pride untouched and your walls not built yet.  Perhaps that's why watching these kids almost seems magical.  They are so hopeful for the future and have experienced very little disappointment.  They give their hearts away because they don't yet know the cost.  I hope they are able to go unscathed.  If the person they are making eyes at now turns out to be the love of their life, that's fantastic.  If not, I hope when their heart gets returned, it hasn't been worn or damaged and the tags are still attached.

I Just Paid it Off!!

I received the title to my car earlier this month.  I was so proud and excited.  I bought the car while I was a bank teller making $10/hr without a co-signer.  It was a sign that I was legitimately entering adulthood. Is it my dream car?  Not a chance.  It has manual everything: windows, locks, transmission.  The windows aren't tinted.  It's an '04 and it has a tape deck.  A tape deck!  It's just a basic car that gets me from Point A to Point B.  Does it have a lot of sentimental value?  You bet.  As the first car I actually purchased from a dealership, and the above mentioned financing, the car makes me proud.  It's also the first car that was actually in good shape when I bought it and I've had relatively few problems with it.  I drive a lot, too.  I actually enjoy driving when I'm not in a rush to get somewhere.  There was one weekend a couple years ago I put 200 miles on the car.  I didn't leave town.  So, we have a bond, my car and me.  On the flip-side, I have taken it for granted.  It's a Hyundai.  It's supposed to last for a million years, or something like that.  Sure I get the oil changed, and I've had the tires replaced a few times.  But there was one weekend a couple years ago that I put 200 miles on the car without leaving town.  Cuts both ways, right?  I haven't neglected the car, but I certainly haven't babied it.

This weekend, I was heading to church and I just made it off the freeway when the car stalled out.  Not in an I-didn't-give-it-enough-gas-before-releasing-the-clutch sort of way.  More like, holy-mother-eff-my-car-just-died sort of way.  The engine wouldn't turn.  I just replaced the battery about six months ago, so it couldn't be that.  After being passed by all the good Christians hurrying to be on time to church, a good Christian leaving the previous service stopped and helped me push the car out of the middle of the road and into a U-Haul parking lot.  Lucky for him, it was a downhill push.  He then went back to his car and came over to try to jump my car.  Didn't work.  I thanked him profusely for his help and sent him on his way with his family.  My friend Randi was also on her way to church, so she stopped and I sat in her air conditioning and made a couple phone calls.  One to my friend Chris, because I knew she and her sister know way more about cars than myself and that they would come help a sista out.  Another was to my ex, because he lives on that side of town and I knew he would bring me a water bottle then kick the tires and come to the conclusion that he didn't know what to do.  Chris answered.  My ex did not. 

Once Chris and D arrived, they quickly determined the most likely cause was the alternator.  I sent Randi on her way as Chris pulled out her tools and got under my car to remove the alternator.  I believe that everything happens for a reason.  I had made plans with Chris and D to go to the pool after I left church, so I had sunscreen with me.  Since I have documented my ability to sunburn in this blog before, I don't need to tell you here how lucky I was to have the sunscreen.  I noticed a nearby billboard had one of those time and temperature readings in the corner of it.  It was 12:15 pm and 105 degrees.  After finally removing the alternator, we locked up my car and headed for Auto Zone to have it tested.  Their machine didn't work.  So then we headed toward downtown Henderson to another location.  After a brief stop at Pep Boys, whose machine also did not work, and which actually wasn't so brief since the guy helping us couldn't be bothered to put some pep in his step, we arrived at the Henderson location.  They tested the alternator.  The slip printed by the machine after the test was pretty unambiguous.  It said, "alternator is bad."  We got a good laugh out of that and then purchased a new alternator.  We picked up some lunch on the way back to the car and then installed the new alternator.  The car started!!!  We celebrated with sweaty, car oil hugs.  Chris and D saved the day!!!

As I put the car into gear, wait.  It didn't go into gear.  It didn't go into gear!!  I won't share the words that came out of my mouth next.  My mother would be aghast.  I got out of the car.  There was part on the ground and the car was now leaking like crazy.  Of all the tools my friends had, tow straps were not included.  I called my cousin's husband.  He drove across town to come get me.  By the time he arrived, it was close to 4:00 pm and 111 degrees according to the billboard.  He attached the tow straps and away we went.  I don't know if you've ever had to steer a car being towed, so I'll do my best to describe the experience:  I was a nervous wreck!  The feeling of the car jerking when you have to brake to get the tension back is incredibly unsettling.  Riding on the freeway not knowing what idiot driver is not going to pay enough attention to the situation is also very frazzling.  My shoulders must have been up to my ears from the tension I was feeling when we stopped at the shop.

Long story short, I invited Chris and D to our Sunday dinner that night, after they went home and showered of course.  The shop said that I need a new clutch and hydraulic system that supports the clutch.  So, just a few weeks of celebrating a lack of car payments for a while, I now have to put about 5x the amount of my car payment into the car.  Awesome.  Oh, and school started up this week.  And rent is due this week, too.  Needless to say, I can't wait for the week to be over.

Things Men Have Told Me About Myself

"You're really good at this pageant stuff."  -Dad
This was in 2006 after my last Miss Nevada competition.  It was the only pageant my dad attended in the 7 years I competed, because...

"I don't need some panel of judges to tell me you're great."  -Dad

"You don't have a gypsy soul."  -Michael, the window washer
Every week he comes to clean the windows at work and we talk.  This comment came after I mentioned that my younger sister is more brave than I am.  He's dead-on.

"That ass is unforgettable."  -Name Withheld
This is a text I got eight months after the fact.  Not that you wanted to know, but it's good for my ego.

"The only time you ever nagged me is when I put too much butter and sour cream on my baked potatoes."  -The Ex
Seven years together.  Broke up two years ago.  I'd say this is quite a compliment.

"You have always loved Train.  I remember the first time you heard 'Meet Virginia.'  You told me there was this awesome song on the radio that I had to hear."  -Eric, my brother
It's true.  I love Train.

"Even though we haven't always been in contact, I have always considered you one of my dearest friends."  -Justin from high school
This made me choke up a little.  Not gonna lie.

"When I think about high school, a lot of my happiest memories are with you."  -Robert
Another fantastic friend who will always have a special place in my heart.

"You are a Spartan!!!"  -Kevin, my personal trainer
I woke up at 5:30 am every morning for a year and was proud to be lifting heavier weights - with more ease - than many of the men in the gym.

"You spoil me the most out of everybody."  -Michael, my brother 18 years younger than me
This kid has five older brothers and five older sisters.

"Don't change.  I've always liked that about you.  Unless you're talking about boys.  In that case you should always be mean to boys."  -Kendall, my college rommate's husband
This was a comment he left on a facebook status in which I declared I would no longer be too nice.

"You're ridiculous!"  -Jesse, my cousin
This is the typical response from him whenever I say I'm cold.

 "I can tell you race this little thing around."  -the guy at Meineke
This was after my most recent oil change.

"You have a great smile.  If I was twenty years younger, I'd ask you out."  -elderly man
Aw!  He would still be old enough to be my father if he were 20 years younger, but it's still cute whenever an older gentleman says this to me.

Happy Birthday Bruiser!!

The summer of 2009 found me newly single, starting a job at a different bank, and in a different living situation.  It was rough.  That fall I started putting together the new pieces of my life.  I started telling people, "Everything in my life right now is brand new."  One of those things was Bruiser.  Today he is two years old, and every bit a mama's boy.

This is the night I met Bruiser and decided he had to be mine!

He was such a cute puppy

Making pals with Indiana.

Classic Mama and Bruiser.  He's always on my lap.

I can't tell you how many pictures I have of him snuggled under the covers.

Still best pals with Indy.

One of his favorite spots to hang out - on my shoulders.

Our Mothers' Educations

This weekend was interesting to me.  I live with my cousin and her mother lives just a couple miles down the road, so we see her quite often.  My own mother lives across the state, but she came to visit this weekend.  Both of them are looking for work.  My aunt has been out of full-time work since the bank she and I used to work at went under in 2009.  My mother was a stay-at-home mom for about a decade while she was married to my step-dad, but they have recently divorced and now she needs a full-time job.  Both my aunt and my mother are very experienced in their fields.  My mother has several certifications in human resources and has even taught continuing education courses at a university.  Both my mother and my aunt are in their mid-50's, very smart and experienced women, but no college degrees.  When they began their careers in the the 80's and 90's, college degrees were bonuses on the resume.  These days, it's keeping them from getting hired.  On Friday, my aunt was telling us about the difficulty she's having in getting a job that's equivalent to the position she held before due to her lack of college education.  She's seriously considering University of Phoenix.  When my mom got into town, she told me about the job she applied for and really hopes to get.  They recently called her to find out what her educational background is, exactly.  Now she's terrified she won't get the job.

My cousin is a teacher with a master's degree.  I have recently returned to college and will be the first woman on my mom's side of the family with a degree when I graduate.  We both know that without a degree, we cannot work in our chosen fields.  I wonder, however, what disadvantage I'll have when I'm my mother's age.  I would like to eventually have a Ph.D. in nutrition, but will that be enough to compete for jobs with the generation after me?  Will that level of education, which is considered a bonus now, but the expected minimum in 25 years?

Summer Just Wouldn't be Complete.

I'm the one person in my family that doesn't tan.  My little sister has this amazing olive skin, but I have pale skin that burns at the mention of being outdoors.  The irony lies in the fact that if I lived in ancient Greece, I would have worshiped Helios like he was a real god--and my favorite one at that.  Last summer I spent nearly every weekend by a pool, sunscreen within arm's reach, and managed to get a nice little summer glow.  This summer, it just hasn't worked out that way.  The poolside excursions with my friends and mimosas just haven't happened.  Everyone seems busier this year.  Or at least, our schedules haven't aligned.  Needless to say I was thrilled when my friend invited me to her pool today.  I brought the champagne and orange juice, and four of us hit the lounge chairs.  I sprayed myself down with sunscreen and enjoyed laying in the sunshine with my friends and my cocktail in hand.  I figured I might get a little pink since I haven't laid out in a while.  But let me tell you, friends, I severely underestimated the damage that would be done.  I guess I'll go back to the brand of sunscreen I used last year instead of trying to save a buck on a new brand.  Even my legs and the tops of my feet are burned.  Not so fun.  And you know how sunburns don't seem that bad at first and then a few hours go by and you realize that you could be mistaken for a lobster?  Yeah.

This was immediately after getting home.

This is after the burn got to fully develop.

How I Know I'm Old

Ok.  I know I'm not old, old.  However, making the decision to go back to college when I was 28, and take a part-time job at a frozen yogurt store has a way of making me feel like a fossil just months away from my 30th birthday.  And even though the 17-21 crowd always tries to reassure me that I'm not old, they say and do things that directly contradict their claims.  For example:

One day at work, someone had brought a little radio to listen to in the back so he wouldn't have to listen to the Muzak on the sound system.  The station was playing songs from the 90's that I loved during highschool.  I was in heaven: Bush, Third Eye Blind, Tool, etc.  It was awesome!  I sang along to every song.  I asked what station it was.  His response, "It's 107.5.  They play all the classics at this time everyday."  Huh.  The classics.

On another occasion, I was walking across campus with some of my classmates.  We were talking about our goals in life.  It was the usual talk of places we want to travel, what we want to accomplish with our careers once we're done with college.  Then the conversation turned to marriage and family.  Let's pause here.  When I was their age I though I would be married with a couple of kids by now.  I have several friends who are married with 2 or 3 kids.  I also have friends who are very established in their careers and/or who have traveled extensively.  I had been in a relationship for 7 years, and had a very successful and still promising career until I decided to go back to school.  It isn't as if I've been a bum up to this point.  I just changed course.  Back to the story.  One of the girls then said, "I just hope I'm not pushing 30 and not settled down with a husband and a kid.  I don't want to be that old and alone."  Yep.  Ouch.

I said "rad" once in front of one of my coworkers.  He asked if I really just said that.  I told him that indeed I did and that I said it all the time when it was a cool word to say.  He asked, "Wasn't that, like, a hundred years ago when that word was cool?"

I have lots of little stories like that.  But this one really got to me.  I have a coworker who is still in high school.  One day we were talking about movies.  I brought up Indiana Jones and he has only seen "The Crystal Skull" and thought it was awesome.  I told him he must watch the original movies.  Then he dropped a bomb on me.  Here's the conversation in script form.

Coworker:  I just saw Titanic for the first time the other day.
Me: (quite freaked out) You just saw Titanic???  Where have you been?
Coworker:  I don't know.  It came out a long time ago, so I just never saw it.
Me:  It wasn't that long ago!  I saw it 3 times in the theater.  Everyone saw it multiple times.
Coworker:  It was a long time ago.
Me:  Wait.  How old are you now?
Coworker:  I'm 16.
Me: And I'm 29, so you're 13 years younger than me.  It came out when I was 16, so you were...3.  Damn.  I'm old.

So that's the big story.  That's why I'm old.  My joints also get stiff when I've been sitting for a long time.  My dad was 25 when I was born.  So he was 30 when I was 5, which is about as far back as I can remember with any real clarity.  He used to always complain about his old bones back then.  Now I know he wasn't lying.

So it's official.  I'm old.

May 23, 2010.

As a person raised in the LDS church, I was baptised at the age of 8.  I don't really know exactly when I became a "born again" Christian, but I remember in the 5th grade that a friend of mine told a few of us that the way to get into heaven was to ask Jesus in your heart.  That wasn't what I had been taught at all and it sounded so funny to me.  But I went home that day and did it just in case.  I wanted my bases covered.  I remained very active in the LDS church and firm in my belief in it until I got to college.  My first boyfriend in college was an Evangelical Free pastor's son.  He fought me tooth and nail on my beliefs.  Not the best approach, but he did get me thinking about some things.  My best friend in college, Stephanie, was a Baptist.  We were roommates for a couple of years and we had some great conversations and attended a couple of Bible studies together.  Then for a while, I didn't attend any church.  I never really stopped praying to or believing in God.  I just moved Him to the back burner of my life.  I had become very disillusioned with the LDS faith and what I like to call the "checklist".  But I also was afraid of my mother's reaction if I attended another church.

About a year and a half ago, my supervisor at work was talking about Central Christian Church.  My step-sister had attended there before and loved it, and I had gone to a service or two there. I was now at a point in my life where I was trying to get God back in my life.  I wasn't doing things so hot on my own, and I have seen things in my life that could only be the hand of God and wanted it back in my life so desperately.  So, I decided to join her on Sunday.  I was hooked.  Several months later, things changed for me.  It was a typical Sunday. I was at church with my friends, Darlene and Randi. That weekend was the "Baptism Celebration Weekend." The sermon, of course, was on baptism.  Since I had already been baptised, I never really gave thought to being baptised again.  But the pastor said something that really struck me.  He talked about how being baptised as a baby or a child without a full understanding of what it actually meant was a nice way for parents to dedicate their child to God.  However, being baptised again as an adult is a great fulfillment of that dedication.  The wheels in my head started turning.  I thought to myself that I would pray about that and consider being baptised later.  After the service, my friends and I decided to go outside and watch the baptisms and support those making that decision.  As we were watching, this feeling came over me that I couldn't deny that I needed to get in the water now!  I said to Randi and Darlene, "I'm going in!"  I went to the info tent and signed up.  If a picture is worth a thousand words, I'll let these pictures do the talking for a bit.

The smile on my face says it all.  My life was profoundly changed in that moment.  After I got out of the water on the cold and windy day, the pastor and his wife were walking by.  They congratulated me, and seeing that I was now freezing cold, he said, "We'll shield you an protect you!" and he put his arms out  as if to put a barrier between me and the wind.  But more than the physical, I feel that through my baptism, my outward declaration of the change that happened within my heart, a protective barrier has been put around me.  Praise God.

Technology Scares Me.

I didn't get a cell phone until I was 23 years old.  That was about 6 or 7 years ago.  Not that I'm old, but kids these days can hardly believe that no one had cell phones when I was in high school.  My first phone was a really cute little flip phone that I bedazzled with pink self-adhesive rhinestones.  Oh yes I did.  My second phone was another flip phone sans bedazzling.  It seemed like everyone had that same phone at the time:  my then-boyfriend (now ex), my cousins, everyone.  Then everyone upgraded except for me.  It worked just fine for me, so there was no reason to upgrade.  I didn't need a fancy smartphone.  What the hell would I do with all that capability at my fingertips anyway?  I barely texted.

Then, it happened.  My screen wouldn't work.  It was time to upgrade.  I had my beloved flip phone for close to 4 years.  It was time to upgrade.  I walked into the phone store and told them, "I need a real keyboard because the touch screens scare me, and I need to access facebook."  I left with a lovely BlackBerry.  I loved that thing!  I slept with it under my pillow.  The little blinking red light beckoned me to see who called or emailed or texted or facebooked.  I even used the bbm feature.  The guy I had been dating for about a month when I got the phone made my screen name "Miss Cuss-a-lot," mostly because of my potty mouth.  My beloved CrackBerry, I mean, BlackBerry has been through a lot with me.  I dropped the poor thing more than I care to admit.  Text message conversations (mostly with boys) were read verbatim to my closest girlfriends for the purpose of analyzing every word and intention.  Tons of pictures of my dog were taken.  Facebook was checked obsessively.  Voicemails piled up because I really hate listening to them unless I have to.  What happened to me?  Wasn't I the girl content to have a flip phone with only 400 text messages on my plan that didn't need all the fancy stuff?  Now I don't listen to voicemails??  It's amazing how quickly we adapt.

Sadly, my BlackBerry (aka My Precious), started to go the way all cell phones must go eventually.  After nearly two years of faithful service, it began to die after being unplugged for only 20 minutes.  It was annoying as all hell.  Just this weekend, I upgraded.  I got a refurbished LG Quantum.  This thing is fancy.  It even has a touch screen that I am already becoming adept at using.  And I already downloaded 12 apps, including Angry Birds.  I can finally see what all the fuss is about on that one.  During this transition to the new phone, I have been declaring my uncertainty with technology.  I imagine the new phone being scared of me breaking it.  I guess what I'm really scared of is that I'll prove too stupid for the device I'm using.  In reality, on-line tutorials and some good old-fashioned playing around is all it takes to master the unknown.