Apocalypse Update

This picture pretty much sums it all up:

Happy Apocalypse Eve!

Apparently, the world is going to end tomorrow. I hope you didn't waste your money on Christmas presents. Or if you did, make sure you celebrate Christmas today and enjoy them as much as you can.

Also, I hope y'all have everything crossed off your bucket lists. If not, the countdown is coming to an end pretty quick. You gotsta get crack-a-lackin'.

I'm so confused by all of these Apocalypse due dates. Does anyone believe that the world is actually going to end tomorrow? Or does anyone KNOW anyone that thinks that? If you do or know someone that does, I would really like to meet them and find out what makes them so sure the Mayans are any better at predicting the world's destruction than, say, the Y2K nutters.

Here's a man of Mayan descent holding a 2013 calendar. Even he is looking at you like you're an idiot.

And besides, what's really so bad about the end of the world? I mean, it's not like we have any control over it, so why worry? Think about it. If the earth is going to implode, are we really going to spend the last few hours of our lives worrying about what we're going to eat tomorrow for dinner? If there are aliens ready to wipe out the inhabitants of this planet to strip it of its resources, do you really think that we're going to go all "Independence Day" on them and get them before they get us? No way! So why all the fuss?

Because of the fact that I have no control over it, and the fact that if it does happen, it'll probably be fast, here's a list of things I think are worse than the Apocalypse:

1. When you drink orange juice right after brushing your teeth.

2. Listening to your car beep at you because your tank is empty, and you still have 3 miles to go and no money.

3. Watching "Transformers" on repeat. Or even just once.

4. Looking at pictures of yourself in Jr. High.
                                                           

  While this isn't a picture of me, I still remember having my sister help me to have the highest bangs possible.

You will never be as cool as this kid.

5. Having 15 people show up at your house, who had been invited expecting a full dinner, and realizing that you didn't know you were supposed to cook anything. (True story. But it wasn't my fault.)

6. Eating a can of garbanzo beans because that's all the food you have left before payday.

7. Taking any Accounting or Financing classes. Those suck the life out of a person, and slowly. I'll take the earth imploding any day.

8. Walking face first into a spider's web- or into the spider itself, hanging from the ceiling.

9. Listening to your roommate's alarm go off for more than half an hour. I am currently doing this and I welcome at least one apocalyptic death: hers.

So Happy Apocalypse Eve, everyone! I hope you find lots of fun and meaningful ways to spend your last day on earth! (Because, ya know, shouldn't we be doing that every single day, anyway?)

 

Politics That Won't Give You Heartburn

When it comes to this year's elections and all the campaigning that has led up to them, I have had a pit in my stomach for months. It's not because I am for or against either the candidates, although I do have my own opinions about that. It's because I see the wedge driven further and further between all people- blacks, whites, gays, straights, races, religions, all in the name of politics. You name it, it's all become a political agenda, and has widened the gap between us. It's like politics is the new Crusades, and we're all persecuting everyone else who doesn't believe the same as us. Even those who didn't vote, it seems, are guilty of a little "holier-than-thou" attitude. I admit, I haven't been immune to all of this, and have even "lost respect" for people that think differently than I do. I only have one thing to say about all of that.

Shame on me, and on all of us, for letting politics do that to us.

Why are we putting the race between Mitt Romney and Barack Obama above giving and sharing the love we share for our family and friends? Like when someone votes for Obama instead of Romney, or vice versa, they are all of a sudden less of a person for it? And now some of us are mourning the fate of the country while others are celebrating their candidate's defeat? Why are we putting our faith in one man? Why aren't we lifting others up and seeing past all the human weaknesses?

I want all of my family and friends to know that I am so sorry for letting politics stand in the way of our relationship. I hope that everyone was well-informed on the candidates and the issues before standing in the voting booths today; and if you were, and you voted how your heart and your conscience told you to, thank you. Really, I mean that. Thanks for making the effort to do what you thought was the best for all of us.

However, I don't care who you voted for. In the long run, it doesn't matter. YOU matter. You matter to me! So, after thinking long and hard about the elections, this is what I vote for in my own life:

1. I decide to care more about your life and your feelings than I do about who you want for president, what your take is on the economic situation, global warming, and, dare I even say it, gun laws.
2. I choose to be more giving with my smiles, compliments, and service.
3. I will be more patient with the people I come in contact with.

We don't need Mitt or Barack in our lives to help us fix this country. All we need is a little more kindness and understanding. I don't mean that to be all rainbows, puppies, and ice cream, although I know that's how it comes out. I really believe it. So, I promise I'll do my part.

Aliens In My Ears and Other Childhood Memories

In the spirit of Halloween, I was thinking of things that have truly terrified me. They're all from when I was little, and I've gotten over all but one of them. Now they're funny to me, which is why I'm writing this post, instead of going to therapy.

1. When you're little, everything is rainbows and cupcakes. That is, until they ruin the TV shows by putting evil monsters and such for Friend Bear, Love-a-lot Bear, and Funshine Bear to teach all about being a friend, loving a lot, and... shining lots of fun? Anyhoo, one such evil-doer that made an appearance on the Care Bears was a witch who scared the bajeebeez out of me. For several months, I was pretty sure she lived in my closet at night, and her sole purpose was to torment me. My blanket was my force field, and for those months when this witch lived in my closet, I spent many a night underneath it.

 

Maybe this is her?

 

                                                   Or maybe her?Terrifying, right?


2. Speaking of evil monsters, there was one that lived in our laundry room in the basement, which is located right next to the stairs. It was big and ugly, green and purple-y, and had a tongue like a chameleon that would snap around my ankle and pull me back to its gargantuan black hole of a mouth. At least it would have, if my little 5-year-old legs hadn't of taken those stairs, two at a time, as fast as they could, every time. I'm not sure how this laundry monster popped into my imagination. At least the movie "Home Alone" gives me the assurance that there were more kids in this world besides me who were afraid of their laundry rooms.


3. One thing my mom had to learn was not to put me on the spot. Whether it was for my preschool group when we put on a paper-bag puppet show for the moms, or realizing that I was the only kid at swimming lessons that day, she learned that I would either burst out in tears, or try to hide in the locker room. I know this one isn't very Halloween-y, but we're talking about times when I was terrified, right? So it works.

                                                       If I can't see you, you can't see me!

4. In elementary school I went through a stage where I thought I could die at any moment. This was brought on by my fifth grade teacher, Mr. Miller, because he read the newspaper to us every morning. After reading about an earthquake, I was sure a giant one was coming to Utah any day, since we're like 200 years overdue for a big one. When we read that swarms of killer bees were migrating, I learned that the best way to keep them away was water, so I made a plan to always be close to a garden hose. The worst, though, was when he read about this awful disease called necrotizing faciitis. Look it up and tell me it doesn't give YOU nightmares, then you can laugh. I'm sure my parents were very confused that night when I told them I thought I had that disease. Looking back, I'm pretty sure my foot was just asleep!

5. The "Goosebumps" series of books by R. L. Stein. The books were full of evil teddy bears that broke other toys they were jealous of, masks that take over your life, a giant monster at summer camp that turns kids into brainwashed slaves... *shiver* The one I remember being the most scared of was a girl who had her feet dangling over the side of her kiddie pool during the summer and some sort of monster ate her toes. I listened to this joyful story as my sister was reading it to my brother in the room that she and I shared. It was dark. I was once again hiding under the covers and plugging my ears. My siblings kept pinching my toes. Needless to say, this is one of the reasons we stopped sharing a room.

                                                                   So kid-friendly, right?


6. You might be asking yourself at this point what the thing is that I've never gotten over. All the previous fears grew smaller as I grew bigger. Even as I write this, I have my feet dangling off the end of the bed, without fear of toe-craving beasts. However, I hesitate to share this next one, because the universe already seems to be aware of my irrational fears that came from this, and just sent an earwig crawling around on my bed. I'm getting ahead of myself, though. The #1 thing that terrified me that I still haven't gotten over is... drumroll please...

The X Files.

To be fair, what young child would NOT be scared by The X Files? They made it creepy on purpose. My parents were fans of the show, so once a week, they would gather their trusting and unsuspecting small children around the TV and inflict the show on us. (We of course didn't have to watch it; however, the alternative was to be alone upstairs while alien-esque music and sounds of people being abducted floated up the stairs.) One season in particular had a really gruesome alien. I can only describe it as Black Alien Goo. It entered its human host bodies THROUGH THEIR EARS, coursed through their veins and under their skin, and eventually KILLED THEM.

                                                         I was afraid this would be me.
 

I kind of remember acting brave about it. I would say, "Yay, X Files!" and sit to watch it with the family. (Let's ignore the fact that I was always afraid to go upstairs by myself after we watched the show, which I'm sure everyone noticed when I made them accompany me to the bathroom during commercials.)

Well, by the time that season ended, bedtime was torture. All I could think of as I lay in the dark was Alien Goo getting in my ears. My handy-dandy blanket once again came to my rescue. I wrapped myself up in it like a burrito (a giant, frightened burrito) and covered my ears as tight as I could with my blanket. If even a breeze touched my ears I would have to readjust the blanket. (Years later, I watched another movie where people were putting tin foil on their heads so aliens wouldn't read their minds, or something like that. Psh. Like aliens can read minds.)
 

 

 This baby would be safe from aliens.

                                                                 Oops, not anymore.

This blanket habit has continued into my adult life. Although aliens and monsters don't cross my mind at bedtime anymore, I still don't like the feeling of my ears being exposed. If I don't have a blanket (or if it's too hot), I'll simply cover my ears with my Rapunzal-like hair, which also does the trick.

Thank you, X Files, for ruining my childhood.

I guess the morals of these stories, to anyone that has small children out there, is that:
1. Your kids will be scared of something sooner or later, no matter how innocent the TV shows they watch.
2. Siblings will make it worse.
3. There is always something hiding in the dark.

I didn't realize how scared I was of everything until I started writing this blog post! I promise I'm not that much of a scaredy cat anymore. The only things that give me the heebie jeebeez are things like picking up a piece of fruit just to find out that the side you couldn't see is moldy, and insurance salesmen.

So, good luck! I hope that everyone has a fantastic Halloween and everyone has a nice spooking! And if you do, tell me all about it!

By the way, I obviously don't own any of those pictures.

The Origins of Things: Kissing

Sometimes I wonder about firsts. For example, what plane-crash-stranded-on-a-desert-island kind of tragedy made someone so hungry that they thought eating oysters was a good idea? (I don't care if you've had them and think that they TASTE delicious. Look at this slimy monster. You can't tell me that this LOOKS fit for human consumption.)
 

                                                                        Mmm. So tasty.

Today's gem came from watching a chick flick, where of course it came to the awkward make-out scene. And I wondered how exactly kissing got started.

Eve: "So... You have lips.... I  have lips."
Adam: "Maybe we could mush them together for a bit and see how that goes?"

In other words, kissing is weird.

Dating and Dog Poo

Lately I have tried to get more into "the game," aka "dating." My first goal was actually TALKING to boys. I accomplished this yesterday at our ward Break the Fast. Thankfully there were two empty spots at a table with mostly girls and two boys. I was hyperventilating as my roommate and I walked to the table, but I quickly calmed down when I managed to sneak the seat that was not next to the guys. Thank you, roommate, for being the buffer.

Kevin and Ben were very nice. We chatted and laughed and I almost flirted with Ben (not that I know how).

Tonight I went to FHE without my roommates, which also meant that I went without anyone that I know. The bishop set up an outdoor theater for us. Everyone else brought camping chairs to sit on and sweaters for the cold. I brought myself and an Arby's chocolate shake.

When the movie started, I saw a cute guy sitting up in the front "row" of the lawn without a blanket that was sitting by himself. I also saw the opportunity to meet another guy in my ward, and after hesitating for a second, made my way over to him and asked him if I could sit down. He said of course, so of course I sat down.

I promptly smelled dog poo.

Panicking was not an option. I just sat down next to a cute boy! However, there's really no inconspicuous way of checking out your own butt to see if there's dog poo on it. Actually, I take that back. There's no inconspicuous way of checking out your own butt PERIOD. I could not believe that I might have just sat in dog poo, anyway!

I couldn't see any on my pants, but I could still smell it. I was pretty sure I wasn't sitting in it, at least. Needless to say, it was a very uncomfortable 90 minutes of "Kung Fu Panda." It was a risk to lean back on my arms or shift my weight or anything. That stuff was somewhere, and it was close.

The movie ended and I got out of there after saying one or two sentences to the boy.

However, this is why I stay away from boys. Bad things happen.

The Recovering Mooch

Well, it's done. There's no going back now. There's no hiding from it at my parents' house. I can't just sit on my hands and ignore it. It's here. I have to face it.

I'm on the path of adulthood.

How the heck did I get here, anyway? Wasn't it just yesterday that I was packing my stuff to go on a mission? Didn't I just graduate from high school like a week ago? This can't be happening. I can't be this person with bills in the mailbox and a grocery list on the fridge. Who is this person that those bratty teenagers are calling "old?" (Nevermind the fact that I just called them "bratty teenagers.")

Okay, shake it off.

Anyhoo, here I am. In the Land of Happy Valley; a single, 27 year old college dropout in a sea of married 23 year old BYU graduates with 3 kids. I feel very much the same way I did in Paraguay when I was a five-foot-nine, blonde, blue eyed Amazon woman in a sea of five-foot-nothing Guarani descendants: a sore thumb.

                                                     What do you mean I'm adopted?!

Maybe I'm not so different. But here I am, anyway.

For the past two years or so, I lived in Salt Lake. It was supposed to be temporary. As in, "I think I'll stay here for the summer while I decide what to do about school." But that quickly turned into, "Wow, I really don't want to go to school anymore." And then it wasn't so temporary. The summer quickly became a year, and a year quickly became me realizing that living at home with my wonderful family and having my laundry done for free for the rest of my life was much better than me living with messy roommates and having to pay for it. Obviously.

Well, to make a long story short, I realized that my regression into childhood came at a cost. For every amazing home cooked meal that I didn't have to make, for every load of laundry that came, nicely folded, into my room, and every month's rent that I didn't have to pay, someone else had to do all of those things. I have two of the best parents in the entire world, who would do pretty much anything for me. No, let me rephrase. They HAVE done everything in the world for me, including letting me, a perfectly capable 27 year old Amazon woman, be a complete mooch. Now, I can be pretty oblivious, but even I know when I need to step up. So I moved out. And now I even do my own laundry.

It's not going too badly, either. I've even had other things to eat besides instant mashed potatoes. (*shudder*) (When I was going to UVSC at the age of 18, I had instant mashed potatoes every day for lunch and dinner for about 4 months. That's not even exaggerating. Never again, mashed potatoes. Never again.)

I have lived on my own before, and for those of you who know this about me, you might be wondering why this time around is different. This time is permanent. Now it's "Mom and Dad's house," not "my house." I'm not really giving myself the option of moving back home. My parents deserve their own house and their own money and all the time in the world together, and to not be so far apart.

So, as I said before, here it is. Adulthood. Staring me in the face. I have no idea what I'm doing. I've been pretty lost the past few years in regards to education and religion, and now I stand here having to face the decision of who and what I'm going to be for the rest of my life. And I don't even have my mama here to hide behind. That's okay, because no matter how scared I feel, I know that everything will turn out okay. It always does. This is just the next phase of my life.

Okay, I have to go do dishes. That's right, cuz I do dishes now. And I even take out the trash. I think I deserve a trophy.

(Illustrated pictures belong to the girl who writes hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com. They're not mine.)