Day 4: Heavy thoughts on the state of the the world

Today's prompt was "What is your favorite fairytale and why" which is something that anyone who knows me knows I should be pumped about. I'll probably do that one later on, because I do love fairytales.

But today I'm not feeling fairytales. Today I am thinking a lot about the world we live in. Last night I decided I want to try to take a break from Facebook for a while. I realized that for the last couple of weeks the time that I have spent scrolling through the feed and interacting with people has left me feeling unhappy. I feel anxious and depressed and hopeless.

This is not news to anyone. If we thought things were contentious before November, it only got worse after. To be fair to everyone, I am pretty sure it would have been that way no matter who won (except maybe Bernie Sanders). I will say that the despair would probably have been less dramatic (if no less impassioned) had Hillary won, if only because not a lot of things would have changed. Many people said that Hillary's presidency would be Obama's third term. I give Hillary a little more credit than that, but I do think that transitioning from one democratic president to the next would entail very little grand change. Conservatives could go on hating the government and all presidential policy, and liberals could continue complaining that things weren't changing fast enough.

Trump's victory, however, and the additional election of a Republican congress is a bit different. I'm not talking about Trump as the antiChrist rebirth of Hitler. I just mean that we are completely changing track, if not turning around and heading back where we came from. Trump campaigned on the promise of change, and that is what we will get. And that kind of huge dramatic change causes ripples. Republicans were looking at essentially a continuation of the status quo if Hillary won. Democrats are looking at not just moving ahead in a new direction, but the destruction of everything that they have fought bitterly for over the last several decades. And while that probably sounds like music to the ears of Republicans, I think that they should not be so surprised and disgusted that people are taking it hard.

But that brings me to the meat of the issue. And that is the bitter hatred each party seems to have for the other. There is no level of understanding. Republicans are in full victory mode. They won, so now they get to do what they want, no matter how petty it might be. And they're going to tear down every single thing that Barack Obama ever so much as looked at and smiled. Regardless whether it actually worked, or helped people, or wasn't overtly "Democratic". And Democrats? They are either despairing that the world is ending and we're all going to die in a nuclear winter, or gearing up for an all out war made of the last 8 years of Republican tactics we all couldn't stand just a few months ago.

Society is divided into an Us and a Them. The lines might vary depending on who you are and what you believe in, but what doesn't change is that there is a winner and more importantly, there is a very clear loser. In fact, for it to really count as a victory, your enemy must lose, and hopefully suffer in their losing. Because the word compromise has become synonymous with failure

I think the most depressing part of this is that it is aggressively encompassing. I grew up Republican, with liberal leanings given me by my mother (who I don't think ever realized how brave she was being a Mormon Democrat before there were facebook groups to support her). I migrated into unaffiliated territory as I grew up. I didn't identify as liberal till the last couple of years. And even then I was a conservative liberal. But all of a sudden I find myself digging in to debates on Planned Parenthood and the ACA. I find myself writing impassioned micro essays in facebook threads. But most of all, I come out of those encounters filled with disgust and anger, and absolutely no more understanding of anyone else's opinions but mine than I started with. I was literally raised in the ideology that I am now arguing against, I still have plenty of friends and family who believe it, and  yet I cannot fathom most of their opinions.

I saw a post yesterday calling out Obama for the hypocrisy of his farewell speech, talking about liberty when he had personally enacted "the biggest threat to freedom this nation has ever seen" (also known as the ACA). I said something about how putting the ACA on par with Japanese internment camps and slavery is a bit melodramatic. In his response he said "why do you like the ACA? You're the first person I've spoken to who has." I'm just stuck on that. The internet brings the world to our fingertips and yet we manage to pare it down and edit it to the point that the only way someone can hear something they disagree with is because you somehow became facebook friends with your wife's one liberal cousin and now it would be awkward to unfriend her because you see each other occasionally at funerals. I don't mean to call out this guy specifically. It is true of everyone, including myself.

But later on, on that same status someone else commented in response to me that the ACA IS slavery. Any time the government forces people to buy something they don't want it is slavery. The level of social insulation required to make that statement nearly made my brain explode. But to that guy, and more significantly, to everyone else on that thread who didn't say "I'm sorry, are you insane?", his statement made sense. It was true. I don't know how you navigate a world with divisions that fundamental.

And that's the problem. I fancy myself an understanding person. I like to think that I can listen to people and understand them. But I feel like I'm losing that. I feel like the world is losing that. I feel like communication is dying, and all that is left is propaganda and the need to be right and prove other people wrong. If I can't stop it happening to myself, what hope is there of stopping it happening to the world?

Day 3. What were your top 3 favorite movies growing up?

So we didn't really watch TV when I was little, nor a lot of movies. So I guess this post is easier because there aren't a lot of options to choose from.

We'll start with the #3 favorite movie and then work to the top.

3. I think I'd have to put Mulan here. Not necessarily because it was my brother's and my favorite per se. But it was probably the movie we watched the most. See, my dad would buy us whatever kids movie was big at the time, and we'd watch it with him, and then when we went back to our mom's we'd bring it with us. But when Mulan came out, he really loved it. He loved it so much that he wouldn't let us take it back to our mom's with us. So it became the one kids movie that he owned. And since both of us were too young to drive or go out on our own, and we didn't have any games or toys at our dad's house, watching movies was all we had to do all day while dad was at work. Which meant that when we went to visit him, if we didn't make it to the video store early on in the trip, all we had to watch was Mulan. Over and over and over again. Luckily, we both really liked Mulan. To this day I think Dan and I can probably quote 78% of the movie word for word. Below was our absolute favorite part. Start at 2:57.

2. I'm gonna say this one is The Brave Little Toaster. My mom gave me a copy of The Brave Little Toaster a year or two back for Christmas and my brother and I watched it again. We were left with the conviction that Blankie is literally the most annoying character that has ever been, Lamp and Radio are by far the best characters in the movie, and whoever thought of a movie about a little boy's household appliances Incredible Journeying it back to him was definitely high on crack. Also, as with all our movies that weren't bought for us by our father, this one was a recording off TV by someone who was...over-zealous in their determination to skip commercials, and with an incredibly short attention span. So about 20% of the movie was cut out around the commercials, and then they just stopped recording when the appliances hit the city. Or maybe they were just doing some judicious editing, because when my brother and I watched the DVD we were suddenly seeing all these scenes we'd never seen before, including a horrifying dream sequence and a terrible pre-Toy-Story-3 junk yard scene ending that were legit disturbing. Seriously, watch this and tell me this was not made by a bunch of people out of their minds on cocaine

1. The number 1 movie is  by far.....Mickey and the Beanstalk. Also recorded off TV, but with a lot less [accidental] editing, this is hands down both my brother's and my favorite movie of our childhood. We still quote it constantly. And unlike The Brave Little Toaster, this movie holds up into adulthood. I literally just rewatched it a few weeks ago because I still love it. Apparently there were two versions of the movie, with two different framing devices. I never saw it, but I guess there's a version where you have live action people on a picnic or something, telling the story of Mickey rescuing the magic harp through the use of puppets which then turn into the cartoon? It is terrible, or so I've been told. On the other hand, the One True Version, which is the one we grew up watching, is all animation; Ludwig Von Drake (Scrooge McDuck's brother I believe because that's how accents and names work in families) telling the story to his best friend, Herman the Cricket (no relation to Jiminy). Professor Von Drake is explaining to Herman how fairy tales are expressions of the unconscious and attempts to explain unusual phenomena, hence the existence of magic. Herman insists that he believes all the stories actually happened exactly as they are told, including the magic. Herman is, of course, proved right at the end when Willy the Giant himself shows up, lifting the roof off Ludwig's home. Ludwig has a mental breakdown. Seriously, if you've never seen this movie, you should watch it. It is delightful. And the scene of the vine growing up to Willy's castle in the sky while Mickey, Donald, and Goofy sleep, remains one of my favorite animation sequences of all time. But the whole thing is amazing. I offer you this clip:

Seriously. every line is quotable. "If it was one man and three beans...but one bean, AND THREE MEN! Anyway, what a nice thing there are no bones in it!"

Day 2: Where did you grow up? Share some memories...

Well, it's 1:40 and I have to get ready for work in just under an hour, so today's post will be an exercise in speedy writing. I am not good at speedy writing. Here we go.

I grew up in two places, really. I was born in New Mexico and we lived there till just before my 8th birthday.

Several years ago I drove a roommate down to New Mexico for a wedding and on the way back we were able to stop at my old house. The woman who lived there was so kind, she let me wander around the property and even let me come in the house to use the bathroom. I don't know if I've ever had a more surreal experience than that trip. Finding the house (I had to call my grandpa for directions) I kept driving past unexpectedly familiar things that would jump out of the background of an otherwise completely strange place. Things like an old bridge with odd wire shapes on the side, or the street up to the church building. Or the ice cream place my grandma took me that I thought for years after was Orange Julius, but is in fact called the Vanilla Moose (we stopped and got the very same drink and it tasted exactly as delicious as I remembered it, which was freaking magical). Then getting to the actual house where everything was both incredibly familiar and also so different. My grandparents' house had fallen into complete disrepair and was basically a rundown shack. Our old place now with a closed in porch all around.

But what are some specific memories I have of that house? I remember standing on the porch down at the end by the driveway. I think the porch was still level at this time; it hadn't yet been been left all akilter after my uncle had to excavate a skunk out from under it (I remember so many skunks having to be removed out from under our house, which was a single-wide trailer with an addition built on). I'm standing there on the porch and someone....I think maybe one of the Hinke children, which would have made it Heber since he and my uncle Jesse were best friends...has just given me a piece of candy.  I put the candy in my mouth and almost instantly begin to cry. It was a Warhead and it felt like it was burning through my tongue (this was not a lesson I learned as I later on developed a great love of Warheads and did in fact burn a hole in my tongue from eating an entire bag in just a few days). I cried, but I didn't spit it out. I remember getting to that last tiny burst of sour in the center.

I remember my mom making us popcorn in her black and white and orange air popper. We would sit around the stove up in the living room and listen to records. Bible stories that were in black and gold sleeves, or the soundtrack from Popeye (whenever that came out). Mom would scratch our backs and I don't think anything in my life since has ever been that cozy.

I think the top on my mom's was much more yellow. But otherwise it was just like this

oh my gosh. I actually found one. I freaking love the internet.

I think we must have been incredibly frustrating children, my brother and I. We would play these games at night. Mom would tell us we were not to get out of bed, so we would take our blankets and sheets and our silkies (my mom's old nightgowns which we were absolutely obsessed with and each had our own collection of) and we would stretch them out end to end. And at the very end we would be stretched out, literally one toe still touching the chain, laying on the floor declaring that we were still technically in bed. We could make it almost to the kitchen that way. I am not sure how mom didn't strangle us on those nights.

I remember so clearly the day my brother came in after crashing on his bike. His knees were bright red, though thinking back they must have just been thoroughly skinned. There was no blood running down his legs. But that was the moment I became terrible afraid of bikes. Instead of learning to ride my own (I got a beautiful white and pink and purple one for Christmas one year) I would run along pushing it. Or I would just run along with Dan as he rode his. That was back when I liked to run...

I didn't actually learn to ride a bike until we moved up to Oregon. This is where I finished growing up (did you see that segue? maximum smooth!). I eventually forced myself to learn to ride my bike on the dirt road behind the house. I think I must have been 10? I don't know. But I would push myself along and coast as long as I could keep my balance. It took a while before I got up the courage to actually pedal.

In the Union house I got my own bedroom for the first time. Up till then Dan and I had shared a room. In high school I decorated by putting up pictures of wild animals salvaged from calendars. I lined them up in a border around the ceiling. It was very hard for me to throw those away when I moved out for college. I have the heart of a hoarder.

pretty sure I had the 1999 version of this exact calendar

Mom has always loved rearranging the furniture, but when I was 9 or 10 she put together a configuration that left a tiny alcove between the couch and the wall. This became my little hiding place for what felt like quite a long time. I would hide in there and write. I wrote an incredibly stereotypical story about a girl who found a magical horse by a river and tamed it. I don't remember why, but eventually mom banned me from hiding in that little place.

I started public school in Oregon. Up till then I had been home school. There were kids my own age. More than that, there were girls my own age. I experienced my first sleep overs, my first birthday parties, my first experiences with the politics of childhood friendship. I was not good at it. When asked which boy I liked the most I did not know that the correct response was to giggle and drop hints. I just said I liked Remington the most because he was quiet and shy and seemed nice.

It's almost time for me to get ready for work, so I have to wrap this up. Of course there are so many more memories. These just happened to be the first to pop into my head. And very unedited because I didn't have the time. Ah well...

Day 1: Give us a quick snapshot of your life right at this moment

A quick snapshot of my life. Well, above is a picture of my face and shoulders, so this is what the top quarter of me looks like. It includes a new pair of glasses.

Basic facts.
I'm about 5'10". There may be some fractions more or less (I think less?) but 5'10" is close enough. My eyes are blueish, with a tendency toward grey. I have boring light brown hair that recently was a glorious blue (and will be again one day). I weigh....shoot, I have no idea. But it's a lot. Probably over 300? idk. I am built with a tendency toward top-heaviness which I inherited from my father's family.

Job facts.
I work for a company called Boostability. They perform SEO work for small businesses. I did not know what SEO stood for when I applied for this job. I had to google it. It stands for Search Engine Optimization. Then I had to google what that meant. It means doing stuff that encourages Google to rank your website on the first page of search results on particular keyword searches that are relevant to you. For instance, my blog would be relevant to a search for, say, "existential rambling blog". I now know how I could convince Google that I am probably the most relevant blog for that term and show up as the #1 result for that search. Though I don't think I'm going to do that. Anyway, I work for Boostability. Specifically, I am the "Onboarding Specialist" for the Sensis team, which means I set up the new accounts and I work with Australians. I work ridiculous hours, which happen to align with Melbourne business hours (Sun-Thurs 3-12). I get called "sweetheart' a lot by the older men I speak to. I find it charming. I also sometimes get hit on by some of the older men I speak to. I find that hilarious. I have a really great team I get to work with. And I have three awesome bosses. I used to have two awesome bosses and one mediocre boss, but then he got "downsized" and replaced with a fully awesome boss. #lifeisharshinthewild

Religious facts.
Ugh. Let's not and say we did. So much work.

Personal facts.
I turned 30 in September. I struggle with the existential angst of someone who grew up being told she has all the potential and who has ultimately done almost nothing with it. I have a cat name Oliver Tesla Tucci who I named after Oliver Platt, Nicola Tesla, and Stanley Tucci (all men that I feel like are completely underrated in their fields). If you don't follow me on facebook or instagram (and if that is case, how did you even find this blog? did you search "existential rambling blog"?) then you haven't seen a picture of him. LET ME FIX THAT RIGHT NOW! (if you do follow me you had to be expecting this)

this is the picture I just used to make my custom case for my new phone. 

this is the picture I almost used for my new phone case. I only meant to upload this one, but google gave me both. Clearly Google appreciates how adorable my cat is and who am I to say google nay. 

As an almost complete shut-in, Oliver basically constitutes my significant other. Yesterday he rode on my shoulders as I danced to this song

which I am currently obsessed with. He enjoys dancing with me, probably because I don't make him do it too often.

I live in a basement apartment with Oliver, a hedgehog named Phoebe, a hamster name Sophie, and the thudding noises of children upstairs as roommates. Currently, all of my plants are dying from lack of sunlight and it is making me very depressed.

Because I work such ridiculous hours, I do not do much socially. To be fair, I didn't do much socially even when I didn't work ridiculous hours. But it's nice to have something to blame that on now. I went on two dates this year with a man I met on Tinder. I can't actually remember his name now, but he was a very tiny man who was very nice and very interested in hooking up with me. After two dates I asked my coworker to send him an "it's not gonna work out text". He handled it very gracefully. I haven't really used Tinder since. I am superlatively bad at dating.

Other things.

Mostly just because I want to write them down and I'm writing right now, here are some of my goals for the coming year.

• I want to be more productive. I don't want to just sit and browse facebook all day every day. I want to create things. Even if they're things that other people could have created better (historically one of my big blocks when trying to create). Some of the projects I would like to complete this year are
• build another book shelf to replace the ugly plastic shelves I'm currently using
• figure out some way to store and display all my beautiful scarves
• take up painting again
• make something to hang over my couch to hide the weird painted shut panel in the wall
• read at least 3 new books I've never read before (not just reread my favorites over again)
• write another story, even if it sucks
• make my bed every morning
• clean the house every Saturday
• Take charge of my life more. I want to actually plan out my days so I don't get to the end of them and realize that I basically didn't do anything at all. Toward this goal I would like to
• every Sunday sit down and write out everything I'd like to accomplish that week and then break that up into realistic daily to-do lists
• use the gym membership that Boostability subsidizes for me (eurgh)
• by the end of the year I would like to not be eating fast food save as a very rare treat. 
• as a first step to this, and part of my previous goal about consciously taking charge of my life, in February I'm going to try creating weekly menu plans.
• write to Danielle at least every other month. Also write to Tori (but first get her address because I lost it)

So there you have it. A basic overview of my life...ish...with an outline of how I'd like my year to progress. If you have a deep burning question about something I did not mention, feel free to comment and ask. The comment section is readable now, with this new blog theme. So that's nice. 

A New 30 In 30 Challenge!

Oh hey there friends. It appears that I have not posted on my blog since July of last year. That is kind of terrible. On the other hand, I moved into a new apartment in August of last year, and that apartment didn't really get internet until a week or two ago. So there are reasons. I guess. (We're not going to talk about the fact that I wrote a grand total of 3 posts in 2016)

Anyway, here I am again. With a new blog template! Literally the first time I've updated the template since I created this blog in 2010 (7 YEARS AGO??!!).

*ahem*

Two of my work friends invited me to join them in a 30 day challenge in January. One is going to try to paint every day for 30 days. The other is going to bake every day. My goal was to write/post on my blog every day. As it is January 7th, you may safely assume that I got off to a very good start on this. But whatever, I'll just start now. No point fussing.

I did a 30 day blog posting challenge a couple of years ago, as some people might remember. I used a prompt list and by the end I had learned one thing: that prompt list was incredibly stupid. On day 10, in fact, the prompt was so stupid that instead I decided to write my own list. And I'm going to be honest, my beans should be about done cooking by now and I'm really hungry. I don't really want to sit here and try to think of a new list of 30 prompts when I have one ready made. Plus I went back and re-read it and I still like most of the prompts. So....yeah. Gonna just use the old one.

But I'm gonna add a twist. If anyone has anything they really want me to write about (real things, imaginary things, whatever...you know I am good at having opinions about things) they should comment somewhere I'll see it (here, fbook, g+) and I'll add it in to the mix. Maybe I'll replace a post I'm not feeling one day, or maybe I'll just keep on going. And if I myself think of something I'd rather write about, well then I'll write about it. Because I'm the boss of me.

Also, if anyone has any interest in knowing what is coming up, or if maybe you want to take part in my list of blogging prompts yourself and are too lazy to go find it (no judgement, plus I touched this one up) I am posting it below. It was in response to a list of "getting to know you" prompts, so it tends in that direction.

1. Give us a quick snapshot of your life right at this moment
2. Where did you grow up?  Share some memories...
3. What were your top 3 favorite movies growing up?
4. What is your favorite fairy tale and why?
5. What is your favorite non-big-5 holiday (not Christmas, Thanksgiving, Halloween, New Year, or Easter) and why?
6. Which literary world would you pick to live in instead of reality, and why?  Remember, you get alllll the parts of your chosen world, bad as well as good.
7. What books are you most looking forward to sharing with your children and why?
8. What superhero do you wish was your best friend and why?  Are there different versions of this hero? If so, which version of him or her are you choosing?
9. What are the top five most shameful songs in your collection?
10. What always makes you cry? Song/movie/story/commercial/etc
11. If you were to suddenly develop a mental illness, which is most likely for your personality?
12. If you had to have a mental illness, but you got to pick, which would you pick?
13. What are your top 3-5 favorite jokes?
14. What is your dream career (regardless of its actual existence)?
15. What is one random, non-touristy place you want to visit? Why?
16. What are your top 5 secretly favorite features/abilities/attributes about yourself?
17. Is there anything you wish people knew about you?
18. What is your weirdest food eccentricity?
19. What are five fantasy items you'd love to have in your wardrobe if you had the money?
20. What is your best story?
21. Which Disney film is your favorite and why?
22. What's the best meal you've ever eaten and why?
23. What is one skill you wish you had the time/money/resources to learn?
24. If you could instantly change one single thing about yourself what would it be? How do you feel about that?
25. What are your top 5 biggest pet peeves?
26. Is there anything you secretly love/want that you're afraid to admit because you don't think people will think it is "you"?  (does this even make sense?)
27. Where are your top 3 dream cities to live in and why?
28. You showed up to work with a black eye...how did you get it?  
29. You have a time machine. Where is the first place you go?
30. What are 5 songs you love to belt out in the car?

Sir Maxwell Octavius and Shaw

basically...these are for mom and aunt Vickie
If you are confused what this post is, then go read the first one from yesterday.

Sir Maxwell Octavius

Role in Story: Mirabel’s best friend

Occupation: octopus

Physical Description: Max is a stuffed blue octopus about 12 inches long that Mirabel has had her whole life. He wears a floppy top hat, monocle, and mustache.

Personality: Sir Octavius prefers to be referred to by his title by all but his closest friends. Mirabel is the only person allowed to address him as Max (though he wishes she’d call him Maxwell). He is a stickler for etiquette and formality. He and Mirabel frequently butt heads as he cannot approve of her “ends justify the means” life philosophy. That said, he is terribly loyal and under questioning by the authorities he will always back her up. He, like Mirabel, struggles to be taken seriously by the people around him. No one but her is able to look beyond the fact that he is a stuffed octopus and appreciate anything else he has to offer. He is, in fact, extremely intelligent and particularly good with the more complex, nuanced ideas Mirabel is often guilty of over-simplifying

Habits/Mannerisms: I’m not sure yet

Background: Sir Octavius was given to Mirabel’s mother by one of her friends from college when she announced her pregnancy. He was the first and only animal to be born of a sewing passion that quickly settled on clothing over toys.

The Tooth Fairy

Role in Story: antagonist? Anti-hero?

Occupation: collecting teeth

Physical Description: dark slinking creatures with long skinny arms and knobbly joints, particularly elbows and knees. Their hands are long, flat, and thin to slide undetected under your pillow. They have incredibly hard, broad, pointed teeth made of something not quite metal nor quite stone, but something in the middle, that is able to crunch up human teeth, and acidic saliva that helps to dissolve the bits. Their bodies are squat and pear shaped. They look like an orangutan mixed with a spider with the hide of an elephant. Their eyes are large, extremely pale, and sunken. They have no hair at all.

Personality: What we call “the tooth fairy” is in fact a race of demons known as Hortz Demons, which eat human teeth as their primary food source. They are extremely solitary, and each has its own territory that typically comprises 200-300 children (as population density varies, so does the geographical size of the area covered by each demon to take in enough children) and if another demon tries to invade their territory they have been known to get into fights—the goal of which typically is to break the other’s fingers, which are very long and spindly, as this virtually guarantees their opponent will not be able to successfully collect any teeth till they heal.
The particular demon of this story is named Shaw. I don’t know precisely who Shaw is yet

Background: In the Dark Ages demons were hunted and despised. As folktales and superstitions waned amongst humans, however, demons were forgotten or rejected. Wary of returning to the days when they were hated and hunted, demons typically encourage the skepticism of humanity. Co-opting stories like the toothfairy have allowed them to eke out a subsistence below human radar. Most of them don’t even leave the money for the teeth anymore as parents, rejecting even the harmless mythos of the toothfairy, have begun taking on that job. Those demons who DO leave money typical steal it out of purses and wallets or under car seats.

External Conflicts: Shaw needs the teeth to stay alive. He also needs to remain hidden from the humans. He has to find some way of stopping Mirabel from discovering the truth about “tooth fairies”.

Notes: I don’t know yet if Shaw is going to be a legitimate villain or if he’s going to be sympathetic. Part of me wants to go unabashedly scary, but part of me wants him ultimately to team up with Mirabel.  

Mirabel

Whilst I was in Oregon over Easter weekend I got this idea for a story about a little kid who gets freaked out about the idea of the Tooth Fairy.  I, of course, did nothing about it, but last night as I was falling asleep I suddenly got this idea for just a moment out of the story.  I swyped it into my phone and fell asleep, but tonight I decided to pull out Scrivener (since my mom so very kindly bought it for me last Christmas) and see if I had any more ideas.  And it turns out that if you open a story document in Scrivener it has all these nifty little writing tools, including character sketch sheets.  I just now roughed out my main character, her best friend, and the tooth fairy.  It was great fun and since who knows if I'll ever come back to the story again (my enthusiasm for projects is all too often terrifyingly brief), I wanted to at least share little Mirabel with you because I think she's kind of fantastic.  So here's a cut and paste of her "character sketch" straight from Scrivener.  Perhaps, if anyone wants, I'll post the other sketches later.

Mirabel

Role in Story: protagonist

Occupation: 5 year old child

 

Physical Description: very compact child, small for her age, but solid. Like a little brick. She has very short curly brown hair and grey eyes.

Personality: intense and businesslike. She doesn’t like people talking down to her or not being taken seriously. She has a nose for condescension and flimflammery. She is shrewd and curious and pragmatic to the point of seeming cynical. She wants to know how and why before she does anything.

Habits/Mannerisms: she pulls on her right ear when she gets frustrated. She shakes her head violently when angry. She has a very slow, rare smile. She walks just a little sideways and clutches a stuffed octopus in her left arm. He goes with her everywhere and is her most trusted confidant.

 

Background: Mirabel was born on September 1, 2010 just before 8 am. She lives in an as yet undetermined city with her parents in an apartment downtown just a block from the city library. She has three older siblings, Joshua, the eldest boy who is 15, 13 year old Anne, and 9 year old Schroeder. Schroeder should have gotten over it by now, but he is still a little bit resentful that he is no longer the baby of the family (in fact, in many ways he still is, as Mirabel has no interest in being coddled). As such he tries to ignore Mirabel whenever possible. Mirabel’s mother teaches 2nd grade and her father works as a middle manager in an advertising company. Mirabel has just started kindergarten this year and is not entirely sure how she feels about it.

Internal Conflicts: Mirabel is very confident and sure of herself, but no one, not even in her own family, takes her seriously. She can’t figure out how to make them listen to her. In her attempts to gain legitimacy she once took her mother’s sewing scissors and cut off all her hair after she heard someone say it made her look like such a doll. This has gained her a reputation as somewhat of a problem child and, contrary to her hopes, did not inspire the people around her to treat her like an adult.

External Conflicts: Mirabel is very uncomfortable with the idea of someone or something coming in the night and stealing away her teeth, even if it does leave her her some spare coins in exchange. Thus, on the verge of losing her first tooth, she is on a quest to discover just who or what this tooth fairy is and what exactly it is doing with all these teeth. 

Nesting in the Nest

Well, as it's been just shy of two weeks since I moved into my new place, I suppose it's time I posted an update about it.  I tried to come up with just the right name for it and I was drifting towards "treehouse" but then I remembered that my friend Katie Pilkington calls her place her treehouse and even though I'm sure she wouldn't mind me using the name too (especially since she lives literally all the way across the country), I still felt like a fourth grade copycat.  So instead I've settled on calling it my nest.  And while a part of me rebels against that name as being far too cutesy for me, another, louder part of me says that cutesy can go screw itself because I can use whatever words I want.  So "nest" it is.

And guys, can I just say...I absofreakinglutely love it.  

I never realized just how disconnected I've been from all of my communal homes until I had one that was all mine that I could really invest in.  It actively makes me happy to wash my dishes and to fold my laundry and to do all the other chores I've typically hated.  Because I know that I am doing them for myself, and if I leave and come back home, everything will still be in exactly the same state I left it.  It is seriously unbelievable what a difference it turns out that makes to me.

And part of my love is the specific apartment I've found.  If I was in a generic modern place I don't think I would feel half so happy.  But I'm not in a generic cookie-cutter apartment.  I finally stopped a few days ago and actually looked at the historical plate beside the door.  This building was built at the end of the 19th century.  That's right, not the last century, but the one before.  That is amazing!  And as a person who has always dreamed of living in an old building, I cannot imagine a more perfect place for me.

Which is not to say that my little nest doesn't have it's...eccentricities.  As I've said several times, the small irritations make the overall enjoyment all the sweeter.  And my little nest does indeed have it's few annoyances.  Mostly these exist in the bathroom, the one aspect of my little home that I find difficult to deal with.  I was going to enumerate on this point, but I decided that if you really want to hear my struggles, you can just ask me.  Otherwise we'll just say...it is an ongoing adjustment, and leave it at that.

Interestingly, a very large part of what I love about my place is all the plans I have for improving it.  Every time I think about this I hear the line in Leap Year when Amy Adams is talking about the apartment she's trying to get and she says "It's perfect, and I already know exactly how I'm going to change it."  But I think the prospect of being able to have home improvement projects is a significant part of the appeal of this place.  All part of that investing I was talking about. 

Anyway, currently, my list of major projects for this place is as follows:

• paint the main room
• build a loft stand for my bed
• either buy a bookshelf or install shelves to get my boxes of books and movies off the floor
• put shelves in the bathroom

The last item is important, but not pressing so I don't really worry about it.  But the first three have been stressing me out since I moved in.  Obvious as it seems, I had to sit down the other night and specifically list out and order my projects so that I could start to come to grips with them.  Simply realizing that I had to paint first before I did anything else was a big deal.  It gives me a place to start and a timeline: I want my dad to help me build my bed stand, and my parents are planning on coming down for a visit in May, so that means I have to get my apartment painted by the end of April.  Ok.

So that is where I am right now.  My plan for tomorrow is to go to the Sherwin Williams next door and pick out the colors I want to paint and bring them 'round for a final sign off from my landlord (if she approves my colors then she will reimburse me for the cost of the paint).  I'm also hoping to start the process of taping everything off tomorrow.  Possibly.  I might just get the colors finalized because baby steps help me not get overwhelmed and just give up.  If I can break the painting task up into micro tasks then hopefully I can actually accomplish it.  But I will say, it is nice to have actual projects that have actual value and discernable results.  One of the perpetual struggles of my life the last few months is an overwhelming sense of "what is even the point of this???"  But fixing up my apartment?  I can definitely see the point to that! 

So...yeah.  That's what is up.  Unfortunately, it's kind of impossible for my place to look clean and neat right now, so I don't really want to post any pictures yet.  Not till they can be the before of the "before and after" series.  But eventually, if you are interested, you shall have some.  

If you're not interested then I have to ask you why you're even here reading this post...?

Therapy session: Residence Upheaval Edition

According to my therapist (cause I have one of those now) I need to work on forming connections with people that involve more trust so that I can go to those people when I'm having all the anxiety because that is how you're supposed to deal with anxiety.

I respectfully disagree with my therapist.

See, I agree that I don't really talk to people when I'm in the midst of an anxiety-induced meltdown.  But that is because there is no point.  I mean, sure, talking to people about issues is probably a good thing, but only if you're in a state to use their added perspective and insight.  And mid-panic?  I'm not in a state to do or use anything.  Hence, as I told ye olde therapist, I will talk to people before a freak out, and after a freak out, and even when there are no freakouts in sight fore or aft, but not during.  During I just lay facedown on the bedroom floor and breathe deeply.

But because there's no point going to see a therapist if you just dismiss what he tells you, I am writing this blog post as an initial foray into the sharing my feelings mid (or rather, on the tail end of) a major stress out.  That said, this is likely to be superlatively boring, so feel free to move along.

Today's stress is brought to you by the letter M, for Moving.

Tomorrow I sign a contract on a new apartment.  A faux studio apartment (technically there is a separate kitchen and bedroom/livingroom).

First, let us establish the advantages of this decision.  The apartment is very cool, located in a historic building, with oodles of personality.  And it would be mine exclusively.  I would, for the first time ever, have a home that belonged to no one besides me.  My own bathroom.  My own fridge.  My own sink with no dishes in it but the ones I put there.  And speaking of dishes, the only person to break or lose them would be me.  Indeed, there would be no one to break, ruin, or damage ANY of my stuff besides myself.  I literally cannot express to you how amazing that sounds...

But now for other side of things.

This place is small.  I mean, seriously tiny.  My current bedroom might very well be bigger than the main room.  And there is no other additional storage space.  When I try and think about condensing all of my stuff down into one very tiny room my brain just blanks out.  I have a few vague ideas but ultimately I'm not actually sure it will be possible.  And while I can probably get rid of a lot of stuff, there is a lot of stuff I can't get rid of.  Like the boxes of stuff from my grandma.  Like my books.  I don't know what I'll do...

The rent, while incredibly reasonable for a one-person place, is still a significant increase from what I'm paying now.  My disposable income is basically going to be decimated.  This includes my food budget.  I'm going to have to make a major adjustment in my lifestyle...though honestly that isn't necessarily a bad thing.  Just difficult.

The apartment will be available at the beginning of March, which means that I have less than a month to figure everything out and get all packed up and ready to go.  Which leads to to the final and most stressful of all the problems.  Thusfar, all my issues are things that ultimately I can figure out.  It might take some work, but I have the power to manage them.  The last problem is somewhat less under my control, and that is the problem of my current contract.  Just after I put in my application for the apartment I found out that my old roommate Callie was moving back to Provo through August and we both got really excited about her buying my contract.  But as it turns out, it probably will make a lot more sense for her not to buy it.  Which is awesome for her, but rather drops the floor out from under me.  I now have only 24 days to find someone to buy my contract and I am seriously stressed.

Everyone keeps telling me that it won't be a problem.  I'll be able to sell it so so easily.  But the fact is the one time I ever tried to sell a housing contract I ended up paying double rent for three or four months before I managed it.  I was fortunate to be able to manage it then, but there is literally no way I can do that this time.  And I have a lot less cushion before that becomes an issue this time, too.

In addition to all that general stress, I had the particular stress of trying to figure out how, by tomorrow, I was going to pay $360 of rent for my current place plus $450 of deposit for the new one, and I only had $273 in my checking account.  This problem swerved into a detour of hunting desperately for the checks I ordered last year that truly seem to have dissolved into their constituent atoms because I have literally searched every single place they could possibly exist.  Luckily, during my 2nd or 11th hour of searching, Blair informed me that I can go to the bank and pay them $1 per check to print them out for me right there.  I am not exaggerating when I say that this information brought tears to my eyes.  And with it, I am able to MacGyver my way through to Friday when, mercifully, I get paid.  Timing has not worked out for me this week...

And there you have it.  I am sharing my anxiety with others in the hope that doing so will somehow alleviate it.  And, score one for the therapist, I'll admit that on most of the points I do feel marginally better for laying them all out.  Selling my contract remains the aggressive gorrilla in the room, but the rest has diminished to conceivable proportions.

Or perhaps I've simply run out of energy to continue stressing tonight and will begin afresh tomorrow.  Only time will tell...

More gym issues...

I think I just have to accept that, rather than a steady pull that builds like a literal snowball from the really annoying awkward shuffling around just sort of patting a tiny ball in the snow to a giant cartoon pinwheel of snow thundering down the side of a mountain, my efforts at self-improvement will happen in broken fits and starts sort of like a manual car being driven by someone who doesn't know how to drive stick.  Momentum is not something I will ever have on my side.

In the end, I think, the best I can hope for is to cut the time between each new effort down more and more until it might seem, to an outside observer, that they are, in fact, all one consolidated effort.

Tonight was yet another of those renewed efforts.

A month or two ago Kara put me on a two week challenge to eat better and to work out regularly.  The requirements were: breakfast every day, followed by at least one other real meal a reasonable number of hours later, including one serving of fruit and one of vegetables every day; cardio three times a week; and some sort of strength building twice a week.  I think I came up short some cardio both weeks, and the eating fell apart on the weekends, but overall it was a good experience.  Then the two weeks were over and I entered into the two weeks of insanity at work.  My tender little habit seedlings didn't stand a chance and were crushed mercilessly under the boot-heels of 10-12 hour work days.  As is my custom, after the crazy work subsided I made no attempt to reinstate Kara's regimen.  I think since then I've been to the gym 2-3 times.

But what is life but a daily opportunity to improve today what you failed to do yesterday?

So tonight I went to the gym.  I did not want to.  But I went and was blessed in the form of Ever After playing in the cardio cinema.  With credits, I arrived an almost perfect 30 minutes before the end of the movie.  It was like Fate or Jesus metaphorically patting my head and rewarding me with a biscuit.

I ran my customary 15 seconds to crank my heart rate up to near-heart-attack rates as quickly as possible.  The great irony of my life these days is the fact that I actually could theoretically run longer--perhaps 30-45 seconds even.  And the struggle is not, as you might be thinking, the bosom issue.  I have acquired an impressive torture device sports bra that manages to lift and compress my chest into a sort of clavicle-level squshd boob battering ram that minimizes the bouncing from a full on coordinated beating and smothering to simply a muted pounding on my chest.  The side effects of this impressive piece of engineering have been winnowed down to a feeling that my lungs are slightly collapsed and basic arrhythmia as the pounding on my chest confuses my heart as to which rhythm it should actually be following.  Both of which are completely manageable.

No, in the end, it is a different jiggle problem that stops me running.  As it turns out, I am fat.  And my particular fat likes to hang out in two major places: boobs and waist.  The boob situation may be under control, but alas, the waist remains free to jiggle all it wants.  And jiggle it does, to the point that after only a few steps I am in danger of my shorts shimmying right off.  And while it may be dark in the cardio cinema room, I am confident that it is not yet dark enough that no one would notice the shining white legs of the girl whose pants fell off whilst she was running on the treadmill.  Thus, every few steps I have to jump off the belt and hitch my shorts up, then jump back on and run for a few more steps.  Why there are not people working on solving this problem I do not know, because I do know I'm not the only one suffering.  In the end, it is my frustration with this ritual which puts an end to my running, not my lungs, heart, or even legs.  Oh irony, truly thou art a bitch...

Sadly, tonight was not the night I conquered the bros and the machines.

Instead I came home and improvised some very technical body-weight and strength exercises.  One of the bonuses of being fat is that you come with weights built in and ready to go.  If, however, I feel that I need to augment my own natural heft I have managed to find a successful free weight alternative.  Because who wants to buy fancy rubber-gripped weights if you don't have to?  Owning  a 12" cast iron gnome means you don't have to.  Miles actually makes a really good free weight.  And somehow, lifting a gnome is just more fun than lifting a boring dumbell.

And so tonight I began again the endless battle.  Attempting to take control of my life and my body.  Fat jiggles and free weight gnomes and all.  Tomorrow I am hoping to make it to the grocery store after my hair appointment to restock on yogurt so I can make another attempt at being a person who eats breakfast.  Somehow telling the interwebs about the struggle helps, so I shall try to continue to update on my repeated attempts.  Wish me luck!

Prompt 28: My Favorite Movie

nope.

movies I really like

• The Giant Mechanical Man
• Moulin Rouge
• The Fall
• Ever After
• The Dark Knight
• V for Vendetta
• You've Got Mail
• one BILLION others

Prompt 27: A Picture of You Last Year and Now and How You Have Changed Since Then

This picture is of me and Phish on Valentine's Day last year at blues.

That pictures is of me and Brock at graduation.  We managed to run into each other both days!

Obviously, the biggest change is that I am graduated.  I am not as skinny as I was then.  I don't go dancing quite as much.  My hair is longer.  That's about all I've got...

Prompt 26: A Photo of Somewhere I've Been To

THE CLIFFS OF INSANITY!!!!!!!!!

please note the people on the top...to give you an idea of scale

Prompt 25: What's In Your Purse?

Though it is, in fact, a pretty large purse, there is really hardly anything in it.

• wallet
• keys
• tiny mirror
• box of tic tacs
• headphones
• partial roll of tums
• if I'm going anywhere, typically my phone is in it as well
• on Sundays I have my journal
• sometimes I have my iPad with me

I'm not good at being one of those people who is prepared for any and everything with their purse.  For that you want Kara.  

Prompt 24: A Letter to Someone who has Hurt Me Recently

Sorry, this ended up being kind of intense... :-/

Dear friend,

I ran into you the other day.  I hadn't seen you in a couple years, since before you had your baby.  I was excited to meet him and to see you.  I smiled at you and your spouse and crouched down to see your lovely little boy.  I'm so glad I got to meet him in person.

But when I stood back up I noticed that you weren't really smiling.  Not a real smile.  I know because we used to be best friends and I was very good at making you smile.  I tried to start a conversation but you only replied with one-word answers.  Your spouse and I chatted easily, but you stood there in silence.

You're married now, so it makes sense we wouldn't be as close as we used to be.  But I know that we were growing apart long before you ever met your spouse and that a large part of that was my fault and it hurt your feelings.  I'm so sorry about that and I've been trying to make it up to you for years now.  It was something I needed to do and I wish I'd known how to do it more gracefully, or at least how to tell you what I was doing.

But I thought that maybe you had forgiven me for that.  You invited me to your parents' house for your wedding.  You were almost like the old you.  You invited me to dinner with you and your spouse and brother and again, you were friendly and I thought maybe we were, if not the friends we once were (there was a reason that had to end) at least friends who remembered that we used to be inseparable.  Friends who were ok with the fact that we couldn't maintain the relationship we'd had in college, but would always care about each other.

But when I saw you standing there, acting polite of all things, I knew that I was another victim of that selective memory I had witnessed so many times.  The memory that turned exes you had thought about marrying into random people you'd hung out with a couple of times but were never really serious with.  I saw that our relationship had met the same fate.  We weren't dear, close friends...I was just someone who you'd known a few years back.

And that hurt me.  You hurt me.  Your polite fake-smile and your one word sentences.

That's why I left so quickly.  I didn't want to force you to keep being polite, but much more I didn't want to keep listening to you as you told me that you, someone I will always care about so much, no longer cared about me.

sincerely,

me

Prompt 23: A Photo of Something that Means A Lot to Me

I feel a little bit self-conscious about using this.  I feel like I mention my grandma too much, for some reason.  That is her spoon ring, which she wore virtually every single day (I believe she used it to keep her wedding ring, which was just a little bit big, on her finger).

I keep it on that chain (because grandma had unbelievably skinny fingers) and I wear it on days when I miss her.  Which I continue to do with a regularity I never expected.  I wore it today, in fact.  It's comforting to have something of hers that I can keep with me.

And...I think that is enough about that.

Prompt 22: 15 Things About Myself

1. I love twinkle lights.  If I could I would have them everywhere always, especially outside
2. I would rather wash the dishes then put them away
3. I am 27 years old, turning 28 in September.  Somehow I manage to have severe anxiety about running out of time in my life whilst also kind of looking forward to getting old
4. I get what I think are panic attacks, but I'm not actually sure...
5. I did not learn to ride a bike till I was 12 or 13, nor did I get my driver's license till I was 18
6. I actually like a simple McDonald's hamburger now and then (#judgeme)
7. I have a mole right in the middle of my sternum that I share with my mother, my grandmother, and I believe my Aunt Vickie as well...though I think mom got hers removed a few years back.
8. (numbers 9-14 were submitted by Taka and Michelle because that's more interesting than just having me write)Emily has amazing taste in music
9. Emily has the most extensive movie knowledge of anyone ever (this is not true)
10. Emily only washes dishes by hand
11. Emily is very well-read (only sort of true...so many more books for me to read!)
12. Emily can have entire conversations using only movie quotes
13. Emily gives the best commentary during movies (I could find several people to disagree with this statement)
14. Road trips with Emily will inevitably include a Disney sing-a-long (as well as Mika and Queen)
15. Emily cannot handle spicy food (this is 100% true, but on the other hand I can out-sour everyone I've ever met)

Prompt 21: A Photo of Something That Makes Me Happy

Today is a good day to write this post because it was not the happiest day at work I've ever had.  Sometimes Caleb takes on contract assembly work for me (that is, other companies hire us [me] to assemble small numbers of products for them) especially when work for me is thin on the ground as it has been for the last month.  Unfortunately, the latest contract job he got me didn't come together until this week...aka the week when we finally did get actual work of our own to do.  Suffice it to say, this has been a crazy week, made doubly so coming straight on the heels of all my previous down time.  I worked over 40 hours in what was supposed to be a short week.  I detail all of this simply to set the stage for my day today, which was the day I finally started this contract project.  Or rather, tried to start it.

See, the core of my job is PCB assembly.  That means that I build these:

quite literally, actually.  That's one of the sensors we sell, the GP9, which I assembled last year (and, incidentally, it is the picture I took for the website).  I don't know how well you can see, but each of those little parts has a little label next to it, like C1 or U9 or whatever.  Those labels tell me which part goes where by way of what we call a BOM (Bill Of Materials).  I go through the BOM one component at a time to populate a board.

In a perfect world the BOM lists each type of part together--all the capacitors, resistors, ICs, etc together.  It's easy to read, it's clear, and it absolutely does not inspire within me the urge to rip my hair out of my head.  The world was not perfect today as I looked at the BOM for our contract project.

The most ridiculous part of this entire story is the fact that, after spending literally 8 hours going over this BOM, sorting out all the parts, asking poor Caleb all the questions, repeatedly bashing my head into the desk, and otherwise cursing every single person who might have even glanced at this BOM and not fixed the one billion problems I was having...there actually only ended up being 2 real concrete mistakes.  Just a lot of technically benign stupidity.  Which was awesome because it meant that all of the stress I'd passed on to Caleb had really been mostly my own fault.  Bless him, he did such a good job of not slapping my face when we finally settled on the two mistake conclusion.  He's such a good boss...

Briefly, my problems involved incredibly unhelpful product descriptions, missing parts, part descriptions which didn't match part numbers, and part numbers which didn't match actual parts.  The same part was listed multiple times as a new part.  And I refuse to feel guilty about my struggles in the face of the ultimate two mistake total.  I maintain that anyone would have been confused by the mess that was that BOM.

All of this is to say that my day was deeply frustrating.  Frustrations with other people, frustrations with myself, and, of course, dealing with Caleb's frustrations about the whole thing (not least being the fact that I spent an entire day dealing with this madness).

And yet.

In the midst of this I decided I must needs listen to something happy or truly my brain was going to start pinging.

this is where I would put the video of Rory complaining about her brain pinging if I could find it.  But I couldn't...which is incredibly lame and causes me to question the state of the internet

So I decided to listen to a song that I discovered yesterday by creepily stalking my friend Jarom on Spotify.  And by stalking I mean that it showed up on my player that Jarom had listened to this song and for reasons I do not understand, I thought "huh, that looks good...I'll listen to it!"  Understand, the thumbnail they give you of any given album is literally the size the north face of a sugar cube.  And the song was called "Ala Barfi" by Mohit Chauhan.  Which is fine, I'm just saying that, as the title was in a foreign language I had exactly none connection with it.

All that being said, I did listen to it for some reason and discovered perhaps the happiest song I've ever heard.  I proceeded to listen to the entire album (technically, a soundtrack to a movie somewhat unfortunately named "Barfi") as I struggled through the annoyances of the day.  And somehow, magically, it was exactly the right thing.  My mood picked up and I was able to simply find the entire experience amusing rather than hair-rippingly frustrating.

Which is to say, I am not posting a photo of something that makes me happy, but rather posting that song.  If you have the interest I heartily suggest going and listening to the entire album.  But that first song was really the best one.  So, without further ado, here it is

also, for the first time I find that I want to watch a Bollywood movie...like a lot...

Prompt 20: The Meaning Behind Your Blog Title

Ah, now that's not bad, as silly prompts go.  

To be honest, there isn't a whole lot of meaning behind my blog title.  I wanted something that I liked the sound of, something that was broad enough that I could post about whatever I wanted, and basically just something that felt right.  I asked Caleb what he thought and he said that the title did seem adequately broad, so basically that sealed the deal.  

And even though it is really pretty generic, I do quite like my blog title. 

You'd think I'd have more to say on this topic...but you'd be wrong... 

Prompt 19: Another Picture of Myself

Dude, seriously?  You had such a hard time coming up with prompts that you included "a picture of yourself" three times? (it's also the prompt for the last day)  Come up with better prompts.

seems pretty accurate.

What's that?  You want a different one?  Ok...

This is possibly my favorite picture of me ever.  Possibly.




Can you tell I'm blasting through these trying to get caught up?