The cost of convenience

It's a generally accepted fact that when presented with two options, humans will opt for the more convenient one most of the time. Entrepreneurs know this. Marketers exploit it. Teachers and students (not to mention parents and children) battle over it. 

It's why so many things get invented. We humans like the path of least resistance. 

As someone who hates wasting time/effort more than just about anything, I live on the path of least resistance. Anything that saves me a trip up the stairs, eliminates a meeting, combines two grocery store runs into one, or frees up time for leisure has high value in my life.

But I've noticed something the past few years. Our society expects convenience at a level it never has before. When we're constantly hustling from one thing to another, convenience becomes pretty important, but lately it feels like convenience is about more than just, well, convenience. It's about avoidance, too. Why endure a grueling commute to go to work when you can do the same work at home? Why make dinner when you can have someone bring it to your door? Why endure an awkward party or date when you can just message people from the comfort of your own home?

We've gotten used to modern conveniences making our lives easier. That's nothing new. It's what we've sacrificed for it—human connection—that has changed.

When the world started to open back up again after the pandemic, I recognized that I needed to put myself back out there—or else. It wasn't like it was when I was a teenager, when the worst thing that could happen to you was to be a social outcast. The stakes were much higher this time; it wasn't just my reputation that was on the line. After spending over a year at home alone, I was fighting for a smidgeon of a chance to live again, and that meant being out among the people.

It took some time. A lot of efforts went nowhere. There were—and still are—a lot of failures. But then, one day, I realized that I had more of a social life than I'd had since college. Even though having coworker friends was kind of off the table since I mostly worked remote, I had regular people in my life again outside family. I even valued random interactions with strangers more.

As much as I hate to give covid credit for anything good, my life is better today because of what I learned while spending a year at home. It forced me to prioritize relationships—of any kind—above comfort and convenience.

That being said, I still spend a good amount of time alone and I still opt for the convenient, less fulfilling option more times than I should. I'm also paying attention to what society as a whole is doing, and my observations have led me to believe that even though people have resumed normal life, most people spend less time socializing now than they did pre-covid. And it's not just because we're all busy working and raising families and catching up on all the TV shows. We've simply gotten used to our more efficient routines. Making plans and then following through with them feels like it requires more effort than it used to. 

Our American independence is partly to blame, too. A lot of us got used to relying on ourselves when we were cut off from the world during covid, and that, my virtual friends, is a very hard habit to break. After all, why do something with people when you can just do it yourself (and probably more efficiently, too)?

These shifts in how we've spent our time the last few years, and who we spent it with, weren't always super noticeable. That is, until you saw the uptick in headlines about the rise of anxiety, depression, and loneliness. Until you started seeing it in yourself and seemingly everyone around you.

There's always been plenty to be depressed and anxious about. This isn't a new reality for 2024. Strong relationships have always made these things easier—but prioritizing them is harder than it's ever been. 

But prioritize them we must. The comforts of convenience can only get you so far.

A silent summer

 Hello darkness, my old friend.

That's how I greeted most mornings during the Covid summer of 2020. It's the opening line of a song everybody but me knew, "The Sound of Silence," until a TV show educated me. It's been reverberating in my brain ever since I heard it on Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist in April. It haunts the silence of my quarantined life.

Working from home full time while living alone was never a lifestyle I wanted. It's the main reason I never seriously pursued a full-time freelance career because that much aloneness, even for someone who is 92% introverted, is not a healthy way to live. But as a society we've decided that the only definition of health that matters right now is being virus free. 

So my life entered a silence I've never experienced before. The pandemic took away most of my reasons to leave the house and all the variety that comes with each excursion. Live TV entertainment went away for a while, unless you were desperate enough to watch corn hole or golf. (I was not.)

Something had to fill that void, and the void was too big for me to fill with hobbies, exercise, and family visits. 

"Fools," said I, "You do now know
Silence, like a cancer grows"

I had a job, my health, my family, and my faith. A solid foundation for a good, happy life. But the quarantine lifestyle hampered my ability to focus, to be content, to find any silver lining. I wanted to create and learn during my quasi house arrest, but that meant facing the nihilistic boredom first. Something I did not have the energy for.

People writing songs that voices never share

Life was about surviving now, not living. 

But my words like silent raindrops fell
And echoed in the wells of silence

These are not silent times we live in; we've been shouting at each other for months about masks and Black Lives Matter and the 2020 election. 

People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening

The silence I'm talking about isn't a simple lack of noise. It's merely the result of exchanging a complete life for a lonely, unfulfilling one. Our weapon against COVID-19 demands that we do something humanity is not evolved to do: stay away from each other. For months. And months and months. 

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone

This kind of silence consumes you, defines your very existence. 

Until one day you start to believe what you've been telling yourself all along: this, too, will end. Nothing on this earth lasts forever. Not happiness, not suffering.

The song that narrated your life will become a memento of your past. Your favorite season will begin and you'll start talking about the hard times in the past tense. You'll finish the blog post you've been writing for weeks.

You'll find that you can, in fact, manage the silence, even if your situation is unchangeable. And, like this flower in my home-office window, reach through the shadows for the life-giving light.

The great creativity drain of 2020

Document what you're going through, they say. Future generations will want eye-witness accounts of these—here comes the overused phrase we all hate now—unprecedented times.

As someone who writes as a way to navigate through life, I want to regale you with worthwhile reading about challenges we're facing in 2020. But my creative ability has been yet another casualty in a year that has been defined by loss.

But wait! they say. Now you have the time to do all the things you always said you'd do! Power through and make the most of it while you still can!

Instead of jumping aboard the productive optimism train, I fill my free time indulging in comforting activities. Watching TV shows like Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist and Schitt's Creek. Baking bread. Gardening. Walking. Reading the books. Sleeping, even.

That's my contribution for prosperity: I got through a pandemic by making the most of the solitary, no-thinking-required activities available to me. Without feeling guilty about it. Because #Selfcare.

Let someone else write the next great American novel. I'll be outside pulling weeds.

Why the shallow things matter

"It's just a game."

"I'm not saving lives, just serving coffee."

"Why don't you get a real job?"

It's hard to argue against logic. A person's life is more important than a basketball game. Doctors do save more lives than servers do. There will always be an easier path to making a living than the starving artist route.

It's true that we don't need sports, dine-in restaurants, conferences, entertainment events, and social gatherings to survive. Technically we only need food, water, and shelter, and the money to pay for these things. A network of loved ones helps, too.

But when life becomes about just the essentials, like it has with the spread of the coronavirus, logic doesn't have as much of a leg to stand on.

I was gutted when the NCAA basketball tournament was canceled. My evenings feel empty without Jazz games.

And while the countrywide quarantine is basically an introvert's dream come true—stay home? I was born for this!—I miss having the camaraderie of coworkers. I was already between jobs/working from home for five or six weeks before everything was canceled and was very much looking forward to face-to-face workplace interaction again. Got two days of it, and then was banished back home indefinitely. Since I live alone, I likely won't talk to a human being in real life until Sunday when I go to my parents' house for home-based church.

All of these non-essential things are feeling pretty important right now. When the world is chaos and nothing feels normal, you need an escape from reality more than ever. But the escapes many of us have relied on to complement our normal lives are no longer available to us.

Only time will tell if we overreacted to the coronavirus or we averted a deadly crisis. But right now, the prevention feels like it's hurting more people than it's protecting. I understand the importance of protecting our vulnerable populations and know we should continue to do so, but we're all missing something right now—because of a virus. My heart goes out to those who aren't getting the income they need right now. To those whose dreams have been shattered because of a pandemic no one understands. To those who are extra stressed because there are fewer things to turn to to help manage that stress.

The shallow things matter. They help transform us from living husks to human beings. They bring us together, give us something to share.

So check up on your neighbors with one of the many virtual tools we're blessed with. Stop hoarding toilet paper. Read a Harry Potter book. Stream a forgotten classic on Disney+. Buy a gift card from a local business. And when there are no more restrictions on public gatherings, show some appreciation for those who live off-the-beaten-path lives so we can be entertained. Enjoy the freedom of being able to hang out with people, even if you hate crowds.

Things suck right now. But life will be extra sweet when we get the missing pieces of our lives back.

Score one for the thirties

Today was a Friday like any other. I felt like I was on day 8 of the workweek instead of day 5, and my mental reserves were unjustly low. I only wanted to get through the day so I could go home, slip into my pajamas, and watch TV for four hours before going to bed early.

I envisioned these happy thoughts as the typical "what are your weekend plans?" chit-chat was going on around me. There was talk of get-togethers with friends, date nights with significant others, drowning of sorrows in ice cream because of a lack of significant other, and typical parent duties. I didn't join in because I didn't want to make anyone feel bad for having less awesome plans than I did.

I've listened in on these types of conversations since I was a teenager. My typical weekend plans haven't changed much—aside from no longer needing to work dinner rushes at Domino's—and neither has the general expectation that one must have weekend plans. But my reaction to this brand of small talk has changed.

As a teenager, I felt like a loser for rarely going to parties and football games and dances. My goal in life was to get a life, which was a difficult feat considering how few friends I had and how shy I was. Secretly I was relieved I had to work most Friday nights so I wouldn't have to admit to anyone I simply didn't have anywhere to go, or, even worse, that I would much rather stay home with my family than endure a "fun" outing, which were typically spent dodging whatever weird guy I didn't want to have a crush on me at the time.

I figured I would rectify all this when I was in my twenties. And to an extent I did—that was my most social decade—but the feelings of inadequacy were replaced with thoughts like "I worked my whole life so I could have a boring, unglamorous adulthood?" Eventually I stopped lying to myself and accepted that having an interesting life was just not fun—or healthy—for me, but I felt guilty for filling so much free time with books and hobbies and TV shows and alone time. Wasn't this the time I was supposed to be out trying new things, dating lots of people, seeing the world? Constantly? Without pausing for breath?

And then I entered my thirties. Still encountering the same questions about my weekend plans. But no longer bothered by the unremarkable life I was living. Without the constant identity and existential crises young people face and the uncaring attitude I had developed about others' expectations, I was free to unashamedly enjoy the lifestyle that made me happy. One that involved comfy clothes, hours of me time, entire days, even, where I could do nothing but read if I wanted to. With the occasional adventure thrown in to add some variety.

That's the great thing I'm discovering about my thirties. I've figured out who I am, done most of the grunt work required to set me on a good path, and worked through a lot of the emotional trauma of realizing that life doesn't care about the plan you've outlined. All so I can live my version of a balanced, happy life, while cheering on others doing the same.

What are my weekend plans? Honestly, I'm too tired to answer with anything other than "sleep." And oh, how I'm looking forward to that sleep.

Temporary pleasures

My work commute recently got a lot longer, so I used the extra time spent trapped in a car as an excuse to refresh my podcasts. I got rid of a few and added, erm, more than a few.

So far, having a long commute hasn't bothered me at all. More time for podcasts and music is a win as far as I'm concerned.

But if you were to ask me to give you a recap on my podcast consumption every day, I would fail that test more often than not. I wish I could go around impressing people with random trivia and interesting tidbits about every subject under the sun, but my brain insists on letting a lot of that information disappear after a few hours, like it's a dream that quickly fades from memory.

To some extent, it's the same way with books. Books stay with me longer, but it disturbs me how soon I forget even basic plot points. My book nerd ego is wounded every time I can't discuss a book at length, or at least enough to fill the silence of an elevator ride. (Which is why I take the stairs. Anything to avoid elevator small talk.)

I've always prided myself on having a good memory, so the fact that I can't hold on to everything I take in really bothers me. And what does it say about me that I spend so much of my free time on things I'll likely forget? That I love spending my time and mental energy on things that'll disappear? What about all the other non-life-changing experiences I've had that are lost for good? Am I less of the person I should be because I can't rely on my memory baggage to follow me wherever I go, informing every decision?

That last question was the start of bucking me off of my philosophical high horse, although a part of me wants to get back on. I don't like failure. Even if the "failure" is a faulty but human memory.

Because humans aren't designed to remember everything; in fact, it's a mercy that we don't remember every mundane detail of our lives. (Can you imagine how exhausting that would be?) Living in the moment often means engaging in temporary pleasures—basking in something while it's happening, then letting it go when you move on to the next distraction.

And if I'm lucky, the temporary pleasure could become a lasting memory of generalities, if not specifics. For example, I've been in a great period of life where I have the time to indulge in books and podcasts at a rate others would scoff at. The experts would probably tell me I'm ruining my mental health by filling so many silences with media when I should be meditating, but when I think of books and podcasts I think of sunset walks, rejuvenating lunch breaks, relaxing me time, and stimulating drives. These temporary things have become a fixture in my life that I'll surely miss if/when I'm forced to take a step back from it all in order to make room for more "permanent" and life-altering experiences.

If nothing else, I can console myself with the knowledge that what could have been a boring and frustrating morning on Utah roads was a calm and entertaining start to my day. Who knows, maybe my lack of road rage made someone else's day a little better, too.

Some podcast recommendations
I always appreciate it when people I know recommend podcasts to feed my addiction, so here are a few I've been enjoying lately (hopefully ones I haven't already mentioned in previous posts):

• Harry Potter and the Sacred Text—a reread of the Harry Potter series, with each chapter analyzed through a different theme and then analyzed using a sacred practice. It's my favorite HP podcast right now, which is saying a lot.
• LeVar Burton Reads—Spend 40 minutes or so listening to LeVar Burton read a short story to you. What's not to like?
• Nocturne—Stories of the night. Great for nights when I'm restless.
• Tell Me Something I Don't Know—A game show where the contestants try to stump a panel of smart people with obscure but interesting facts.
• The Allustionist—word/language history. Perfect for word nerds.
• fiction/non/fiction—current events paired with a piece of literature that mirrors it. 

On not being busy

There are few times in my life when I've been able to truly enjoy not being busy. I thrive when I'm challenged; I get bored when I'm not. Time off is always fantastic for about a week, but then the restlessness settles in. And if the restlessness lasts too long, it turns into moodiness and depression.

I think in a way I've used busyness to validate my existence. When I'm not rushing to accomplish 12,000 things a day, I feel like I'm not doing enough. My hermit nights on the couch with my cross-stitch and chocolate aren't as satisfying unless I've paid my dues three times over first. It's one of those uniquely modern phenomenas that definitely applies to me. I don't have time for silly things like meditating or smelling the roses or simply existing; I have to justify why I'm here first.

So my first order of business after finishing my master's is simple: to enjoy not being busy. That means not scheduling every minute of my life. Watching a movie in the middle of the week if I want. Reading during some time other than my sacred bedtime reading hour. Leaving my desk during lunch. Going to ward activities because I have nothing else to do, not because I need to interact with something other than my books and computer.

Those other goals—cooking, practicing my piano, finishing my InDesign projects and starting new ones, writing, learning completely new skills—those can wait. Right now my priority is to slow down, not fill my extra 20 hours a week with new types of busyness.

It was hard at first. I felt a little lost for a few days.

But, while I have a constant need to be entertained/challenged, I also have a lazy side. It's been helping me out. When I feel like I should start setting some piano goals, it tells me to watch another episode of Gilmore Girls instead. When I don't want to make a lunch in the morning, it tells me to skip that step and just go out for lunch, because you're trying to take real lunch breaks now anyway. (However, my lazy side also reminds me that if I don't make myself a lunch, then I'll have to decide where to eat and then walk down four flights of stairs (that or wait for the elevator, which takes like 37 seconds) and out to my car and then repeat all those steps in reverse just to feed myself. There's no winning in this situation, unless someone brings me lunch.)

Normally, I wouldn't indulge my lazy side in such travesties. But for now, I think it's what I need to do to recharge after that crazy year I just had. This recharge period will likely only last for a few more weeks at the most, but I'm learning that sometimes it's okay to just sit back and let life happen.

A series of not-so-interesting adventures

June is a third of the way over, and there are no posts under June 2013 in my blog archive.

This makes me sad.

But there's nothing interesting to report, no thoughts that must be examined, no new startling insights on life.

This also makes me sad.

All I've got is a series of not-so-interesting adventures:

• One summer evening long, long ago, I opened my bedroom window, removed the screen, and climbed outside. With my arms raised in the air, I yelled, "I AM INVINCIBLE!" This is the feeling I get every time summer begins. During those first long, warm days, I am free from doubt, insecurity, responsibility--nothing can stand in the way of my power.
• Except, of course, adulthood. Adults can't rule summer the way kids can.
• Last week my good flip flops broke. I have blisters from trying to break in my new ones.
• This weekend my apartment finally unthawed from winter, which is why I only just now discovered that my AC blows unwanted and extremely unhelpful warm air.
• Too hot to sleep.
• Too tired to be nice to people.
• As of the end of this week, I will officially be halfway done with grad school.
• Usually I enjoy looking over syllabuses for the first time because I'm a nerd, but today I got no pleasure out of discovering the many things that will keep me inside this summer.
• It worries me that it's already 96 degrees outside and my apartment managers still haven't gotten back to me about my AC problem.
• My initials are AC.

Mad Friday, defined

Mad Friday, noun. An condition that occurs when a person (usually an adult) wakes up extra groggy on Friday morning and goes throughout the day in a spectacularly bad mood and a non-caring attitude about all responsibilities. Mad Fridays are usually caused by an inordinately long week, prolonged bitterness after a long weekend or vacation ends, or intense boredom. Mad Fridays can be dangerous, as they often cause the victim to be uncharacteristically violent or mean. The only known cure to a Mad Friday is a nap.

Examples of Mad Friday

• She suffers from Mad Fridays almost weekly.
• Many poor, unsuspecting individuals have been blasted by her lethal glare that only appears on Mad Fridays.
• Her mom always said, "If you let Mad Friday get to you, eventually your face will freeze like that."

Origin of Mad Friday

The origin of Mad Friday is unclear, but it is generally agreed upon that the term arose in the early 21st century after an American millennial (name unknown) was rudely awakened by an obnoxious beeping noise.

Related to Mad Friday

Synonyms: talk to the hand, cantankerous, uber ornery

Antonyms: Happy Friday, optimistic, awake

When you lack the energy to dance through life

Some days, it's more tolerable to sit and stare than it is to drudge up the energy to smile as you cross off item after item on your to-do list. Working through burnout has got to be one of the least productive and satisfying activities ever devised.

There's always the hope of a weekend, another non-deceiving sunshiney day, emergency stashes of chocolate, and/or a new book to help combat the stupor of de-motivation, but sometimes a hope isn't enough to help you do what you need to do in the moment. Sometimes there are just one too many days in the week, too many responsibilities clamoring for your attention.

However, I've learned to accept that I can't be awesome 100% of the time. Even being awesome 50% of the time is a high order. This philosophy helps me get back on the track of awesomeness more quickly for one simple reason: it prevents me from taking a hit to my self-esteem. Losing motivation is frustrating enough, but berating yourself for losing your motivation escalates the problem exponentially.

I'm not necessarily giving up on this week, but I am letting it go. Ceasing to try so hard to care is often what allows the caring to come back naturally, which, in my experience, is what brings the awesome back.

Passion: The destroyer of meaninglessness

I just finished reading a book about a guy who goes through life thinking that nothing matters. He doesn't care about anything because he figures we're all gonna die anyway, so what's the point?

I really hate this view on life. I feel deep pity for anyone who truly believes that there is nothing in life worth living for.

However. . . .

There are times when I get caught up in the daily slog of things and I forget that each day is a new, irretrievable treasure. Especially in January/February when life is more sloggish than usual. It's hard to be excited about life when the sun is in partial-hibernation mode and it's so cold outside it hurts; but it's easy to retreat into uncaring mode, even if you're a pretty content and optimistic human being like me.

Eventually, though, I always remember that I have so many things that matter, things that matter so much that they overshadow any moods I get myself into. Sometimes I even realize this before March releases me from the dark prison of winter.

This year, the trigger for me was the release of a book I've been waiting to read for 10 years. The anticipation for the book and the delight I experienced reading it was enough to yank me out of my uncaring mode and back into a fast-paced life of delight. Work was satisfying again. School was fun again. Snow was magical again. It was like (to use a Wheel of Time analogy) I had embraced saidar again after not touching the Source for a few weeks.

Of course, there is a downside to living a life of passions. Such as one restless night because you finish the book you've been preparing to read for 10 years and then you are morally obligated to lie in bed for hours afterward thinking about it, and another restless night the next day because you keep replaying the last five seconds of the BYU-St. Mary's game in your head.

But, if I have to sacrifice a little sleep to live a life of passions, I'll take it. That is, as long as I don't miss out on too much sleep, because it just so happens that I'm passionate about sleep too.

Dear blog: I still like you

I feel like I've been neglecting my blog lately. It reminds me of those times back in middle school when I was racked with guilt whenever I went more than a week without writing in my journal. I'm not sure if it's the writer in me or my marginally obsessive compulsion to document everything that causes this guilt.

Several times, I have come up with a promising title for a blog post, only to abandon it due to lack of thoughts to embellish upon or time to jot those thoughts down while they're still fresh. Even with my determination to get a blog post out today, I feel the slugishness slowly spreading across my mind, empowered by thoughts like "Why did you want to talk about this again?" and "This idea is sounding dumberer by the minute."

It used to be so easy for me to talk about nothing, but lately I've been too busy and then too tired to take the time necessary to ponder and write. But I've noticed that when I don't take time to ponder, life starts to lose some of its flavor. The leaves aren't as colorful. People aren't as amusing. My thoughts aren't worth preserving. Without all these venues for extra flavor, I've really got nothing to write about to satisfy the creative side of my brain. It's a rather disheartening process, I tell you.

So that's why I'm issuing this little reminder to a thing that doesn't have feelings or think for itself: blog, I still like you.

Bright spots on a deplorable Tuesday

I've never liked Tuesdays. Most people give Mondays the gold medal of hatred, but I have always reserved that honor for Tuesday--the day toward the beginning of the week in which you don't have the cushioning weekend effect to give you the boost needed to endure four more eternally long days.

But, as always, there are bright spots, even if I can't see the light at the end of the tunnel on this deplorable Tuesday. Such as:

• My work day just went past the halfway-done mark.
• It's Harry Potter's 32nd birthday! Only five more years until Harry sends Albus Severus off to Hogwarts in real time. Er, don't think about that too hard because it might give you a headache.
• I just got my book list for my first semester of grad school. SQUEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!

The Friday curse strikes again

I've been sitting here for 25 minutes, alternating between staring at the wall and glaring at the clock. I started my day feeling like I could do anything because I wouldn't have to repeat the work-day process tomorrow. But then 2:00 hit, and the motivation and stamina that has helped me to endure 20+ hours of writing a user guide in addition to my normal duties took my brain and flew out the window into the cloudy world outside.

At least part of me is free, I guess.

The rest of me, though--the part of me that is getting more irritated by the minute--is left to debate whether it would be a better use of my time to call it quits and get a head start on my much needed R&R, or to stick it out and get a head start on next week's heavy workload that's squeezed into four days instead of five.

The first option is looking a lot better right now, especially since I no longer possess a brain. The only problem is that my guilt sensor hasn't turned off yet, so here I am, still sitting here.

It's at times like these that I wish I had a job that didn't require writing skills, or any skills I acquired in school. I've used the term "brain-tired" so many times the past month that it's become a permanent part of my vernacular. Using creative and analytical thinking skills can be just as exhausting as standing up or lifting heavy bundles for eight hours straight.

Time for a vacation, yes? I think so.

Rays of sunlight in January

It doesn't matter how prepared I am to return to normal life post-Christmas/New Years--the transition always leaves me feeling a bit whiplashed.

Nonetheless, life has returned to normal; I get to sleep in my own bed, shower in my own bathroom, and I managed to hold true to my new years resolutions for a solid two weeks before I started faltering in some areas.

Now that the excitement is over and I've been able to establish a nice routine again, though, the yuckiness of January/February has sunk in. There's no knowing when winter will end (if you can call this weather we've been having "winter"), my next vacation day isn't until Memorial Day, and, really, there's nothing to look forward to in January. Except for spring, which is still months away.

Rather then dwell on those facts, however, I've decided it would be a much better use of my time to focus on the rays of sunlight shining on my life instead of the doom and gloom. The good things in life tend to outshine the bad, even if there is more bad than good.

• The church is true!
• On Saturday, an unusually warm January afternoon allowed me to literally bask in the warmth of the sun from the calm and quiet of my parents' front porch. The sky was a cheery blue and the sun wasn't dimmed by smog. It made for a very pleasant half hour. And later that night, I actually got to see the stars. Have I mentioned that cities suck?
• Conversely, I got to drive in the snow during my morning commute yesterday (and, yes, I was happy about it). The snow is gone already and now it's just freezing cold, but it was exciting to see the snow actually stick to the ground for half a day.
• The blender I got for Christmas is awesome and I am experimenting with fruit smoothie combinations for breakfast. Yay for finding yummy and healthy meals!
• I'm actually okay with the fact that I still have 1:00 church. I can take my time in the morning, go to church by the time I'm really bored, and then go home and soak up some more relaxation before diving back into Monday.
• The Jazz aren't as embarrassingly bad as they were in December, and the BYU basketball team is legit. Still have to break into the roommate's zombie mode if I want to watch a game Tues-Thurs, but at least I get the TV the rest of the week.
• I made it past the excruciatingly boring part of Wheel of Time--I'm 200ish pages into book 11 and I've read about more than just clothes and facial expressions!
• After having two pretty busy weeks, this week is looking like it'll be pretty chill at work.
• God is my best friend.
• I think I may like whole-wheat bread more than white bread now. Never thought that would happen.
• I walked to a store from my place of residence for the first time in my life a few weekends ago. I ended up buying more than just the skein of yarn I had planned on, and carrying home my bulky purchases was a bit of an adventure.
• The reception I went to on Friday the 13th had a hot chocolate and cookie bar. I liked it.

Yep, this was definitely a good use of my time. I'm feeling a little better about life now.

2012, you are most welcome

I wonder if anyone ever feels sadness at the end of a year. Sadness that the year is over, I mean. As far as I can tell, people are generally ready for a new year because they either (a) had a very bad year, or (b) are looking forward to the next one.

For me, 2011 was full of intense highs, intense lows, and everything in between. It was a bit of a refiner's fire year for me, and I certainly came out a much stronger person than I was going in. However, let's not have another one exactly like it, okay?

My brain has been drained of its intellectual juices, my pajamas all need to be washed, and I have overindulged myself with relaxation the past week; I'm ready to start doing my hair and wearing makeup again, using my brain, and chucking out the sweets and pulling out the running shoes. And those new years resolutions? Yeah, I'm excited for those, too.

So, welcome, 2012! Thanks for giving us another chance at a fresh start.

The way my brain works on Fridays

It is extremely difficult for me to be productive on Friday afternoons. Today, I blocked out my entire afternoon to write the copy for one little project, but I am not much further along now than I was two hours ago. I simply cannot focus on the task at hand, no matter how hard I try. I often find myself staring off into space, with no idea how long I've been sitting there or how I managed to lose my train of thought again. I swear there's a little demon that lives inside my brain just so it can flip the off switch on Fridays (and sometimes Tuesdays).

Allow me to illustrate.

Task at hand: Write 40 words on eEligibility.

Thought process: Even sissies can write 40 words. Except, I don't actually know what eEligibility is. I should probably Google it. Oh look, I left my Facebook tab open--I wonder if anything exciting is going on. My desk is really dusty. I should probably clean it. Or maybe the maintenance guys do that. With all the construction going on around here though, keeping stuff clean at this point isn't really that important. Oh wait, I'm supposed to be learning about eEligibility. I should probably just ask Eric, but then I would have to go find him. I wonder if it will snow at the football game tomorrow. I should check and see what time it's at. And while I'm there I'll check out the basketball schedule. eEligibility is important for some reason. . . . *Stares at wall for an uncharted amount of time and then suddenly jerks back into reality* I was totally making progress a while ago--how come I stopped working? eEligibility . . . intense staring match with wall . . . maybe I should write 40 words about something else, like, the claims center! I know what that is! Holy cow, it's 3:30 already and I haven't done anything! Claims center. I will think about nothing but the claims center. Pause . . . pause . . . pause . . . my ChartLogic pen is stupid. Maybe I should flip it around and do that cool wobbly thing. I think I left my pencil on my TV. I need to buy a DVD cleaner--how do those work, anyway?--so I can watch movies not on my laptop, but I have to wait till tomorrow because I'm going to the Vocal Point concert tonight, but I can't think about that too much because then I'll get all mad again that Vocal Point was voted off the Sing-Off and now I have no legitimate excuse to skip FHE. *Writes two words* Man, I need a break. I haven't made a trip to the drinking fountain for awhile. I'll go get a drink and then come back and get some real work done. What am I supposed to be working on, again?

You see, my intentions are always good. It's the results that leave much to be desired.

Another Friday afternoon, another blog post

Does anyone else have the I-can't-work-on-Fridays disorder? I'm pretty sure it's untreatable, because most of us who have this disorder don't want to be cured.

Instead, we throw around footballs, practice putting, or, in my case, talk to self via keyboard and computer screen.

So, be forewarned: the following paragraphs probably won't follow a logical flow, which means that it will probably only make sense to Kimberly. Er, maybe.

I have found a new pet peeve; it's been growing steadily over the years, but became official today I decided. It has to do with fry sauce. I'm not a fan of fry sauce. I'm probably the only Utah native who doesn't like fry sauce. So it really annoys me when I buy a hamburger and some french fries in a drive-through and have to ask for katsup specifically. As far as I'm concerned, katsup is still the staple condiment for french fries, but it seems that everywhere I go, fry sauce is a given and katsup is stored in the back just in case some weirdo asks for it. (Am I even spelling katsup right? I've seen it spelled c-a-t-s-u-p before, but I don't like that spelling because it makes me think of cat soup.) To make matters worse, fry sauce is always put into convenient little cups, but katsup always comes in the stupid little packages that hold about a teaspoon of katsup and that are really hard to open/apply to your french fries while driving.

I sometimes wish I had gone to beauty school, just so I could figure out the mystery that is my hair. I've always been a bit obsessed with my hair, so I've put a lot of time and investment into managing it. Since I was about 12, it's been a constant battle to control the frizz, static, uneven waviness, and oilyness. And yes, it is possible to have staticky and oily hair at the same time. I feel like the past few years I've finally found a manageable balance: between washing it every day, an ion blow dryer, an expensive flat iron, expensive shampoo/conditioner, and leave-in conditioner I spray on after every shower, I've finally been able to win the hair battle fairly consistently. So it irritates me that, whenever I get my hair trimmed/cut, the first words out of the stylist's mouth are, "Your hair is so dry! What are you doing to it?" Grrrrrr. If anyone has any ideas on how to manage oily/dry hair, I would love to hear about it.

The best thing about building up my movie collection is that most of the movies I want for myself have been out for years and years, which means I can casually browse the cheap movies whenever I go grocery shopping and take home a priceless gem once every few weeks. This month I've picked up Little Women and Anastasia so far. Anastasia is my favorite movie at the moment. My obsession with this movie is similar to that I had with Tangled. I think it has something to do with the rogue male heroes; there is just something about those good "bad" guys that makes me a little weak in the head, so to speak. In the words of Anne spelt with an e, "I wouldn't marry a wicked man, but I think I'd like it if he could be wicked, but wouldn't." Plus, the part where Dimitri runs into the wall makes me laugh. Every. Freakin'. Time. Even when I'm ornery. Even when I try so hard to hold my snicker in that it makes the resulting explosion all the more painful.

Yesterday I realized that three of my oldest and most faithful friends are getting married. First, there's Kimberly; then there's my closest cousin Jessica; and my childhood friend/roommate Danielle (who is actually still in the annoying "unofficially engaged" mode). I didn't have many friends growing up, but these three always stuck to me through the years, even though I haven't tried to make those friendships last outside of high school when I didn't need them so much any more (except Kin of course, because she's, like, my sister, and a little hard to ignore most of the time . . . ). I feel a little better about my friendship abilities when someone I haven't talked to for years calls me specifically to share good news with me personally, or who always plan me into important parts of their lives even if we haven't spoken in months.

Most of you know the aversion I have to shoes and the habit I have of wearing flip flops until the first snow storm of the season. Wearing real shoes with socks in the middle of summer heat is one of my personal brands of torture, and I've only ever managed it when I was explicitly told not to wear open-toed shoes on pain of expulsion. When I was forced to don the cursed footwear I would usually go barefoot until the last possible moment, a.k.a. the moment I stepped out of my car. Well, I finally got the dreaded email from the CEO: flip flops are never okay to wear at work, even on casual Fridays. Shorts, yes, flip flops, no. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What do professionals have against flip flops, huh? What did they do to deserve the reputation they have for not being "professional"? What I don't get is that heels are perfectly acceptable because they look hot, even though they are death traps. But I guess image is more important than safety in the workforce. I wonder how long it will take for people to forget that flip flops are banned? Until then I'll have to find another borderline flip-flop option. Maybe I'll do something else to annoy everyone, like wear a BYU shirt every day. No one tells my I can't wear flip flops without suffering the consequences.

So, do you understand now why I can't focus? I just have too many awesome things running through my mind.

Slackers, spontaneity, and responsibility

I had one of those "I wish I were still in school" moments this morning. I have had surprisingly few of those moments since I graduated, and the "moment" I had this morning had nothing to do with sitting in a classroom and enjoying an intense literary discussion.

No, the thing I missed most about school this morning was the freedom I had to skip class whenever I chose. Possibly because we have a three-day weekend coming up, every day this week has felt like at least two, and I'm not sure what is keeping me going. Maybe the Snickers bar I just consumed. Back when I was in school, I would have solved this dilemma by eliminating the problem--taking a day off from school for no reason other than that was what I felt like doing at the moment.

Granted, I do have a more flexible job than most career goers out there, but it's not that flexible. Skipping an entire day's work, even if it's for no legitimate reason, takes a lot more planning, which tends to ruin the spontaneity of being a slacker.

That's one of the bummers of entering adulthood, I've found. Despite all the wonderful freedoms and opportunities offered to you, you are more restricted by the responsibilities that come with those new benefits.

However, I think Fridays will allow us some leniency. Seeing as it's 1:00 and eerily empty and quiet around here (and I have a feeling a lot of people will not be returning from their lunch breaks), I think I'll have many opportunities to sink back into my slacker mode every now and then.

When all else fails, give up and try again next week

Ever had one of those weeks when you just can't seem to concentrate, be an approachable human being, or even come close to attaining those great goals you have for yourself? This was definitely one of those weeks for me. For some reason, I just could not be productive this week at work, and for someone who likes to stay busy, non-productiveness is pretty miserable. And that didn't have a very positive effect on my mood or social behavior.

So I have decided to just give up. I know a lost cause when I see one. My weekend is starting right now. I'll try again next week.

Instead, I am going to forget about the realities of life until 6:30 Monday morning and "simply remember my favorite things, and then I won't feel so bad."

Musicals that always pop into your head at the most convenient of times.

Melted chocolate chips.

Gilmore Girls

Sisters.

The way the world smells after a rain storm.

The Carter Family Quote Board.

Going to bed on a Friday night completely exhausted and knowing that you can sleep as long as you want.

The time Jacob Bahr sat on a chair in AP Music and broke it in half.

All the awkward silences that follow Tyrel's interjections.

The time Kimberly was narrating Lost, which was playing in slow motion.

Memories.

Steak, cheese, and 2% milk.

Blogging.

Finishing something you started.

Starting something new.

Decorating my first non-college apartment.

The 20+ playlists on my iPod that correspond with my many moods and preferences.

Old pictures.

My awesome family.

Emails from real people.

Tangled.

The word "snarky."

The liberating feeling of a new haircut.

Starting a new book.

Putting my heart and soul into a Jon Schmidt piece.

Long drives.

The opening chord of "Everything I Do, I Do It For You."

Homegrown tomatoes.

Walking around with no shoes on.

Small-world occurrences.

Harry Potter! I can't believe it took me so long to think of this one.

My bed.

The moment when the light pops on in your head.

The colors of fall.

Chick flicks.

Long, hot showers.

Funny dreams.

Moments that catch you by surprise.

Machine-gun laughter.

RMs.

John Stockton and Jimmer Fredette.

Good ranch.