Complete Mental Breakdown

I have decided, I want to have a complete mental breakdown.
The movies make it seem so good.
These people get a lot of flowers, stuffed animals, and warm words. Now they are in nice jackets and everything but that limits wardrobe choices. Anything to make life easier for the mentally unstable.
Another perk to having a mental breakdown. The new life choices that result are always ideal movie material. I could hop on the reality tv craze and make millions.
Then, when I have gotten things back together, the fame and money will go to my head and I'll shave my head. Or do Britney one better and do something even crazier.
That would be the life. . . ish.

Catch and Go

Last year I read a book called "Outliers" by Malcom Gladwell. This book talked not about the talent of those who have made it big in one way or another, but the lucky breaks they got.
I have never really been a believer of luck. I have always thought that if you work hard, you will be rewarded. I am scared to say that I think I might have an error in my belief system.
I mean, how do you get from point A to point C? You start at point A and can work to point be, but sometimes that point C does not mean working hard. It is being in the right place at the right time, networking, or just getting noticed by someone who wasn't looking for you but decided to make the initiative.
Not that I am rushing out to buy those lucky rabbits feet or search in fields for four-leaf clovers, I would just like a smile from Lady Luck. Even if I just get a good story out of it, that would be worth it. I would catch that smile and run with it, just give me a chance.

What I Got

All my life I have heard countless things, over and over again, compliments or more so comments from others about me.

I remember the first time someone said I was mature for my age. I asked everyone in authority in my life at the time what "mature" meant. (The mother, the father, the primary teacher) No one could give me a definition that I could understand.
So I took being mature for my age as a bad thing.

****************************************************************************************

I've got presence. I've heard that before, performance after performance as I have done many performances in my life. I've got presence.
It went like this, "You have a presence that, it, you, that, well. . . . "
Apparently, "a presence" isn't definable.
Unlike mature, I am not going to be offended, but like mature, I am going to be curious.
What does presence mean?
I don't want the Webster says on page gazillion and two definition but I want the context it is used in.

And, if I have a presence, where is my future?

Just a Man about a Fish

I have an amazing opportunity this semester to interview people. I am signed up for a class called I-Comm and with it I have the chance to be a reporter for the on campus news station. At the beginning of the semester I was assigned the Science Beat.

Joy.

Not only am I terrible at science but I have the job of finding something interesting to talk about it within the realm of the campus and my resources.

Week 1: I did a story about the fitness classes. Ok, health sciences is not technically under my jurisdiction but I made it work
Week 2: Planetarium. On campus there is a planetarium and it is pretty fantastic.
Week 3: Chemistry Society. I have some pretty great footage of a balloon blowing up.
Week 4: This is this week. It is about the aquarium.

You see, over the summer break, something happened and all the fish died. It was actually a very big tragedy as it was around 2 dozen fish found dead one morning when the person to check on them the night before knew they were ok.
I interviewed a man who loves fish.
It may seem ridiculous but I envy him. He has found his passion and is living that. He hopes to be a marine biologist.
I want that.
Not a fish, not a marine biologist, but a passion. Something I can grab on to and never ever let go. I want that constant, my north star.
But I guess until that day comes, I will keep wishing on those falling starts until one decides not to fall.

Fun Fact

You can bruise your eye. I did.

My Favorite Color Is Orange

I consider a favorite to be something that you return to again and again. It is something that draws your attention and keeps it there. Let me back up.

A few weeks back was my first week in a new ward. New people, new seats, new time. My roommates and I took a seat and waiting for the rest of the ward to file in and take their seats. In the row in front of us my eye caught something beautiful. It was bright, it was exciting, it was unique. This orange watch kept my attention not to mention the growth of wondering who would invest in such fantastic wrist wear.

Lucky me that the owner of the watch was a tall, in and out of the dark handsome guy.
It was like middle school all over again. My tongue swelled up, i got butterfly bumps and gooses fluttering in my tummy. Ya, he's that good looking.

As time went on I kept one eye open, scoping for an opportunity to make a classy introduction. Maybe he would be playing tennis and the ball would be a high flier. Frantically they would be searching when the crowd would part and I would have the tennis ball. Or maybe I would drop a house on his long time enemy, heroine and love interest all in one. Maybe I would be stuck with him as a lab partner and after some time and our love grew i would find out he was a prince. Anyway. . . .

Today was going to be another chance to make a great introduction until he walked into church hand in hand with a fine young lady.

I realize this isn't the end of the world. I should have figured considering where I am combined with the fact that i don't even know the guys name. . . . maybe I didn't exactly have a chance with him but a girl can dream.

I guess there will be other Orange-Watch-Men to occupy my thoughts later on but for now, a moment of silence for my almost favorite.


For all of you who were wondering what this stud looked like. I know, he's traffic stopping.

I wish that airplanes in the night sky. . . .

I don't. I don't wish that airplanes in the night sky were like shooting stars. I wish they all led to Neverland.
I want to play with pirates, swim with mermaids, believe in fairies, and sneeze from Pixie dust.

I won't grow up, I won't I won't I won't.

Sometimes I'm Just Breathing

I have never been a good swimmer. I was that kid that got yelled at by the swim instructor for crying because of the water getting in my eye. Let's face it, chlorine stings.
I remember when I was six or seven and my best friend had a pool party. I didn't want to be the lame kid out so I held on to the edge and laughed and splashed along with everyone else. After some time I got a little more daring and would let go of the wall, thrash about to stay above water, and grab the edge again.
It was on one of these endeavors that I splashed a little too far. My arms got tired and I began to sink. I kept myself at the waterline, far enough up that I could see but no far enough that I could breathe. I was terrified. Swallowing water and reaching for the edge I thought I was going to die. What felt like forever was probably just seconds and I am alive today. The one thing that has not left me from this experience was that feeling, an overwhelming desire for air.

Here I am, at a university, facing my first full week back for Fall Semester. Hour by hour it seems that the homework comes and due dates come faster. I am stuck thrashing about in the water, too scared to let go of the edge for fear that when I do I won't float. Even greater than this fear is the overwhelming desire for air.
There is only way to overcome these fears. Just do it. (Thanks to Nike for that one.)
When you let go of the edge you see what you are made of.
When you let go of the edge, you can sink or swim, it is up to you.

Take a deep breathe and go.

Sepia Tone Summer

So the kids all joined together in a down-right magical musical number and they had a summer after all!
I didn't exactly have that Disney Channel Original movie moment but I did have some pretty great times this summer. Like anyone who has ever watched late night television I suppose the best way to go about this would be to write a top ten count down list.
...
After some consideration I have realized that I did not have enough moments to come up with ten so I'll just tell you what I did.

Worked

Saw G. Love and Jack Johnson in concert

Played in the pool

Watched Friends

Now I continue forward to the excited adventures of a new semester. I'll take a deep breathe now.
Wish me luck!

I always knew he liked Coldstone

A little over a year ago, a dear friend of mine passed away. At least, I am sure that Michael Jackson and I would be friends if we met. Around the time of his passing we at Coldstone were all very shaken. At night we would wear one latex-free glove in honor of his memory. Like the rest of the world we dusted off our old records and played his hits intermixed with today's excuses of good music.

I do not have an Ipod or any sort of MP3 player. I know that I should probably get with the times but I have this things where I can not stand spending money.
Ipod=Money=Cyndi not having an Ipod.
I was lucky however, for a time when my sister left the country and left her Ipod in my care. I made a Coldstone playlist with Michael Jackson along with other not-so-important songs.
Whenever we had a slow time without customers we, as a crew, would talk about Michael Jackson. This is when his songs would come.
Reasonably, I assumed the only assumption that could be made, Michael Jackson possessed the Ipod.

* * *

Working any length of shift without music is asking for a one way ticket on the Loony Train to Insanity-ville. To help with us Ipod challenged people our boss brought in a CD player. Many members of the crew made mixes to play in the store. After time the CD player has started to give up on us - here and there it plays and the rest of the time, well it might be playing we just can't hear it. (It's like that riddle, if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?)
Yesterday I was working a fourteen hour shift. Yes. With no music.
That last sentence isn't entirely true. I did put in CD into the ADHD player in hopes to get a song or two.
The player would start by itself, but only when a Michael Jackson song came up on the CD.
Michael Jackson likes Coldstone.

I knew it.

Here's a story, of a man named Brady, he had three boys of his very own

Summer nights are quite possible the best thing ever invented. They are up there with play-dough, the slinky, and the English muffins that you fork open because they are pre-cut.
In my effort to soak up the love that summer sheds in heaps and bounds, I decided to eat my dinner, at 11:30 pm, on our back deck.
Did you know the door to our back deck gets stuck?
I didn't.
It was beautiful, the sky was clear and I could see some stars. The valley twinkled with lights and I watched the stop light at the intersection of 1700 East and Wasatch Blvd. change from green to yellow to red, repeat. This is a prime writing time. Thoughts in a journal to read later and laugh at your hand writing because you were writing in the dark.
I turned around to open the door and, well. . . . .
This wasn't a problem. I had snuck in the house this way by climbing up the wooden slabs nailed to the support beams.
Did you know that in the effort to repair the back deck my dad removed those beams?
I didn't.
After a moment of searching with my toe, hanging off the edge, I resolved that that was not option.
Here were my options.
1- Jump. It is about 10 to 12 feet.
2- Pop out a window screen and open the window. Crawl inside.
3- Find a pathway of somewhat conveniently placed items differing in height.

1- I am not scared of heights. Just falling from them.
2- If anyone out there knows how to do this, feel free to share your knowledge.
3- Back to reality. . .

I prayed.
My first prayer was just asking for an answer. The one I got was a reminder of the story of the Brother of Jared. (Mahanrimoriankemur- say that 10 times fast) He had to come up with an answer and then present it.
My problem solving was for my brother or sister to magically wake up and let me in.
I waited patiently and had the thought, you need to act for anything to work out.
I tried the screen a couple of times to no luck. I tried the door a couple of times to no luck. I even stood on the edge of the porch looking down a couple of times to no luck.
Finally I got up the courage. I was going to jump.
If any neighbor looked out there windows at me they were probably concerned. I was standing there in the classic "good bye cruel world" pose.
Pep talk after pep talk I couldn't get myself to do it. All I could think of was that scene in Batman Begins where Batman is holding that bad guy up in the air.
BAD GUY: This isn't far enough to kill me.
BATMAN: I'm counting on it.
Then they guy breaks both of his ankles. Ouch.
If I were to fall and land on my back, nope not going to do that.
Maybe if I land on my arm, nope not going to do that.
Maybe if I land on my feet and immediately roll out of it like a ninja, that would be cool.
I couldn't do it. I couldn't jump.
I inched my way over to the edge where the support beam was. I slid my way down, not very graceful. Angelina Jolie would have done it much better than I could have in most of her movies. Oh well.
Never have I been more grateful for forgetting to lock the front door right when I get in.
Moral of the story: Sometimes you just have to take that leap of faith. They make for great stories.

You Know You're Bored When. . . .

Today is the day that my professors at school have to have our final grades posted. I worked really hard this past semester and the wait to see if social-free weekends were worth it is killing me.
I am sure this would not be bad if I had a life.
But I don't.
So leave me to my grade waiting.
Thanks.

Lemonade

There is something about lemonade that screams, "SUMMER!!"
Just like that.
I have just finished finals and am ready to have a summer. Hopefully I can fit in sips of lemonade, taking in the sun, and everything summer between shifts at Coldstone, job hunting, and sleeping.
Wish me luck!

How's it going?

How's it going?
How's it going?!
The librarian asked me with a smile as I walked in. It was 7:30 in the evening on a Saturday and I was coming in for the second time.
How's it going?
Just great, after I finish up here I am going to pick flowers and paint rainbows and ride a unicorn to Oz.
Thanks for asking.

Lazy Summer Days and Ultraviolet Rays

Wear sunscreen guys, otherwise, it just burns.

Here it is, July! A month of fun summer tunes, driving with the windows down, day trips to the zoo, water fights, movies, and an overpowering feeling of being chill. Right?
Wrong.
Growing up is tough and the sunshine makes it even tougher.
With finals starting next week, clean checks, white glove, ridiculous assignments with little or not positive outcome, who has time to day dream about summer.
With so much to do who has time to blog?

This is what I was doing last summer








I miss the good old days.

July the Fourth

Fireworks.
How the tradition of fireworks got started I may never know. As I lay looking straight up into the night sky at the synchronized choreography displayed through sparkling lights I thanked the Chinese for their invention. I was then strangely proud to be an American because fireworks are awesome. They take you to the edge as balls of flame whiz about and you swear that one was headed straight at you. They leave a ringing in your ears, one of patriotism and hearing loss that will show up later.
I am proud to be an American. Because of America people can dream and seek opportunities. Life is not easy but it is worth it.

Let's Retotal the Score

Previously, I sent my self a letter and forgot to put the apartment number on it. Fearing and accepting that this was lost forever I declared the man the winner.
So you can imagine my surprise when I looked in our little slot of a mailbox and saw one envelope. Just one, small, little envelope. And it was addressed to a Cynthia Maria Hutch.

Let's take a look at the score board.
The Man - 0 Cyndi - 1

Better luck next time man.
This is what I picture when I see the man. I love you Chuck Close.

Deals, Steals, and a Spongebob Watch

What a day!
After giving my snooze alarm a work out my day began. Filled with attempts to study, work on assignments, and class attendance I was in need of a bit of a break.
I started into my usual internet routine. Facebook, email, other email, blog, youtube, repeat.
It was in the other email time slot that I checked an email from the American Red Cross. Yes. I get emails from the American Red Cross. Jealous? Just wait.
The summer deals are on and I thought to myself, "Cyndi, what need is it that the Red Cross Store could fufill?" The answer came quickly.

A first aid kit.

Looking for a unique gift that keeps on giving? The Vintage-Style Personal First Aid Kit is designed after the popular Red Cross Vintage Tee. The kit includes the essential first aid items for an individual packaged in a durable, cotton, green canvas bag compartmentalized for ease of use.

• 1 Absorbent Compress 5x9 dressing
• 10 Adhesive Bandages (assorted sizes)
• 1 Adhesive Cloth Tape 5yds/1"
• 2 Antibiotic Ointment Packets (approx 1g)
• 2 Antiseptic Wipe Packets
• 2 Packets of Aspirin (81mg each)
• 1 Pair of Non-Latex Gloves (Size Large)
• Scissors
• 1 Roller Bandages 3"
• 3 Sterile Gauze Pad 3x3
• Emergency First Aid Guide

Yes, you can buy this unique vintage bag in bulk, thanks for asking. One is at the low cost of $12.95. But wait! That's not all. (RIP Billy Mays) Yes, you can buy 1100 of these unique bad boys for the low cost of $9.11! You might be thinking, "OMG." Believe me, you are not alone. This price leaves each unique vintage kit, fully equipped at the low cost of .008181818181 cents each. Oh baby.

Dear Mom and Dad,

Remember me? Well you will. I hope the UPS man doesn't hate you in a couple of weeks. I would appreciate a call when my 1100 packages arrive. I'll explain everything later. You love me, remember that.

Love,

Cyndi The Hutch

P.S. Thank you so much for the Spongebob Squarepants watch. I love it!

All Time Low

I almost sent myself an email.
Why?
So that I could check my email and have a personal letter to me.

Wow.

The Man - 1 Cyndi - 0

In an effort to stick it to the man, I have decided to sell my plasma. The man is very much so content to sit back and watch me not get a job in a city of hundreds of job seeking college students so by selling my plasma, I was going to stick it to the man. Ha. In your face man.
Donating plasma is quite a process and the first time is a three hour process. You must of your social security card, picture ID, and proof of residence that uses your full name. For some reason that plasma people did not consider my last letter, addressed to Cyndi The Hutch, and said I needed an official letter to Cynthia Maria Hutch. I can't remember the last time I got a letter sent to my apartment with my full name and I would bet that it has never happened.
I explained this problem to the not so kind worker that would later prick my finger and squeeze my blood out of it. (Sorry for those who are squirmish, it is a little bit like that seen in the Indiana Jones movie where they eat that stuff that is still moving a little bit with tentacles and puckery gross stuff) (Sorry again). The not so kind lady told me that they would let me donate this time but that I needed to bring a properly addressed envelope next time if I expected to sell my plasma again. Apparently they are worried that my plasma might have stolen an identity?
So I wrote myself a letter. Dang, what a letter. Anyone would be lucky to receive this letter so I was feeling pretty smug. Take that Man.
I addressed the letter to Cynthia Maria Hutch and dropped it down the slot for outgoing mail in my apartment complex's mailboxes.
It wasn't until I picked up today's mail and read the address on the letter for my roommate.
I did not put what apartment I am in.

...

The Man - 1 Cyndi - 0
(I googled the man and this is what came up. Not a bad movie)

so much to say

I have so much to say but the words will not come out. It something personal, private and very special to me. But I do want to say this.
Everyone has an influence in the world around them. Some will influence it for good and some will not.
What side do you choose?

Wishing on a Wishing Star

When you wish upon a wishing star you are sending whispers up into the atmosphere. When you take a step out into the open, you are willing to take it all--the good, the bad and the ugly-- but even more than that you are willing to take it all--the good, the better and the best.
There a million and one reasons to not do something but there is only one reason to do and that is the answer to the question, "what would happen if. . ."
No more empty yesterdays.
No more wishful tomorrows.
No more waiting for the world to change.
Get up and go get them.

Beauty

"Life slowly starts to choke the poetry out of us." - Billy Collins

Are we too busy to take a moment and take in the beauty around us?
Are we too busy to take a moment and just smile?
Are we too busy to live a life filled with wonder and curiosity, or are we far too focused on the prize to live a life worth living?

The News

I live in a bubble. It is called Rexburg, Idaho. Home of a four year population rotation, the dunes, and a whole bunch of other stuff you actually have to drive out of Rexburg to get to.
In an effort to thin this bubble and make my induction back into normal society (Utah?) less painful, I decided I would read some current events. At wikipedia.org (reliable right?) I read their current event column.

How depressing.

My Diane Swayer Interview

I was having an unusually pensive moment. Starting with my life now I went back in time with important moments as the stepping stones. As I was reviewing what I've done to be who I am today, the monologue in my head transformed into a dialogue between Diane Swayer and myself. Her questions were penetrating leaving me, at times, to have to take a personal moment and stop the tears. Diane asked about all of the hard stuff that make you stronger, like she had lived each step with me.

This is what I came up with. Life. It is a funny thing. The moments that make you cry are the ones you remember most. Be they tears of joy or tears of sadness, you learn. You grow. You become. I want to become love. I want to laugh so hard I cry. I want to welcome everyone with open arms and make them feel what I am so lucky to feel.

Life should be an improvised comedy, not a scripted drama.

Do To Say You Did

A little over a year ago it was one of those nights where my mind was traveling faster then the rest of me could keep up. I could not sleep. At about two in the morning, in the dark of my parent's kitchen (it was dark because I didn't want to wake up anyone) I pulled out a blank sheet of paper. With a marker I wrote Life Goals with my own person flair.

Then I started to write. Some goals are typical, like go to the Louvre. Some goals are practical like never grow up. Some are fanciful like to stomp in a wine press. But so it has been for the past year as the thoughts come I write them down. Writing is the first step to action.
As time has gone by, my known world has expanded and sadly my little sheet of paper has not. So I started another one.









As I've looked over these sheets and added to them, I can't help but notice that this is a reflection of who I am. It shows what I have done and all that I hope to do.
I do things to say that I have done them.
For example, I wanted to camp out for concert tickets. David Archuleta is coming to BYU-I so I figured that this would be a great chance. At the 3:30 clang of my alarm i was up and trekking across campus with my friend Jessica. Shortly after four we were in line for tickets that wouldn't even start to sell until 8:15.









Living a life of doing things for the sake of doing them has it's price. Like losing sleep which I payed for the next day. But they have their rewards. Like the friendship with the mom and grandma from Shelly, Idaho that was with my in line. Or fourth row tickets.









I wonder. What do you do just to say that you did?

Meeting New People

Being at a University where people come from all over the world, introductions are secret nature. Every single one is the same so that by the end of your first week you know the drill. Yes, even Freshmen get it.

Cyndi: Hi, my name is Cyndi
Person: Hi I'm Esperanza.
Cyndi: Where are you from?
Person: Cleveland, Ohio. You?
Cyndi: Narnia. What's your major?
Person: I'm a math education major. What about you?
Cyndi: I'm Broadcasting Communications.

(The conversation was a imaginative one, I don't know any math education majors.)

It is pretty simple stuff but every so often you slip up, with a slip of the tongue or an unexpected answer. Esperanza handled me being from Narnia quite well. For example, I met a girl form Montana. Meaning to ask, "where in Montana are you from?" I said, "Where is Montana?"
She kindly drew me a map.

Procrastination

You know, it isn't that I don't want to get it done. It really isn't. I just have so much to do that isn't that. I can't wait for that feeling when it is done, there are few things that are more rewarding then that . . .

I would really love to recopy my notes for that math class and study for my test but. .
I still have to
- print off my Book of Mormon class assignment
- Read the Odyssey
- my laundry is looking kind of lonely
- I need to know who will make it to the finals for American Idol next week
- My shows need watching
- There are a few songs on my iTunes that I have only listened to once or twice
- I need to blog about anything
- my backpack needs to be cleaned out, there are highlighters in there that despite their name haven't seen light
- I'm feeling a new color on my toe-nails
- I should make some freezer dinners for the rest of my semester

See what I mean, I am super busy. That isn't even including all of the people I need to look up on Facebook or even the videos that need my views on youtube.

Life is too short not to procrastinate

The Moon and Me

This weekend I was able to go and chill with my peeps at home. With my arrival Friday night and hoping straight into driving around town, eating chocolate, and home by 10:30 curfew the weekend was off to a great start.
Saturday was a day of organized insanity as time kept reminding us of the schedule (pronounced - shed-u-ooll) we needed to keep, things rocked. From Chrissie's shower in the beautiful sunshine to spending the night with my next generation peeps Bobby and Sharon, things rocked. The Blind Side is such a great show. Just ask Bobby and Sharon, we watched, we laughed, we cried, we ate our weight in popcorn and oreos, and we paused for multiple bathroom breaks.
As everything comes and goes, time had its way and I was to set back on my journey to my home away from home - Rexburg.
The miles quickly occupied the space between me and home sliced peeps. With each turn of the tires, I still had the dark scenery to keep me company. Outside my window rested the moon, shining bright and playful. Not far from this celestial smile was a star. To be specific it is probably a planet because it was bright for all intents and purposes, it was a star. As the moon followed me, the star followed the moon.
That's me and my peeps. I'm that little star and the moon is my home-base. It is where I borrow some light, and where I keep returning. But people grow up, get their own light but I won't ever forget the moon. After all, the moon is awesome.

Girls So Sexy Justin Brought Them Back 3 Times

I wrote this about a year ago to Justin Timberlake's Sexy Back.
No girls were harmed in the writing of this song.
This is just intended to be fun and a little bit ridiculous.

I'm bringing Reegan back YA!
She's just a section to my white girl rap
And that Alisa girl she's got our back
We are the girls who so know where it's at

Dani babe -
She gets the fellas with her sick french braid
And with out dance moves we'll go on parade.
We'll give you tan lines that will never fade.

*Chorus*
Come here boy
Come meet my mom
Come here boy
It won't take long
Come here boy
When nothings wrong
We have the charm
This is our song
You know what your working with
Give my cheek a kiss
You make me smile
Come stay awhile
Get your white girl on!

On no we're not done yet YA!
To all the big boys you should never fret
We've still got Aubrey and ya you can bet
She'll beat you in a race without a sweat

Some may claim -
Being a white girl it is such a shame
And to that poor fool it is all the same
It just takes one white girl to spark that flame

*chorus*

What's Worse part 2

Found my phone.

No messages.

Feel free to call me now.

Or now.

Just whenever.

...

What's Worse

What's worse then hearing your phone vibrate and not know where it is?

Finding it to see that no one called or texted you.

Happy Tuesday.

If you are trying to reach me, sorry I really can't find my phone.

Today

I looked out the window and what did I see, not global warming I declare a fallacy.
Sorry Al, but on the sixth of May, 2010, I opened my blinds and saw snow. Yes, snow.
Therefore, I do proclaim, by the power vested in my through the state of mind of Rexburg Residents do declare fallacy. But Al, remember that I still think you invented the internet, for what it is worth.
In other news, I have decided that Thursdays should be viewed as weekend days. Everyone would love Fridays a whole lot more than they already do. Think it over, get back to me.

Announcement

Dear BYU-I, Facebook advertisements, and Junk Email,

I would like to take just a moment and explain to you something of grave importance. I am not diseased. I am single. Not diseased.

Furthermore, I would appreciate a reduction in the references to marriage, finding Christian singles near me (Thank you facebook, really, I live in Rexburg. They aren't hard to find), and to find my soulmate through online dating services. I am doing just fine. I love my life the way it is right now. I am far too selfish for a relationship.

Thank you for your concerns but stop.

Sincerely,

Single and Loving It

Birds

When I was younger, probably between 7 and 9 I had a sleepover at my Grandma's house with my cousin Amanda. We stayed up late in the guest bedroom talking about this and that knowing that the other person cared about what we were saying. I guess that's just how things are when your family is your best friend.
Anyway, Amanda has always loved telling me about movies, books, or television shows. We were up late whispering about Alfred Hitchcock's Birds. There was no detail left un-told, no image from a scene left un-lived. It was a fantastic. A short time later I watched the actual film. Since this time it has been one of my favorites.
Let's fast forward to now and days. Up here in the little town of Rexburg I'm just one student in the thousands and I love it. From where I am sitting I can look out across the garden. (This is where many people go to get engaged, take engagement photos, take family pictures, or NCMO) (Non-Commital Make-Out). This morning I woke up early and made my way across campus where there were two rabbits to join along my trail here and there. I startled a duck into flgith and watched the little thing flap and make a noise I've never heard before. Now I see two ravens gathering twigs for a nest. I love it. Every sight, every moment.
But i am not in nature, simply an observer. so you can imagine my surprise when I hear the chatter of birds. Initial thought? A ring tone. Second thought? The Birds are coming to get us. But my panic was calmed when our friendly postal men came by. The chicks for a psychology 300 class had arrived and were being delivered.
No worries, I am safe.

Have you ever. . .

Have you ever sent that message?
A text, a voice mail, email, or even real live postal service letters. As soon as it escapes your grasp, immediately your insides lurch and you try for something to grab onto.

If I had a dollar for every time I sent that text, then I would be rich. In fact, I would purposefully send highly regrettable letters for the sake of pleasing my bank account - but that is another issue.

I guess what I am trying to say is that life is full of if I hadn't but what about the if I had-s? Fill your yesterdays with the "if I hadn't-s" and live for the tomorrows of an unraveling plot.

Earth Day

Happy Earth Day everyone!

I will admit that I woke up this morning with a little more of a spring in my step and purpose in my walk. I love Earth Day. What other cause is there that can bind each individually? We all live her and we all hope to continue to do so.
What better way could Mother Earth be celebrating a day honoring her achievements then to take a deep cleansing shower? She is treating herself to a little self-love.
With the elements whirling about me I walked in and out of classes, every step taking deep breath after deep breath. The smell of rain awakens all sorts of feelings and hopes I have for myself and the world around me.
I tightened my baseball cap, put on my jacket and set of to the grocery store. Never have I seen so much beauty in each puddle. Step after step I saw the grass which seemed to be getting greener, trees that seemed to stretch taller, and flowers that seemed to bloom with a little more pride then they have in days past.
Along with the wonders and beauties of the earth I also saw what man could do. I saw wrappers now drenched forming meche-like casts over blades of grass, polluted waters - murky from main street congestion, and saw trees drilled and manipulated like they were someone's pine wood derby without wheels.
There is so much that we can do. We all individually have a roll to play by not being the problem. Many seem to give up when faced with uncertainty or set backs. I mean why shouldn't someone litter? What is one more piece of trash and one more plastic water bottle. Oh ew. Not only is research being released regularly describing the toxins found in plastic but they are crowding our oceans and polluting our clean water. Why shouldn't you litter? Why should you?! What is waiting five minutes to throw it away in a trash can or waiting to get home to get rid of it. Heaven forbid if you miss the can the first time that you should pick it up. What an absurd idea? Really, its disgusting. Are you really that lazy? Really?
Little known fact about the rain. It is the longest standing beat-boxing champion in the history of the world. Ya, true story. I dare you to just listen and try not to be impressed. Each drop adding a layer to the rhythm, every drip keeping tempo. Really.
Look around.
Open your eyes.
Open your ears.
Try not to be impressed.

Happy Earth Day.

Its Just Frustrating

Here are a few of the things that are just frustrating:
- Shoe laces coming untied
- Clothes that used to fit right but don't anymore
- Getting job offers right after you move out of the state
- Spots on your glasses
- Too many text books
- Putting your socks on the wrong feet and changing them only to realize halfway through that it doesn't matter
- Being alone when you need someone, being surrounded when you need to be alone
- Math

Yep, those are just a few things on my mind.

Worth The Wait

Outside my window is a parking lot. Home to various models, makes, and wheels. Each set of wheels marking somewhere they've been, somewhere they've taken a rest, somewhere.
With the turn of the key a car starts the growl that starts it all. Normally, engine revving, a car transports the fragile cargo of a human life to that somewhere. But what happens when the car doesn't start?
Outside my window was a car trying its hardest to rev up and take off. With each growl there was a sigh of exhaustion.
First try. Nothing.
Here's my question is it worth the wait? Is it worth the effort of cranking that key and pumping the gas? All to get somewhere, to be somebody.
Second try. Nothing.
Still worth it? What about when you put it all out there and remain, without a step forward, stagnant. Knowing what the growl could lead to, the uproar. The love of something on the way to somewhere.
Third try. The uproar.
What if that driver had given up? It could possibly be a reflection of the importance of that somewhere. Or perhaps a reflection of the belief in luck until it runs dry.
Here's my question.
When does disappointment out weigh the hope?
When is it not worth the wait?

3:30

3:30 is a truly bewitching hour. When the world is still and the breathe of a child ices the galaxy, feel free to cry up to the stars. Bargain with the cosmos. The hum and chatter of car motors, conversations both enjoyable and heart breaking, and disappointment seem to settle, like the haze over the valley. Still there and ominous, its a sigh of relief - if just for a minute.

The smog things, the atmosphere seems to desimate. Given a key to the heavens, the door is unlocked. That is when I lay back and whisper to the stars. I tell them my secrets, my fears, and my anxieties. They know what I can't say and take my tears. With no exchange of pity the stars take the tears and sparkle as never before.

Tears of joy mingle with tears of loss, of grief, of pain. A shimmering reminder that they have them, millions of billions of miles away.
No need to fear.
No need to worry.
No need, it has already been met.

Knit Picky

I was walking up the stairs, talking to myself (inside my head not outside), and I realized that with the company I keep I should watch what I say. I thought I would share this realization with the internets. All of them.
1 - Avoid words such as and including: honestly, normally, literally. These are all death traps in the ways of knit picky conversation. "Now if you have to say honestly, are you making up for something else?" "Normally? What do you do otherwise? How often do you feel abnormal versus normal?" "Wow, that must be awkward."
2 - Avoid cliche or over used statements as well redundancy. Also avoid repetition. It's annoying.
3 - Never use "your mom" as a comeback. Think about, do you really mean it? I heard it once from a talking animal that if you can't say anything nice don't say anything at all. I think the same goes for saying and meaning things. If you really mean that their mom the slowest thing you ever saw, then by all means - your mom away.

Donna Gwen

What a name! (By that I'm assuming you read the title because that is in fact the name I am referencing). Donna Gwen is more then a name that rolls off the tongue but a person. A person with white hair, glasses, false teeth, and a family. I'm fortunate enough to be a part of her family, her legacy.
Donna Gwen just turned 80 years old and in her own words, she is officially old.
60? Young.
70? Young.
79? Young.
80? Old.
My grandma is one of my top favorite people and I have to say that I may be biased but she is more then deserving. Furthermore I would like to prove to you (or to me when I read this later, probably tomorrow, just to know that someone is reading this thing) that she is a woman worth knowing.
1 - When I was very little (in age not size) I cut my thumb. According to the images stored in my long term memory I am lucky to still be here as the blood gushed from my thumb in a steady, thick syrup like manner. Distressed, I rushed to the aid of dear old Grandma. Her first question to me was, "Is the blood green?" How could she be thinking of such a silly thing in this moment. "No." Stubborn as ever I failed to see the humor to be had in such a situation. "Oh good" was her response, "then you're not an alien."
2 - My grandma always won Old Maid. On purpose. She likes the un-irony of it.
3 - She rode a horse to school. I tried to talk my mom into this but using Grandma's situation and comparing it to my own didn't quite work. I dug my own grave in that debate.
4 - White haired and willful, there was a time that Donna Gwen donned a wig. The reason escapes me but logic tells me that it has something to do with the lack of hair. Anyway, the Blue Room (named for its coloring - go figure) was home to the wig. There are no images more disturbing stored in the Grandma and Grandpa's house folder in my long term memory then seeing my Grandma's hair on a plastic head over the dresser where the card games were stored.
4.5 - (This is a half because it is the same subject as number four but a completely different moment) I was watching this last session of general conference with Grandma when she grabbed my hand. Very seriously she asked, "Are my eyebrows on?"
5 - She loves me. She loves me when I'm silly, she loves me when I'm serious, she loves me when I'm practicing, she loves me when I'm sitting quietly. She loves me in a house, she loves me with a mouse. She loves me here or there, my Grandma loves me everywhere.

Here's to 80 years Grandma. Love you more then I love words.

Date Night

Why yes, I am single.
Driving, mostly according to the speed limit give or take or not at all, down 1300 East in an effort to make it to the movies on time. (The best part about being in a hurry to get somewhere is the destination. It is the one thing that motivates your lane changes, your fingers drumming on the steering wheel either in frustration because the light will never turn green fast enough or to that new diddy on the radio, and your somewhat wide but no one got hurt so its good left turn into the parking lot.)
In a moment of spontaneity I took off to see "Date Night" to be amused by the comedic strategy of Steve Carell and the intriguing repartee that is Tina Fey. After reading a very unimpressive review I thought that I would share my opinion.
This here is the movie that is a lot like any movie where average people are put in above average circumstances but perform horribly and marvelously all at the same time.
I enjoyed the appearance of Saturday Night Live actress Kristen Whig, the classic black taxi cab driver, and the appearance of the Audi R8.
Now, it isn't your psychological mind bender or your tear jerking sports thriller but it fills a laugh at the ordinary being extraordinary void.
In no way would I say to take this movie seriously because you will only be disappointed. You should probably start with "Baby Mama" and "Get Smart" and go from there.
I have a hard time seeing what people could complain about. here we have to off the wall actors who commonly are mixing it up with pop culture references being a little more normal. What's the harm in that?
Phil and Claire Foster are your average married couple from New Jersey (ha ha ha New Jersey **shaking head back and forth**). They've run dry on the flirtatiousness and are overflowing with the run of the mill exhaustion. As you can see with any trailer, they try to take a step out the box of their ordinary and end up in big trouble. They are definitely jimmy jacked. (I love that phrase. Seriously, my favorite).
Carell and Fey don't have the chemistry that is Kate Hudson Wesley and Princess Buttercup. They have a bit of the old people that hold hands when they need each other and a sense that they just get each other.
The finalizing moment for me in knowing if I really liked a movie or not is the drive home. I pulled out of the parking lot and kept laughing. There you have it. The seal of approval.
Laughter.

Fox Hunt

While the weather was on a cleanse diet and getting out the junk it stored during the weather, I happened to be interacting with the consequences of such a cleanse on my drive home from work. As the roads and snow decided to start a club and were highly exclusive, the stress of pulling into my vertical driveway grasped my attention and began to strangle ADD into submission.
Attempt one: This was more or less a general assesment and I realized I would need a second opinion
Attempt two: This was while taking the advice of the assessment of my mother. Hindsight tells me that calling her was pointless because she was not looking at what I was looking at. While turning around to start another attempt I almost got stuck in my neighbors driveway.
Attempt three: I SAW A FOX! Now with this claim I add a disclaimer. There is a possibility that it was a very short and spry dear with a bushy tail. Or even a raccoon with longer legs and bigger ears. I have seen enough Disney movies to know that it was a fox. (If I knew how to do footnotes there would be one next to Disney giving a short history of the company and another one next to fox that left further reference to "Robin Hood" and "The Fox and the Hound") So yes, I am 73% positive that it was a fox.
After getting my head in the game (yes, another Disney reference) I parked the car and was faced with the second hardest decision I have had to make today. The first was which movie to watch and believe me when I say, it was difficult. But the decision of consequence is if I were to chase after that fox. It was only two houses down and though I would be in unfamiliar terrain, in total darkness, at risk for getting in trouble for trespassing, and contracting rabies assuming this deer, raccoon maybe even a skunk creature was ravenous. Like I do with most hard decisions in my life I decided to decide later.
Now, knowing that this fox hunt opportunity is in the past and a past that yields no story, I have decided to make my own story.

Once upon a time there was a short girl. She was slightly adventurous, slightly blind, and highly curious. One night, whilst dancing in the glimmer of snowflakes, something curious caught this young maidens eye. While slightly uncertain of the animals character, little miss needs to see it all was quick to follow. Through the forest of suburban homes and landscaped lawns they ran until the young miss lost sight of the leader in this race through space and time. "Curious," she thought to herself and cautiously stepped forward. Like she'd seen in movies time and time again, she took the wrong step and WOOSH! A curious sight she was, her head where her feet should be. Out from behind the tree came Mr. Fox. It was clear now that he was a fox due to the process of elimination. He most certainly was not a deer because his legs were much to furry and far too thick. He was in no way a skunk because he neither smelled or bashfully hid behind a flower. And in no way could he ever be confused with Lady Gaga in a crowd because. . . well there is no logic to explain this deduction so be trusting and blindly believe that it was not Lady Gaga. So there she was, a curious sight being curiously dangled from a tree under scrutinizing inspection. "Curious," the fox whispered as he nibbled on her finger tips for just a moment and sniffed her hair. "You will have to do." With that he cut her down and expected her to keep up. Around a tree, under a porch, and into an outdoor pool they ventured. There they found a slightly short table from the girl's perspective with slightly smashed tea cakes and slightly chipped tea cups. There they sipped on slightly bitter tea and talked of slightly bitter things and were slightly civilized in their thumb wrestling tournament. After a slightly disappointing loss, the girl traveled back home to where a warm cozy bed was waiting. And she slept happily ever until the next adventure.
Good Night.

The power of your mind

As I sit here, stubbornly refusing to take medicine for this cold that crippled my enthusiasm to talk, sing, or even breathe I think about the power we all have. I've always been a firm believer that illness can be in your head. The possibility optimism awards for opportunities to improve your life are well worth the wait and the smile, even if you get some dirt in your mouth when the wind blows against you. I'm wondering why I am thinking only happy things of rainbows and butterflies and still my throat has been replaced by a music box with a dieing battery that sounds like a horse winy.
I also believe that I don't need to take medicine. Yes, I can see the obvious errors in my own logic but I will let it push me to the edge of my tolerance and still swallow that Advil begrudgingly.
I don't say that I understand it entirely but it is very much a part of me. I think that I can do anything I set my mind to so if you would be so kind to excuse me, I have my throat to think about.

Imagination

Yesterday my kid sister got mad at me saying that I no longer had an imagination. I wish someone had told me of this or else I wouldn't have been thinking all the things I was thinking. I mean, to think that I could have been in deep contemplation of politics and the health care plan! How dare she wait to tell me this so to rob me of such an opportunity?
I must have been wasting my time making up a life story for the man in the car next to us. It was a black charger (yes, I knew what car it was- you may applaud me). At the speed we were both traveling we were able to keep at the same distance so that the driver window of his car fit perfectly with the back seat where I was sitting. Devon (that's his name. . . maybe) was playing with something that could one of three things.
1- A deck of playing cards
2- A pack of tissues
3- A thing of cigarettes
For the stories sake, we'll say that Devon was twirling a pack of cigarettes in his right hand while driving with his left.
You see, Devon has been a smoker for about six years. He started at 14 to fit in with the cool kids and to get some attention from his parents - recently divorced. While partying in high school, things got a little out of hand and he kissed his wrestling scholarship good-bye while he fufilled his sentance for community service. Since then he has been struggling with the demons in his life - the major one being his addiction to smoking. While working a couple of jobs, one being a waiter at Denny's, he saved for his sweet ride. Cigarettes in hand he was left with the ultimate decision, to smoke or not to smoke. (Wow, to think that Hamlet had it easy). I don't know how this story ends because he turned right when we went straight but I like to think that he never did light up. He won this one.
Especially if it was a deck of cards. That wouldn't be very safe in a car.

Leatherheads

Watch this movie.
Why?
Because I love the character played by Renee Zellweger and that's who I want to be when I grow up.

"Leatherheads"

Meet the Muppets

Today was a day of momentous happenings.
I was pulling out of a parking lot and looking both ways to pull out into traffic. Coming up on the sidewalk was a man. I think. There was a lot of hair.

Everywhere. Face. Head. Everywhere.

He was walking down the street and I was there with my car over the sidewalk. Normally I wouldn't have any problem with someone walking around the car but this muppet character was a little different. Mr. Much-Hair-In-The-Face stopped at the tail light on the right side of the car and stopped. Thanks to the safety features on most automobiles I was able to keep an eye on this character. I looked just in time to see that he was keeping an eye on me.

. . .

Get checked out by monster from the Muppets? Take that Jim Henson.

And She Was

Don't take this the wrong way but I think often think about my life in past tense. I realize that this may seem morbid but it sure does pass the time. This is how I hope my eulogy to read.

Cyndi The Hutch

Always inquisitive
Rarely Frantic
Quick to Help
Slow to Judge
Aware of the Little Things
Fearless of the Big Picture
and
Humanitarian

P.S. I was reading about some people and they always added humanitarian to it. So no matter what happens I'm going to be remembered as a humanitarian - dang it.

And the timer goes off. . .

I really wanted to start this post with some sort of profound quote or thought. Its like when you're writing a speech for some class and they tell you to start big, grab your audience. Here I go. . .
"Sometimes people bug me."
- Cyndi Hutch

I realize that using my own quote is a bit self-centered and everything but it is my blog but whatever. There is this timer somewhere where soul meets body that tells me just how much I can take. How fast the wind can blow until I fall, how fast the ground can shake until my knees buckle, or how much I can remember until I reach maximum occupancy. There are particular things that this timer clangs and gongs and screams at no matter what. Pet peeves or something that I hope to someday overcome but in the meantime I am going to complain.
1- Hypocrites
I hate it when people are hypocritical, it ruins my whole day and my perspective of them. The only thing I hate more then hypocrites that cross my path is when I am hypocritical. I beat myself up over it because there is nothing worse then hurting someone with something you know first hand hurts.
2- Ignorance
I don't know a whole lot. In fact, I don't really truly know anything but playing it smart when you really are dumb is what I consider ignorant. Sooner or later you are going to start believing yourself and then no one else is going to want to explain it once again.
3- Texting
Now, I realize that this is a sort of touchy subject and I would promise to tip-toe around it lightly but I couldn't keep that promise so. . . . . Texting is so rude. I do not like competing with someone who knows where for the attention of the person sitting right in front of me. You think that I would win but for some reason I don't. I'm not a very good looser. It is also dangerous. If you are driving with me please do not text and drive, that is an accident waiting to happen and if it never comes do us all a favor and text dumb on your thumbs. Now, I do not text and drive but at times I will text when I am with other people. I apologize for this. I understand that texting thrill but I try very hard to not text in excess.

Now, please please please do not take offense unless offense was intended.

Come Together

Michael Jackson did a cover of "Come Together." I know, mind blown.
Here's somethings I learned about this song. It was originally written by John Lennon and performed by the Beatles with Ringo Starr on guitar and some of the usuals playing their usual instruments. They performed this song at Madison Square Gardens in the 70s.
Aerosmith receives the award for most successful cover of this song but I don't know, Michael Jackson rocks at life so. . . . . .
He even owned the credits to the song and everything.

Someday, when I am way rich or in total denial of my financial failings and running up credit for my children to loose sleep over, I'm going to by the rights to songs.

Pigeons, Twigs, and Honking Horns

Once upon a time I was being awesome at a stoplight. By awesome I mean I was full on rockstar-ing it up to Lady Gaga. I've seen some music videos, my moves were like cover band worthy.
Then, out of no where, and by no where I mean the sky, I saw this pigeon flying funky. While I don't believe pigeons to be the most elegant of God's creations, they aren't like me and have trouble flying in a straight line. (Yes, I just implied that I can fly).
In the beak of the bird was a twig, complete with leaf. My guess is that the leaf culminated with the air jet system and probably failed communication with the air control tower because they brought their kids to work were all working against Demetri. (That's what I named the bird). (Just barely).
I was laughing out loud to myself at this funny picture as I watched Demetri fly under the highway entrance bridge thing. That made me think of a bird living under the freeway and was about to imagine the story of the three billy goats with the troll under the bridge only this version had a mutated pigeon like resembled godzilla and semi-trucks when somebody honked.
The light was green.
Oops.

Something Seems a Little Off Center

I recently read a very thought provoking book, Outliers. I have heard about good things about the author and the book so I caved and read it. It is all about the exceptions. The people who are on the far right or left of the normal curve of distribution. There is nothing like reading a book that will tell you over and over again that so and so is super smart and everything was going for them. Just take my self-confidence, kick it in the back, and when I'm down, pepper spray me. That'll do the trick.
That is not the thought provoking part. Like any good story you have to muscle through the thicket of thorns and feel your way into the dark a step or two to step out into the light.
Opportunities.
Bill Gates isn't Bill Gates because he just is. He's the name in our culture, the symbol, because of the opportunities he had. It is the same with professional hockey players in Canada, Jewish immigrants in the clothing industry, and even the Beatles.
What are we doing to spread opportunities, create that once in a life time chance?
What does it take us to give, what does it take us to sacrifice?
The most important part of this is taking the opportunities. It is very possible that chance or even if you will fate is knocking at your door, are you too lazy to get out of bed to answer it?
There is an even greater problem that needs to be addressed, it is a little off center.
Why are there Outliers? Because they had natural ability and opportunity.
Why?
Why them?
Because our society is far too set on creating a superstar, not a galaxy.

Teeth, Floss, and Other Practical Things

I love to brush my teeth. Really. Love it. There is something that gets my insides all a flutter when I carefully squeeze that winter mint with microburst power for fresher breath longer out onto my blue toothbrush and give it a quick kiss of bathroom sink water. Its more like a full immersion but I will leave that analogy for you to create.
How someone brushes their teeth says something. Its a statement. I know that I hate to brush in front of people. It makes me a little bit self-conscious in the way that people look away really fast when they were staring at a stoplight and you turned and caught them.
You have the counters. These are the people that count the strokes as if to time, giving each and every tooth their proper time.
You have the hit and run people. Like a demo of Grand Theft Auto they are in and out before the cops can catch them. There is hardly time for the brush to foam and hardly a reason to rinse.
You have the rabies wannabes. These are the people that are so focused on their teeth they don't realize that their face is minty fresh.
Flossing. I used to hate it. I mean really hate it. Flossing was how I knew their was still evil in the world. It didn't matter if there was some new flavor, what good will that do between my teeth? Seriously. But, I have to admit, I had a change of heart. It came with out a clatter, whistles and bells, a lot like the feeling of Christmas. It came all the same. Flossing is like that dog with a limp who has a sticker in his paw. There is such a relief to see him no longer limping. Now, to be clear, I am not saying that my mouth is like a dog paw. That would be ridiculous. What I am saying is that there is nothing like getting that popcorn kernel out from between those molars.
As far as other practical things are concerned, I don't have much to say. If you want practical, check out some infomercials. That's all they advertise. Want practical? Get a snuggie.

Beagle Puppy

I want one.

Mary J. Blige

SO, how old is Mary J. Blige?
Answer, not that old.
Funny, because I would have never guessed that she was in her 30s.
Seriously.

Normal part 2

I tried it. That normal thing.
I hate to say I told you so but I told you so. And by you I mean me.
Normal is for people who missed the "get a personality" day in life.
Normal is for people who dreamed of growing up to be average height.
Normal is for people who are not me.

Normal = Overrated.

Amen.

Normal

All my life I have been the one who found it hard to think outside the box. Not because I was one to be central in my mindsight or in a mindset where creativity couldn't coexist with reality. No no, it has always been because I was never in the box to begin with. Ever.
For some reason, a large number of things I do receive a general reaction, "Oh Cyndi."
What's that supposed to mean? I just really wish that they would finish their sentences. Like:
"Oh Cyndi, I don't understand you . . . at all." or
"Oh Cyndi, if only you could see how much of an idiot you look like right now." Or
"Oh Cyndi, given a chance to see inside your brain, I wouldn't take it." Or maybe even
"Oh Cyndi, how can you do the things you do and still sleep at night."
I have a very hard time believing that they are all in a constant stupor of thought. Knowing the human mind as intimately as I do, which is me being slightly facetious, there is always something buzzing around up there. Speak up people, I can take it.
So, while contemplating normalcy and the lack thereof I seem to have, I thought, "I could be normal. I'll just take one day and try it. What's the harm?"
But in order to be something you have to know what that is. You can't be a goth without knowing the style, art era, or emotional mindset. Likewise, you can't be fan without something to cheer for, a star without an outlet to shine, or an artist without a desire to create.
What is normal?
First thought: Boring
Second thought: Constraining
Third thought: I think I just threw up in my mouth

This is going to be harder then I thought. Wish me luck.

Dear Saint Valentine,

You've never met me and I'm 77% positive that I have never met you. Sorry about that but all the same there is something I feel it is my duty and obligation to inform you of.
Remember how you were a martyr? That is pretty cool except for the part where that means you died but there is something to believing so firmly in something that to sacrifice life is something you are willing to sacrifice.
Remember how the celebration of St. Valentine's day originally didn't have anything to do with love and romance? I know right, crazy how some things change. I mean, how do you go from honoring those who have died or martyrs death and celebrating all they worked and stood for - to buy chocolates, roses, and don't tell her she looks fat?
Funny how things seem to shy away from the sentimental intentions to net profit and he went to Jared's.
I see the need for a revolution. There needs to be a return to a holiday that has no value other then the fact that someone did something great so let's remember them.
Take a look at these examples:
Holiday Meaning Now and Days
President's day Washington and Lincoln were great Banks closed, no school
Labor Day Labor. . . . No School
Christmas Christ's Birth Gimme Gimme Gimme
New Years Its a new year Kissing and fireworks
Arbor day Trees and arbory What?


See my point? So, Mr. Saint Valentine, I would appreciate your help in anyway possible. (Also, I am aware that you are two different people but they stopped distinguishing between you guys in the 1400s and I decided to keep up with that tradition.) (I'm pretty traditional like that.)
I suggest that we get rid of St. Valentine's day as we know it. Instead we could call it "Hey, some guys died for important stuff and I'm single Day." There, that sounds good.

Love, I mean, Cordially,

The Aware
Cyndi

Sometimes

Sometimes life sucks. Sometimes it hurts to go to sleep because I know that all I have to wake up to in the morning is nothing. Sometimes I work so hard for something but nothing comes of it. Sometimes it just doesn't seem worth it anymore.
Now, no worries to all of the zero people reading this blog, I hardly read it myself. I am not suicidal. I could never ever take my own life and can't understand how anyone ever could.
Consequences.
It all comes down to the fact that everything we do has a consequence. Sometimes the consequences are small. Like choosing to eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or left overs. Most of the time it isn't going to change your life. Sometimes the consequences are big. Like who to marry. Now you could marry someone who loves you and is willing to work with you to make it through each and every day. Or, just maybe you end up with the man who will beat you. Both have consequences and sometimes you have to choose one.
Sometimes, life still sucks.

WANTED

WANTED: A Job

Hard working, able, fully functioning, busy body in need of employment.
Will work any day (offer excludes Sundays)
Experience in customer service, janitorial work, ice cream mixing and creating, and clothing retail.
Wages start at minimum wage or more.

See me for further details.

Now accepting offers.

Weddings

Sometimes you wake up in a bad mood and other times bad moods are thrust upon you. My bad mood came with one word - Periwinkle.

Once upon a time my sister Chrissie fell in love. She fell far and lucky for the guy fell with her. She waited for him on his mission and in turn he waited for her. Now that she is home, he has proposed and she has consented to m-word him. (In a Shakespeare play this would be marked in the script as an aside) (So - aside - she got engaged Friday and today is the one month mark for her to be home from her mission) (moving a little fast? Ya - just maybe)


All of this fairy tale leads to one thing. A wedding. I hate weddings. It is so much stressed packed into "the happiest day of your life." What a bunch of bull - honky.



Now, some may say that I am just jealous that my sister has found her prince charming and will be getting her happily ever after. Good for her, I still hate weddings. It isn't a jealousy thing, it is a here we go again only this time I am stuck in the middle and can't get out.



First, there is the planning. No matter if you have five months or three weeks, there is still X amount of work to be done in not enough time. You have everything to worry about that is involved in a wedding. You have flowers, pictures, dresses, food, reception hall, invitations, shoes, colors, food, decorations, hairstyle, food, and the fact that you are getting over your head in a whole lot of commitment for a really long time to deal with. If that doesn't stop your heart or make you head spin, you have people to worry about. Uncle Timmy can't be in the sun too long so there should be chairs out of the sun, or Aunt Myrtle simple can't eat cashews so please no cashews or be sure to invite Cousin Voldemort, he's been so lonely lately. So much for the happiest day of your life. You must accommodate to what everyone wants or expects at what expense? At your expense.
Do you have a headache yet? Let me help.

Periwinkle.

Weddings are tough on the bride and groom. Here they genuinely want to get married and society and mother-in-laws have placed an obstacle course ahead of you. Survival of the fittest at its best. The bride has built up so much anger and frustration that she won't take out on the man who will be her forever or his family so where does she turn? The bridesmaids.
You see, this is her day, she is the princess, she is look to fabulous, and she is THE BRIDE. Don't you dare mess with that type of authority. Don't you dare look prettier, dress fancier, or smile bigger. This is her day and **profanity** all eyes will be on her. One problem, on average you have 2 to 3 young girls following the bride everywhere and believe it or not 9 out of 10 times they are still available. Never fear, the bride has a counter attack.
Brides








Maids









Dresses.








Like I said, periwinkle. PERIWINKLE.
Mid-calf to full length, head to toe, Periwinkle.

Best part about brides maid dresses is that you can shorten them and wear them again later.

Shoot me now.

Reality vs. Fancy

Coming to grips with reality is one of the hardest things to do. I wish that when my mind strays and the world I imagine would unfold in front of me and that would be reality. There wouldn't be contention or a feeling of guilt. No way could there be disappointment.
In my psychology class this past semester the teacher said that what your brain tells you is your reality. So if I really wanted to, what I imagine could be reality. The fancy term for that is schizophrenia.

Sleep

In a sleepy town, under the sleepy covers, in a sleepy corner the mind does not sleep. The gears turn, each cog and wind pulling the strings on the knot of anxiety. Numbers, time lines, and a bouncing ball trying to sing along to no known melody.
There is an entire world available it is all a matter of opening the door. A wanderer would never tell you the lump you have to swallow to grab a hold of the door knob. A lump of fear, anxiety, even excitement.
The trick is to act like you know what you're doing. Act like you are supposed to be there. Act like one of the crowd.
And if you were born to stick out? Better luck next time.

Only Words

There is something to be said for the one who speaks without thinking. Being fearless in speaking your mind is a quality possessed by artists. Think about it. Da Vinci probably loved to talk about everything. I imagine that he would lay in his bed late at night staring up at his ceiling rolling ideas around and around with his tongue, waiting for the echo to get back to him.
The funny thing about words is that once you let them out, once you give them a voice, they are gone just like that. From the time when you open your lips to when you lick your upper lip as if to signify a period, the words are already out on the journey into the cosmos.
They can't be taken back, they can't be repeated - not with the same sort of emphasis or feeling.
Leave it to the poet to write it down, to immortalize humanity.
Leave it to the poet to record the disposable.
Leave it to the poet.

A Beautiful Thing

Certainly, there are arguments and debates nation-wide that solely exists because of the world of sports. The Tiger Woods story broke records. A story of a man in the world of sports cheating on his wife was the cover story for days and days, so much so that it was consecutively the cover story more days then the attack on September 11. Now, I am not trying to make a political or social critique but I am saying something about sports.
How do they do it?
There is nothing like seeing the snap of a football into an awaiting quarterback's hands. From here the ball will either be spiraled out to execute a running game play or tucked under the arm to make it to a first down and ultimately, a touch down.
What is it about helmets clashing and men in tight pants that brings awe to my spirit?
There is a certain amount of beauty in the spiral of a ball, soaring 30 yards down the way to expecting arms. There is even more stunning glamour to the arms catching the ball and running to the endzone.
Immediately there are under-dogs and the giants of the game. There are coaches and players. There are fields and fans. There aren't words enough to explain what watching a game does to a person.
There is a certain beauty to the game.

Chasing Perfection

What is perfection?

Today I Saved Lives - No Big Deal

Once upon a time in a land known as Sandy I decided to do what all the cool kids were doing and donate blood. It turns out, my height correlated with my weight minus a quart of the precious commodity of blood is not the best of ideas. Who would have thought? But, because of this experience I have been put in the big data base operated by the nice folks at ARUP. My name comes up from time to time and I get a friendly call in which involves a pleading ARUP employee asking for my platelets.
Here is some non-scientific but still slightly scientific jargon and facts for you to wrap your head around. Platelets are a part of your blood. Donating platelets is around a two hour process that involves extracting the blood out of you where is sent to whirl around in a machine and then recirculates non plateleted blood back into you. Also, you will commonly find a virus in people's blood. It isn't fatal like H1N1 (or some virus that later will become a big scare and I can look back at this blog and say called it), but its a virus that you are immune to if it is in your blood. This is a factor that complicates the process of transfusions, operations, or really anything involved in saving lives and all that entails.
Who has two thumbs and strange virus free blood? This chick.
This only keeps the good people at ARUP calling me. It is pretty cool because my blood, or in this case, my platelets are used to help babies and even cancer patients. As it is blood and platelets are in high demand. They are needed and as the lady on the phone informed me, they have been going through more then was originally expected. (Side note- you never realize how many people are in the need of blood on a daily bases. It is way too easy to get caught up in the thought that if you are doing well, so is the rest of the world. Its like hearing sirens on your birthday, the two just don't seem to match).
I would like to take a moment to say that this is not me trying to make a some what obscure reference to that one craze or series. I forget what it is called.
Maslow came up with this pyramid of needs. The theory here is that each level, starting with the base and moving to the tip, needs to be reached the top can not be reached without having mastered the other levels in order. The base is the need for physical things like food, water, and shelter. Next is safety like not getting hit by a car, third is the need for inclusion and social interactions, fourth is the need for esteem. This is the positive view of self and it doesn't hurt to get a little of the positive esteem from others as well. The fifth and final level is something called self-actualization. This is when you are your best self. It is a certain level of accomplishment that combines the fulfillment of the other steps with a sense of self and I have always imagined self-actualization being a positive experience. Picture it. See what I mean?
Well, donating blood is something that gets me a little bit closer to this self-actualization thing. It seems a bit ridiculous but knowing that my iron levels are up makes me feel good about myself. The lady testing my blood checked my platelet count from my last visit and mentioned that I had a good platelet count. Give yourself a pat on the back for that one. The man that was monitoring the machine right as everything was finishing up said that I had gone fast. He said that I must have a good vein. I don't want to brag or anything but you're welcome ARUP man.

Totally unrelated note, it is so crazy to see just a part of your blood sitting in a bag. Platelets are a tanish yellowish color. There's your fun fact for the day.