Ojala

I don't remember Fall being so beautiful. I'm normally a summer girl all around. But these yellow leaves are giving the green a run for their money. And the temperature!!!

Anyway, when I was at the bank today, I found out that I had a late fee of fifteen dollars for sixteen cents I hadn't paid on something else. Sigh. The teller told me once, and I asked her to just take care of it with my paycheck money. She told me that I had only been a few days late on it, and that she was so sorry. Thank you for driving the dagger deeper, teller lady, please don't remind me anymore of what an idiot I am for letting this happen.

But it wasn't her fault, and she was just trying to be sympathetic. I just wanted to pretend it didn't happen to me or my credit.

At the stoplight on University Parkway and State in Orem, I watched a girl and a man with a cane walk in front of me on the crosswalk. They looked to be about in their mid-thirties. One of the trucks waiting in a few lanes after mine pulled forward over that one white line, either bumping the man with the cane, or inciting him to stumble out of the way quickly. I don't know whether he meant to or not. The man with the cane flipped the guy in the truck off, and the guy in the truck rolled down his window angrily and (it seemed like) started yelling at the girl and the man with the cane while they waited for the lights to change. And it made my heart hurt.

Sometimes, I wonder about all the people in the world. All the people that are, and all the people that ever were. I wonder how, even in Provo, we will only ever meet a handful of people who go about us every day. And how intricate each life is, with all the strands that are so delicatley interwoven. You wait at an intersection in your car, next to other cars, across from other cars, watching the faces of people turning left as they drive by. People that you'll never know. Cars, people, souls... just passing. Like ships in the night.

How do we relate with each other in this thoroughly modernized world? Unless we remain ignorant, how do we handle this world without feeling incredibly lonely, confused, misunderstood, or inadequate? How do we surmount difference?

I was trying to think through this impossible dilemma while walking around Macy's Department store trying to find myself a coat for winter. I was sorting through a sale rack when a woman said "Excuse me." I turned. It was a short, petite woman with a heavy latin accent. "What size are you?" she asked, holding a black jacket. I was somewhat taken aback (A/N: in America, people don't normally greet complete strangers with this type of question :)). "It depends. Probably a large or medium in juniors." She smiled, "I have a granddaughter who is close your size," she said. "You think this would fit you?" "Do you want me to try it on?" I asked her. She nodded, so I set my purse down and pulled the jacket over my head, worked it around my body. It fit. "Where are you from?" I asked her. "Lima, Peru." she said.
I started to speak with her in my fragmented spanish. "¿Tu nieta... ella tiene--?," and then I motioned because I forgot the word for "pechas" and didn't know how to say "busty" in Spanish. She laughed, and started to speak to me in Spanish. "Hablas Espanol?" "Poquito. Estoy asistiendo en una clase de la Universidad."

We kept talking. I found out her name was Adita, that she had been in the United states for seven years, but still struggled with the language. I sympathized with her and told her, in Spanglish, that I felt the same way about her language. I told her I wanted to go to a Spanish speaking country so I could REALLY learn. She told me I should go to Bolivia or Peru. I told her I wanted to go to Spain because "it has Barcelona." She said yes, it was very hermosa (beautiful) there, that another of her granddaughters is doing medical work there.

At the end of our conversation, she said if I ever wanted to practice Spanish, I could come over to her house. And I nodded. And then she told me her address. How'bout that? In the middle of the mall.

"You come over to my house and teacha me in Englesh, and tell me how I say wrong. And I will teacha you Spanish."

I laughed, and said that would be fun. And the one thing I wish we did less of as Americans, or Mormons, or whatever, is say "oh, that would be fun" or say "yeah, sure that would be great to do" when we don't really mean it. Because I knew she was serious.

Then she asked, "You are single?"

"Si," i said.

"Oh, that is wonderful. I have two boys. They are good boys. Son guapos."

"Entonces, tal vez vendria."

And then we parted. I regretted that I had forgotten to address her as "usted." I hoped she didn't mind.

And as I walked away from her, I was impressed by what had happened. I think we take these kinds of experiences for granted. I think we pass them by a lot, too. We avert our eyes when we could smile.

And maybe it's because I was kind of having an existential crisis before (Ok, I was), that this incident struck me with more force. But if we as humans can stitch ourselves together like that, with tiny threads of shared moments and open hearts, maybe we can somehow start to suture up the wounds of our world. If we can remember what's important.

Or will it just make me feel better? I don't mean this to say sentimentally "let's all help each other" because it sounds nice. I mean to say it because I believe it's absolutely vital. I don't know if it would solve everything. Probably not. I still get confused about navigating my way through this life. Lots of things are complicated. But if not this, then what?

I wish that it could happen like it does in "The Little Prince." That Fox knows what he's talking about. Listen!

And I wonder what would happen if I were to show up at her house someday. She would probably give me a besito on my cheek like my grandma does sometimes. What if?

Peace!

Peace Day was on September 24th. In July/August, I was contacted by a certain Averyl Dietering to see about performing for BYU's celebration of the holiday on campus. She had heard the song that I blogged about back in April or May (Lilies), and wanted me to perform it. She actually left a comment about it under that post.

I ended up being the person in charge of Music and Entertainment for BYU's Peace Day. It turned out really well. I recruited my dad and brother to help me out. They are both incredible musicians and it went really well. I was kind of sad when it was over, except for the fact that I never want to work with BYUSA again. :) But that's a whole nutha thang.



I hadn't known then that the sound guy, who is a good family friend, had been recording the whole performance. He just brought over a CD of some of the songs he mixed, and I was so surprised at the quality of the recording. It's probably the first time I've enjoyed listening to myself. Here's the link to a sample of one of the songs:

Waiting in Vain- Guy and Em


Anyway, check it out and see what you think. I'm a fan. :) Also, a really good song about Peace is called Peace Tonight, by the Indigo Girls. So much good.

A Birthday Present to Myself

I haven't blogged in a while. I won't say I haven't been busy. But I can't really say that I have, either. Whenever I think about blogging, I think "oh, but there are far more important things that you could be doing." And then I continue to putter around, doing nothing useful, really. I wish I had more time. I really do. Having too much to do leaves me paralyzed by choice. But a friend asked me why I haven't blogged lately, so I decided to start again.

Anyway. One of the biggest things on my mind is the future. The big furry but fuzzy future. Graduation fast approaches. And I have no super-duper solid plans. I'm considering going back east and doing an internship back there. I'm also considering going on a mission.

But there are some things in the future I can predict. Like my birthday. I'll be 21 on 14th of December. Orruther, I'm almost 99% sure I will be 21 on the 14th of December :). This is the last time (crossing my fingers) that my birthday will coincide with finals (This year, I get to wake up at 6:30 to take a final on my birthday... yay!). In years past, my birthdays have been all right. My birthday is just another cool day of my super-cool life (minus the 7:00 final). But, as you might imagine, these birthdays are somewhat overshadowed by the end of the semester as well as other holiday parties and busy-ness brought about by Christmas.

So this year, I'm being proactive. There are a couple of things that I have always wanted for my birthday that I've been denied because of the season and other circumstances. But this year, I'm having the birthday I've always wanted.

1. Watermelon-- My favorite food, hands down. Never in season in December, and super expensive anyway. So this year, I mixed the remainder of my last beloved watermelon of the season with some ice cream, put it in a tupperware, and froze it, with a "Do Not Open Til December 14" warning and subsequent happy birthday message to my future self from my past self. :) I'm really excited to see how it tastes.

2. Pinata-- As a child, I was always put out by the fact that Pinatas just aren't done in December. My younger brother, whose birthday is in July, would normally always have a pinata. And because I was older than him and his friends, I was always at the end of the line to hit it, so, inevitably, it was done with before I even got a whacking chance. You can see my put-outedness in the picture below. I'm on the left.



So you can bet I'm getting myself a pinata for my birthday this year. And I'm up to bat first.

3: There aren't a lot of things I can do about the weather, but I love summer way more than winter. I'm going to pray December 14th is at least sunny, since a balmy 70-75 degrees is an improbable wish.

So what's the plan, Stan?

Well,I'm going to have a huge awesome party and invite all the people I love and like. It'll be a sensation. A dalmatian sensation... or a Luau/fiesta combo. With live music and delicious food. Consider this an invitation, if you know me even semi-well and you aren't a stalker. And happy birthday to me soon!

It has been a while. Wow. And I had all these goals at the beginning of the summer. Looks like I'll have to jam everything I wanted to do into these last few weeks before school starts again.
One of my goals I've failed on is eating better. So I did make some delicious creamy corn the other night, which probably wasn't the healthiest, but it was good. And so EASY! And SO CROCKPOT!!! Of all my weaknesses, it would be cooking. I hate preparing food. It's my shame to admit that I've really lived off of otter and astro pops this summer. And toast with honey... which is God's saving grace to the college student. But honestly, it's like whenever I think about food, I go into a catalepsy and my muscles all freeze together and I can't even think. I know I need to eat healthy. I just keep procrastinating. There's also the trouble of buying food. In case you haven't realized, healthy food is more expensive. And you just end up eating it anyway! Sometimes I feel out of place, being the offspring of my Julia Child-like mother. I think some traits got mixed up in heaven, and my cousin Madi was born with the cooking/domestic life traits. I got left with the skills that won't help in the apocalypse, like painting and writing. Anyway. Here's my idea. Romaine Lettuce. Cool Salad dressing. Salad toppings. Voila. Easy salad bar every night. And pretty healthy, too. If I mix it up with different toppings, I won't get tired of the same thing, right? I mean, look how many cool salads Wendy's has come up with recently.

And just so you know, if you haven't tried watermelon with ice-cream, it is about the best thing on God's Green Earth. Dare I say... orgasmic? ;)(Oh yes I did just use that adj.) That's how good it is. Also good if you kind of let the watermelon and the ice-cream melt together, then make a popsicle out of it. Delicious. Well, that's all for tonight folks!

A Song, Simply...

This is my new song (and it's temporary album art, courtesy Elise Bucket Photography). I might put it on my page "The Stuff Bucket" when I become more blog-savvy. For now, it will be here.

I'm competing in Lilith Fair's Local Talent Search, and I while I can't imagine my little ol' blog is generating enough traffic to merit a plea to my readers, I'll do it anyway. Please vote for my song here: http://www.ourstage.com/go/lilithsaltlakecity ...(click on vote). If I am in the top ten by May 28th, the judges will pick out the finalists and I'll have a chance to open for some big act at Lilith Fair in July. So that would be really cool, right?

Now, some explaining about my song. The guitar that you hear was recorded last, and I'm going to blame that for my pitchiness because I think that IT is what is off key, not me :). I mean, maybe its me. But the guitar we used can have problems and we probably should have done the guitar first anyway. This is by far not a finished product (I entered it into the contest on the deadline of the competition), but I think it has potential. This is what I've got now... we'll probably go back and re-mix it later.

Feedback, please!

Variations on a Theme

I like to cut apart magazines, then reassemble the fragments all over notebook covers or guitars or boxes. It's one of my favorite past-times. One of the more serious projects that I've worked on in this manner I started my senior year of high school. I don't want to even guess how many hours it's taken to complete, but this year alone, when I pulled it out again to work on, I've probably spent at least 15 hours going through magazines, cutting, and pasting.

You might recognize a more primitive version as the banner for my blog. I might change it, but I kind of like her fragmented face.

Anyway, she is finally done.

Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome Miss Audrey Hepburn (clap clap clap)


She turned out better than I expected when I started this, and with a different meaning than I had originally planned, too. For those of you more artistically inclined, I would love to hear your interpretations of this piece (there is no right or wrong answer.) Leave those interpretations as comments ;). You might have to open up the bigger version of the photo so you can see everything properly.

I'm still using my mom's 4 megapixel camera, so you might not get all the details that are there. And it's a little blurry.

But I didn't want to just stop there. Cutting out magazines and seeing how things play out can be rather addicting, so here are some of my favorite temporary discoveries/additions to my art that I thought were worth sharing. I give you "Variations on a Theme."


"Mona Lisa Hepburn"


"Mona Lisa Hepburn" + almost perfect Maybelline Hand


"Too Coy for Comfort"


"Take Me to Your Leader"


"Butterfly Kisses"


"The Reticent Wide Receiver"


"The Breautifur Geisha"


"Horsin' Around"


"Smoky Secrets"


"Pearly Whites" -- a tribute to my cousin Mary Ashley, because the smile is hers.


"Anti-Smoking Campaign" (Courtesy of Edward Munch)


"Raising the Woof"


(Haha. I know, this one's just thilly.)

"'Oh Baby' Blues..."


And now just the eyeballs:


Pretty striking, huh? And a perfect fit. I still can't bring myself to glue them on permanently. I mean, I've covered every other part of her... I can't take her eyes. But I am going to keep them poster-puttied to the butterfly in the right corner just so I can keep my options open :)

If anyone can think of a good title, leave a comment. I'm still stumped. 10 points to the winner.

So Much Bones to Pick

Which are the important ones?

The last few weeks have been good, and slow. I'm tickled that it's finally summer, and as I drive down University Avenue, the trees are bushy and plump in their life, rolling around like green schools of fish in windy snow globes.

I still don't have a working version of Microsoft Word, which is really irksome to me. I'm working on this. I just don't want to pay full price for the program (this is a sentiment that has been passed down to me directly from my mother's side of the family= tacaño). So I'm doing everything, even writing school papers, on Wordpad. It beats Notepad, right?

So this posting is going to be more like a story, but very unlike the mock epic I composed to celebrate the victory of our soccer team. And it's going to have a lot of pictures, since I got new batteries for my camera-- spring is such great time to regenerate. See if you can find the common threads.

The month has begun well. Dad, Sam, and I all went down to Blues Brothers for their monthly Blues Jam, where indeed, the blues were jammed. Sam is on the right and our friend, Kevin Degraffenried, is on the left.


This is Sam with the second guitar he has made from scratch (not too shabby, eh?), after we played.


And this is my awesome dad. He rocks.


Now, rocks share some properties that are similar to bones.


Lately, I've been in to see a new chiropractor for my chronic back problems. This is a really cool type of chiropractice because the way they do things comes from homeopathic theories. Basically, the body has an amazing power to heal itself. In the human body, there is a bone that sits at the base of the skull, appropriately named the atlas bone. Studies have shown that if this bone is properly aligned, in most cases, the rest of the bones of the spine will fall back into their natural alignment. There is no yanking or bone cracking. Just gentle manipulation of the atlas. You can hardly feel it. It sounds crazy, but I think it will work. I've been adjusted twice so far, and it has helped a good deal of my back problems. The road to recovery is going to be long, but it is possible, which is more than I have expected before.

Now look at this one. I think it's very thoughtful of the skull to be white so the doctors work out their formulas on the picture of the cranium rather than use notebook paper. And all this time we just thought it was a shield for the brain. Such a nice skull.


My doctor is a very good doctor, with impeccable bedside manners. I think he thinks I'm clever and humourous, which is always a nice way to be thought of.


He tells me, however, that my neck is like an 80-year old's. Normal necks are supposed to have a curvature to them. Our heads are usually between nine and ten pounds, and our slight necks support all that weight. The curve is helpful in supporting the neck-- like a supple, bendy tree branch would be helpful if it were supporting a bowling ball. At least, more helpful than no curve-- or a stiff tree branch. My neck (above) is abnormally straight, which is a problem, but hopefully these treatments will help put it back where it's supposed to be, and get rid of my painses. The body is supposed to heal itself after the atlas bone is correctly aligned-- so here's hopin'.

The same day I got these x-rays taken, I participated in a soccer game (which our team won), and also went with some people in my ward to the tumbling gym. Maybe not the best choices to make, but c'mon: I can't put my life on hold because of my dumb neck.

So anyway, the tumbling gym was fun. I tried to be careful and stuff, and might have ended up getting a little too lethargic and eating too many doughnuts. I might have suffered an accelerated case of weight gain, after which I might have started thinking that my neck was maybe the last thing I should worry about.


(Pardon these bad jokes. I can't help myself) :)

Anyway, just as we were leaving the tumbling gym, I went to my purse, put on my shoes, and was in the middle of checking my phone for messages, when, out of my right ear, I hear a shout of "Broken Ankle!" And the group of us in the ward turn and see a teenage blonde haired kid lying awkwardly on one of the trampolines. A closer look reveals that his ankle is abnormally twisted. Time seems to slow down and incoming sounds are muted as I realize that the red and white I see in the area of his ankle are bone and blood. The man running the gym has just left and now the only employee is this 17 year old kid.

I understand why, in the CPR training sessions, they tell you to be direct and tell someone specifically to call the ambulance, because for about thirty seconds people were shouting "someone call 911!" And no one was calling 911. I have my phone in my hand, but I think lamely... "my battery is almost out of juice," and also ,"Surely someone has called by now." But the shouts kept coming, so I dialed 911, and dealt with the two operators, trying to find the address for the place while being told "ma'am, please calm down," and listening to an aggregate of alarm all around me. Calm down? I am calm! I find the address for the place on the bulletin board by the door and tell the lady, then tell her it must be wrong because I'm convinced we're in Springville and not Provo. So she connects me to the Springville department where I have to go through all of the information again and then asks me for the address. She seems to have an idea of where the tumbling gym is (Provo), and then apparently calls for the Provo Police. She asks for my name, my phone number, and the kid's name and age (which requires me to approach the tramp). I sit on the edge of it, staring at him and his compound fracture in surprising tranquility (that is to say, I wasn't totally freaking out). She tells me the ambulance is on the way and that we aren't to give the injured any food or water, or move him.

I think adrenaline and responsibility prevented me from becoming queasy. It also helped that none of the veins or arteries in his legs had been severed, so bleeding was minimal. Luckily too, one of the guys in our group has an EMT license, and went into action. Another guy in our group was alleviating the situation by telling the kid jokes and calming him down. The kid himself, 15 year-old river, didn't cry or scream at all, even though it was obvious he's in pain and shock. I would have peed my pants.

When the ambulance arrived and got their gear out, I was put in charge of holding the I.V. bag while they gave him morphine and got him on the stretcher. I couldn't help but take this picture, and it did help me feel better knowing his friend had been taking pictures all along on his I-phone. Those photos were on facebook before River was in the ambulance. You might have to click on this one to see up close.


Isn't it odd how we can't help but keep looking at something that we consider repulsive? What is that in human nature? The uncanny? I don't know.

But the story doesn't end there.

Paul, the guy in my ward with the blonde hair above, went to visit River in the hospital the next day, Saturday. On Sunday, I baked some brownies and we both went to give them to the teen convalescent. He was in a wheel-chair with his family outside the hospital, and as I approached, I realized that among the people gathered around him was a certain Kevin Degraffenried, the same guy who backed up myself, dad, and brother with bass guitar at Blues Night just the week before, and who has been the roady of my dad's band for years.

Turns out River's sister is Kevin's girlfriend, and what's more, River's parents like the music scene too and saw me sing at that same Blues Night. I don't know what startles me more, odd coincidences or blood.

I'm not going to say this full circle all happened for a reason, but make no bones about it, it's a small and strange world we live in.