Same old red suit, velvety and dark, just like
Antlers—the ones his team of reindeer fashion each year.
Naughty or nice, he visits us either way
To teach us a lesson—that there are consequences for the things we do.
Actions matter, and someone is always watching.
Coal for the naughty and toys for the nice—
Life lessons thoughtfully tucked into festive stockings.
Another bad year for little Timmy,
Unless he takes that frog out of Susie’s hair and
Says he’s sorry. He still has a chance to be a good boy—
Enough time before the man in red issues a final judgment.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
I'm dreaming of a haiku Christmas
Christmas Break
Cold, empty campus
Students retreat to their homes
Safe from finals week
(Ummm, I think I should quit school and be a professional poet.)
Cold, empty campus
Students retreat to their homes
Safe from finals week
(Ummm, I think I should quit school and be a professional poet.)
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Disco Skating: More than Just One Saturday Night
And everything around me, yeah
Got to stop to feelin' so low
And I decided quickly (Yes I did)
To disco down and check out the show
-Wild Cherry, 1976
“Whatever you do, don’t date the disco skaters,” my boss said, looking at me sternly, “trust me.” It had taken a great deal of pleading and convincing, but my boss had finally let me D.J. Disco Night at the skating rink. I’ll admit it: I didn’t take his advice immediately about the disco skaters (also known as the “regulars” because they frequented the rink regularly at a weekly, if not bi-weekly, basis), but it only took a few dates with these retroactive phenomena to understand his reasoning. Initially, being the high school student I was, I thought it flattering to be asked out by college guys. I just didn’t realize what type of college guys I was dealing with.
Disco skaters are considered to be pretty weird. After all, what sort of a guy has nothing better to do with his weekends than dress up in bright spandex and skate around in circles while listening to ABBA? Some paid big money for their specialized skates and practiced for weeks to win the skating competitions. Some made me personalized CDs of their favorite funk music and begged me to play it later in the evening when the amateur skaters had gone home. And one disco skater—called Kip—refused to call me by anything else but my DJ name (Candy…I know, I know), even when we were on a date. After that, I was pretty weirded-out by him, and disco skaters in general, and the whole culture that surrounded Disco Night. But I stayed. I still worked there because despite its weirdness, there was a piece of nostalgic goodness that I could not leave behind. Needless to say, I have an interesting relationship with Classic Skating and Disco Night. But that little run-down rink has an interesting relationship with Utah Valley, and its college student residents as well.
Despite how bizarre and outdated it and the odd community that frequents the rink are, the legendary activity of disco skating is a must-do on most college students’ bucket lists. And while a great majority only visit the rink once, it’s not unheard of for some to find themselves dragged there a second time for a ward activity by a roommate who, “really needs you to be there” because she’s too timid to talk to “this year’s top ranking ward hotty” without you there by her side coaching every word she speaks and every move she makes. “Plus,” she says, “there will be free Little Ceaser’s Pizza there—and root beer floats!” But whether you’ve frequented this joint once or twice by choice or by force, you’ve known that it was a rite of passage. Something you had to do.
And it’s true. Your education at BYU or UVU is not complete without experiencing the thrill of throwing down five bucks for a long night of rusty skates, swirling track lights, cheap fog, and half blown speakers blaring out “Dancing Queen” in all its nostalgic glory. It is then that your understanding of “what there is to do” in Utah Valley deepens. It is then that you can say to yourself, “I am truly a college student now. I have plundered delightfully at the D.I. I have squeezed my way into florescent purple spandex. I have gathered the courage to commit to 2-3 hours in a building that smells of sweaty feet, moldy pipes, and dusty carpet. I have tasted of the overly cheesed pizza and frost bitten chicken strips. I have rolled on wobbly wheels at least once around the rink without completely biffing it. I have gleefully lifted my face to the flashing light above me and have ripped out “Play that Funky Music, White Boy” without paying any mind to its racially prejudice implications. I have come. I have paid my dues. And I have conquered: The night. The wheels. The Bee Gees. The pick-up lines from the “regulars” who skate better than they walk, despite their tight bell-bottomed trousers. The bruises from the rounds around the rink when I did biff it—and hard.” But now that your education is complete, you can happily drive away from the decaying cement rink and feel quite content never giving it another thought. You can check it off of your to-do list and forget all about it. But after one night (or maybe two), you may have only scratched the surface of all the work and effort that has been put into that old run-down rink in order for you to experience an authentic Disco Night.
For starters, you should know that the DJ works hard to create the right mood for Disco Night. The management of Classic Skating doesn’t let just any old employee DJ Disco Night. It’s the highest ranking position that a DJ at the rink can aspire to. A position that has to be worked up to, not only by becoming a talented DJ, but by working your fingers to the bone (almost quite literally) scrubbing dishes, unclogging toilets, and spraying foul sweaty skates with sanitizer at the end of the night. It’s hard work.
And becoming a good DJ takes a lot of training and a lot of DJ theory. There are distinct methods to DJ-ing, because you aren’t just throwing random songs out there; you’re manipulating energy. A DJ must be able to read his crowd (and I say “his” because it’s rare, at least at the rink, that a DJ is a female). A DJ has to know what mood his crowd is in and how to play with that mood to heighten their emotions. He has to play specific songs in a specific order at specific times. And the order of the songs can’t be preplanned, because the energy and mood of the rink can change so suddenly. A DJ must be sensitive, instinctive, and as my boss told me, “almost go by the spirit” when it comes to knowing what song to play next.
Beyond knowing what music to play and when to play it, a DJ must consider lighting and effects. The lighting must be as dramatic as shocking as the music. Each song requires different lighting, because each song conveys a different mood. Surprisingly, this takes a great deal of thought and “intuitive planning.” Especially since the lighting at Classic Skating is limited due to a tight budget. You’ve really got to get creative. It’s not enough to run the disco ball the entire night (plus it’s impossible because the track lighting that runs the disco ball will over heat after fifteen minutes anyway). The same goes for the black lights. You can’t keep them on all night, or they lose their effect. And sometimes, if a skater doesn’t dress wisely (i.e. sheer clothing), you can’t turn them on at all because it gets embarrassing for everyone else. It’s tricky business.
A DJ also has to be a wise people pleaser. He must juggle between pleasing those who are at Disco Night for the first time and only want to hear songs like “Stayin’ Alive” and “Brick House,” and pleasing the “regulars” who are sick of the generic disco music and want to delve into the songs that are more obscure. A DJ knows that he can’t and shouldn’t play all the songs that are requested. He must realize that most times, people don’t really know what they want to hear. Most of the songs they request would destroy the mood he has worked so hard to create.
Beyond all that a DJ does to create the right mood for Disco Night, the “regulars”—although they don’t have the best reputation—are vital to your disco skating experience. These hardy disco skaters prep long and hard to pull off the looks and moves they bring to the rink. Kip explained that he and his friends start prepping for Disco Night hours before they actually enter the rink. They methodically plan the outfits they will wear and how they will style their hair. They play disco music beforehand so they can be in the right mood and mindset when Disco Night begins. My friend Peter, a die-hard skater in his 50’s, offers classes for the regulars. When I worked there, they’d come to the rink every Tuesday for hour and a half lessons on spins, jumps, and other fancy skating techniques. So when you see a “regular” at the rink pulling off crazy moves, you need to know that he didn’t get that good on accident. Skating well takes a great amount of concentrated effort and a whole lot of practice.
A well trained DJ and these odd-ball “regulars” bring something unique to the rink: they show the majority—the one or two-timers—what skating was like in its prime. When it was a big deal. When it was not only a fad, but an art. They summon that longing for a time and culture that is now lost to most of us. Nostalgia for that great escape to the rink.
They’re also pretty entertaining.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Stream of Consciousness, Hear My Cry
For class we had to experiment with, yet again, a unique writing style. (Now, now, don't get too excited. It's not more Twilight fan fiction, because that would be gross.) I chose "The List" because it was short, and I'm smart like that.
1. Where is your cell phone? In the side pocket of my backpack, smushed somewhere in between old granola bar/string cheese wrappers and an umbrella that’s threatening to mold. That’s kind of disgusting. I wonder what sort of creatures of fungus and bacteria are growing in my backpack. And then just think! I put my phone in there--my phone that is pressed up against my cheek for considerable amounts of time everyday. I am so gross.
2. Where is your significant other? At 7:35 am it is likely that Richard is asleep and that his stupid, stinky, needy dog is hogging the bed and forcing Richard out to the exiled perimeter of the mattress. So even though he is still asleep, and has been for quite some time now, he will wake up tired. I hate* that dog.
* Hate is a strong word. In this context it is being used by the writer for dramatic and comical effect. This, in no way, reflects the true feelings of said writer. Because, really, who could honestly hate a chawini dog that was found in a park scavenging for food, half starved to death, who looks up at you from that scrawny little body with those eyes, like two sister moons on fire, that seem to say to your soul, "I've been abused and abandoned. Help me Obi-wan-kenobi. You're my only hope"?
3. Your hair? My hair has become somewhat of a joke to me. This summer I bought a really bright box of red hair dye, thinking it would fade out to something mild. It never really did, and although I was at first frightened to have crayon-red hair, I get so many compliments on it I’ve maintained the unnatural color. I get multiple compliments daily--from random strangers--seriously, like, random strangers. People in parking lots, girls washing their hands next to me in the bathrooms, fast food workers. I guess it turns out that everyone likes crayon colored hair, but no one has the actual guts/stupidity to dye it themselves. The world is living vicariously through me. And I’m OK with that.
4. Your mother? My mother is a saint. Anyone who can raise 11 children all by themselves and have them all turn out relatively normal is a saint.
5. Your father? He died. I know, I know . . . I accept your apology. It’s OK. I’ve dealt with it.
For the most part.
6. Your favorite thing? People! But I guess people aren’t things. So, If I’m thinking of things then I’d have to say my guitar. It’s my catharsis on really rotten terrible no good very bad days.
7. Your dream last night? I was tossing and turning. I had a nightmare that I slept through my alarm and was unable to sneak up to campus to turn in a paper that was technically due last night by midnight. In my defense, I had it done by eleven, but was it my fault that the JFSB was locked? Of course not.
8. Your favorite drink? Water. I’m finding that milk makes me ill and that the citrus acid from juice gives my stomach a good turn as well. *gulp* I think I’m allergic to food.
9. Your dream/goal? To get to bed before midnight.
10. The room you're in? I’m in the library. I live here. I’ve been here since 7:15 am. I came here directly after slipping my late paper (which really should have been on time) in the box by my professors dark office in the JFSB. I’m hoping the darkness indicates that he hasn’t been on campus yet today, and that he took an early night last night and will not notice that my paper was not turned in by midnight. But that’s besides the point....we were talking about the library.
11. Your hobby? Umm...yes? (Seriously, who has time for hobbies when they are a supersenior? I’m probably a supersenior because I once had too many hobbies. Hobbies equal no graduation. Boo.)
12. Your fear? Everyone says dying alone. Now, is that really so bad? I think it would be much more scary for a professor to refuse your midterm because it wasn’t placed in his box before midnight on the 13th of October like it should have been. That’s terrifying!
13. Where do you want to be in 6 years? I’ve given up on this question. I’m never right.
14. Where were you last night? Trying to sneak into the JFSB, of course.
15. What you're not? An Amniturner.
16. Muffins? What the random? You’re really asking me about muffins?
17. Where you grew up? Confession: I never really grew up. I just pretend to be an adult when it’s required.
18. The last thing you did? This is a hard question. What does it mean by “did”? I just breathed, and typed the previous sentence, and drank my pineapple orange juice that will give me a stomach ache, and before that--before I came to the library to hang out with all the crazy early birds here--I was reattempting to sneak into the JFSB (but I guess this time it wasn’t sneaking because it wasn’t locked) and before that, well . . . well, I was sleeping.
19. What are you wearing? Sadly, clothing.
20. Your TV? TV is of the devil. It sucks people’s lives away. They spend their time watching shows like Friends secretly wishing they had real friends, just like Phoebe and Rachel and Joey. But the truth is, they’ll never have friends like that, so long as they are glued to that time sucking machine of technological doom!
21. Your pets? Cinder is a stray cat that showed up on our doorstep one day after I prayed that God would send me a cat to be my companion. She’s a pretty good cat, except for when you touch her belly the wrong way. Then she strikes out at you, claws sinking into your defenseless flesh. I think she has a tumor in her tummy.
22. Your computer? I don’t have a computer. Again, I live at the library.
23. Your life? Hahaha...(nervous laugh).
24. Your mood? Does a citrus stomachache count as a mood?
25. Missing someone? Well! Wouldn’t you like to know? . . . oh, you would? Well, of course I am. Always am. Always have been.
26. Your car? My car is the most practical thing I’ve ever purchased. It’s so economic it makes me blush.
27. Something you're not wearing? Socks. I probably should have worn them, because I’m wearing my leather moccasins and I’m assuming they’ll make my feet stink by the end of the day. Oops.
28. Last summer? Well, you know what I did. . . .
29. Like someone? I’m no grinch. I like most people.
30. Your favorite color? I hate this question. It’s one frequently asked on first dates and first days of school and in Relief Society when the teacher knows her lesson will be too short and wants to waste time “helping the class get better acquainted with each other”. I like most colors, just like the way I like people. That is, except for the people who ask me this question.
31. When was the last time you laughed? Yesterday. I read the best essay ever! It was about a girl who mourned over the death of her cat more than the death of her grandma. I know that doesn’t sound very nice, but it was hi-LAR-ious.
32. Last time you cried? Dude, I’m not volunteering that information.
1. Where is your cell phone? In the side pocket of my backpack, smushed somewhere in between old granola bar/string cheese wrappers and an umbrella that’s threatening to mold. That’s kind of disgusting. I wonder what sort of creatures of fungus and bacteria are growing in my backpack. And then just think! I put my phone in there--my phone that is pressed up against my cheek for considerable amounts of time everyday. I am so gross.
2. Where is your significant other? At 7:35 am it is likely that Richard is asleep and that his stupid, stinky, needy dog is hogging the bed and forcing Richard out to the exiled perimeter of the mattress. So even though he is still asleep, and has been for quite some time now, he will wake up tired. I hate* that dog.
* Hate is a strong word. In this context it is being used by the writer for dramatic and comical effect. This, in no way, reflects the true feelings of said writer. Because, really, who could honestly hate a chawini dog that was found in a park scavenging for food, half starved to death, who looks up at you from that scrawny little body with those eyes, like two sister moons on fire, that seem to say to your soul, "I've been abused and abandoned. Help me Obi-wan-kenobi. You're my only hope"?
3. Your hair? My hair has become somewhat of a joke to me. This summer I bought a really bright box of red hair dye, thinking it would fade out to something mild. It never really did, and although I was at first frightened to have crayon-red hair, I get so many compliments on it I’ve maintained the unnatural color. I get multiple compliments daily--from random strangers--seriously, like, random strangers. People in parking lots, girls washing their hands next to me in the bathrooms, fast food workers. I guess it turns out that everyone likes crayon colored hair, but no one has the actual guts/stupidity to dye it themselves. The world is living vicariously through me. And I’m OK with that.
4. Your mother? My mother is a saint. Anyone who can raise 11 children all by themselves and have them all turn out relatively normal is a saint.
5. Your father? He died. I know, I know . . . I accept your apology. It’s OK. I’ve dealt with it.
For the most part.
6. Your favorite thing? People! But I guess people aren’t things. So, If I’m thinking of things then I’d have to say my guitar. It’s my catharsis on really rotten terrible no good very bad days.
7. Your dream last night? I was tossing and turning. I had a nightmare that I slept through my alarm and was unable to sneak up to campus to turn in a paper that was technically due last night by midnight. In my defense, I had it done by eleven, but was it my fault that the JFSB was locked? Of course not.
8. Your favorite drink? Water. I’m finding that milk makes me ill and that the citrus acid from juice gives my stomach a good turn as well. *gulp* I think I’m allergic to food.
9. Your dream/goal? To get to bed before midnight.
10. The room you're in? I’m in the library. I live here. I’ve been here since 7:15 am. I came here directly after slipping my late paper (which really should have been on time) in the box by my professors dark office in the JFSB. I’m hoping the darkness indicates that he hasn’t been on campus yet today, and that he took an early night last night and will not notice that my paper was not turned in by midnight. But that’s besides the point....we were talking about the library.
11. Your hobby? Umm...yes? (Seriously, who has time for hobbies when they are a supersenior? I’m probably a supersenior because I once had too many hobbies. Hobbies equal no graduation. Boo.)
12. Your fear? Everyone says dying alone. Now, is that really so bad? I think it would be much more scary for a professor to refuse your midterm because it wasn’t placed in his box before midnight on the 13th of October like it should have been. That’s terrifying!
13. Where do you want to be in 6 years? I’ve given up on this question. I’m never right.
14. Where were you last night? Trying to sneak into the JFSB, of course.
15. What you're not? An Amniturner.
16. Muffins? What the random? You’re really asking me about muffins?
17. Where you grew up? Confession: I never really grew up. I just pretend to be an adult when it’s required.
18. The last thing you did? This is a hard question. What does it mean by “did”? I just breathed, and typed the previous sentence, and drank my pineapple orange juice that will give me a stomach ache, and before that--before I came to the library to hang out with all the crazy early birds here--I was reattempting to sneak into the JFSB (but I guess this time it wasn’t sneaking because it wasn’t locked) and before that, well . . . well, I was sleeping.
19. What are you wearing? Sadly, clothing.
20. Your TV? TV is of the devil. It sucks people’s lives away. They spend their time watching shows like Friends secretly wishing they had real friends, just like Phoebe and Rachel and Joey. But the truth is, they’ll never have friends like that, so long as they are glued to that time sucking machine of technological doom!
21. Your pets? Cinder is a stray cat that showed up on our doorstep one day after I prayed that God would send me a cat to be my companion. She’s a pretty good cat, except for when you touch her belly the wrong way. Then she strikes out at you, claws sinking into your defenseless flesh. I think she has a tumor in her tummy.
22. Your computer? I don’t have a computer. Again, I live at the library.
23. Your life? Hahaha...(nervous laugh).
24. Your mood? Does a citrus stomachache count as a mood?
25. Missing someone? Well! Wouldn’t you like to know? . . . oh, you would? Well, of course I am. Always am. Always have been.
26. Your car? My car is the most practical thing I’ve ever purchased. It’s so economic it makes me blush.
27. Something you're not wearing? Socks. I probably should have worn them, because I’m wearing my leather moccasins and I’m assuming they’ll make my feet stink by the end of the day. Oops.
28. Last summer? Well, you know what I did. . . .
29. Like someone? I’m no grinch. I like most people.
30. Your favorite color? I hate this question. It’s one frequently asked on first dates and first days of school and in Relief Society when the teacher knows her lesson will be too short and wants to waste time “helping the class get better acquainted with each other”. I like most colors, just like the way I like people. That is, except for the people who ask me this question.
31. When was the last time you laughed? Yesterday. I read the best essay ever! It was about a girl who mourned over the death of her cat more than the death of her grandma. I know that doesn’t sound very nice, but it was hi-LAR-ious.
32. Last time you cried? Dude, I’m not volunteering that information.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Kids, don't try this at home
I'm hesitant to share this, but honestly can't help it. For my class on teaching writing, we've been asked to research an unfamiliar online genre and then give duplicating it a go.
My genre: Fantasy fan fiction (don't ask).
My duplication: Twilight....I know, I know. But just keep reading and don't disown me yet.
Here goes nothing.
--------------
Chapter one: Edward's Discovery
“I’ve been miserable all day without you.” sulked Bella.
“”I’m so sorry,” crooned Edward, as his massive, masculine figure glided through the kitchen and swept Bella up into a princess hug. He kissed her cheek tenderly and said, “Remember Bella, I love you and think about you no matter where I am.”
“I do too. I just wish you were here more often. It hasn’t been easy to be away from you for eight hours every day. I miss you so much, that by lunch time I’m nearly dying. And I love you so much sometimes I feel I may burst out of this body and soar into the wide open sky.”
Working for the CIA to stop the Volturi had been the perfect job offer for Edward. And now that he and Bella had a child and a home to look after, Edward knew that he had to stop flying around the woods looking for trouble and settle down into a real job. He felt that this job at least offered security and the consistency of a 9-5 routine. Secretly, he hoped that one day he could join the field team in the CIA and chase the Volturi down on secret missions. But, for now, he was content working at his desk job, providing top secret information when the agents needed it and spending the rest of his time filing paperwork, checking facebook, and beating his co-workers at online Sudoku. It wasn’t a bad deal, really.
Plus, he thought, it gives Bella the semblance of a normal human life, and she really deserves that. Edward had once thought that he loved Bella more than any other creature on the earth could love someone, but his capacity for love for her had exploded when she willingly chose to spend an eternity with him as a cold, rock hard, sparkling, nocturnal, blood-hungry vampire. He had wanted to make up for it and give her a life that was as normal as possible.
That was when he found his desk job at the local CIA office in town and settled his new family down in the suburbs of Forks, Washington. It was a quiet neighborhood full of young, successful, middle-class families. For their anniversary, Edward had bought Bella every household appliance he could imagine to keep a housewife happy. She was so precious to him; he didn’t want her to go without anything. He felt so deeply for her, he would live and die and work and sweat for her until the stars fell out of the sky. This occupation helped him accomplish this, but it also gave him something amazing that he’d never felt before: confidence. For the first time in his very lengthy existence, he really felt good about himself. He felt like he was accomplishing great things, that finally he was needed in the world—in real life, as opposed to the dark hours and cold corners of the forest where vampire and werewolf clash and collide. Edward was happy, and he was starting to feel his teenage angst and insecurities melt away.
“So, my love, what have you been up to today?” posed Edward, gracefully sliding into a sleek black leather chair in the living room. Bella marveled and sighed over the way the black of the chair perfectly complimented his beautiful bronze hair and emphasized the pristine whiteness of his flawless pale skin.
“I’ve been sitting here at home all day, dreaming of you,” Bella cooed in a syrupy sweet voice. “You know that I only long to be with you. Your company is the only thing in the world that brings me happiness!”
Edward wanted to say the same thing in return, but something stopped him.
Bella, expecting a validating response but not receiving one, inquired insecurely, “Don’t you feel the same?”
“Well, you see Bella, it’s not that you don’t make me happy, or that I don’t enjoy spending time with you. It’s just . . . “
“Just what?!? Oh, why don’t you just go on and say it? You don’t love me anymore? You’ve found someone else? I’m not vampy enough for you?!?”
Enraged, Bella began to pace around the heart shaped perimeter of the living room rug, muttering to herself regrets about becoming a vampire, and odd bits about making the wrong choice and the earthy love that only werewolves were capable of. Edward, with immaculate swiftness, stood up from the cold black chair and rushed to Bella’s side. He placed his perfectly sculpted finger to her full, red lips to calm and quiet her. Bella swooned at the touch of his finger on her mouth; it felt as though a marbled finger from the gods had dammed up her rage.
“Bella, I meant to say that I love you and, yes, you make me happy, but I’m starting to discover that other things in life are making me happy too. That they’re giving me a different kind of happiness that’s pretty amazing.”
Bella’s face fell, and she stared down at her once clumsy toes.
Edward pulled her into a firm embrace and sighed, “Bella, I think it’s high time you started finding other things in your life that bring you happiness as well.”
“I’m confused,” stammered Bella. “What else is there to live for but you?”
“Well,” replied Edward, trying to convey in his voice the deep well of tenderness he felt for Bella in his heart, “what about picking up some hobbies? Or, going to college or pursuing a career?”
“But who will take care of little Renesmee?”
“Bella, our daughter has grown at an incredible rate. Sometimes I think you forget that she is a vampchild. Even though she’s only six months old, she’s already moved out into a studio apartment downtown. Actually, I think she’s moved in with . . . “
Edward stopped himself suddenly, thinking about the consequences of mentioning Jacob, Bella’s former lover, in the middle of such a heated argument. Instead, he tenderly whispered, “I’m afraid we’re empty nesters now.”
“So, hobbies and school, huh? I’d never considered them before. All I see, and dream, and think about is you. I don’t even know where to start or what I’d want to do!”
“I know,” said Edward, still trying to be as sensitive as possible. “That seems to be the problem.”
It had dawned on Edward as he had started to feel a sense of achievement, purpose, and self-esteem from his new job that Bella had nothing which gave her that same sense of achievement. In fact, most girls Edward had been interested in before he met Bella were multi-faceted and talented—that is, before he had to ship them off to foreign countries to withstand the temptation of biting them and sucking their blood. He had just been so distracted with the challenge of Bella’s unreadable mind, and so caught up in the drama of their love-triangle relationship, that he’d never noticed the disparity before. Bella had no real personality. She had no other passions, no interests, no hobbies. He still loved her, but he was starting to see that although their love was thrilling and sensational, it was also fleeting. Certainly, he thought to himself during his quiet moments at work (in between games of online checkers and minesweeper), a deeper sort of love, happiness and fulfillment is out there. But now, how to obtain it?
“Please Bella, just give it a try.”
“I’m not sure. I’m not really good at hobbies and school.”
“Come on. Do it for me? Because you love me?”
“Oh, Edward, I’d do anything for you!” Bella exclaimed sinking into his embrace. “I’ll start surfing the net for the latest trends in local hobbies tonight! And I’ll even sign up for a few classes at Fork’s Community College.”
“I knew that you’d understand, Bella,” Edward said as he cradled her delicate face in his large, powerful hands.
“Oh, Edward, I just love you so much. Thank you for caring about me enough to be honest. Is there anything else that you’d like?”
“Yes,” he said reluctantly.
“What is it?” Bella said calmly as she fell into the deep warmth of his amber eyes.
Edward hesitated, and then said resolutely, “Marriage counseling.”
“Marriage WHAT?!?” Bella exploded, recoiling from his embrace.
“Well, you see, I’ve been doing a lot of research about normal, happy, healthy, and well balanced relationships during my spare time at the office,” Edward explained, speaking quickly--afraid of another emotional breakdown from Bella, “and It turns out that, well, our, umm….well, our relationship needs a lot of work.”
My genre: Fantasy fan fiction (don't ask).
My duplication: Twilight....I know, I know. But just keep reading and don't disown me yet.
Here goes nothing.
--------------
Chapter one: Edward's Discovery
“I’ve been miserable all day without you.” sulked Bella.
“”I’m so sorry,” crooned Edward, as his massive, masculine figure glided through the kitchen and swept Bella up into a princess hug. He kissed her cheek tenderly and said, “Remember Bella, I love you and think about you no matter where I am.”
“I do too. I just wish you were here more often. It hasn’t been easy to be away from you for eight hours every day. I miss you so much, that by lunch time I’m nearly dying. And I love you so much sometimes I feel I may burst out of this body and soar into the wide open sky.”
Working for the CIA to stop the Volturi had been the perfect job offer for Edward. And now that he and Bella had a child and a home to look after, Edward knew that he had to stop flying around the woods looking for trouble and settle down into a real job. He felt that this job at least offered security and the consistency of a 9-5 routine. Secretly, he hoped that one day he could join the field team in the CIA and chase the Volturi down on secret missions. But, for now, he was content working at his desk job, providing top secret information when the agents needed it and spending the rest of his time filing paperwork, checking facebook, and beating his co-workers at online Sudoku. It wasn’t a bad deal, really.
Plus, he thought, it gives Bella the semblance of a normal human life, and she really deserves that. Edward had once thought that he loved Bella more than any other creature on the earth could love someone, but his capacity for love for her had exploded when she willingly chose to spend an eternity with him as a cold, rock hard, sparkling, nocturnal, blood-hungry vampire. He had wanted to make up for it and give her a life that was as normal as possible.
That was when he found his desk job at the local CIA office in town and settled his new family down in the suburbs of Forks, Washington. It was a quiet neighborhood full of young, successful, middle-class families. For their anniversary, Edward had bought Bella every household appliance he could imagine to keep a housewife happy. She was so precious to him; he didn’t want her to go without anything. He felt so deeply for her, he would live and die and work and sweat for her until the stars fell out of the sky. This occupation helped him accomplish this, but it also gave him something amazing that he’d never felt before: confidence. For the first time in his very lengthy existence, he really felt good about himself. He felt like he was accomplishing great things, that finally he was needed in the world—in real life, as opposed to the dark hours and cold corners of the forest where vampire and werewolf clash and collide. Edward was happy, and he was starting to feel his teenage angst and insecurities melt away.
“So, my love, what have you been up to today?” posed Edward, gracefully sliding into a sleek black leather chair in the living room. Bella marveled and sighed over the way the black of the chair perfectly complimented his beautiful bronze hair and emphasized the pristine whiteness of his flawless pale skin.
“I’ve been sitting here at home all day, dreaming of you,” Bella cooed in a syrupy sweet voice. “You know that I only long to be with you. Your company is the only thing in the world that brings me happiness!”
Edward wanted to say the same thing in return, but something stopped him.
Bella, expecting a validating response but not receiving one, inquired insecurely, “Don’t you feel the same?”
“Well, you see Bella, it’s not that you don’t make me happy, or that I don’t enjoy spending time with you. It’s just . . . “
“Just what?!? Oh, why don’t you just go on and say it? You don’t love me anymore? You’ve found someone else? I’m not vampy enough for you?!?”
Enraged, Bella began to pace around the heart shaped perimeter of the living room rug, muttering to herself regrets about becoming a vampire, and odd bits about making the wrong choice and the earthy love that only werewolves were capable of. Edward, with immaculate swiftness, stood up from the cold black chair and rushed to Bella’s side. He placed his perfectly sculpted finger to her full, red lips to calm and quiet her. Bella swooned at the touch of his finger on her mouth; it felt as though a marbled finger from the gods had dammed up her rage.
“Bella, I meant to say that I love you and, yes, you make me happy, but I’m starting to discover that other things in life are making me happy too. That they’re giving me a different kind of happiness that’s pretty amazing.”
Bella’s face fell, and she stared down at her once clumsy toes.
Edward pulled her into a firm embrace and sighed, “Bella, I think it’s high time you started finding other things in your life that bring you happiness as well.”
“I’m confused,” stammered Bella. “What else is there to live for but you?”
“Well,” replied Edward, trying to convey in his voice the deep well of tenderness he felt for Bella in his heart, “what about picking up some hobbies? Or, going to college or pursuing a career?”
“But who will take care of little Renesmee?”
“Bella, our daughter has grown at an incredible rate. Sometimes I think you forget that she is a vampchild. Even though she’s only six months old, she’s already moved out into a studio apartment downtown. Actually, I think she’s moved in with . . . “
Edward stopped himself suddenly, thinking about the consequences of mentioning Jacob, Bella’s former lover, in the middle of such a heated argument. Instead, he tenderly whispered, “I’m afraid we’re empty nesters now.”
“So, hobbies and school, huh? I’d never considered them before. All I see, and dream, and think about is you. I don’t even know where to start or what I’d want to do!”
“I know,” said Edward, still trying to be as sensitive as possible. “That seems to be the problem.”
It had dawned on Edward as he had started to feel a sense of achievement, purpose, and self-esteem from his new job that Bella had nothing which gave her that same sense of achievement. In fact, most girls Edward had been interested in before he met Bella were multi-faceted and talented—that is, before he had to ship them off to foreign countries to withstand the temptation of biting them and sucking their blood. He had just been so distracted with the challenge of Bella’s unreadable mind, and so caught up in the drama of their love-triangle relationship, that he’d never noticed the disparity before. Bella had no real personality. She had no other passions, no interests, no hobbies. He still loved her, but he was starting to see that although their love was thrilling and sensational, it was also fleeting. Certainly, he thought to himself during his quiet moments at work (in between games of online checkers and minesweeper), a deeper sort of love, happiness and fulfillment is out there. But now, how to obtain it?
“Please Bella, just give it a try.”
“I’m not sure. I’m not really good at hobbies and school.”
“Come on. Do it for me? Because you love me?”
“Oh, Edward, I’d do anything for you!” Bella exclaimed sinking into his embrace. “I’ll start surfing the net for the latest trends in local hobbies tonight! And I’ll even sign up for a few classes at Fork’s Community College.”
“I knew that you’d understand, Bella,” Edward said as he cradled her delicate face in his large, powerful hands.
“Oh, Edward, I just love you so much. Thank you for caring about me enough to be honest. Is there anything else that you’d like?”
“Yes,” he said reluctantly.
“What is it?” Bella said calmly as she fell into the deep warmth of his amber eyes.
Edward hesitated, and then said resolutely, “Marriage counseling.”
“Marriage WHAT?!?” Bella exploded, recoiling from his embrace.
“Well, you see, I’ve been doing a lot of research about normal, happy, healthy, and well balanced relationships during my spare time at the office,” Edward explained, speaking quickly--afraid of another emotional breakdown from Bella, “and It turns out that, well, our, umm….well, our relationship needs a lot of work.”
Friday, August 27, 2010
Mosaic Me
Ok, this is kind of narcissistic, but cool. I stole this from a co-worker's blog, but it's a really snazzy idea for a desktop backdrop. I thought I'd share the love.
Here's my mosaic:
1. Patty Griffin. This woman is THE woman. She is the woman I wish I could be, but humbly submit that I could not. She is the goddess of folk music. *Sigh*
2. Zion's National Park. Can't ever seem to get enough of this place. Heaven on earth.
3. Snowboarding is my cure to the winter blues. Nothing better than heading up to the slopes and leaving your worries behind you. Escapist? Yes. A sin? No.
4. The Book of Mormon has seriously transformed my life. I don't know who I would be without it. I love this book!
5. Chacos!!! The saddest part of the year is when it's just too cold and snowy to wear these beauties anymore. I heart my chacos.
6. Biggest weakness? Chocolate chip cookies. I can refuse all sweets. Ice cream and brownies ain't got no thang on me, but a chocolate chip cookie? No resistance.
7. The Ashton Memorial in Lancaster, England. I've decided that my heart will always pine for this place. There is no satisfaction.
8. Yes, I'm a cat person. And especially when you see kittens like this. I can't wait to be on old, crazy cat lady, playing my banjo on my front porch with cats swarming 'round my ankles and foam rollers in my hair.
9. This is not just a random picture of a guitar. This is a) John Mayer's gorgeous hands playing his favorite b) Fender Stratus Guitar. Two beauties; one great photo.
10. The Manchester Eye in Piccidilly Gardens, Manchester, England. Never rode it, but I sure did have some great conversations about the restored gospel in its shadow.
11. Missionaries for life! I think this guy should be our mascot. I mean, really, who doesn't loves a good ole sock puppet missionary preaching the gospel?
12. Stone Henge. I know, I know . . . I'm pretty obsessed with England.
13. This is a groovy photo of a train station in NYC. Train stations are by far some of the best places to people watch. I love analyzing people's shoes and determining what kind of people they are soley based on their shoe type.
14. India: the final frontier. My next globe trotting destination. I can't wait.
15. I found a new love in something old--vinyl records. There's something enchanting about crisp, crackling sound of records.
The end.
And here's how you can make one for yourself:
Step 1: Go to flickr.com
Step 2: In another window open http://bighugelabs.com/flickr/mosaic.php
Step 3: Choose 4 columns, 3 rowsStep 4: Answer the questions in the search bar of flickr and pick your favorite picture on the page and paste the address into the mosaic maker. Create the mosaic and then save it to your computer and post it as a picture.
Enjoy!
Sunday, June 20, 2010
This is the funniest thing I've seen all day
"$100 looking for room to rent. desperate
midvale, UT 84047 - Jun 20, 2010
this is a weird ad not normally posted in here. i just got out of a bad relationship and had to move out. i dont really have any money so i was hoping i could trade my xbox 360 for a room to rent. i dont care if its the couch or a bed. im just in desperate need of a place to live right now, i could do rent at the end of the month. i just have my xbox as trade right now. if ur interested then hit me up, anything would be appreciated"
midvale, UT 84047 - Jun 20, 2010
this is a weird ad not normally posted in here. i just got out of a bad relationship and had to move out. i dont really have any money so i was hoping i could trade my xbox 360 for a room to rent. i dont care if its the couch or a bed. im just in desperate need of a place to live right now, i could do rent at the end of the month. i just have my xbox as trade right now. if ur interested then hit me up, anything would be appreciated"
Thursday, June 17, 2010
All Good Things
And . . . I'm back!
I have certainly experience the most exhilarating, challenging, rewarding, redeeming, and speediest eighteen months of my life. (Seriously, time is such a bandit.) I LOVED MY MISSION! It was all that my heart hoped for and more. The most regrettable part about my mission in England is my lack of ability to share with others just what it meant to me. I find myself talking people to death about it, but all my gab still does the mission no justice. Mayhaps it is something you've got to experience firsthand to truly "get". What I will proclaim (and will do so now and forever) is that the mission has opened my heart to the reality of Christ and His Atonement. He is truly our Savior. He saves us from all things imaginable; the world, temptation, sorrow and pain, and even ourselves. It has been a deep honor and privilege to be his servant, and to walk in His footsteps and by so doing come to know Him in a very real way. Elder David A. Bednar said that we can meet Christ spiritually long before we meet him physically. And I say amen to that.
The transition home has been bittersweet. I miss every single thing about the mission. Everthing. Even the smell of sewers, dog poop, and mold overheating in the hot English summer sun. However, I adore, Adore, ADORE being surrounded by my nieces and nephews. They are huge! Corey and Travis are like, all growed-up, with deep voices and muscles and everything. And nothing has been better than having my mother as my companion. I follow her around the house nearly all day. Most of the time, I don't think she has caught on to what I am doing (or maybe she is just too nice to say anything about it). Last week, however, she did say that I needed to spend some time downstairs in my room . . . alone! I am still getting used to this idea. Life's just no fun when you don't have someone attached to your hip to share it with. Mom has also insisted that I sleep in. It felt so wrong, but my body responded well. I was conked out for hours. It was ridiculoso! Holy Hannah, I had not realized just how tired I was.
It's been loverly to catch up with friends and family and realize that not a whole lot of "catching up" has been required. A friend is a friend is a friend. And nothing changes that. Except for a few things, I suppose...like matrimony, or really bad eggs, or unpaid debts, or a loathing for ABBA *snort*. But since all these things are irrelevant, a friend is still a friend is a friend. Right.
Apologies go out for the rusty blog, or should I say rusty writing. It is strange to write outside of the prescribed email format of, "report on your companionship, week's work, and things learned in your personal study." Durrr...Must. Have. Structure.
New things/long lost old things that are quite nice for me:
1) A long awaited return to Patty Griffin. Oh, how she makes my heart sing. And the good news: she has a new album. Halleluiah!
2) Mountains. Wow, I tell you what, they are HUGE! Does anyone realize just how HUGE these things are?!? And hooray! My sense of direction has been so graciously gifted back to me. "The big mountains equal east . . . the big yellow one is the sun! The yellow one is the sun!"
3) Smaller food portions. British meals were legit. I did not miss a moment. The gravy, the yorkshire puddings, the sausages, the parsnips and turnips. I did all within my eating power to live it up. We won't even mention the amount of chocolate consumption. Oh dear. It was glorious. But even with all the glory of the gravies and cocoa, I find it pleasing to be now in control of my diet. Wahoo.
4) Ok, this is the confession to end all confessions. I made a mistake. I started a novel. And not your typical classic. It's a novel that is a bit escapist. (Yikes, I know. This is bad.) And not only did I just start this novel, but I fell in love with this novel. It sufficiently swept me off my feet. I may or may not have finished all but two chapters of this novel all in one night. (Ok, as long as I'm confessing here, I might as well be honest; I stayed up til 5am reading this novel.) Oops! I opened it up innocently thinking, I'll just read a chapter or two before I retire to bed. The plot thickened. "One more chapter, and then I'm done." I began ignoring the voice inside that said, "you need to get up and be productive tomorrow. It's just a novel, it's fiction. Put it down. You don't have to do this to yourself! Sister Mather get a grip! (Yes, I still call myself that, just as I still call trousers by their proper name. How embarrassing to call them pants!) As each chapter lead to the next I eventually found myself 3/4ths through the book and threw th
e voice of reason out the window. I was past the point of no return. The novel was mine to finish that night! Do you know how long it has been since I have done that?! Rewind to 6th grade when I would "sacrifice" my weekends ("Sure mom and dad, you go on a date. I'll tend Sara . . . if I have to. ") hanging out with friends, snuggle up on my bottom bunk to one of the many great books in my greasy Redwall collection. I was a fanatic. I don't know what it was about little rodents fighting with birds to defend their abbeys and castles, but every time I'd go to Barnes and Noble I'd step out with yet another addition to the series. Maybe it was my hope that the punk princess mouse who wanted to be a warrior would keep creeping up into the storyline. Gotta love a fighter. My step-dad, Neil, was concerned. "Evelyn, why don't you try something different, like Dickens?" It wasn't for me...at the time.
Late night reading is a genetic trait in my family. When we were young, my mom would come into our room at bedtime, help us with our evening prayers, kiss us goodnight, and switch off the lights. This is when the flashlights and books would come out from underneath the pillows. Mom was no fool, however. She'd make a point to pop her head in and tell us to put the books and flashlights away. Old habits die hard, apparently. Geh. And it doesn't help when you find a novel all about England, and Darcy, and the internal torment of dealing with reality verses escapism, and the author's voice sounds spookily like your own, and her vignettes are your own and you slightly fear and wonder if she has not secretly picked your brain open and feasted on the madness that is "Evelyn".
Confession complete then: The book is Austenland. The author, Shannon Hale. A wickedly brilliant woman. It's silly. It's fun. It's serves no sensible purpose but to merely entertain and to persuade girls to never give up on that Darcy dream. Heathcliffs are not worth the time/heartache (and neither are silly vampires or werewolves, as long as we are on the subject). I echo to wise words of John Bennion, "Go for a Darcy!" I totally dig this book. It's Helen Fielding gone clean and Dave Barry gone female. It's the novel I should have written myself but Shannon Hale beat me to it. Bravo, my dear. Bravo.
Oy! These numbered lists are intended to help me keep my writing brief, readable, and varied. And then I met Mr. Tangent. Doh. I sure do love that man.
Good to be home. I live in the States by day, and dream of England by night. It's a decent equilibrium, for now.
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