Want to know the one thing that always cheers me up no matter what?

VIDEOS OF PEOPLE TAP DANCING!!!!

Here are some of my favorites:

The Miracle of the Bra

Brothers and Sisters, I have a testimony that God laughs. Mostly at me.

I could cite numberless examples, that would have you all crying at my misfortune (NOT with laughter, you callous fiend!), but I will spare you this time because whenever I start an epic post that tries to summarize more than three events that have happened in my life, I neglect to finish it.

Today, however, a miracle occurred. Because I believed.

I work at the temple Wednesday nights, as the three people who read this blog already know. I would wager that even the most Jack of Mormons knows that in the temple, one wears white. This includes white hose, white slips, white undergarments, and of course, for those who need it, white bras.

So this afternoon I arrived at the temple about ten minutes before my shift started, congratulating myself for being on time for once in my life, mostly because I had chosen to wear a skirt and blouse to school that day. I sauntered into the dressing room, feeling pretty good, and that a thought assaulted my brain that made me stop in my tracks.

I was wearing a dark maroon bra.



This one, in fact. Which would so show even underneath a camisole, slip, and dress, because this is MAROON and all those other items are WHITE.

Seriously? My life is a joke. But now, the miracle!

In the locker room the sisters keep a little box of little bitty bras for my fellow sisters who also occasionally, ahem, forget. To be honest, most of the bras in the box are so small I figure a girl who needed one of those would be just as well off forgoing the bra altogether. My less-endowed girlfriends do it all the time. But maybe some girls find that gross. Anyway, I started going through the box. 34A. 36B. 38A. I hated my life. Then one of the sweet elderly sisters saw my distress and came to my rescue. Together we dug to the bottom of the box. Aha! 38D!

That is, in fact, not my size. I'm actually a DD, if you care. If you don't, then why are you still reading this, you weirdo?

I haven't fit into a D in years. Nevertheless, the adorable lady told me to go try it on, and see if I could get it to fit. I figured it might not be the most comfortable evening of my life, but I could probably manage something.

I went in unto the locker room. I took off my shirt. And to the sound of a chorus of numerous concourses of angels ...

IT FIT!

Like a glove. Like the widow's oil cruse. It's not a perfect metaphor, I know. But I was so happy I almost cried. Holy tender mercy, Batman.

I'm expecting a letter from the Vatican any day now.

The Brain Game ... or I go off the deep end in a matter of paragraphs

This weekend I went home for no reason at all except that I wanted to. As a bonus incentive, Cori was there and I don't get to see her (or Donovan) nearly as often as I would like. It was a good weekend. I even enjoyed the 13-hour drive, truth be told. It was nice to listen to music/NPR (my secret shame) and focus on one thing for so long. It was like meditating while operating heavy machinery, which I am sure all experts recommend. For the past five days I haven't thought about school, my plans for the future, the state of my personal finances or all the ways in which I fall short of my own expectations for myself. All I thought about during the drive was:

1. Is Sego OK? The answer was always yes. I am blessed to have such a chill dog. He travels beautifully.
2. Where did this song on my iPod come from? I like it/it sucks. I want to put it on a CD/delete it.
3. Do I have enough gasoline? The answer was also yes more often than not.
4. Am I hungry enough to actually stop and buy a meal? The answer was no every time except one.
5. How many miles to Boise/Ontario/Seattle/Provo/Babylon?

I should mention that as a result of my let's-not-think-about-anything weekend, I completely forgot about a midterm I was supposed to take today. Whoops.

Unimportant. What is really important is how wonderful my family is (Cori is included therein) and how happy it made me to be with them for a few days. My parents are getting along so well these days that sometimes I forget they're divorced. Don't ask me if that's good, bad, or weird, because I still haven't figured that out. My point is it was a weekend sans conflict, which is my favorite kind. David and Carlos are crazy old, and awesome. Donovan is freaking adorable. My grandma and I had several tea party jam sessions during which we talked about politics and reviewed family gossip. The members of my former ward not only remember me, but are glad to see me when I visit. We went out to dinner at a Mexican place near Southcenter and the waiter put a sombrero on my head and sang to me in Spanish. Good times, I tell you.

There are a lot of raw concepts and orphan sentences swimming around in my head, and I can't make sense or cohesive paragraphs out of any of them. Themes include ways in which Cori has changed since getting married and having a baby, and ways in which she hasn't changed at all; Scott's leaving for Kuwait and what lies in store for him there; my Aunt Debi and our conversation over tea about self-esteem and balancing career with family; David's college applications; my absentee ballot; sugary cereal and cartoons with Carlos; ordering the only vegetarian dish at a diner even though I knew it would be vile ....

Now I'm home and I should be studying, doing laundry, and drafting an email to my professor begging for mercy re: the midterm I missed today. But part of me just wants to stay in that limbo between home and here, doing the things I want to do with the people I love (who spread themselves across many continents, unfortunately) and conveniently disappearing from things I don't want a part in. Which I know is impossible.

A friend of mine wrote a note to her husband on facebook that made me think. It started with, "I know I could never beat you at the brain game..." One of those phrases that gets stuck in my head, like a bar from a song. The phrase, independent of its original context, got my mind heading in a strange direction. Two girls from my ward got married recently. Arranged marriages both. No, like, literally. To guys from India. An old friend of mine is getting married and has changed his glasses and the way he dresses, even his goals for the future, to appease his fiancee and future in-laws.

I've been thinking about that all weekend. When is it good to change for someone else? Is it ever? What does it mean to be self-actualized, and when does that concept drift into selfishness or eccentricity?

I picture the version of myself that is truest to who I really am, and I'll be honest, she's pretty odd. Then again, even the version of who I am right now is passionately against selling out in any form. If I do decide to stay this way, and be the kind of person who takes off for a weekend without telling anyone, like a cat, will that bode ill consequences for my future? Will no one want to hire or marry me? Should I care?

Now I'm just stalling. I'm going to bed.

Obligatory Election Post

In case you were curious, I am voting for Barack Obama. Right now, actually.

What I Want Today

Thanks for the idea Janssen.

I want some delicious onigiri. From Japan. As seen above. Not the joke they sell in Seattle, even. The smiley face would be nice but is definitely negotiable.

Which words do I use most often?

 From wordle.net 
Pay not attention to that BIg word in the middle.

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Embarrassing. 

Letter from the past OR I was funny then, too

So sometime during my senior year of high school, in my last semester, my economics teacher Miss Cobb made each of her students write a letter to herself to be read in five years. We were supposed to focus on "values," things that were most important to us at the time. I am glad I actually put some thought into this letter, because I wrote a similar letter my sophomore year that was so inane I was embarrassed to receive it five years later. It said something along the lines of, "You have a job, right? Good. I need money. Today I went to Starbucks. Bye." I must have been in a foul disposition that day.

Anyway, it has been five years. My parents actually received this letter while I was on my mission and forwarded it to me. I just found it today while I was cleaning my room, and I thought it was pretty interesting. Here it is:

Dear me in many years,

Well, I suppose many years isn't the most accurate phrase in the entire world, but anything further than tomorrow seems like a long time at this point in my life. I mean I'm really excited to go to BYU and all that, but right now I'm just trying to get through one day at a time.

So I'm supposed to write to you about my values so that you can laugh at how superficial we were back then, back now. This year I have really gotten in to spirituality. I have really been making an effort to improve myself, break bad habits and make good ones. Sometimes I wonder why, if I am working so hard, people don't seem to notice me, especially, well, guy people. I am starting to get past the desperate need I had for a boyfriend last year. My mantra has become "I'll be married in five years, so I might as well enjoy being unattached while I can." Oh, you are married, aren't you? If you're not I'm sure I've hurt your feelings. My plan was always to marry right away, but maybe that has changed. That's OK! Really! Anyway, I'm sure we will get married, eventually, even if it's only because some crusty old haishya takes pity on us. Do you remember that phrase Haishya to kekon suru tsumori desu. But seriously, money isn't really what matters to us, is it? Family. Children. That's something we value a lot. I hope our uterus is capable of doing the job, but anyway, that's disgusting. This year I have really learned to value my immediate family as well. I'll bet you miss Mom and Dad, now that you're living away from home (you better be, you loser). How often do you get to see them? Are they still alive? I'm not trying to be morbid, I'm just considering all the possibilities. I also wonder how David and Carlos are doing. Let's see, David would be almost sixteen, yikes! And Carlos would be about nine. Isn't it strange how far apart we all are? I mean the fifteen years between us and Carlos ... by the time he gets married, our kids will be practically grown up!

So now that I have totally depressed you if you aren't married yet, let's move on to another subject. Writing, our second love. You're in grad school now, are you not? I hope you got a position that involves a lot of teaching. You know how much we were looking forward to that. I really want you to keep on trucking and get that freakin' PhD. I don't care what it costs. If you want to be a real writer you have to earn it. You have to deserve to be published. And I hope you don't care about being famous, because we won't be. It doesn't really matter, anyway. All that matters is that you write all the time and get better. You know how much we value hard work and dedication.

How's Cori? You've kept in contact with her, haven't you? So how long did that Derek disaster last? Tell me they're not married or anything like that.

Also, I hope you are riding your bike and working out every day. We have to stay in shape for our admirers. And I hope you're eating right, taking vitamins and all that junk. You know how much we value health.

Good luck and I'll see (be) you really soon!

(My signature)

A few clarifications:

The Japanese sentence means "I intend to marry a rich old man," and was an inside joke in our fourth year Japanese class. Much to my dismay, I had to think a lot and use google before I could remember what that meant. Then again, I haven't studied Japanese in many years. At the time I intended to study it for the rest of my life.

At the time, Cori was dating our mutual friend Derek, and though I was a fan of him as a person, I found their relationship annoying and gross. It didn't last. Hallelujah! Shoot, Derek doesn't even play for the same team anymore, if you catch my meaning...

Obviously, at the time I was planning to get a PhD in English and become a writer. The writer part hasn't changed (though I haven't written poetry in a while ... that's embarrassing) but the desire to be an English Professor has. At the time, I assumed I would be married young and wouldn't have to be concerned about supporting myself. Ha!

Additional commentary:

This letter is pretty solid evidence that I have at least minor psychic abilities. Note that all the things I am concerned about came to pass: I am not married, I am not in graduate school, and there is a distinct possibility that I will be unable to have children. On the other hand, I do still bike, take my vitamins, and write, so my life isn't too shabby. I have not yet succumbed to the temptation to marry a rich old man about to die, but that was a joke anyway. Still don't care about money, or fame. Still best friends with Cori (Hi! Love you!). I am not living with my parents. And I'm still very much taking my life one day at a time. That's still about all I can stomach.