"Girl's" Night Out

Tonight, I had a Girls Night Out. It was great. We went out, ate food, talked about boys, and went to see a movie. Only that movie was I Am Number Four, we ate at a burger joint, and we talked about with one boy: Kristopher, since he was with us the whole time. Yes, that's right, our girls night had me, Stephanie, and Kristopher. A boy. Ironic, isn't it? The funny thing is that it was all his idea (even the mani/pedis that we ended up not doing, but planned on). He heard us talking about girls nights and complained to us that boys never do that sort of thing. So he batted his big eyes at us and got us to take him with us the next time we went.

The funny thing is, his exposure to the girls night experience, while lacking in the makeovers and pedicures he'd been imagining, was actually fairly representative of the way girls nights go down in my apartment. We usually stick to just food and a movie. And more often than not, the movie is an action movie anyway.

We also learned that we just can't take him anywhere without some girl falling head over heels for him. We were standing in line at Five Guys, waiting to order our burgers, when a girl behind him commented on his shoes (those weird toe-sock-type shoes that I will never ever get used to, no matter how many times I see him wear them) and he said something typically witty in response. He was too busy ordering his food at that point, but I saw the girl turn and give that "he's so cute" look to her friend--complete with the little girly giggle. *facepalm* Oh Kristopher, you heartbreaker.

All the better for me, because the fact that he is so good looking makes it twice as much fun to be his best friend. First of all, because when girls overload him with goodies (attempting to use the old proverb "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach" to their advantage) he often donates a significant portion of them to me and my roommates and we get to benefit from magnificent culinary labors without all the cooking-and-cleanup hassle. Second, because the sheer confusion that runs across a girl's face when he flirts with them in front of me (or Stephanie) is always, always priceless. And third, sometimes it's just really entertaining to get the stink eye from some jealous girl, just because I get to sit down next to him. Add those perks to the basic friend-perks of making me laugh, helping me out when I'm in a jam, and keeping me humble, and I'm never bored. 

All in all, one of the best girls nights out I've ever had. Not to knock on my other GNOs with my roomies, but irony just makes things that much more fun.

Olfactory Whinings

So, I'm going to take a moment to indulge in some legitimate whining. I like to think of myself as a pretty understanding person. I try not to complain or whine about how other people behave because that's entirely their business, even if it does inconvenience me. But sometimes my personal comfort is jeopardized to the extent that I lose any and all patience.

Such is the case with all the odor-OD'd people on the planet. I mean, really? Do you really need to douse yourself in scent when you walk out the door? All it does is leave the people around you suffocating in a nuclear cloud of something-that-doesn't-smell-all-that-good-anyway.

On top of that, I'm more sensitive than most people, especially during this season. Even walking to school and breathing the crisp air gives me a sinus headache sometimes. Which is a huge shame because I love the faint whiff of crabapple blossoms floating on the air all along the walk from my apartment to campus.

So yesterday, I walked out of the Humanities Publication lab and found myself behind some lady wearing a truly heinous amount of that horrible old-lady perfume. Trying not to make any audible gagging sounds, I allowed myself a greater following distance, but it still didn't help. The cloud hung in the hallway like an invisible fog. I escaped for a short while, but had to return to the lab 15 minutes later. Lady PerfumeBomb had tucked herself in her office, but she'd left the door open, and her old-lady perfume had spread out to occupy the entire lobby and half of the hallway between the stairs and the lab. Needless to say, my sinus headache didn't go away for several hours after that.

Also, a note to you freshman boys on campus interviewing for mission calls on Tuesday and Wednesday nights: we all hate your AXE body spray. I'd tell you to burn it, but that would just risk releasing still more of the odious fumes on an already-suffering populace. There are few things I hate more than running back into my office to grab something I forgot and being forced to lapse into an AXE coma because I can't see or think straight after navigating through the roiling haze wafting from all of you sitting around my door.

A friend recently posted a similarly-themed rant on his blog, and he quoted an excerpt from How to Be a Gentleman:

"A gentleman considers cologne intimate apparel. It should not cause comment, positive or negative, among other people in the room. Instead, it should be saved as a pleasant surprise for people with whom he makes close physical contact. A gentleman understands that cologne is, after all, an accessory. It is not to be used as a substitute for deodorant... When used to excess, cologne is annoying and raises questions about what smells are being covered up. Anytime a person can identify the brand of scent that a man is wearing, he is wearing too much."

I don't blog much about my ex-boyfriend out of respect to both him and his brand-new bride, but one of the things that I always liked about him was that he smelled subtly good. Usually I was the only one who knew it, because you had to be quite close to him to catch that delicious whiff of Oldspice at all. It always felt like I had this little just-for-me treat whenever we were in a room with anyone else. That's what makes truly good-smelling people, and best of all, I don't get a sinus headache from a smell that light.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not targeting only men here. Women are just as guilty of over-doing the scent-factor. (Case-in-point: Lady PerfumeBomb) When I can tell that you are slathering on Victoria's Secret Sweet Seduction lotion from across the room, you're putting on too much. It doesn't matter if you can't smell it on yourself: you're used to the scent anyway. Chances are, if you can smell it on yourself, you've got too much. General rule of thumb for perfume: half a spritz on the wrists and half a spritz along your collarbone. That will be enough to give your man a little olfactory buzz when he leans in to whisper in your ear, but you'll spare everyone else.

Besides, women already have a built-in scent weapon: our hair. Almost all women's shampoos smell really good. And it's hard to OD on shampoo scent, since you always dilute it with water while you're washing your hair. But I have had countless boys tell me that the smell they love the most is their girlfriend's hair after she showers.

And if everyone goes light on the scent, you avoid that horrible clash of sickening smells that occurs when too many scent-doused people are crammed in a room together. Much to the relief and gratitude of the allergy-plagued.

So please, when you're applying scented-anything, spare a moment of sympathy for those with allergies and sinus sensitivies and go light on that delicious scent. The people who will actually care that you smell good will most likely be close enough to you to smell it, and the rest of us will be able to breathe a little easier.

Small Achievement

It is now 1:31am. 

I have finished my paper.

The number of pages I have written is now 32.

And I get to have five hours of sleep.

13 hours total during finals week.

I'll feel accomplished in the morning.

Well, more morning than it is now.

G'night all.

Halp!

You know that feeling when you try so, SO hard to think intelligently and instead you just feel your brain slowly being sucked into the oblivion? Yep. That accurately summarizes how I feel right now. In the last three days, I have gotten a cumulative 8 hours of sleep, a whopping 25 pages written, two portfolios compiled, 10 hours of research done, three loads of backed-up laundry washed, my room cleaned, and my bed tidily remade. One 7-page paper left to go and. I'm. DYING!

The only thing my brain is capable of producing is a continuous loop of ChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucer.

And, I might point out that it can't get past that part. Chaucer is important. He did something cool in that one tale, and I've read like a bajillion articles about it, but I can't for the life of me articulate anything on the subject right now.

So my brain has given up and is now repeating bedbedbedbedbedbedbed over and over again.

One paper. 7am tomorrow. I can do that.

Ha.

The funny thing is that I'm still on the computer typing when it would be a better (and more effective) break to go fold my laundry and take a shower (stupid finals week... I have not showered nearly enough for my tastes). But I think my body is on autopilot and, in its desperation to feel productive, just likes the typing thing.

Man, I hate writing about literature. Okay, well, maybe I don't hate it. Not nearly as much as other people do, but my recent revelation that I should have been a linguists/Elang major has manifested itself in an increasing abhorrence for literary analysis. Which is probably why I haven't applied myself all that much to my literature classes this semester.

On the other hand, I still have A LOT to show for the last four months. An internship with the Ensign. A fully-published, gorgeous issue of Stowaway Magazine that includes my byline, design work, editing work, and reader-submission pet project. Four beautiful design projects (flyer, newsletter, book, and photo album) all prettily printed and bound. A redesigned portfolio that I can now use without shame for any and all future job applications.

And no, I'm not bragging. Well, maybe a little. It's more like taking some time to remind myself that I have accomplished a lot this semester. Which will hopefully motivate me to finish accomplishing stuff this semester by finishing this dratted paper.

Nope. Not working.

Time to try the laundry-and-shower thing.

Narnia

Did you know I can identify an Andrews Sisters song by the third note? I didn't either, but I'm watching the Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe as a reward for working stupendously hard this morning, and they play an Andrews Sisters song during the hide and seek segment. Three notes in, I was pretty sure it was them, and sure enough, IMDb tells me it is true. I'm not a 20s music buff or anything, but I went on an Abbott and Costello binge about four years ago, and the Andrews Sisters were a staple cameo in pretty much every episode. Apparently I heard them enough that their sound stuck.

Anyway, the point is that I'm watching Narnia. It's my present to myself, since I got up crazy early, wrote a paper, caught up on every ounce of homework that I hadn't done for one of my lit classes, and I'm too braindead at the moment to move on to my portfolio and my other paper.

I'm also celebrating a little bit because I just bought the Chronicles of Narnia Leatherbound Classic and I'm more than a little excited about the gilded cover and beautiful artwork and everything. Plus, I've been meaning to own the books for ages. So yeah, I'm celebrating. ^_^

Always Learning

I keep learning new stuff, and ironically enough, it doesn't usually happen at school. Well, I do learn at school, but telling everyone else what I'm learning in upper-level English major classes probably won't make a lot of sense. Because my professors just assume (correctly) that we all have 3-4 years of background in the subject matter and plow on ahead to their main point.

So me making the point that Elinor Dashwood is a static character because she's always dynamically changing and adapting to her surroundings is not really going to click with most people who haven't spent the whole last semester in my English Novel class. Some of you might still get it, though.

My point aside, the things I learn that make sense to everyone else are often a little less erudite in their origins. (Sorry, couldn't resist the big word. I promise I don't try to show off, it was just the first word that came to mind.)

Now that I've gotten that preface out of the way, here are some of the things I've learned recently:

Stadium Terrace may be slightly ghetto, and we may love to hate on it, but the apartments are pretty darn big for the price, and we actually have a lawn to look out at, rather than into someone else's window.

My favorite form of decorating is building more bookshelves. I love how a room looks with bookshelves in it.

Closely related to that, I suddenly have this huge urge to buy more books in order to fill more bookshelves. Just because having a large book collection makes me unbelievably happy. Someday I will have a room full of books that belong to me. I want to have shelves and shelves of books that my kids can love to read.

The reason we have allergies in the springtime? It's all those little plants getting sexy and messing with our heads. Special thanks to Rae's grandma for that little jewel of wisdom today.

My roommates have the ability to amuse me when I least expect it. I got a phone call from Savannah that went something like this: "Hey! I just thought I'd call you so that someone knows where I am... I went for a drive and didn't realize how far I'd gone until I saw the sign that said 'Welcome to Wyoming!" WHAAAAT?? She just went for a drive and ends up in Wyoming. The exceptional navigator in me (ha. not to toot my own horn or anything) found that to be the most headscratching situation ever. I still don't get it, even though it was hilarious. Granted, I haven't had a car for the last four years, so maybe I'm just out of touch with the "going for a drive and losing track of time" syndrome.

I really, really, really love being clean. I recently organized my section of the bathroom, which prompted Stephanie to do the same, and now our counter looks beautiful and I sigh with secret delight whenever I walk in the bathroom now. And now, since I've finished most of my urgent projects, I can clean my room again. :)

I really am a nerd. I have 6 Tolkien books to my name, three of which are scholarly works that I am reading or have read.

Skillz (A Few Kinds)

And yes, I did just commit the heinous crime of spelling something with a Z instead of an S. May the grammar gods forgive me.

So, I've discovered Photoshop. And wow, it's fun! Part of my final portfolio for my InDesign class includes a photo album, and I've been applying some of the skills we've learned. Some of them are alright. I'm not inclined to go showing them off. Not when other people do this for a living. But I do like this one:

This was the original image. Our family had some professional photos taken during Christmas break. (yep, that's right, we're barefoot at Christmas. Love Texas.) I had a hard time finding a photo to fix up, since the photographer was really good, so I just looked at playing around with it a little.

I straightened the horizon line, cropped it in to focus more on us, beefed up the exposure a little bit to make it glow, and changed the color to sepia. And WOW! I really like it. :) My teacher looked at it and said it would be a good canvas-painting-ish picture. One of those big hang-over-the-mantelpiece family pictures. That's a nice compliment coming from her.

Also, she commented that she wouldn't ever be able to get her family to hold hands like that. Maybe we're just weird, but our family has always been fairly comfortable with physical contact. I'm slowly discovering that a lot of people aren't like that. Brian and I alone baffled a lot of our friends, who couldn't quite believe we were that close to each other.

But it's always been this way. As far back as I can remember, it's been tradition for me to have the seat next to Dad during movie nights, curled up under the blanket he has over his lap with my head on his shoulder. I used to nap with him on Sundays, too. My mom has long-standing fame as the bed-monster and child-mauler at bedtimes (even my friends know! Just ask Qait...). Her hugs are famously rib-cracking. Jess and I used to stay up late at night brushing hair, giving backscratches, and sometimes (though somewhat rarely) lying in the same bed together just talking.

And I have this really tender memory of Brian taking care of me when I was sick. I'm the kind of person who finds physical contact comforting when I'm sick. I know some people are anti-touch when they don't feel well, but I've never been that way. Anyway, I had my head on my mom's lap one evening while she stroked my hair to distract me from whatever raging illness I had. She had to get up and do something, and so I of course moaned a little when she started to leave. Just as she got up, though, Brian slipped into her spot and put my head on his lap, continuing right where Mom had left off.

I guess I've been spoiled. My family is very close. I always took it for granted, growing up with them, but I'm starting to realize how lucky I am that I have the relationships with them that I do. They're my best friends. I've moved around a lot, and friends fade into and out of my life so often (with a couple of notable exceptions). As a result, I've come to rely on the one constant I have in life: my family. I'm so glad I have them. :)

Averaging It Out

This week has been... insanely busy, to say the very least. I keep battling with the notion that I'm a terrible student because I can't seem to find any motivation to work on my two papers that are due for finals. What can I say? They're just... not... fun... I made the discovery recently that I really should have been an English Language major instead of an English major. More linguistics, less literary analysis. Apparently that's my thing. Who knew? But since graduation is less than a semester away, it really isn't an option. I don't even think BYU would let me switch. So, I'm slogging through my last two literature classes and really hoping I make it out alive. I need to pass them to graduate. 

Anyway, while I'm struggling to write papers for my lit classes, I find myself willingly spending hours and hours on my InDesign and magazine publishing classes. Like, hours. I woke up this morning at 9:30 and worked on various pieces of my InDesign portfolio until 5pm. Without stopping. Crazy, right? I had no idea I could do that. 

But I still feel like I'm not doing enough. Probably because my brain is conditioned to think that homework isn't the fun stuff. So when I do enjoy my homework, I still feel like a slacker for not doing the homework I don't enjoy. Blegh. 

On the other hand, I keep discovering how much I love layout and design. Not graphic design. That stuff is a little bit beyond me, though I'm okay at simple tinkering in Photoshop. But I do love layout. I just printed my book project, which Savannah is going to bind for me. Yay! Granted, trying to print the stupid thing was a pain. 

Anyway, I suppose I'll just average it out: if I'm a really excellent student in two classes and a fairly lousy student in the other two classes, it balances out to a pretty good student overall. Right? Think my professors will take that into consideration when they grade me?

Yeah, I wish that, too.

The Ensign!

I have three words for you:

I 

GOT

IT!

I got the internship with the Ensign. The one I applied for back in February and was consequently freaking out about all through March. I've never wanted anything as much as I wanted this and I. HAVE. IT! AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

*ahem* So sorry. The enthusiasm isn't really containing itself right now.

But seriously! I will be working for this magazine:

At this building:

 And possibly talking to these people:

How can that not be completely exciting? (and a little daunting, but that's okay... life's not fun if it's easy)

So here's the full story. 

I actually have known since last week that I was 99.999% getting the job, since they called me up and told me I was their top choice. They just needed one more signature on their end, and my bishop's name so they could call him as a reference, and it was good to go. I gave them my ward and bishop, and then waited not-so-patiently for about four days. Just when I thought I was going out of my mind, they called again, this time to tell me that Bishop Schoenfeld was being a bit difficult to track down. The numbers weren't working, weren't getting through, or whatever.

Luckily, I have his cell phone number. Muahaha. 

I called him up, told him that the Church wanted to call him about me, made sure that it was the best number to reach him at, and called the Church back to give them Bishop's cell phone number. And then it was the waiting game again. 

It was agony. 

I wanted so badly to tell all my friends who've been rooting for me that I got the job, but I couldn't until they officially offered it to me. If they asked, I told them the truth, but I couldn't throw my arms out and shout it to the sky or any of that ridiculously ebullient stuff people do when all their dreams come true. 

Today, I got the phone call while I was in class, so I hastily shushed my phone before my teacher could give me a dirty look, even though all I wanted to do was bolt for the door and answer it. I called the number back and talked to the guy who'd called me last week with the "you're our top choice" thing. He asked me if I was still interested in the position and I practically shouted "Yes!" into his ear (I didn't, though, I promise). Then he told me the wages, starting date ($13/hour and September 6th, in case you were wondering) and asked again, "So, are you accepting this position?"

Yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes!! HOLY CRAP YES!

Okay, so I didn't really say that to a Church official, but only because I crammed all of that into an extremely fervent "absoLUTely."

He thanked me and said goodbye. It was all very polite and formal and composed. Proof that I can be professional when I need to be. But I hung up and almost couldn't dial my mom to tell her the news, I was so excited. (You want to know the sad part? She's on speed dial. 2. I had a hard time dialing 2. I know. Sad.) Then I texted all of my friends who had placed themselves on my contact-me-immediately-when-you-know-about-your-internship list.

And now, I'm telling the rest of the world that I got my dream job. I'm not kidding. I don't remember how often I've talked about this in the past, but I have wanted to work for the Ensign for at least the last year, if not a little longer. There were a bunch of impossibles and not-very-likelies in the way, which makes this all the more miraculous. And if you're curious, here's what I wrote when I first found out that I might actually have a shot at this internship. 

It's so rewarding to look back on those words from the other side and realize that the Lord really does guide us in the things He wants us to do. And for better or worse, this is right where He wants me to be for the last four months of this year. And you know what? This experience makes it easier to see how miraculously fast other things in my life can fall together, too. Suddenly, my other challenges don't seem as daunting, because I kind of feel like I'm standing on the top of the world right now, and the view is breathtaking. 

Sorry. One last time: I'm an editor for the Ensign. Ooh! That gives me shivers even whispering it to myself.

Papering

So, I have this funny way of writing research papers. Since scholars are so smart, and I feel like they always say what I think I should know how to say, I go through all of my sources, paste them into my paper in different colors (coded by source, of course (heh, rhyme.)) and then start filling out my own ideas in normal black. It serves a dual purpose. First, it's a pretty dang easy way to cobble together an outline and see how my paper is probably going to go. Second, you know those stupid rules about two sentences of your own stuff for every sentence of a quote you use? Yeah, colors make it really easy to see how you're doing on that ratio.

But I'm sure you all are just fascinated by knowing how I write papers. Heck, that subject is mildly boring, even to me. The real point of this entry?

PDFs can take a while to download. Since I need the sources I'm downloading to, you know, write the paper, I don't have anything else to do. I'm bored.

Ha. You're stuck with my paper-writing process.

Also, Calvin lied. Last-minute panic did not work as a motivator. In this case, I credit sheer, mule-headed stubbornness.

To Summarize

Yep. This is just about how I feel about the two rough drafts due this week. And you know what? Last-minute panic isn't even working. I'm at a complete and total roadblock. Apparently the right mood just hasn't kicked in.

Hm. 

Maybe by finals? 

Homemakery

Michelle just recently moved out of our apartment, and we're starting to realize how much that affects our living conditions, since she took a bunch of stuff with her that we didn't know we appreciated. Like the drapes. And the couch pillows (which were a bit tattered and ugly but nonetheless fun to throw at people). And the Kitchenaid. The apartment seems a little emptier now, and we're slowly acquiring things to fill it back up and make it seem as much like a home as possible.

And I'm starting to realize that I'm getting more and more stir crazy for my own space. Don't get me wrong, I love my roommates. But the homemaker side of me has been growing into herself for the last few years and she may be starting to expand into wanting space of her own. It started with the kitchen. I could stand having a mess anywhere but in the kitchen. So I started cleaning every week (and possibly annoying/amusing my roommates in the process). Then it spread to the living room shortly thereafter, because I was determined that the portions of our apartment used for entertaining guests should be neat and presentable as often as possible.

Last semester, I suddenly got a lot better at keeping my room clean. Now, I find myself preoccupied with keeping everything clean, including my bathroom counter space, which, up to this point, has always been my most dismal failure when it comes to tidiness.

It's funny how much I notice now. And no matter how hard I try, nothing is ever quite clean enough.

Add to all of this my burgeoning interior design skills (which seem to be developing in tandem with my layout design skills) and I'm obsessed with things that look beautiful and elegant and clean. I keep daydreaming about decorating my own space. Necessity (and lack of money) prevents me from replacing my perfectly functional -- though mismatched -- bedspread, or buying complementary paintings and pictures to hang in my room. But someday, I'll be able to do that.

But is it weird that I keep thinking about it? I want to buy those matching bathroom towels, toothbrush holders, etc. I want a bedspread that complements the paintings in my room. I want a set of kitchen towels, hot pads, washcloths, and dishes that all look nice and match each other. Or at least, aren't some Frankenstein of plastic, ceramic, and stoneware stacks of color-clashing ickiness.

I'm getting old. Or just mature. Not sure which. :)