Thursday, February 26, 2009

That Doesn't Surprise Me

Often, after people hear where I served my mission, they ask me what the people were like. This is a hard question to answer. They are unlike anyone that I grew up with. Good people, just ... different. Here is an example I found from reading BYU's 100 Hour board. (Side note, the 100 Hour Board is good for some laughs and can be quite interesting) The village in question is one I served in. Learning this fact probably should have surprised me, but ... it didn't.

Dear 100 Hour Board,

I was telling my friend about this town in New York that seceded from the Union in 1861, and then everyone forgot they seceded until World War II, and therefore did not rejoin the US until 1946. I found an article on Wikipedia, but my friend still doesn't believe me, because the internet isn't always reliable. Can you find a more credible reference? I've looked but haven't been able to find one yet. It's called Town Line, New York, and is near Buffalo.

-New Yorker

A: Dear New Yorker,

If you're a BYU Student, you can click through to the NY Times article here.

Otherwise, here's the citation:
STARS AND STRIPES REPLACE STARS AND BARS IN TOWN LINE. (1946, January 25). New York Times (1857-Current file), 28. Retrieved February 21, 2009, from ProQuest Historical Newspapers The New York Times (1851 - 2005) database. (Document ID: 93017517).

An excerpt from the caption:
"...residents of the village voted yesterday to return to the United States eighty-five years after the community's secession."

Waldorf and Sauron

At least now when I am asked about the people in my mission I have a good example.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

You Need to Sort Out Your Priorities.

I have hit a new predicament. Well... maybe not new, it's happened before, but I find myself here again. I have too much to do. I don't know where to start. So instead, I do nothing. And at the same time I swear I'm not that busy. But I can't seem to get anything done. Maybe I should go see a Psychologist. I'm pretty sure the conversation would go something like this:

Psychologist: What seems to be the problem?
Me: I can't get anything done
P: Why?
M: I just have too much to do.
P: Like What?
M: .... Stuff....
P: .....
M: I just... well, I... and then... but if I don't... ARGH!!!
P: And how does that make you feel?
M: I'm going CRAZY!!!!!

At this point all words coming from my mouth would be a jumble of mess and I would talk with flailing hands, and then sit there and tell my friendly Psychologist that I am ready to cry.

Honestly, my life is good. I just ... I don't know. So there. Can I just say that I'm a crazy lady and hope that someday all of this will be figured out? I think the problem is I'm trying too hard to make everyone else happy, to do everything that they want me to do. At the same time, I have no idea what I am doing. I'm so worried about keeping all of them happy that I don't know what is going on with me. This results in a very discombobulated Paily and the progression of her developing TMJ. But don't you worry. That's going to be fixed someday soonish. I get to revisit my teen years and get braces. I am so lucky! I know, you're jealous.

Well, this isn't really warm fuzzy. But it had been a while since I had blogged, and I just felt the need to post. Aren't you glad? It's all going to work out. But until then, maybe I'll start wearing strange hats. Then I can be the crazy hat lady. That's the master plan! OH! Yes! Now I have it all figured out! Who knew crazy hats could be the answer? Thanks for helping me sort through this. :)

Friday, February 13, 2009

Ever Feel Like You're Five Again?

Here's a random moment of my life. Ok, this is me, the fact that I would blog about something random really shouldn't surprise you. Let's do this.

I have acquired a new and completely irrational fear. I have NO idea where this came from. Maybe something is wrong with my inner ear or something. Whatever the reason I am now scared of falling out of my bed. Let me explain to you how stupid this is. (I know, you're thinking "why explain? Yep, it's stupid.") The way my bed is currently placed, if I am laying/lying (I've never known which was right and I'm too lazy to check now) down on my back the head of my bed and the left side of my bed are against a wall. For some reason, any time I lay on my left side, so that my back is towards the rest of my bedroom, I have this fear of falling. It's like vertigo, but not. And just to see if I was really crazy, one night I turned so my head was at the foot of my bed, turned over onto my right side, and had the same sensation.

My bed is not tall. It's not on cinder blocks. It's not on anything except for it's short little bed frame that is only 6" off the ground. Then add the box springs and the mattress, and I am 2' off the ground max. And it's not like I have sharp knives on the floor next to my bed that could impale me if I happen to roll too far. Just a few books, and sometimes my computer. Nothing that could hurt me. I haven't been scared of falling out of bed since... well ever. I used to fall out of bed when I was a kid. I remember doing it at least once. It never bothered me, except I would get cold on the floor without a blanket. And I'll be honest, I don't sleep on the top bunk. That scares me, but at least then I'm a good 6 feet off the ground. That seems a little bit valid...ish.

Totally irrational. Like I said before, let's blame it on an inner ear problem or something.

Friday, February 6, 2009

I Have Mad Skills

Really. I know, you're all jealous. Let me tell you what I'm talking about this time.

I just fixed my jacket. This is my MTC jacket, that unfortunately I am way to attached to. It is also basically the only jacket I have right now that is even close to being warm enough. It got dirty, so I washed it. Then much to my dismay, when I went to get it out of the drier the zipper was broken! As hard as this is for me to admit... I was temped to cry. I know, it's just stupid jacket, but I really like it. I saved the pieces, and filching my sister's super glue, went to work. Now i had to be careful, cause if I used too much glue, it would be all over and then the zipper wouldn't zip. BUT if you use too little, it won't hold. It really was a precarious situation.

As I gathered all of the parts around me, I could hear the low drone of stringed instruments humming in anticipation. After hours of careful planning and sketching out my options... Ok, that's not true at all. But I fixed it! And the zipper still goes! And the parts are sticking together!

Of course I got super glue on my fingers. That's just something that goes with the territory. So what if I can't feel my fingers for the next 3 weeks as I wait for this extra skin to wear off. I have an MTC jacket!

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

That Tender Mercy is ONLY for Missionaries

I've moved a lot in my life. Not because my dad had some crazy job and uprooted the entire family every year to go pursue other cool things. But because I apparently turned 18, and this entirely dormant gene kicked into action turning me into a Nomad. In the past six years, I have moved five times. (That is counting going away to college in Aug and returning in April as one... so if you wanted to, you could say I have moved 10 times.... Yeah... let's say that, that makes my story sound so much better) I mean have moved 10 times!

During the middle of all of these moves, I decided to serve a mission. I packed my two largest suitcases, weighed them carefully (they were 49.9 lbs and 50.1 lbs respectively) and went to serve the people of New York. Then on the mission I moved another 4 and a half times. Just trust me on the half... that's another story. Once in NY, I didn't have to worry about keeping myself to 2 suitcases. I had a lot of stuff. But as long as my companion and I could fit it in our car on transfer day, I was allowed to... spread my wings a little bit. And spread I did. I've never been a light packer. It's like I have this crazy fear that the world will come to an end if I don't have my own little mini iron, a stapler, and some shout wipes when I go ... Next door to baby sit. Ok, it's not that bad.

I just realized, this is a lot of build up for a very simple purpose. Maybe I'm making up for lack of posts? Let's go with that idea.

Every time I moved on my mission, I would arrive at my destination and have everything I packed. I could find it all, I would unpack it, and life was great. I didn't realize this, because I just didn't stress about it. My stuff was always there.

BUT IN THE REAL WORLD... I lose EVERYTHING! It doesn't seem to matter what I do. I unpack and half of my life is gone. And it's not all just simple, $2 replace me items. I just don't understand. It's like I have some secret goblin who eats a little bit of everything that rides with me in my car. As I'm driving down the road, excited/nervous to start a new part of my life, he's just sitting back there eating to his heart's content. I can just hear him, with his little menacing giggle "Heh, heh, heh... she only thought she wanted these shoes... and her remote for her TV... and her mouse for her laptop... and her photo album... yeah!" *munch* *munch* *munch*

Apparently, all mission cars are equipped with anti-munchy-goblin repellent. This is a tender mercy of the Lord that I was so grateful on my mission. But apparently it is ONLY reserved for missionaries.

"I will eat all of your cool stuff!"