So let's talk about this . . . I apologize if the sexual undertone makes you at all uncomfortable like it did for me, but that's the video. And yes, it is sponsored by the United States government. This advertisement is a part of a federal campaign called "Declare Yourself," a line of advertisements, websites, and commercials to get young adults between the ages of 18-24 to get to vote. Naturally when I first read about this I was super excited and I really do think it's a great idea . . . our age group needs to be more involved. For me having the opportunity to finally vote was like Christmas--my siblings have always accused me of secretly getting a fake I.D. when I was younger so I could vote / they made jokes about me fighting politics with dad. . . I was that kid. So, I love the idea of this: I am in agreement with their goal--it's totally sad that this age range of people who are in college and university, supposedly preparing for making their impact on the world, and living in the epicenter of where all change has started throughout history, are not participating in the basic impact they can have right now. So the basic concept of this campaign I am in total support in--making politics appealing to younger demographics and increasing voter polls is all good. But watch this advertisement. Really? I mean, REALLY?! Apparently this girl is a boxer of sorts or something and it's not bad to show that, but shouldn't the emphasis be more of a Rocky / Million Dollar Baby, "Hey look, I'm tough and cool and a chick, but I vote too!"? The majority of the twenty second video is closeups of the director's favorite body parts and she hardly speaks at all. How can the United States government feel good about taking voting--a civic duty and overall regal activity, and making it about sex? I do NOT see the correlation. My favorite part is the sultry rhythmic music in the background which, sure, with the heavy breathing and such could suggest "boxing," but what 18-24 thought about that first? I know what the music brought to my mind . . . and it sure wasn't voting. What sort of message is the government sending to this demographic they're going after by basically indicating that something is only cool if it's sexy? There are so many other angles that could be taken to give voting appeal for young people and I'm disappointed that this is the one that was chosen. But "Declare Yourself" in concept is good, so whatever, I guess . . . right? I never want to be one of those people that makes a mountain out of a mole hill but I was just a little appauled at this ad and wanted to share. Maybe at the very least we can chuckle at our own society--how much more pleasure and personal gain-oriented could we get, do you think?
Picture worries
I thought I was cool. I had never played drum hero before.
I had a weird obsession with all the street statue advertisements in Europe.
I look posessed in this one. Haha, I'm not sure if I hate it or love it. And I wanted that bike REALLY bad. (Hey, hey my birthday's in August--there's still time! :)
I just realized I haven't had any pictures of me up for awhile. And I always get concerned about that because for me, sometimes, if I'm searching for a blog of someone I know, I'm not sure it's theirs until I scan through and see a picture of them. Well, I don't want to come up for anyone else and for them NOT to recognize my blog! That would be such a nuisance! So, here's some I guess. I'm just doing random stuff.
So, I have a secret to tell everyone. It's really embarrassing. Like two weeks ago, I was up way too late writing blog posts, and I saved them as drafts for "posting later." Yeah, well . . . this is what I came up with at five am. I am only sharing for the sake of how awful it is. But it gave me a chuckle reading it in hindsight. Haha, take caution and enjoy.
My blogging lately has been a little obsessive. I used to do it like once every two weeks, maybe. Probably not. And now I can't stop. The blog fire has been lit within me and nothing can extinguish it now. Such as:
"The spark of my blogging . . .
Is flickering within me.
The spark of my blogging . . .
Won't let me sleep at all.
Until I discover the perfect back cover
and the topics in love I will fall.
It's my newest calling . . .
the spark of my blogg
ing."
And for my not-theatrically friends that don't know what this is from, I apologize. If you really care check out "Children of Eden"--it's a musical. As for the rest of y0u, if you don't think I am as hilarious as I know I am, shame on you.
I have no idea, friends. If I ever remember who sold me the crack I was on, I'll let you know. Because apparently it was really good. I'm most impressed with myself in the fact that I thought adding a Children of Eden picture added a lot to the post.
My blogging lately has been a little obsessive. I used to do it like once every two weeks, maybe. Probably not. And now I can't stop. The blog fire has been lit within me and nothing can extinguish it now. Such as:
"The spark of my blogging . . .
Is flickering within me.
The spark of my blogging . . .
Won't let me sleep at all.
Until I discover the perfect back cover
and the topics in love I will fall.
It's my newest calling . . .
the spark of my blogg
ing."And for my not-theatrically friends that don't know what this is from, I apologize. If you really care check out "Children of Eden"--it's a musical. As for the rest of y0u, if you don't think I am as hilarious as I know I am, shame on you.
I have no idea, friends. If I ever remember who sold me the crack I was on, I'll let you know. Because apparently it was really good. I'm most impressed with myself in the fact that I thought adding a Children of Eden picture added a lot to the post.
Hugs
This is another one I wrote late at night. I think it's actually semi-sane, but you're allowed to beg to differ. I kind of like it maybe. It is a true story that happened a few weeks ago. Enjoy:
I LOVE hugs. From almost anyone, almost anytime, almost anywhere. I do toss in the almost because there are the exceptions: e.g. the smelly Jewish kid on my trip to Europe that tried to kiss me--not that his being Jewish had anything to do with it, but I'm creating an image. He was smelly and nerdy and weird. Also, when I've just come from the gym, a hot place, or sunbathing . . . aka anytime I a
m sweaty and gross. And I can't think of a place that I wouldn't like a hug, but I'm sure there's one that exists in the world, so I'm covering my bases. But, for the most part, I love a good hug. Just a campanionable, sweet, innocent gesture of affection that says, "I think I'm neat. I think you're neat. Let's hug." That means so much to me! Well, most of my friends know this about me and expect it as such. And this also makes my reunions with them after a long period of time such an experience of joy for me! This week has been a week of many reunions, it seems. I had family here from Texas, all of my high school friends are finally home and we've had some togetherness good times, I hadn't seen a number of my college friends since school got out and I hung with them, and my best friend is going on his mission. Bittersweet, naturally; but that's another story. And I choose not to be the whiney friend over missionness when that's the Lord's calling. (After I got out my day's worth of it to my best girlfriends and sister, of course. :) ) But anywho. There was one hug in particular that really just meant so much; it was totally, just . . . healing. I won't say who, or where, or when because I don't want to embarrass anyone for being a particularly fantastic hugger, but they just grabbed me and held on tight for a good like entire minute. But it just kind of filled my heart with happy because (Heart with happy? I think I like that.) it wasn't a creepy hug, or a lovey hug, or an awkward hug, or an obligatory hug . . . none of that. It just was like, "Hey, you're neat. I'm neat. Let's hug." And I love that. That's all--great hug story is all I got.
I LOVE hugs. From almost anyone, almost anytime, almost anywhere. I do toss in the almost because there are the exceptions: e.g. the smelly Jewish kid on my trip to Europe that tried to kiss me--not that his being Jewish had anything to do with it, but I'm creating an image. He was smelly and nerdy and weird. Also, when I've just come from the gym, a hot place, or sunbathing . . . aka anytime I a
m sweaty and gross. And I can't think of a place that I wouldn't like a hug, but I'm sure there's one that exists in the world, so I'm covering my bases. But, for the most part, I love a good hug. Just a campanionable, sweet, innocent gesture of affection that says, "I think I'm neat. I think you're neat. Let's hug." That means so much to me! Well, most of my friends know this about me and expect it as such. And this also makes my reunions with them after a long period of time such an experience of joy for me! This week has been a week of many reunions, it seems. I had family here from Texas, all of my high school friends are finally home and we've had some togetherness good times, I hadn't seen a number of my college friends since school got out and I hung with them, and my best friend is going on his mission. Bittersweet, naturally; but that's another story. And I choose not to be the whiney friend over missionness when that's the Lord's calling. (After I got out my day's worth of it to my best girlfriends and sister, of course. :) ) But anywho. There was one hug in particular that really just meant so much; it was totally, just . . . healing. I won't say who, or where, or when because I don't want to embarrass anyone for being a particularly fantastic hugger, but they just grabbed me and held on tight for a good like entire minute. But it just kind of filled my heart with happy because (Heart with happy? I think I like that.) it wasn't a creepy hug, or a lovey hug, or an awkward hug, or an obligatory hug . . . none of that. It just was like, "Hey, you're neat. I'm neat. Let's hug." And I love that. That's all--great hug story is all I got.
did you ever know that you're my hero.
and everything i would like to be.
and i. i can fly higher than an eagle.
for you. you are the wind beneath my wings.
It seemed appropriate than only an incorrect minimalistic sort of punctuation here would suffice for how this bit of prose makes me feel. Bored. Completely and utterly bored. And yet, what is the song, nay not just song but same part of song that has been the bain of my existence i.e. constantly running through my brain, not letting me rest or stop thinking, or think of any other human being than Bette Midler as of late? This one. And when I say as of late I mean the last five weeks as of late. Yet, what do I do about it? Try to replace it with other songs . . . oh yes. Have tried. The new song will stick for a few minutes, hours, but sometime later the lines of this 80's hit creeps its scathing, slimy way back into my psyche. It also doesn't help that I'm the type who always has a song running through my head. Next possible options: always change the subject when it pops up--like one of those people who swears too much and thus carries around a new word with its definiton on a card in their pocket . . . but where does this lead? My issue with this attempt is that somehow I always end up thinking about how I started thinking about what I am now thinking about in the first place which roots me back to the song that I purposefully tried to stop thinking about. Fascist Bette Midler. And here we are again. Thinking to myself, "
did you never know that you're my hero.
and everything i would like to be.
and i. i can fly higher than an eagle.
for you. you are the wind beneath my wings.
It's made me start to hate the visual image of a regal, gorgeous flying bald eagle, too. And then that makes me feel a little unpatriotic. Which gets me thinking of my own patriotism. Which then makes me think of Bush. Which then leads my thoughts to McCain. And then Romney. Preceding Obama. Followed by Clinton. Hilary then Bill. And then Monica Lewinsky. And then back to Bette Midler. Fascist. (To which she responds, "Turncoat.")
and everything i would like to be.
and i. i can fly higher than an eagle.
for you. you are the wind beneath my wings.
It seemed appropriate than only an incorrect minimalistic sort of punctuation here would suffice for how this bit of prose makes me feel. Bored. Completely and utterly bored. And yet, what is the song, nay not just song but same part of song that has been the bain of my existence i.e. constantly running through my brain, not letting me rest or stop thinking, or think of any other human being than Bette Midler as of late? This one. And when I say as of late I mean the last five weeks as of late. Yet, what do I do about it? Try to replace it with other songs . . . oh yes. Have tried. The new song will stick for a few minutes, hours, but sometime later the lines of this 80's hit creeps its scathing, slimy way back into my psyche. It also doesn't help that I'm the type who always has a song running through my head. Next possible options: always change the subject when it pops up--like one of those people who swears too much and thus carries around a new word with its definiton on a card in their pocket . . . but where does this lead? My issue with this attempt is that somehow I always end up thinking about how I started thinking about what I am now thinking about in the first place which roots me back to the song that I purposefully tried to stop thinking about. Fascist Bette Midler. And here we are again. Thinking to myself, "
did you never know that you're my hero.
and everything i would like to be.
and i. i can fly higher than an eagle.
for you. you are the wind beneath my wings.
It's made me start to hate the visual image of a regal, gorgeous flying bald eagle, too. And then that makes me feel a little unpatriotic. Which gets me thinking of my own patriotism. Which then makes me think of Bush. Which then leads my thoughts to McCain. And then Romney. Preceding Obama. Followed by Clinton. Hilary then Bill. And then Monica Lewinsky. And then back to Bette Midler. Fascist. (To which she responds, "Turncoat.")
Good Week
This week was really unique, full of events, and really fun. It was just a good week. Here's how it broke down:
Sunday-Mother's Day. Go to old home ward with my parents cuz it's the day of maternalism celebraty and I saw a number of old friends from my Young Women days that are home for the summer or the weekend and lots of similar faces in the adults. It was cool too to see some the kids I used to babysit; one was passing the sacrament and that tripped me out! I felt old for a second. But the rest of the day was great . . . my whole family went to my aunt's house for a grand celebration with my cousins that are in town from Wisconsin,? Michigan?, jk Texas. Then we all came back to the Sullivan casa and swam. Good day with family.
Sunday-Mother's Day. Go to old home ward with my parents cuz it's the day of maternalism celebraty and I saw a number of old friends from my Young Women days that are home for the summer or the weekend and lots of similar faces in the adults. It was cool too to see some the kids I used to babysit; one was passing the sacrament and that tripped me out! I felt old for a second. But the rest of the day was great . . . my whole family went to my aunt's house for a grand celebration with my cousins that are in town from Wisconsin,? Michigan?, jk Texas. Then we all came back to the Sullivan casa and swam. Good day with family.Monday-Went to class, felt academic. Went to work, felt like I contributed to the gross national product. Slept because I didn't feel well, felt revitalized. Went to my night class, professor didn't show up, thus played with Meg, Jake, Margaret, Margaret's friend. (Tom?) Then returned to the Sullivan casa, swam. Kim, Kristy, Cooper, and his friend Aubrey swam with us too. Good fun. 
Tuesday-slept in . . . glorious. Went to temple with Liz . . . ethereal. Ran errands . . . accomplished. Watched 6 hour Pride & Prejudice with Liz (Not even kidding) . . . decadent with a twist of slothful. Swam with Liz . . . fun. I like this pool thing.
Tuesday-slept in . . . glorious. Went to temple with Liz . . . ethereal. Ran errands . . . accomplished. Watched 6 hour Pride & Prejudice with Liz (Not even kidding) . . . decadent with a twist of slothful. Swam with Liz . . . fun. I like this pool thing.
Wednesday-Test in government, think I did really well! Worked, feeling of "getting things done," or "checking off the list" is good. I like feeling like I did real, measurable, solid work. Played with Angie. That was great. I miss her. We caught up on a lot of things. Talked and then swam in my pool. Is that fourth night in a row? Oooo, and new clothes came in the mail! I buy my swimming suits online--have you ever tried to find a modest suit that doesn't look like it belongs on *insert favorite famous unattractive overweight old woman with bad style here*? It's impossible. Online searching is quicker--thus why I buy my suits there, and oldnavy.com was having a dress sale too, and my mom said she'd buy me these clothes,
so naturally. . .
so naturally. . . Thursday-Ran "me" errands. You know, the stupid things that stack up that just have to get done? Dumb things, random things, but still the same, things. Things that take time. But then, had a Caitlin day. So fun. Drove up to her coffee shop on Bangerter where she made me chai. (She really does make a fantastic chai.) Then we went to the yarn store of her heart, and an adorable pastry shop, and food at a pizzeria downtown, and then walked the Gateway--for hours. It was fantastic. I bought more than I can afford and nothing I really need, but it was fun. Two books of poetry, new purple nail polish (which I all ready got comments about so I know is a good purchase) a craft which was a color-it-yourself-door-hanger (worthless, but I'm excited) and of course the pastries, which were an event within themselves.
Friday-Next to nothing, which was great. Class . . . in my pajamas. It was a battle getting there at all and the second I was home I was back on the couch, vegging. Veg. Ran more random errands in the afternoon. Babysat Scoot for an hour--cake. Bought Cooper his birthday gift, went to his dinner, then Heather's house. Then I did a "5 day countdown to mission" present for Justin. I'll miss him, so I'm avoiding the thought process with worthless nothing gifts.
For tomorrow I have Uganda training, which has been really enjoyable and I daresay fun the last few weeks, and then of course the Masquerade ball! But it will most definitely be an entry all within itself.
But anyway, good week.
Muy Importante
Well, all right everybody I'm going out on a little ledge of faith here a little bit. This is the nearest and dearest piece of vocal music to my heart ever written and most likely ever to be written. There are others which come close, but nothing has ever quite reached it for me. Perhaps it's because this is the song which sprouted my deep and most profound love for the opera, perhaps it's because it is the first real difficult foreign language aria I ever worked on, (and hard and long I did work on it) or perhaps it's just because I've never been able to sit and listen to it understanding the context and the lyrics without getting at least a tad misty. :) But, whatever the reason here it is. I was hesitant to share this with the electronic world because it's so dear to my heart, but I figured the few which I believe do read my blog know all ready anyway and the rest of you I'm trusting not to make fun of it. Call it pride but there are some things I can't be mocked about and my adoration for this song is one, so just know you probably take a little piece of my heart with you when you listen to it. :)
Oh, to help you out a little bit, Mozart's Le Nozze Di Figaro (The Marriage of Figaro) is the opera which this piece is from. It's about a household of royalty who through miscommunication and zany scheming get all mixed up in who's in love with and having love with whom. It's a comedy and this is really the only truly tragic part of the opera, but that gives it an extra sweetness for me because of the dicotomy of her tragedy from the humor of the rest. The countess has just discovered that her husband is cheating, even though he really isn't, but that crazy plotting, and she is heart broken. The lyrics:
Porgi Amor
Porgi, amor, qualche ristoro, O Love, give me some remedy Al mio duolo, a'miei sospir! For my sorrow, for my sighs! O mi rendi il mio tesoro, Either give me back my darling O mi lascia almen morir. Or at least let me die.
Oh, to help you out a little bit, Mozart's Le Nozze Di Figaro (The Marriage of Figaro) is the opera which this piece is from. It's about a household of royalty who through miscommunication and zany scheming get all mixed up in who's in love with and having love with whom. It's a comedy and this is really the only truly tragic part of the opera, but that gives it an extra sweetness for me because of the dicotomy of her tragedy from the humor of the rest. The countess has just discovered that her husband is cheating, even though he really isn't, but that crazy plotting, and she is heart broken. The lyrics:
Porgi Amor
Porgi, amor, qualche ristoro, O Love, give me some remedy Al mio duolo, a'miei sospir! For my sorrow, for my sighs! O mi rendi il mio tesoro, Either give me back my darling O mi lascia almen morir. Or at least let me die.
I actually prefer the tempo to be a bit quicker than she chooses in this rendition, but she is just so fantastic.
Why Is It SO Difficult?
Ya know, all I want is a decent, fairly aesthetically pleasing backdrop that has all the right colors, accurately represents my personality, is kind of unique and fun, something not everyone has, something with all the right layout options, and that I won't get bored with. And actually I prefer to have several because, I will, inevitably, get bored no matter how cool it is. (I always look to the future and have an outstretched heart for the walls of my home. They'll have a LOT of paint on them by the time I leave I'm afraid.) :) This one I'm still not quite happy with . . . but keeping the old one was out of the question seeings how bored I was with it. So it'll do for now. I like it in theory but the execution is not as cool as I would like it to be. Darn it. I'll keep looking. I hope you feel creatively and cheerfully appeased for now.
Persuasion
Lately I've been obsessed with blogging it seems. I think I'm connecting back with my creative, literary soul--which I like to believe I have but who knows whats really true. Today's topic: BBC's version of Jane Austen's Persuasion. I'm obsessed. Like really. I watched it one night because my sister had bought it and I had nothing to do--so out of curiosity I popped it in. I was not prepared for what was in store for me. I was mauled with one of the greatest, most girly cinematic experiences of my life. It's like the six hour Pride & Prejudice, but better. Well . . . almost. They're equals. But those of you that know how I feel about the six hour Pride & Prejudice know what a big deal it is for me to be comparing it to anything. Men, don't judge. It's a girl thing. Women, watch and enjoy.
I usually hate these montage things, but I liked this one and I didn't want to do a way emotional clip from the movie. It would give away too much and I want you all to watch it. :)
It's fabulous. I know, I know--I think montage things on youtube are cheesy too. But this movie is too fantastic! And here are some photogs of the gorgeous Rupert Penry-Jones and the talented Sally Hawkins.
And no, of course his picture isn't grandly bigger for any specific purpose! ;)
Do you ever have the feeling that one day you'll wake up and find out the life you have right now is actually NOT your life? Ya know, like everything you remember and know to be true is actually a dream . . . or not what reality really is at all? Like the Matrix, kinda. No? Hmm . . . sometimes I do. But I also have a feeling that I have the soul of an existentialist deep down inside. When I told Meg that, she agreed. So it's probably true.
I Miss Cocoanut Mondays
I moved out of Ventana on Wednesday. No more roommates. No more 2 options of places to sleep at all times. No more completely on my own with no one to report to. No more of that. I'm not complaining. I like living at home. It's free and generally pleasant and usually not as stressful as living in an apartment. I'll move back in the fall but for right now, I'm good. Except for one thing. Cocoanut Mondays. Allow me to explain:
I always hate the concoctions of smells in apartment buildings . . . particularly the hallways. Have you noticed it? Each time I came home and was walking through the hallway to my door my nose was harrassed by all manner of fragrances. 301's Panda Express lunch, 306's plethora of counteracting french perfumes, 310's trash, 306's particularly pungent human being smell. Each time unpleasant, and worst of all, not at all consistent in funkiness. I would never know what the current funky smell was when approaching the building--it was always changing, but always unpleasant. Possibly my least favorite part of living in apartments. This was always the case except for Mondays. Mondays our lovely hallway cleaning lady would vaccuum and mop and wipe down the handrails in our building. And whatever the fantastic cleaning concoction was she used it smelled like cocoanuts. It smelled, essentially, like paradise--exotic and sweet. I loved it. I would look forward to it all week long and I always knew it was Monday because of the wonderful aroma which took the place on those days of horrendous inconsistency. Isn't it interesting the things we miss most of all? I always know how my home will smell when I get home and I feel that it's fairly positive; we don't have one of those funky-smell houses, I don't think. It's just normal. So I never have to worry about this element of life when living at home. And yet, I miss cocoanut Mondays.
