BODY LANGUAGE

today it dawned on me that dancers speak funny when they can't use thier bodies to show what they mean. this "danspeak" is a combination of numbers, body parts, prepositions and unintelligible noises that can barely be communicated through text.

but i'll try...

shhhhew, ba ba da, ya daaa, ha, tick ticka tick, eee, uh, etc.

of course i've only been exposed to ballroom danspeak, i suspect that other forms of dance would use a different dialect; ballet being the most refined.

THE HIGHLIGHT OF AN OVERWHELMING DAY...

was during my french culture class where i played the title role in the miracle play the pregnant abbess where i was impregnated by a trencherman (played by a female classmate) and then saved from disgrace by the Virgin Mary (played by a male classmate).

THE GENDER GAME

so i had an interesting conversation with a friend last night about gender roles. or maybe it was the lack of gender roles. or the lack of fulfilling gender roles. or the change of gender roles. obviously the conversation wasn't very conclusive, so i feel the need to write further on the subject in order to come to some sort of conclusion--or not.

and so the pattern that we know and love is "boy meets girl. boy likes girl. boy asks girl on date (including details such as when and where)." i'm not even going to address what happens after that. frankly most of us don't even get THIS far...which is exactly the issue i'm trying to sort out here. the bottom line is that young people just aren't dating anymore. and if we read in between the lines this means that boys aren't asking girls on dates, and girls are [endlessly, vainly] waiting to be asked. i'd really like to find the gutless worm who is at the head of this cultural revolution and give him a good kick in the face; i'm afraid that a more southerly strike wouldn't have much effect on a demasculinated man.

WHY is this happening?

1. there's this concept of reverse-racism--a term that in and of itself is racist...but it's the only one out there, so i'm using it. reverse-racism says "we're not equals until i have more privileges than you do". example: the american south of the 20th century. i think i can safely say that this applies to the feminist movement as well. when women put their pants on and entered the work force they faced a good deal of discrimination for quite a few decades. rosey the riveter said "i can do anything that a man can do". because, really, it doesn't take a lot of skill to pee standing up. well then those soprano voices decided that "i can do anything that a man can do and i can do it better". and so the alpha female in her power suit started to scratch away at the towering ego of MAN. the concept conjures of images of feisty cats clawing away at carpeted scratching posts. (and yes, that could be a phallic symbol.) so it seems that by crossing the line of gender-dictated boundaries there's just not room for all of us. the delicate balance has been throw off and it's forcing men to toe the line of lady-like living.

how does this relate to our "boy meets girl" scenario? men are afraid of women. women scare men with their degrees and opinions. men feel more at risk when they put themselves in a vulnerable position before a strong woman. what they don't know is that the risk is NOT greater! females are the masters (mistresses?) of the double standard. they want to work nose to nose with men in the office, but when it comes to relationships they'll step back into sweet victorian conventions and wait patiently for prince charming to step up.

2. there's an ancient art known as communication that has been strangled by cordless phones and invisible wifi waves. in an effort to indulge our lazy asses someone came up with text messaging! this is the easiest and safest and lamest way to get a date in the history of mankind. i will say no every time. if i like you i will ask you to call me after assuring you that you will not be rejected. that's really much too generous, but that's what happens when you're desperate. so if he's incapable of having a vocal conversation lasting less than five minutes to ASK her on a date, he's terrified at the prospect of 2 to 3 hours of the same kind of interaction!

3. TBA

A TRUE STORY

the following anecdote is a true story and absolutely reflects the opinions of the author. hyperbole was not used in writing the account as it was not needed:

ENTER sunday school after taking a few wrong turns in order to shorten the uncomfortable length of social time before the class actually starts [late]

FAIL. sit down begrudgingly in the front row.

it seems that my uninterested, closed-book vibe doesn't have the same effect in provo as it does everywhere else in the world. the sweet little thing next to me is positive that i need a friend. she is also sure that i am dying to play 20 questions. and the game begins:

hi! what's your name?!

nice to meet you, i'm ___ (yes, i promptly forgot her name)

so where are you from?!

ooooh i've never been there! are you here going to school, or what?

byu?

i assume that she has already graduated so i ask if she works

yes, i'm a scrapbooker

PAUSE (that makes me really happy inside. i swallow my smile and continue the conversation with a bit more interest this time:)

oh, as a profession?

yes!

so...people pay you to scrapbook for them?

yeah, at a corporate level...i'm in marketing

oh. wow. (she has to be from utah. 10 points if she's from utah) where are you from?

here. orem.

(and we have a winner!)

and as i write this a kid walks past me in the hallway wearing a shirt that says

"I HEART BYU".

THE QUESTIONABLY QUOTABLE PROFESSOR

the "questionably quotable professor" is dedicated to the extraordinary verbal fallacies that spew from my professor's mouth every monday wednesday and friday from 1pm to 1:50 MST.

vocabulary:

mutilization- injury or disfigurement of oneself...not to be confused with self-mutilation.

sermon:

write your personal history now (before you forget who you are and what you stand for?)

world experience:

the shopping malls in Jerusalem are very impressive. they even have high end stores like Talbots!

THIS ONE'S FOR THE LADIES

it happens every month. we get irrational, but just don't understand why until womanhood knocks on the door and hands you a super sized tampon.

and then comes the relief.

"i'm not mentally unstable, it's just PMS."

well WebMD has further enlightened me with the knowledge that the premenstrual cycle begins about 14 days prior to actual menstruation. so just to be clear:

women are crazy during the premenstrual cycle which lasts about 14 days.

women are depressed and bloated during menstruation which lasts an average of 5 days.

women experience, on average, 19 days of hormonal insanity every month.

if a month is 30 days long, a woman cannot be held accountable for her feelings or actions for 63% of that month. risk is increased during the blessed romantic month of february to 68%.

so if you were wondering why i looked up PMS on WebMD, i'd be happy to give an answer on september 29th after i've eaten my weight in ginger snaps.

DEHYDRATION

i was at a party the other night and someone noticed that i was dehydrated. how could he tell? apparently your tongue swells to the point that your teeth leave an imprint on the sides. i guess these imprints were noticeable when i laughed. so i was curious and went home and turned to good old wikipedia to learn more about dehydration. a symptom of dehydration is the inability to produce tears.

some days i think i should quit drinking altogether.

LOOKING FOR A CAR VS. BUYING A HUSBAND

i couldn't sleep last night because i was worried about buying a car. my head was just a mess of dollar signs and specs and photos and reviews. i'm tired of phone calls from dealers. i hate all the decision making no, not really, no thank you, not today, i don't think soi'm pretty sure i'm just going to settle for the model i tried out last night. when it runs it runs well. it looks nice on the outside, good enough on the inside. i'm terrified that it won't be reliable, but you never know unless you try it!
Jess: I can't fall in love with it because it might not be the best deal. Nikki: Kinda like marriage?
i'd bet a 3k ring i do the same thing in the dating scene when i'm 30 and still single.

MY TRUST ISSUES

I won't eat at a chocolaterie if the lady behind the counter is skinny, it's very suspicious.

RESTROOM ARCHITECTURE

The design of the restroom in my office building is quite peculiar. Notably the individual stalls. There are four of them in total, each with a 10 foot high door. No joke. Each stall has a swinging, plantation-shutter styled door that goes from floor to ceiling. On second thought, make that 12 feet. Another idiosyncrasy: each of these doors is fully equipped with a push-button handle lock as well as a deadbolt which when turned to the lock position displays the word OCCUPIED in red letters. When said deadbolt is not bolted, the door says VACANT on the other side. I can peacefully relieve my bowels with the utmost assurance that no one without a pickaxe can walk in on me. But this comfort comes at a high price… does anyone else see the catastrophe that could potentially occur because of such irresponsible architectural oversights?
What if I were a man? And what if I worked with other men in the age bracket of, say, early twenties. Let’s just say I really needed to go. Like, “go”, you know? So I’d walk down to the men’s room eager for a brief respite from abdominal and or intestinal stresses. I would turn the handle of the first door I see only to find, that although the door clearly advertises a VACANT toilet-it must be, in fact, occupied for I cannot open the door! And so I try the next VACANT stall as well, only to find myself dismayed once again as I cannot enter. With increasing frustration I’d dance uncomfortably to each of the six stalls welcoming me with a green VACANT placard only to be repeatedly let down.
It’s just wrong. I hope that architect’s contract has expired and he can’t find work. What a sick sense of humor.

MY FIRST CANNOLI

There’s a little place by my house named Henri’s Bakery. I’ve passed it a few times before, and each time made a mental note to check it out. Yesterday I was wandering around the neighborhood looking for a place to eat dinner, and I thought I’d peek inside…check out the croissants or something. Given the fact that this place was nestled in the heart of an ugly old strip mall I should’ve known better than to expect that the pastries would be good—much less authentic. I miss the cuisine in France so much that I couldn’t help but hope! Ah, naivety. (That’s French, too.)
Once inside, I was greeted unenthusiastically by a short lady who was either Romanian or Mayan…or both. Her accent was equally as unidentifiable as her parentage, and the displays were about as unimpressive as the customer service. I’d bet two baklava that not a single item on the shelves was fresher than 36 hours. So, after pacing up and down the long, empty counter I settled on a cannoli.

EXIT BAKERY

Now I was really excited to find someplace worthwhile to eat…the sight of any bakery at 6pm is disheartening. Even in Paris, everything’s been picked bare by late afternoon and only random pieces of Flan and burnt raisin bread and crusty baguettes are left over. Henri’s was especially disappointing. Note to self: never come back.
So I’m juggling a bakery bag and my purse and my keys to unlock the car with a remote, and oh joy, it won’t unlock. This has happened a few times before. Usually it just takes a few more insistent jabs and the locks fly up with a really loud BEEPBEEP. Not this time. I set everything down and just pushed the remote over and over again. Open. Open. Open. Come on. Open. Are you kidding me? I was suspicious before that I drive the Swedish version of the Love Bug, but this just proves it. How can a vehicle be fickle? It’s just bolts and metal and oil. Nope, my car has a soul. I’m sure of it. He also has a sick, sick sense of humor.
I can actually unlock my car manually, but that won’t turn off the alarm. When I had this problem before I just used my keys to unlock the door; the alarm would go off, but it never lasted long. The remote would finally work and BLIPBLIP, it’s all good.
As soon as I opened the door the alarm went off just like I knew it would. Be casual, don’t look guilty. This IS my car. I kinda hunched over in the driver’s seat…after a few angry gestures. Fortunately, I had my mechanic’s number in my cell phone. He told me to try unlocking from the passenger’s door or the trunk, but nothing worked. You’d think that by putting the key in the ignition that the alarm would silence, but noooo. The engine locks! All the while I’m punching the unlock button on my little remote. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. I call each of my roommates. No answer. No answer. No answer. Finally Lina calls me back and comes with a screwdriver so we can open the remote and put in a new battery. Lina really did a number on that remote. It’s all scratched up in the back, like a cat was playing with it or something. After a few minutes I asked for it back before it was shred to bits.
Maybe it just takes a little finesse, not so much metal and hardware. I squeezed the remote to open the battery compartment and saw a little green light. No way. I absentmindedly pushed the unlock button. BEEPBEEP. That’s it?! It’s all over? After 45 minutes of ear splitting alarms and flashing lights and inconvenience I just give the remote a little squeeze and the alarm turns off! I guess any rational person would be elated, but I was pissed. Was all that drama really necessary? I mean, I didn’t learn any life lessons. I didn’t have to change a battery or flip a switch, the problem just solved itself.

The problem just solved itself.

That cannoli wasn’t any good.

AN OPEN LETTER TO MALE HORMONES OF THE LATIN VARIETY

Dear Male Hormones of the Latin variety,

As an overachiever myself I understand where you’re coming from. And yet, I enjoy a vacation once in awhile. So could you please tone it down a bit? Reign it in? Maybe go part-time? Your overpowering influence inspires such strange behaviors. No man in his right mind calls the next day, or maintains eye contact, or walks around in public with his shirt half buttoned. How do you do it, Male Hormones of the Latin variety? I’m envious of your powers of persuasion. Surely if I possessed such authority over the masculine mind and instincts I would exercise said authority in much more responsible ways. Alas, I cannot—but if I may offer a few suggestions which will be beneficial to us both…
When your Latin-lover host is overly-eager it has an adverse effect on us women. He could look like Ricky Martin, but if he calls within 24 hours of obtaining my phone number I am instantly disappointed. Even disgusted. There simply isn’t room for anticipation in such a short amount of time. I haven’t yet built him up in my mind to be more attractive, and talented, and suave than he actually is. This takes at least three days. So listen up, Senor Testosterone, simmer down and give it a few more days. You’ll be very pleased with the outcome of this new strategy.
Also, the songs and poetic compliments are very much over the top. I like a little appreciation—let’s face it, I deserve it—but when the verbal adoration is carried beyond a certain point I become quickly aware that Jose isn’t sincere at all. In fact, you tricked Jose into thinking that he can flatter me into bed. Not so. While such craftiness does prove to be effective on the weak minded and/or bimbo female-types, such tactics will only illicit rejection and insult from the cleverer and therefore more desirable varieties (commonly known as “hard-to-get”). Keep the sweet talking to a minimum, and I just might feel an estrogen-induced need to prove my desirability. We can meet halfway. Maybe 60/40…or 70/30 if you absolutely can’t resist.
On another note, there seems to be a dearth of your presence among the Anglo-Saxon variety. Could you help a brother out? Population density has to be uncomfortably high in Central and South America, Spain and France. Let me provide you with an attractive relocation proposal. There are plenty of good-looking specimen in the North American region in need of your assistance. With the increasing number of hormone-killing entities such as Playstation and Gaming, natural selection has struck Male Horomones of the Anglo-Saxon variety with a near-fatal blow. So what I’m trying to say is: could you share the love?

Sincerely,

Hopeful

or Desperate

...you decide

COMING SOON....

an open letter to men's hormones, and more specifically: the latin variety.

ANAGRAMS

i'm a fan of lists lately, i thought these were clever:

william shakespeare: I'll make a wise phrase

belgium = big mule

debit card = bad credit

the eyes = they see

narcissism = man's crisis (THE WINNER!)

darling i love you = avoiding your yell

FOLLOW UP ON THOSE ETHICS

i finished those cookies days ago. either monday or tuesday.

not guilty!

"ANOTHER SONG ABOUT THE DARKNESS"

i make all my worst decisions in the dark.

this brilliant thought came to me around 2:45am as i was driving home eating the last of a box of cream puffs.

really what is it about nighttime that just steals away my sanity? maybe the sun gives off wisdom as well as light and life. no--that can't be true, florida is the perfect example of a people who receives ample sunlight and still can't drive, dress, or vote (2004 election). yep and hollywood is in "sunny california". i find scandinavians to be a particularly sharp race, and their winter season is rather dark and bleak.

maybe it's because i've been awake for more than 13 hours and expended all of my good judgment juices (which isn't to say that i have a lot of that juice--maybe a cup's worth? 2 when i've had a good night's rest...)

i really should set a curfew just to ensure that i'm not conscience during those wee hours of the morning---hell, even late evening! we'll say from 10pm on. oh, and this ensures that i won't publish my nonsensical thought process online for all the cyber world to see.

maybe i'll start tomorrow.

ESSENTIALS FOR THE PERFECT LDS ENGAGEMENT SHOOT

1. an imperfect brick wall
a. position couple in front of wall, awkwardly holding hands and standing apart from each other
b. position couple in front of wall at a great distance so that they can't touch each other even if they tried. (note: the number of feet between them is symbolic of the number of months they've known each other and/or have dated. sometimes it's the same thing)
2. a unique doorway
a. alter the colors of the photograph until the subjects' skin looks orange
b. have the couple kiss in the doorway, reminiscent of their first kiss at her doorstep (which transpired 3 days ago)
3. tips for headshots
a. tilt the camera to exaggerate the angle...further...fuuuurther. you know it's right when you can't tell whether this photo is supposed to be in portrait or landscape format.
b. ask lady to mount her fiance (i believe the vernacular for this position is "piggyback"). zoom in for a headshot.
c. for good measure, zoom out for a full body shot. at all costs make the girl look fat.
4. the ring must be visible in 75% of all photographs...or more. even if the ring is absolutely unimpressive and made of c.z.
5. action shots are the best. kissing and laughing are the real moneymakers.
6. abstract shots of miscellaneous body parts add an artistic edge to the portfolio (shoes/feet highly recommended)
7. if there is a railroad within an hour's drive of the shooting site, find it.
a. have the couple walk on the tracks into the sunset. not by the tracks or across the tracks, but down the tracks--like in the direction a train would possibly be moving.
b. make sure they signed the waiver.
8. desaturate any sub-par photographs to either black and white or sepia tone. your clients will think they're the best, most "artsy" shots, and completely overlook the fact that his eyes are closed
9. the man must wear a collared shirt
10. position the lady and gentleman on either side of the tree.
a. have the couple play peek-a-boo, this inevitably results in a chase around the tree. action shots! be ready!
b. note: use a really big tree
11. please require the lady to wear an undershirt so as to avoid any embarrassing wardrobe malfunctions
a. i.e. bare midriff
b. if she insists on wearing a dress, it must be mid-calf length. check out the sister missionary mall for some super cute choices in all variety of colors and prints

ON CHOCOLATE ETHICS

i'm presently filling in for the office accountant aka controller--no kidding, that's her title. so as part of my duties as the sous-controller i receive all the office mail daily. two days ago i signed for a FedEx box addressed to said controller; which box contained cookies, and were sent as a reward for filling out some survey. i emailed the controller and as a side note let her know that she had received cookies in the mail and asked what i should do with them. i've received 3 emails from her since then without a word about the cookies.

i ate one.

was that wrong?

A PROPER INTRODUCTION

in response to the many facebook surveys of 25 random things about yourself i wrote one of my own and absolutely did NOT publish it where everyone would be hounded by notifications to read about how "fascinating and quarky" i am. it was actually more an excercise in self-discovery, as opposed to PR. so i started writing and it reminded me of other random experiences and opinions and pet peeves... i ended up with over a hundred items. i think these are the kinds of facts that are most interesting about a person and should be adopted into my "first conversation" and "getting-to-know you" repertoire. (much like what is stated in le petit prince)

When I have kids, I won’t talk to them the way mothers talk to babies—It’s just ridiculous•It’s fun for me to talk to people who are awkward and pretend that they’re not• I hated my freckles when I was little, now I like them•I used to want to learn how to play the drums—I still think that’s way cooler than the guitar•I don’t like when people touch my feet•Holding hands isn’t a big deal to me, but sometimes I wish it would happen more often•I wish my teeth were even and that my waist were small•Guys should keep their nails short, some of them should have longer hair•I don’t feel driven by integrity to keep the BYU honor code… I know I should. I should feel guiltier about it all•instead of just erasing, I try to alter the mistake to make it look the way it should’ve. Sometimes it doesn’t work, other times it does. •I really appreciate subtlety; I also like when people are straightforward. Is that contradictory? •I really like analyzing artwork and literature and body language and conversation•one of the worst ways to die is from suffocation, I think•When I have my own home I want a completely white room, and a dining room that’s deep red, black kitchen appliances, and a porch•When I was a kid, I loved the smell of gasoline and sharpies—that explains a lot doesn’t it? •I really like writing. I love learning new words and new languages•I love film, but I actually haven’t seen many movies•I’m obsessed with originality•Religion fascinates me; politics depress me•I think I’m pretty superficial. I either try not to look that way or try not to be that way. I can’t decide which•in 7th grade I wanted to be a lawyer•I took airbrush lessons when I was little•I’ve been using Photoshop since 1995, and I’m pretty dang good at it…until all this CS business came out•my favorite cologne is Very Sexy for men by Victoria’s secret. Does that mean I have bad taste? •I’m jealous of people who are always nice. I just can’t be•I have a very expressive face•I like being with people who I feel comfortable with just not saying anything at all•I enjoy cooking; I like eating more, though•I have an uncanny ability to remember conversations•I have a very low tolerance for cold. On the other hand, in the summers in Georgia I try not to use the AC in my car. I just drive with the windows down•In elementary school, the kids knew who I was in heads up seven up because my hands were always cold•I stole ice cream from school multiple times when I went to Lake Windward Elementary. I was good at stealing•I’m very selective about who I’ll swear around. I won’t do it around my family, most men, and people who don’t know me well. I wouldn’t want that to be someone’s first impression of me•I can’t buy gallons of ice cream or I’ll eat it in under a week•I love sexy underwear•when I did door to door sales, people offered me jobs at their company all the time. It happened at the very least once a week•sometimes I want to get married just for the sex•I fluxuate between loving and avoiding eye contact•I think I’m a pretty good liar, maybe that’s why I’m suspicious of everyone else•sometimes I can’t look at someone when they’re talking to me because I’m distractedly analyzing the way that they look•God actually is the most important part of my life•my grandmother is a compulsive gambler. That’s the only family secret I know of. It’s not even a secret—everyone in her town knows it•I’m picky about the color of my dishes. Bright colors are extremely unappetizing•I’ve never had a ticket or been in a car accident•I can’t justify not liking someone unless he or she is rude, dumb, or weak•I’ve nearly convinced myself that I’ll never fall in love•I love love love chocolate covered almonds and yogurt covered almonds•I don’t like honey•I’m a huge fan of mood lighting•I could never be vegetarian or anorexic. Yes, I just put those two in the same category---crazy! •I’m highly competitive, which isn’t always a good thing. That attitude has gotten me pretty far, I wonder if it would be worth losing those things to be more…relaxed. Is that the right word? Nonconfrontational, maybe•I roll my eyes and sigh a lot. When I see other people do it I’m reminded of how unattractive it is. I still can’t kick the habit•I like the anonymity of dancing at a club•when guys roll their r’s or purr I go crazy• I actually liked middle school•it really bugs me when people ask questions with obvious answers•I didn’t kiss anyone until college•the first cd I ever owned was Gregorian chant, the second one was Mariah Carey #1s•I made up a word: conspicuous, a combination of suspicious and conspicuous•when I was a kid, I would daydream about being able to do incredible acrobatics. I wanted to get the chance to show it off when someone attacked the school, or in a big competition. I only stuck with martial arts for 6 months. I still can’t do a back handspring, but I’m determined to learn eventually•sometimes in the winter on my mission, I’d wear basketball shorts under my skirt•I hate knee high pantyhose•I don’t like white socks, so I don’t own any•the – is my punctuation of choice•I used to dislike physical contact until I started taking ballroom dance classes. I’m a little more normal now. oh, and it helped to live in France for awhile•I don’t like Coldplay. They’re good at what they do, but I don’t like what they do•My dream job is to be a professional International Latin ballroom dancer. I’ll be an artist instead. Sometimes I’m embarrassed about my career choice because it doesn’t take much education or academic training to do it. I just make “pretty” things•I like the rush I get from public speaking•sometimes my natural intonation makes the things I say sound really dumb•I don’t like working out with weights or machines•I really like darkrooms, I just don’t really like what you do in them•if I were an animal, I’d be a cat—I hate cats•if I were a drink, I’d be champagne•I adore vanilla scents•I think Christina Aguilera is amazing•I read format as much as content•administrators with poor administrative skills shouldn’t administrate! That’s how I feel about my boss•when I was little, I would beg my parents to buy coconuts and cotton candy—not at the same time, though•when I turned 17, my friend Meagan Kreitlein threw me a surprise birthday party. I still really appreciate it•I believe that when I think nice things about people, I should tell them what I’m thinking•people say I have really soft skin, and I don’t even use lotion•it bothers me when people can’t say no•I hate when my socks get wet•I don’t tolerate shoes on or in my bed•flourescent lights give me a headache•every once in awhile I change my handwriting•I don’t like sitting on the ground when it’s wet•I jumped off a ledge into a pool of water in Moab, but I didn’t do it again. Not because I was scared of the height of the drop, but because I hate being in cold water•My childhood was great. My mom forced us to play outside, we didn’t’ get a lot of treats and didn’t watch much TV. I want to raise my kids that way•I’d like to think that if I could afford designer purses and shoes I wouldn’t spend all my money on those things, but I’m not so sure I’d be able to resist•relief is one of the best feelings•red roses are so cliché—I don’t want them, ever•I worked at a bank one summer. They were doing construction in the office, so instead of a cubicle they gave me the conference room. That’s when are where I learned how to shimmy•from what people have told me, I move and carry myself in a unique way. I wish I knew what that meant•I don’t think I’d like Las Vegas•my mom says I’m tenacious•I think natural-looking eyebrows look the best•I really like the word lovely•I use my makeup to death, when it’s all cracked and powdery and most girls would throw it away…I still use it•I’m a red personality type•The letters that I wrote home from my mission were all in lowercase letters•I’m extremely curious