Monday, February 28, 2011

Conference, PopTart Bastards, and The Judgmental Monster.

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Sometimes I find it hard to write. I actually will sit down at the computer, write a post, and delete it all because I can. So I have been trying to write for a while and it just doesn’t end up happening, so I have decided that whatever I write now, I will not delete and will post whatever it comes out to be.

I’ll start off with stake conference, which was yesterday. We had an apostle show up and so everyone was all ready to shake his hand and feel his spirit. This concept I don’t understand. Why do Mormons feel the need to groupie apostles? That is essentially what they are doing and I am surprised that the women in my stake didn’t take off their panties and throw them to him while he spoke. I ate poptarts and wrote haikus instead of actually paying attention because I am at my limit of church.

It is stake conference,
Droopy eyes and quick doodles.
Attention? There’s none.

Matched makeup and clothes,
Pleated skirts and curly hair.
These Mormon women.

Showy high heeled shoes;
Platforms and suede and velour,
But can’t walk in them.

These same suits, same ties,
Week after week, all the same.
It reflects their souls.

Boring, boring men
Come to church to wed all these
Boring, Boring girls.

This morning, I was just in a foul mood. I had issues getting out of bed and walked to school by myself while thinking about how much I hate poptarts.” They come in packets with two poptarts, yet the serving size is one tart. Do they expect me to walk around with a loose tart on my person all day? Bastards at the poptart factory…” Then I realized I was walking behind a woman with fat thighs and was wearing corduroy pants. Every step her thighs would rub the cords together, making her chafing thighs an aria. I could barely control my hatred for this woman’s thighs that I decided to take a moment and pretend to tie my shoes until she was out of the range of my hearing. But then a man wearing basketball shorts decided to walk right by me.

I have a hatred for people who think it is okay to walk about in basketball shorts, especially when not properly supported. I can’t avert my eyes from the jiggling mass that is their genitalia. Back and forth it sways, and my stomach does the same until I feel like I am about to vomit. Why do people feel that that is attractive? I was especially mortified by this specific man because his penis was disturbingly small and I had the urge to call up my friend who has had many experiences with measuring for micro-penis.

I continued to walk to my class, and my hatred for the world increased with each passing second: He is fat; Her butt is the size of a baby hippo; I can see your genitalia; Your acne is atrocious, please wear a mask. I became a monster of epic, judgmental proportion. I can feel it in my bones that I am destined to become this bitter, judgmental monster and that scares me more than anything. How can I get rid of this mean monster because I never want to become bitter and mean. But as I wait for this mood to lift, I judge my roommates' hygiene, my neighbor's uke playing, and my friend's driving abilities.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Genital Warts between Friends.

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Genital warts: The mention of the subject gives me the chills, but last night I was faced with my demons head on. My friend sent me a text message at midnight that read, “Could you differentiate between razor burn and genital warts?” I was hoping that a simple yes would stop the conversation but I was not that lucky. Instead, I was asked to be a wart inspector. I have had my run-ins with cooter before, and I swore to myself that I would never find myself in the same situation again. Unfortunately, when you swear against something, the universe sends it your way at every possible chance.

My best friend in high school had an issue. She got a bit frisky after the Winter Formal, and in the act, the condom broke. He changed out condoms and went back to work, but the next day, my friend was complaining about some pelvic discomfort. Her parents didn’t know that she was sexually active, so of course she couldn’t ask them to take her to the doctor, so she came to me. “Well I think there might be a bit of condom still in there… but I can’t see it. You are my best friend and I only ask you because I can’t go to my doctor.” This would be my first time experiencing a vagina in all its terror.

I donned gloves and a face mask that I had kept in my dissection kit from the anatomy lab and came over with my dad’s Maglite that double as a weapon because of its size. “Okay, I’m just going to take a look. And I will tell you what I see.” I have never been the same since, but I found the shard of latex and we were able to get everything sorted out.

“You want me to tell you if you have genital warts?” That she did. I tried to diagnose through text message but that was not enough. “Am I going to get cancer if this is HPV? Can they get rid of the warts? It doesn’t look like a witch’s nose, but is that how you can tell?” I wouldn’t pick up the phone when she called because I could never talk to her about the subject. Text messages were the only method of communication I would use so that she could not ask me to come over and take a look because than I could not say no.

“Well I can’t really diagnose without a smear and a raft culture… maybe you should go see a doctor.” She pleaded, “No. That scares me!” So I had to do the mist unfriendly thing that I have done in my life. I turned off my phone and I have yet to turn it on. I am sure that when I turn my phone back on, my inbox will be filled with texts of hatred and woe. But I cannot face inspecting another friend’s cooter with a Maglite and a mask, and so I will keep my phone off.

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Madonna at the Etiquette Dinner: You only have one first impression.

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Once a year, BYU puts on a fancy dinner called, “The Etiquette Dinner: You only have one first impression.” I considered going, although I know how to wine and dine, but I wouldn’t mind a four course dinner. I considered going until my friend who worked at catering told me that the dinner lasts four hours. That is a marathon of etiquette, and I was certain that I would embarrass myself by the end of the dinner, so I decided not to go.

My professor saw me working in the lab and asked me if I was going to the etiquette dinner, assuring me that it would be fun and that the food is good. Is it four hours long? Yes. My etiquette attention doesn’t last that long. He was confused about that statement, and asked me to give him and example. So I asked him to get me a cloth napkin and I would show him.

We went to his office and he pulled out a bandana, and I started my example. I folded the napkin this way, and that way while talking about Madonna. When I finished folding, I grabbed the ends of the napkin and said, “… And I disguised myself as Madonna!” Right when I finished my statement, I pulled the corners of the napkin to my chest, and in all of its glory, the napkin formed into a pointy bra.

I was sure that my professor would be rendered speechless, and he was… but he was speechless because he could not stop laughing. After a snort and a snigger, he stopped and told me, “I will pay for your ticket if you sit with me at the life science faculty table. Please. I need the other professors to see this.” I politely declined, but he still gave me a ticket to attend. “If you decide to go, tell them that you have been asked to sit at the Life Science Professors’ table.” I still think I’ll pass.

Monday, February 21, 2011

Musings at Midnight

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My loneliness is becoming obscene; mostly because I feel like I am unattractive, which I blame on both BYU and my Body Dysmorphic Disorder. I try to make myself look good, and I walk around campus and don’t get a second look… from males and females alike. I guess it just is disheartening when it is against code for people to be attracted to you, and so I have no clue if what I am doing is actually attractive or if I just look like an idiot. All I ask for is some positive feedback.

All my best friends feel lonely as well, which my heart goes out for them, but my situation and theirs is totally different because people are allowed to be attracted to them, and they can get attention and not worry about being kicked out from BYU. But I coddle them, and tell them that they will someday find someone to compliment them and to finish their sentences, but I don’t really get that in return. They tell me that I am attractive, but it isn’t the same coming from them because they aren’t attracted to me. Maybe I should stop complaining, but it means nothing to me when they say I am attractive.

Most recently though, Talia has developed a crush, which she hasn’t had one in years. I’ve met the guy, think he is awesome, and suggest that she goes for him, and then she asks me if I have a crush on anyone. Well it is a fact that I am interested in a guy, but he lives halfway across the country and half the time I think he is a jerk. Does that count as a crush? She says no. So what does count as a crush? Apparently, to her, a crush is an attraction to somebody from afar, and they usually don’t know, but you like them and are intrigued by them. Back to the guy across the country: doesn’t that count? No. Why it doesn’t count is because I am only interested in him because he is interested in me. Now that I think about it… I’ve never crushed on somebody according to her rules. I only like people who
like me first.

I’ve thought about the whole situation, and it really is true. And I blame the whole situation on a flaw of mine: If somebody compliments me, I can’t resist. Is my confidence so low that I will like anybody who says I am attractive? Well, that seems to be the case. And so now I am stuck, trying to find out if I really do like this guy or if I am just addicted to his compliments. I took into consideration every relationship(ish) that I have ever been in, and I know that I am just addicted to compliments. All of them tell me I’m pretty and I just become smitten. Yes, I realize this is bad, but I don’t see how I will ever overcome this flaw.

The first step would probably be to go back to therapy, but I never want to return to that route. Therapy was hell when I did it, and it sucked, and it made me go to the depth of despair. Also, I am afraid that if I go to therapy again, drugs will be offered like they were before. It was hard enough to resist behavioral drugs before, and now with almost every one of my friends on antidepressants, it will probably be ten times more difficult to turn down drugs. Can I find a way to overcome this flaw without professional help?

Thursday, February 17, 2011

And then one day, I decided...

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I want to open an ice cream shop. I think it would be the most marvelous thing to ever do, and for the last year, I have told everyone that I will open an ice cream shop after I work for a while. The professor I work for has pleased for me to go to graduate school, and I would tell him, “Meh… Maybe. I just want to be done with school right now.” But for months, whenever he would see me, he would ask if I have considered going to grad school.
I was just sitting in class today and I decided, “I want to go to graduate school.” How to actually go to grad school still evades me, but I just feel like I want to go all of the sudden. It’s not that I don’t want to open an ice cream shop anymore, because I still do. But now, I just feel like ice cream can be something I do on the side.
So the problem is; I graduate in four months. Usually, people apply for grad school their senior year of university. I have fiddled around my whole senior year, so that option is no longer available. Also, I have not taken the GRE (and it scares me to death), my grades are only decent, and my research is at a standstill until I can get somebody to share some resources with me (because my lab receives no funding).
I really hate my thinking processes. One day I will just be strolling along and decide that I want to do something which I have no preparation for, and it generally flows in the complete opposite direction that my life is headed. Also, I develop fears of doing things that mark adulthood. Getting my driver’s license about killed me, and I procrastinated it until my parent’s started charging me $20 each day that I didn’t have my license. Applying for University made me physically ill for a week and I procrastinated applying until realizing that I couldn’t mosey about the community college another semester (I had been able to graduate for a year already but just never did). Getting a job up here is something I really need, yet I can’t motivate myself to actually go around and apply because adults have jobs. Can I keep living like this, having to be pushed to continue further along in life?

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Starting back up.

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I haven’t blogged in about a month, mostly because I am dissatisfied with the writing format I was attempting, and also I only have two readers. So I decided to go back to the journal type of writing style (which I don’t edit). It was successful before right? So why not go back to that kind of writing?

I guess the most major thing that has happened to me since this semester has started is that my roommate moved out. And when I say moved out, I actually mean that he just stopped coming home. He put his contract up for sale after a week of staying at our older roommate’s place, and now I rarely see him. It wasn’t really much of a surprise, because Johnnie (the older roommate) has been after Remington (the one that just moved out) for months, and Johnnie has some power over Remington.

I felt it in my bones after Rem didn’t show up after three days, so I wasn’t surprised when a week later (at midnight) I get a text from him that says, “Don’t be mad, but I’m moving out. Please don’t pee in my shampoo, and I already put my contract up for sale. So if you could give the tour to anyone who shows up? We can still hang out.” The problem is that he was my only friend who lived with me and essentially my only male friend in the ward… possibly the state. I just don’t get along with men well.

So now, I attend Elders’ Quorum and sit by myself. Sometimes the Bishop feels like he should come and shake my hand, and I attempt to smile at him. But ever since his letter that he gave me about being possessed, all my smiles toward him look painful and psychotic. The Bishop really is determined to get me to go to one of his weekly “Date Dinners.” I have been invited 12 times, and every time I send back an email reading, “I can’t go. I have cholera.” The first time I sent that email, he asked me in church the next day if cholera is common in the US. Now he doesn’t even ask me if I am feeling better. He just smiles, waves, and tries to chase me through the crowd to ask me if I would meet with him later.

Apparently, the Ward Missionary Leader has been lying about me to the bishop. He has said that I have been at every meeting for the last year and that I am really helpful, and I magnify my calling. I actually haven’t been made aware of any of the meetings for my calling for the last year. Sometimes I will crash a meeting, but the rest of the ward missionaries don’t really approve of my arrival. This is because I shame the lot of them because they choose not to know certain members of the ward because they are different. I somehow know everybody in the ward, their calling, their home state, and their favorite food, so I don’t understand why the ward missionaries pick and choose who they magnify their calling upon. Especially because the people they are ignoring are the ones that they should probably be visiting.

Speaking about visiting, I now have a “Personal Priesthood Interview” every week with the Elders’ Quorum President. Every week he comes and talks to me about what I can do to receive a witness that the church is true, and the problem is that I have tried everything that he has suggested and more. I’m really just giving up on this whole religion thing, and so when I graduate in four months, we’ll have to see where I end up.

Also: Graduating is making me crazy. Mostly because I have no clue what I am going to do after I graduate. I really want to open an ice cream shop, but that isn’t a realistic goal for the moment. So maybe I want to travel, but now I have been goaded into going to grad school in a year or two. I could move back to California, but I don’t want to be anywhere near my family (I love them and all, but I need distance to be loved by them). So now I am just floating about my options. Considering the east coast, but I have no clue where to go from here. I really just want something to fall into my lap or for somebody to tell me exactly what I will be doing, because I suck at decision making and my agoraphobia kicks in whenever I think about doing things that are considered “Grown Up.” Because let’s face it: I am 19 and scared to go out and face the world.