So... winter crept up and stole my sunshine*. It was a sneak attack of the most calculated and intricate variety. It was 96 with a heat index of 109 (which felt like 290). So hot... SO sweaty.
Ahem.
It is currently 50 degrees outside, and I am bundled up in my office, which apparently didn't catch the memo that it is no longer summer.
I drove to work/school because there was a cloud sitting on my house when I left this morn, and I wasn't sure my face could deal with cloud bits hitting it as I rode my bike. I like to think about my face thanking me for my well-informed decision to hide it behind a quarter inch of tempered glass.
My boss isn't here today, and I have officially completed the tasks she assigned my for this week.
I think I will now drive that tempered glass home and call it a day. My face will probably thank me for that as well.
I do not know how I am going to make it through a Midwest winter.
Also... (Imagine a rather lengthy conversational pause here, because if we were talking face-to-face, there would be some awkward body-shifting and hair pulling and twirling because i don't really know how to talk about this because, well, I don't know EXACTLY how I feel about it, but I guess it fits in with my post lamenting a larger group of friends that come with a complimentary list of other options for fun timesss)
...I am planning to go to a regional YSA dance tonight in Omaha.
I am terrified.
I haven't been to one of these guys in... years. I went to precisely ONE dance since I left high school (during which time I also attended exactly ONE officially sponsored dance). It was terrible and I left after about six minutes. I am not ready for the awkwardness that is about to ensue, and I am fairly certain that humiliation will be the outcome. I am probably psyched out (Still) from having devoured this book with K-rah during an epic weekend during senior year at BYU. I have a general distaste for organized activities for adults, PARTICULARLY ones that have a soundtrack of music that was played on Top 40 radio stations spanning a time period circa 1992-2005.
Furthermore, I think I was tricked into thinking that I was semi-normal in my time in Provo, where I was basically surrounded by fairly liberal thinking, globally minded people who were interested in the same things I was/am. I didn't realize how excruciating it would be to announce to my new ward family that I am a vegetarian, a feminist, or wearing DI dresses everyday (and no, not because there's something special that I am dressing up for today, but really that's basically the only clothing option that I own. I promise.), or that I am studying art history, even weirder that it is Native American art that I am pursuing, or that I am interested in the earth and what it actually means to practice the doctrine to which I espouse my belief....I came a wee bit closer to understanding how one might feel coming out as a homosexual or some other social deviant.
I guess I am socially deviant in a lot of ways... I guess I didn't realize how strange that was. The uncomfortable stares have begun to get to me, though. I was raised to not care what people think about me. The mantra of my childhood was, "Act, don't react". My dad said it to me a trillion times in my 25 years. It taught me a lot of good lessons, and I became a strong internally motivated person who was happy to be different and acknowledge that there is a whole myriad of difference in the world. Why can't I remember what that means now? Why can't I remember that it feels good to be self-assured and confident in your own nuances and quirks?
(quarter-life crisis ensuing now...)
Maybe I should stop being a prideful-jerk-face and just decide to have fun by dancing to "Play that Funk Music White Boy" one more time??
maybe...
ugh.
wish me luck.
*okay, SERIOUSLY- remember how amaaaaaazing that song was in 8th grade!?!?!
Ahem.
It is currently 50 degrees outside, and I am bundled up in my office, which apparently didn't catch the memo that it is no longer summer.
I drove to work/school because there was a cloud sitting on my house when I left this morn, and I wasn't sure my face could deal with cloud bits hitting it as I rode my bike. I like to think about my face thanking me for my well-informed decision to hide it behind a quarter inch of tempered glass.
My boss isn't here today, and I have officially completed the tasks she assigned my for this week.
I think I will now drive that tempered glass home and call it a day. My face will probably thank me for that as well.
I do not know how I am going to make it through a Midwest winter.
Also... (Imagine a rather lengthy conversational pause here, because if we were talking face-to-face, there would be some awkward body-shifting and hair pulling and twirling because i don't really know how to talk about this because, well, I don't know EXACTLY how I feel about it, but I guess it fits in with my post lamenting a larger group of friends that come with a complimentary list of other options for fun timesss)
...I am planning to go to a regional YSA dance tonight in Omaha.
I am terrified.
I haven't been to one of these guys in... years. I went to precisely ONE dance since I left high school (during which time I also attended exactly ONE officially sponsored dance). It was terrible and I left after about six minutes. I am not ready for the awkwardness that is about to ensue, and I am fairly certain that humiliation will be the outcome. I am probably psyched out (Still) from having devoured this book with K-rah during an epic weekend during senior year at BYU. I have a general distaste for organized activities for adults, PARTICULARLY ones that have a soundtrack of music that was played on Top 40 radio stations spanning a time period circa 1992-2005.
this will be me. it will be awkward when I tell him that I don't eat meat, and then he tells me that his parents own a cattle ranch.
I guess I am socially deviant in a lot of ways... I guess I didn't realize how strange that was. The uncomfortable stares have begun to get to me, though. I was raised to not care what people think about me. The mantra of my childhood was, "Act, don't react". My dad said it to me a trillion times in my 25 years. It taught me a lot of good lessons, and I became a strong internally motivated person who was happy to be different and acknowledge that there is a whole myriad of difference in the world. Why can't I remember what that means now? Why can't I remember that it feels good to be self-assured and confident in your own nuances and quirks?
(quarter-life crisis ensuing now...)
Maybe I should stop being a prideful-jerk-face and just decide to have fun by dancing to "Play that Funk Music White Boy" one more time??
maybe...
ugh.
wish me luck.
*okay, SERIOUSLY- remember how amaaaaaazing that song was in 8th grade!?!?!
3 comments:
I don't know why but it brought tears to my eyes. Maybe because we all understand each other in the ARTHC program at BYU. The cattle ranch, veg comment made me giggle. welcome to my family reunions!
yes. I know.
good luck, my darling. for that day and every day.
you do belong though. for your veg, fem, dress wearing ways. not in spite of them.
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