I guess it's that time again

I have started not believing in New Year's Resolutions because I believe you can change whenever you want to change. This just happens to be a time in my life where I want to change (which may be slightly socially induced).

A couple of goals:
Health/Physical:
-Maintain a habit of running
-lose some vanity weight
-work on flexibility
- eat less flour and sugar
-eat more vegetables

Dance:
-Make a semifinal
-be able to do a clean triple spin
-utilize my practice hours better

Academic:
-Get a 4.0 to close the year
-Get involved with a research project
-Get into grad school
-Speak in Spanish more often

Financial:
-Get a job
-Keep track of the money I spend
-Stick to a budget

Personal
-Put myself together more often
-More diligent prayer and scripture study
-Love myself
-Be myself

Social:
-Get out of my comfort zone
-Make a new friend


I should stop before I get carried away.

Basically my motto for this year (with the help of Lauren) is something to the effect of "Buck up!"--meaning take some responsibilty for my life. I get tired of seeing people throw their lives away or listening to people complain or blame every misfortune on some outer working force. Take responsibility for your life! Only YOU can make yourself happy. Only YOU can give yourself validation. I realized it's easy to sink into this state of apathy and fatalism, but it's passe' and pathetic. I'm going to be happy and motivated this year by my own efforts. I believe that God can most ready help us and make us something more when we have this attitude. We are also more able to help others when we get outside of ourselves. Choice-induced depression* and self-pity and self-loathing all create a dangerous vortex leading to egocentrism. We become blinded to everything beautiful around us, and our lives become meaningless and directionless.

And I am personally fed up with it. It's time for change. Happy 2011!

*(I believe there are multiple causes of depression. I thoroughly believe that there are uncontrollable, brain chemical causes, and there is no shame in getting help for that. I also believe that we can cause these same symptoms through poor choices. I will eleaborate on this later, but I didn't want you all to think that I don't believe in the seriousness of mental illness.)

Trust No One

When I was little, my parents would watch the X-Files religiously. Sometimes I would walk in and practically pee my pants with fright. (I was an easily scared child.)

It's weird how I still have random images from various episodes that I remember distinctly. Other images I seemed to have fabricated or altered.

My tolerance for terror has increased somewhat, but this show still freaks me out. (i.e. Home, 2Shy, The Calusari, etc.)

At least David Duchovny is hot.

15 characters

Don't take too long to think about it. Fifteen fictional characters (television, films, plays, books) who've influenced you and that will always stick with you.

1. Mr. Keatings--Dead Poets Society
2. Tyler Durden--Fight Club
3. Tom Hansen or Summer Finn--500 Days of Summer
4. Charlie--The Perks of Being a Wallflower
5. Sam--Garden State
6. Ellie Arroway--Contact
7. Jane Eyre--Jane Eyre
8. Holly Golightley--Breakfast At Tiffany's
9. Grendel--Grendel
10. Katherina--Taming of the Shrew
11. The Narrator--El cuarto de atrás
12. Holden Caulfield--The Catcher in the Rye
13. The Monster--Frankenstein
14. Ella--Ella Enchanted
15. Bad Blake--"Crazy Heart"

Homeward Bound

Actually, I am already home. I just like that Simon and Garfunkel song.

What I love about this time:
--I get to be with my family, including my grandpa who is here visiting.
--I get to buy expensive vegetarian food. And by "I," I mean my mom. And by my mom, I probably really mean my dad. (This doesn't mean you can't be vegetarian on a budget, but prepared vegetarian foods are normally too expensive for a college student like me.)
--I get to sleep into the double digits.
--I have time to read books!!
--I get to see friends that I haven't seen in a long time.
--There is moisture in the air. READ: My skin doesn't freaking fall off for going outside.
--There is scenery worth looking at.
--I have a functional pillow.

three point five

There is something about taking a 3.5 hr developmental biology test that makes me feel really good about myself--no matter how it turns out. (It was free response, so I don't know...)

Yay for hox genes, wnt signaling, gastrulation, enhancers, insufficiency, Spemann's organizer, potency, commitment, splanchnic mesoderm, and EVERYthing in between.

Queen Frostine

Weird thing about me #56382

I like frosting more than the cake. In fact, I don't even really like the cake at all, but if it must be there I like it to be chocolate or red velvet. I find most people have the opposite preference than I do. The frosting must be vanilla. Even more so, I love when the frosting is heavily dyed--so dyed that it has a hint of a bitter chemical taste and turns my mouth a different color. My stomach will eventually start to feel nauseous as my blood sugar spikes, but I push the limits anyway.

This becomes a problem when I inadvertantly ruin a cake by scraping off the frosting and only eating a little bit of the cake. Then I realize that it's not my cake and that I just destroyed everything aesthetically pleasing about someone's dessert. Then I try to play dumb, but everyone knows it was me because I'm the only frosting lover. Foiled again.

This is why my birthday is one of the best times of the year because it is the one time I can scrape all of the frosting off my cake how I please, and no one can say anything about it.

I knew there was a reason that Queen Frostine was always my favorite Candy Land character. Drawing her elusive card was the highlight of my board game experience.

seems like I'm always...

Sometimes I'm just too easy.

Parasite

It's a little passe', but I finally got on the Inception train. I went to the theaters (by myself) because I was tired of hearing all the references to it and not being able to appreciate the pop culture allusion.

My mind is only semi-blown. And I will tell you why.

This is what my physics class in high school was all about. We would get on tangents far away from Newtonian physics and start discussing things like quantum mechanics, time travel, alternate realities. This is where I was first introduced to the idea that my reality might not be real--that everything I'm seeing is a projection of my mind. This is how our brains work after all. Every bit of sensory information is translated into a series of electrical signals, and the brain chooses how to interpret those signals. How do I know if the interpretation is really what is there?

We also discussed lucid dreaming and being able to control what happens in your dreams through diligent practice. Next time you dream, try to tell yourself to do something like tie your shoe. Eventually you can say where you go and what you do. I'm still working on this though.

So Inception was an extension of the brilliant ideas and theories to which I had already been introduced. Thanks Dr. Bellamy.

fork in the conversation

This happened to me more than once today.

I'm walking across campus. I see a medium-known acquaintance. This means that I'm not entirely dreading the fact that we happen to be walking the same direction, and I'm not going to have to submit to mindless small talk the whole time. (more on my qualms with small talk later...)

So you're walking and talking. Then all of the sudden the acquaintance sees someone he/she knows and the conversation pauses so a greeting can be given. But wait! The other person stops. Maybe the acquaintance knows this other person better than he knows you. You were cut off mid-sentence so you can't just keep walking because what if the acquaintance is only stopping for 5 seconds and will be right behind you in no time? Do you wait or stay?! You panic. You decide to wait it out. Maybe it won't be that long. But then you realize you are awkwardly listening to a conversation for like 5 minutes with one person who really doesn't know you that well, and come on, who even cares about the acquaintance of the acquaintance? Even more awkward, when this other conversation ends and you resume your original conversation (is it too creepy to remember exactly where you left off?), you realize you two are only walking together for about 10 more seconds. Baffled at your complete lack of social foresight, you walk away bearing the proverbial scarlet A (for Awkward) on your shirt. And then you get caught in this situation again.

And by you, I mean me.

energy+hydration

I just found a new favorite engery drink flavor.

Ladies and Gentlemen, behold--The Rockstar Recovery

[Except imagine the somewhat cardio-hazardous 24 oz. version due to my developed resistance to caffeine these days.]

The Rockstar Juiced flavors are also appealing, but they have a lot of sugar in them (not that I've been the healthiest eater lately, but I'm not a big fan of liquid calories). I always opt for the sugar-free versions, which taste okay, but this one is like lemon-zingy goodness. Consider me a fan. (possible pun...)

This is going to make trasnochar-ing a lot more enjoyable.

Lo fantastico

Hardest Spanish paper of my life in T-17 hrs.

Bitter

So I realized today that of my close friends, I have no single girl friends left. Actually Matt and Cory are the only single friends I have left at all (in Utah).

I'm not bitter that I don't have a relationship. I'm bitter because I wish everyone was single like the good ol' days, which means there was stuff to do.

Now being single really means single--as in alone, by myself, watching Psych or 30 Rock or some other show and/or doing homework.

Most people don't know what it is truly like to be single.

Meatless

I get so excited when I watch my vegan cooking shows! It's been awhile since I watched them, but when I go home, it's going to be a party.

Things to make: "Turkey" seitan, vegan gravy, pigs in a blanket with veggie dogs, vegan mashed potatoes, etc. The possibilities are endless.

I'm already getting jittery. I love to cook; I just don't do it at college for lack of time and resources. When I go home for Christmas though, I'm going to have a ball. Vegan cooking and modifying old favorite recipes is one of my favorite things in this world!

It's a vegan revival kind of day.

not cynical

I think it's interesting that around this Thxgiving (ha) time, I have a lot of female friends that gush on facebook/blogs how they are so thankful for their boyfriend/fiance/husband/wedding/marriage and things of the like. Conversely, I have seen no males reciprocate these sentiments.

Curious...

Bendiciones

What would Thanksgiving be without a Thanksgiving blog post?

Here we go:
God, Jesus Christ, and His gospel: it is why I am who I am.
Family: Loving parents that pray for me everyday, an older sister that has always looked out for me, a brother that shares the middle sibling plague and who is faithfully serving a mission, another brother who is charismatic and thinks he is so gangsta. You guys are the best famn damily ever! Thanks for the memories!
Friends: Old ones who have always been there, new ones with whom to learn and grow. Lauren, Brittany, Ashley, Katie, Mary, Matt, Adam, and Cory: Thank you for your friendship. You have all had some of the greatest impacts on my life.
The friends not listed: I feel like I meet so many interesting and inspiring people all the time. Thanks to you as well.
Science: it's just awesome.
Art: it makes life beautiful.
Dance: It makes me laugh and cry and scream and cheer, but it makes me keep me fighting and working hard.
Movies: They prevent me from completely dying from boredom.
Music: always faithful
America: I still believe in the principles for which you stand.

In reality, I'm thankful for everything. The good, the bad, the ugly. The ability to live and experience is really what matters. And I'm thankful for everything that touches my life and ultimately makes me a deeper human being.

oye vey

So much food this weekend. I feel a bit guilty considering I probably could have fed all of Africa with my feasting, but sometimes, I just can't help myself. Or maybe it's I don't want to help myself.

Fact: I can eat. Like REALLY eat. I may pretend to not be hungry or eat like a bird at times, but the truth is I am almost always hungry, and even if I am not, I can probably still make room. I come from a large extended family that loves to eat. Food is central to all of our gatherings. Also, when I was growing up, it was a really special occasion to go out to a restaurant. Our family always went to Old Country Buffet (don't judge) for every birthday. This was partly due to the fact that you could satisfy picky children that didn't have patience to wait for food to be brought to them, and it was more economic for a family of six with a limited income. I also had a mother who was an excellent cook. So from an early age, I learned how to eat a lot and how to appreciate quality, home-cooked meals. I also eat really fast, which sometimes tricks my stomach into thinking it is still hungry. In reality it is just catching up to my impatience. I also feel weird leaving food on my plate. I either have to save it for later or just finish it all right there. I can't stand just throwing food away.

Sometimes I regret having this habit, okay maybe more than sometimes--okay maybe like all the time. It's kind of embarrassing especially when someone points it out. One time a sister of a roommate said out of the blue, "wow, you are always eating."

It's a habit that I'm trying to...tweak. I think it's good having a healthy appetite and not wasting food, but the purpose of eating should be to sustain my physiologic demands--no more, no less.

It's a work in progress I guess.

In a yellow wood

Getting married sounds really foreign to me. Honestly. I know you may be thinking that deep down I'm really desperate and masking this desperation by nonchalant apathy towards the subject.

But really. When I think of me married, it just doesn't seem to fit. Love and romance just aren't my game.

I've just been thinking about this because lately it seems all of my friends have been getting married. I think when I was younger, I would fantasize about getting married because at 12 that's what you think you're supposed to expect will happen. Then you approach that age range where it can potentially happen to you, and it suddenly doesn't fit in your plan anymore. You realize more and more that maybe you are not cut out for that life pathway. Maybe there are so many things you can do without it. Maybe Robert Frost was right.


"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference."

p.s. I don't mean for all my posts to sounds depressing. I'm actually pretty okay with life right now. I just miss my friends that disappear because of marriage. It kind of sucks being replaced, but that's life.

space

It's Tuesday night of Thanksgiving break, and I'm already bored. I don't know what to do with myself without an impending test or paper. I guess I could actually get ahead on my work. Now that would be a novel idea.

I went with a [male] friend to see Harry Potter. I guess I couldn't wait for the dollar theater. It's really nice to watch a movie with someone and not have to analyze your positioning or hand-holding signals. I was never really good at that anyway. It's nice to just be friends with people. No pressure. No miscommunication. No drama.

But as we walked through the mall afterward, (because my sister had to pick us up like we were back in junior high--the joys of being vehicle-less) he said something along the lines of how boys judge/critique other boys based on the girl with which they are accompanied. Cue overanalyzation: Are you slightly embarrassed to be walking with me because people might assume you are dating me? (and I'm definitely not a girl you would date, I know that...) The thought just crossed my mind, as these types of thoughts are wont to do. I just never want people to think I'm trying to pull something that I'm not trying to pull.

This also makes me think of the fact that people have a hard time accepting the reality of platonic relationships between males and females. I hung out with one of my best friends, Matt, all summer. However, I was questioned all summer whether we were dating or if "something was going on." People evidently trust traditional archetypes of friendship over obvious body language. If people watched our interaction, they would find nothing to suggest romantic attraction. We just have fun and joke around and have each other's backs. And I treat him the same as Adam and Cory because we are all equally good friends; they just weren't here this summer.

That was a tangent, but whatever. This is my blog.

Let it die

Sometimes I am so stressed, I want to cry.

And it's my own damn fault.

Who decided on 24 hours days?

these cucumber eyes

"And all of my clothes feel like somebody's old throwaways. I don't like it."

At least I kept it together for the time necessary.

"It's good to be in love. It really does suit you."*

*(You can look up the song by Frou Frou. The acoustic version in particular is sublimely perfect.)

A little OCD never hurt anyone...

I realize I have never written about my weird habits. Let me list a few...

--Metal. I have this strange fear of all things metal. I only use plastic utensils or wooden chopsticks whenever possible. I hate the taste of metal in my mouth. So those new eco-friendly metal water bottles? No go. If I must use a metal utensil, it is imperative that my plate or dish be plastic. I NEVER use glass and metal together, which is why restaurants drive me crazy because I am forced into this situation. Basically the sound of metal and glass drives me insane. My dad used to scratch his fork on his plate because he thought it was funny, but I would scream and storm to my room. No, that is not overreacting. I just can't help it. If people do that, I will zone out of the conversation because my mind will start screaming, and I lose focus.
--Clocks. I have certain clocks that always have to be ahead. My alarm clock, for example, is always 30 minutes fast. If someone resets it, I can't function.
--Time. I also have to get up at certain times. Even if I wake up late, I have to set an alarm to go off on a number ending in a 5 or 0. If I go running, I have to leave at a time with this same condition. This doesn't necessarily make me on time to things. I just have to start things at certain times.
--I can quote movies with precision. I hate when people butcher them, which means any slight variance in word or intonation.
--I get into habits of eating the same kinds of food with the same dishes everyday at the same time. I don't like to get out of schedule.
--I will listen to a new song of interest on repeat for hours without shame.
--I refuse to write with pen. Mechanical pencil only.
--Tin foil drives me crazy.
--I never use elevators.
--Bad grammar makes me twitch.
--I'm pathologically afraid of mayonnaise getting in my food.

Needless to say, I'm a little weird. But as readers, you probably have figured this out.

TA

So I'm not sure if this is normal...

Incident #1: I was in a review awhile ago and my TA was talking about how he graded our last test. He talked about how he started out too harshly, and then he looked at me at said that he had to go back and change mine a couple of times as his grading standards changed. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about that, but why he remembered only my test... I just let it go.

Incident #2: I was in another review today with this TA, and we were talking about the last test, and then he said, "yeah, Tanya I saw when you went into the testing center on your cover sheet." He was insinuating that he knows I took it in the last two hours the testing center was open on the last day the test was offered. Okay, let he who has never procrastinated a test cast the first stone. Anyway, isn't it odd that he remembers when only I took my test? Or the fact that he remembers when anyone takes his or her test at all for that matter...

Incident #3: Also in this same review we were talking about a way we could test a certain observation, and a guy gave an answer, which was slightly wrong (because you can't soak beads in transcription factors because they are intracellular proteins...nevermind). The point is I said that was wrong, but I didn't want to sound rude, so I told the kid that I knew that because I said that same thing in class and was wrong. Then the TA pipes up again, and was like, "oh yeah, I remember when you said that." Really? You remember when I said one random answer to a question the teacher asked?

???

Why is this TA a little too knowledgeable about what I do in this class? I can't judge too much because I remember weird, specific details like this about other people too. I think I've met my match in creepy memory skills.

[The only thing that bothers me is that I think that he thinks I'm stupid. This class is difficult for me, and I don't ace the tests, but I really enjoy the subject matter, and I just need to dedicate more time to really understanding every process in depth. But I'm not stupid.]

And to top it off...

Competition was okay. I should have been in a better mood. I'm just tired of being on a plateau.

Meh. That's all I have to say about my actual dancing.

It was a lot of fun watching everyone else though. I learned a lot. Stronger, faster, cleaner. That's the new goal.

On a different note, I woke up sick--like cold to the bones, aching muscles, congestion, and fatigue (thank you Amp for getting me through today).

I hate being sick and alone at college. I wish my mom was here.

It has commenced

It's dancesport. (!!!)

Then why do I feel like garbage? Maybe because I need more sleep and more talent.

We will see. We will see.

Tatiana

Dancesport is this weekend!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I love it. I love everything about it. I may not be the best dancer out there, but I love the adrenaline, the hair, the make-up, the professionals, the costumes, the energy. I always come back with a resolve to be better and work harder.

Tickets are $8 if you care to stop by and see my alter ego Tatiana.

Tatiana is the Russian form of my name. Russians pretty much dominate the dance world, so that is the reason for creating this Russian persona. They are clean, sharp, fast, fierce, and passionate. When I'm in costume on the floor, I get to be someone else (or maybe just express a very hidden facet of myself...)

I just love it. Happy Dancesport!

Retraction

I recently wrote about hating married blogs. I think I was generalizing a bit too much because I don't mind most of them. People are completely entitled to writing about their ongoings even if they are not profound. Who am I to say what your blog can be about? I think I basically just hate that girl's blog who made the comment about blogs being solely for married people because that is just a moronic thing to say.

That's all.

strictly ballroom

I wish I could make my body do what my heart and mind want it to do.

Why did I not start dance when I was three like everyone else in the world seems to have done? I'm fast to learn choreography but slow to learn technique. Very slow. This always become apparent when I watch myself on video, and it looks like the day I started dancing.

I don't every think I've ever enjoyed watching myself dance. Sometimes things will look okay in the mirror, but something always happens from the mirror to the camera. All the sudden every movement is messy and ugly and depressing. I get really jealous of other people's opportunities sometimes--almost to the point where I feel sick to my stomach. I feel so helpless that I can't turn back time.

I'm just stuck. Why do I love something that I'm so terrible at?

i never liked the word anyway

I've realized that I don't really flirt with people. At least I don't think I do. I know I don't consciously do it. Honestly, I don't really know how to flirt. I've had it explained to me before, but nothing really makes sense. Touch his elbow? What? Why? I have to laugh when it's not even funny? I have to alter my body language a certain way? This doesn't make any sense!!!!

It all just seems so...unnatural. I'm not really a fan. Aren't there more efficient ways to show interest in someone?

I just like being myself and talking about real things. Is it too much to ask to want someone who gets equally excited about things ranging from epithelial mesenchymal transition to symbolism in Lord of the Flies to how Simon and Garfunkel are really better than the Beatles?

Maybe.

confession

I'm going to try to make this vague.

I have a friend that is one of those music commandos. This means that her music choices trump everyone else's. It's always her ipod that is used to play in the car, the room, whatever. Normally I'm pretty chill with people's music choices, and I can learn to appreciate a lot of types.

But there is something about her purely hip-hop choices that just makes me want to throw her ipod home off a cliff. I even like some hip-hop, but I feel like the particular facet of hip-hop she likes is the exact type that I loathe.

But I really enjoy her as a friend.

Love the music player. Hate the music.

me

So I'm not a big fan of married blogs.

I should rephrase since I have readers with married blogs. What I mean is, I hate when people start a blog only for the sake that they are married. I don't know if that conveys a different meaning...

Case in point: (or is it point in case??) I came across a blog of a girl who was recently married and who was excited that she could finally have a blog due to her personal rule that only married people should have blogs. Apparently the "single life" just wasn't that interesting to blog about.

I disagree. I blog because I have opinions, experiences, goals, questions, humor, analyzations, and oberservations to offer to the cyber world. Or these can just be for my benefit and the benefit of my biggest blog fan [mom :)], and that is enough too.

Getting married doesn't change your personality or suddenly turn a light switch on in your brain to have thoughts to share. Plus (certain) married blogs have that awkward "we." Everything is presented in we's. "We did this. We think that. We felt this way. We want things that way. We're having a baby!" (not physiologically possible...) "We're eating dinner! We're getting a new job!" I feel like married blogs become more about the things you do together--most of which doesn't have a lot of profound meaning or interest--and you sound like you have morphed into one entity. Marriage shouldn't be about homogenizing. It should be about celebrating two people with two brains and two personalities who manage to synergistically create something better with each other.

And most of the time it's only one of the partners blogging anyway, which is why using the "we" pronoun for everything seems odd since the other half rarely participates in the blogging experience.

Anyway, that's all.

p.s. (This is nothing against you Claire in case you are wondering. I think you are fabulous :))

Cortisol

I really don't know how I'm going to make it this week.

I possible haven't had a week this bad my whole college career.

Entender

I really just want to understand Spanish literature. I feel like I'm just getting by with a shallow knowledge of the storyline or by a substandard English translation--as much as I hate that. I really want to tear it apart, analyze it, digest it, let it get under my skin, arrest a portion of my mind. This is what English literature used to be for me back in high school. I have only taken one English class at BYU, and it was Writing about Literature (ENG 314). As much as I love science, I love dually English, art, dance, and music--despite my lack of talent in them. I feel both subjects of science and the arts are equally important to all aspects of life. They both require critical thinking and creativity in the end. I took ENG 314 my freshmen year to get a break from all the science. Technical writing was the class that was suggested for my major, but I would not have been able to stand it. Sadly, I took ENG 314 during a spring term, which was an accerlerated pace (read: shortened time to get to all the things you wanted to get to), and we spent the first part of class learning how to write cover letters and resumes and things of that nature. Useful, but boring. I think the class ended too soon.

Anyway, Spanish literature is just baffling. Partly because I'm not extremely fluent, and partly because I'm still comprehending the fantastic nature of it.

Basically, I'm staying home on a Friday night, so I can think about literature. I haven't done that in a long time.

even artichokes have hearts

In case you didn't know, I'm a vegetarian. Sometimes I forget that I have this stigma. I was just sitting here eating my tofu, broccoli, and wild rice concoction, and I thought, "this is probably a really odd food choice for some people." I've lived this way for over four years now, and I have forgotten that people actually eat meat--not literally forgotten, but it is such a foreign thing to me now. I don't think about meat. I don't ever see a symbolic empty space on my plate that needs to be replaced or substituted with an "alternative." This always provides me with a rude awakening when I go to a restaurant because every dish features meat as the main course, and it now baffles me as to why. It makes no sense in my veggie brain.

Anyway, this post really has no direction. I was just realizing that a lot of my food choices are odd, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

Peace, love, and fruit!

How Bizarre

One thing I love about Provo is their abundance of frozen yogurt shops. Just when you think the economy is bad enough to support another business, up comes another froyo place with the exact same features as the others. They are all the same. Self-serve, tons of flavors, every imaginable topping, over-sized styrofoam dishes to make it impossible to exert moderation--and I love it. This frozen self-serve dessert concept was very foreign back in Bonney Lake, but it's actually the greatest thing since those ice cream man Tweety bird popsicles with the gumball nose (anyone remember those?? They also had other characters if I remember correctly...)

Anyway, there is one thing I don't understand. When I go to pay, there is a tip jar.

???

Walk me through this. I came here. I got my own dish and served myself. The only thing you did was take my money, and technically, even I swiped my own debit card. So I'm confused as for what I'm tipping you. Is it because you gave me a sample cup? Is it for standing there looking bored until I come to the register? Is it for your unconvincing cheery disposition or your honest apathetic one? Is it for the minimal job description you are already getting paid to do?

I'm just in need of some clarity on this one.

Earthquake

My movement is shaky--says my dance coach from our lesson today. I need to utilize this thing called my core. I hear that term so often, but what does it even mean??

Meh. I guess I'm just waiting for it to all click.

On another note, I was in my reproductive physiology class and we were all discussing journal articles that we had found. As I sat there I just thought, "I LOVE SCIENCE!!!" There are so many things to study.

How do I pick just one?

Tick Tock

I see these two people flirting in my class every day. It's actually quite entertaining. People are so weird and beautiful at the same time.

All I have to say is, dude, just do something about it already.

B-A-N-A-N-A-S

I love bananas. Like love.

BUT, I am extremely fastidious in regards to the condition in which they should be. They must be bright yellow with the faintest hint of green towards the top or edges. Thick peel, no mushiness, no spots, no overly sweet flavor. Any more green or more brown than this delicate balance, is a no go. This is a constant frustration when I buy bananans because I have a 2-3 day window before I refuse to eat them anymore. So I only get to eat maybe half of the bananas I buy in their fresh condition. Brown or spotty bananas have theire uses too though. I freeze them for smoothies because they give a better flavor. (Frozen bright yellow bananas are a bad idea, I have learned.)

So when I am ridiculously wealthy and can pay people to do things for me, I am going to demand a new, fresh, bright yellow banana from the store every morning.

unemployed

I need a job (with all my extra time, I know.) I have time at nights and on weekends. I guess I'll give up the social life.

That is all.

Be OK

I saw someone I used to like today. The "out of sight, out of mind" practice was somewhat successful, but it couldn't last forever. Eventually I knew I would have to face things.

It was brief. It caught me off guard and made me hold my breath for a second.

Then I processed things and realized, I'm over it! Unrequited feelings can be really crushing sometimes, but life moves on. I was amazed at how okay I was. It was such a liberating feeling.

So for the record, my heart is just fine. Thanks :)

DOL nazi

Did anyone do DOL in school? Daily Oral Language?

I did this all through elementary and junior high school. It was basically these blatantly incorrect sentences that we would have to correct and rewrite. Occasionally they threw a curve ball that would stump the majority of the class, but mostly they were ridiculous.

Now I'm not an English major (though sometimes I wonder if I should have been). I take pride in my native tongue, and I've always been one to remember details and rules. This combined with the incessant DOL growing has thus turned me into a grammar nazi--but a passive one. I have been noticing this more and more. I don't call people out on their mistakes, but bad grammar drives me insane.

Some recent/frequent examples:
--Swum...is a word. Yes, it is hard to believe. I think I am the only person who uses it. I swam or I have swum. It is not: I have swam. Even when I use "swum," people will give me this funny look like I said "broughten" or something, but I find comfort in being right. This same principle works for "I drank" and "I have drunk."
--Alot...is not a word. It's two words actually. A lot. I thought this was old news, but apparently a lot of people are still in the dark.
--The phrase "drive safe" or "drive careful." There is this beautiful thing called the adverb, and it is one of the most constant rules we have in the English language. Please just add the --ly. I seriously whisper it too myself when someone leaves it off, because I can't handle the adjective-that-should-be-an-adverb dangling in the air like that.
--Sentences cannot end in prepositions. However, I am sometimes lenient on this one. Conversationally, it can be fine, but in written form, it looks odd. I only use it in writing if I am writing in a stream-of-consciousness style. Then I just write exactly how it first comes to mind, which is more of my conversational way of speaking.
--Subject-verb agreement. "Their" is not a term to establish gender neutrality. It signifies that there is more than one person of which you are speaking. A person must be paired with his or her correct pronoun.
--The difference between nouns, verbs, adjectives, etc. Example: In church today the teacher asked, "What are some characteristics of Jesus Christ?" Then people proceeded to say things like loving, compassionate, patient, etc. Rather than focusing on the lesson, I was going crazy that their words were in the wrong part of speech. If you are asking for characteristics, you are asking for nouns--love, compassion, patience. The question could be phrased differently to produce adjective answers, but it wasn't.

Sometimes I'm just a little OCD.
--

End of the Week Apologies

Sorry if I have been grumpy or lethargic this week. It was probably because I was hungry. I have gone a personal record-breaking three weeks without new groceries.

Things left in my cupboard/fridge/freezer: a couple cans of black/kidney beans, 4 soy burgers, 1 can of green beans, half a bag of frozen blueberries and broccoli, quinoa, and dried lentils.

And that's it. Seriously.

Costco extravaganza coming extremely soon.

Compromise

I tried to set my blog so that my followers and normal people could comment and the weird stuff would be rejected.

But I think blogger hasn't gotten that advanced yet.

So now everyone can comment again. Hello asian spam!

Off Day

...not to be confused with "day off," which would be so lovely.

No, an off day is just when everything is broken. It started with my private lesson today with Brent, my intimidating coach. He's great; he really is. He definitely knows how to critique. I can talk to him like a normal person now, but deep down he still scares the hell out of me. I just hate the look on his face as he watches our routines. I just know it is not even near his standard of good dancing. Everything I did just...didn't work. It was messy and unbalanced and lacking control. Sometimes I feel that there's so much to fix that Brent just probably feels overwhelmed with everything to correct. And everything that I do need to fix would probably not be ready by next week's lesson. Things like balance, control, speed, etc. are so frustrating to work on because it takes so long to see improvement.

This was only at 7 a.m. Then I had team, and I was off again with everything. I have a duet with another couple, but I always worry that Brent has regretted his decision to put me in that spot. And I hate the possibility of that feeling.

Then I was lost in Dev. Biology, thought I was on in Spanish, but took a quiz and apparently wasn't. I was really frustrated because I actually read the play, but I didn't fully understand what he was asking on the quiz due to my faulty Spanish skills. I botched the whole thing, and I hate that my professor thinks that I probably just slacked off.

I couldn't focus in Repro. Phys. even though I love the subject.

I found some serenity in the lab...except the PC-12 cells are frustrating and not surviving.

Gold II Standard...meh. Sometimes I wish I would just get it. I feel like I look the same way dancing as when I first started. I wish I had better habits about my head placement and the use of my latissimus dorsi muscles (anatomy what?) and my knees, knees, knees. We rotate partners, and when I don't have a partner, I'll sometimes dance with the TA because he really knows what he is doing. It helps me a lot, but I fear that he feels annoyed having to dance with me because of my lack of ability.

blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh. That's what I have to say about today.

Food

The lack of groceries makes me really contemplate foods I really love.

Here it goes (in no particular order):
-rice and beans
-thai food
-indian food
-fruit--especially the expensive, short season things like raspberries, blueberries, strawberries, mangoes, nectarines...but really, everything.
-steamed carrots
-smoothies
-breakfast
-peanut/almond butter (natural, of course) or just the nuts themselves
-a good vegetarian lasagna

This is not even an exhaustive list by any means.

So many decisions...

Here's what is racing through my mind:
spanish grad school GRE PhD professor mission dance dance dance BYU east coast washington moving back home how long PA school CNA clinical experience job living rent research teaching study abroad

So many many things from which to choose...

In a nut shell, I love science, spanish, and dance.

I'm starting to lean towards staying at BYU to do graduate work. Then I could at least keep two, maybe three, of the things that I love.

The fact that I'm even leaning somewhere is a big step for me.

one by one

People from the past keep popping up.

All, but one I guess.

Maybe, maybe...

what the...?

Crazy dream/nightmare last night:

It was kind of a conglomeration of a couple things. First, I was bombarded with all these grotesque images of the work of a serial killer who happened to be Cary Elwes...? (He just seems kind of creepy I guess.) I'll spare the details, but it was really freaky.

Then I was at a party and a girl dove off a balcony towards a pool, but missed and smashed her face on the concrete. I was screaming for people to help her, but everyone was clueless. So I just kept screaming.

Then I woke up. I couldn't go back to sleep because I had a ton of adrenaline running through my body, all of my muscles were really tense, and I was freaking out.

Now I'm exhausted.

The Plan

It's still in the works.

But I'm kind of maybe thinking about...research instead...

This is all tentative, but I like how I feel about it.

I just need to stop being so scared.

Freudian

I once had an English teacher who said you could take a sexual angle from almost any piece of literature. (Kids loved that one in high school.)

Anyway, I was sitting in my Spanish Lit class and we were discussing the autobiography of Santa Teresa de Jesus. This is the same Teresa of Bernini's The Ecstacy of St. Teresa. She accounts her experience of seeing Jesus Christ as well as other angels in a vision. Her account is very sensationalized and descriptive, and as I sat there listening to the way she described her experience, I thought, "wow, this almost has, dare I say, a sexual overtone to it." I wanted to say something, but because Spanish is my second language, I feared I would be misunderstood or be waaaaay off base since this was after all a religious subject matter.

But then my professor brought up this same observation, and the irony of such a situation.

Vindication.

Unchanging

I find myself tangled in the same situation. Always on both sides.

And each one is no better than the other. The perpetrator and the victim. The rejector and the rejected. The lonely by choice and by circumstance. One is numbing, and the other hurts like hell.

Please give me a third dimension.

The Ortho Curse

One time I was talking to my friend about dating, relationships, kissing etc. (Mind you, he is French, so of course he seems like a bonafide expert on all things of this topic as much as I hate cliches...) He told me of an experience when he felt pressured to kiss a girl.

Me: "How is that so? Don't you just do what you want?"
Him: "Well she gave me that look."
Me: "Wait, what is that look?"
Him: "You know, when they look from your eyes to your lips, to your eyes to your lips..."

Oh.

Well that presents a problem because I am borderline obsessed with mouths and teeth. I had orthodontic appliances in my mouth for five whole years in the impressionable days of my youth. But in the end it's worth it because I probably get more compliments on my teeth than anything else. (Thanks Mom and Dad!) Because of my long orthodontic journey, I look at everyone's teeth--not in a judging way--just an observant way. It's what I remember most about you, and I can remember everyone's teeth.

Apparently according to the French expert (and other experienced people in this field), looking at a person's mouth a lot is a sign that you want to kiss him or her. But really, I'm just checking out your teeth, and then reminding myself that I need to make eye contact instead. That's all.

If I want to kiss you, you'll know I want to kiss you.

"Sigmund Freud...analyze this"

"vuelve y revuelve amor mi pensamiento,

hiere y enciende el alma temerosa,

y en llanto y en ceniza me deshago."

Amen.

Epidemic

Everyone seems to be getting engaged lately. This is not really new to a lot of people. It seems though, that the number of engagements is more concentrated because everyone is trying to get married by December, the natural break in semesters. Whereas, even though a lot of people get married in the summer, at least it is spread out over 4 months or so. You always get that last spike around June while everyone is trying to squeeze in a wedding by August.

It's interesting; it's quirky; it's cliche; it's just how it is here.

But to be honest, I feel a twinge of jealousy whenever I see that facebook heart on my news feed announcing the good news. It's not that I need to get married right this instant, but sometimes this whole dating game gets weary after awhile. It would be really nice if things could work out one day like they seem to for everyone else.

Toms

So there is this brand of shoes called Toms. They are basically these plain, canvas, hipster-looking shoes that go for about $50 dollars. But here's the catch: for every pair of shoes they sell, they give a pair to a child in need.

That's a nice vision; it really is. But $50 dollars for a pair of shoes that probably cost a dollar to produce? I feel like you could donate a lot more shoes than just one for one with all of the extra profit.

I would propose two options: 1.) Lower the price or 2.) Raise the ratio of shoes given per shoes bought.

Just a thought. I'm trying not to be too cynical because at least they are doing something.

Olfaction

Yes, I love smells like cologne (in moderation), laundry, desserts of various kinds, curry, Christmas trees, girly lotions, coffee...these are fairly normal.

These are the not so normal:
-cigarette smoke from a distance
-gasoline
-sharpie
-pine sol
-marijuana
-chlorine pools
-bleach
-fake tan
-nail glue
-windex/hair salons (probably because of the ammonia)
-ethanol
-baby shampoo

Ping

There is this concept called "the ping." This idea was coined by my friend Matt H. and his roommate...I think. All I know is it's not my original idea, and I'm just trying to give credit where credit is due.

The term uses a radar as its inspiration. When you send out a radar signal it makes a "ping" sound as it hits objects, and one can choose to send a similar signal back. (At least that is how I understand it in very basic terms...) So, "pinging" or to receive a "ping" refers to the insignificant nothings that people send via text, facebook, twitter, etc. These small comments are a tentative way of feeling out a person's interest. They are supposed to seem detached and casual, but really, we all probably get a little excited when those nothings are returned back to us in the similar communicative form.

This is basically how Generation Y members test the waters. You send out a "ping," hope for one back, do that little dance for awhile, and then (hopefully) move on to a more substantial form of communication. I guess our generation is a little less gutsy when it comes to first stages of budding relationships. I haven't decided if this is a smart solution or not. "Pings" are a nice way to make sure you're not investing too much or jumping too fast, but at the same time they confuse people. Not every text or facebook comment I send is a subliminal message that I want you. I guess some are just more obvious than others. People wait longer and longer to put themselves out there, and it really just wastes time.

Basically I hate meaningless tasks that are socially required for some reason or another.

KT

I had a lovely chat with Katie today. We figured out some things about ourselves.

We hate pressure.
We like friends.

But how much time is time enough? Well, that still remains the question of the universe.

Up the spout

I had the weirdest dream ever last night:

I was pregnant, and I finally went through the shameful process of having to tell everyone. (I don't really know how I got pregnant exactly though. Well, I know, but I didn't have recollection of the event.) I just know I was really embarrassed to tell everyone. Then I went to the doctor for some weirdness going on, and he informed me that I wasn't pregnant anymore. It had just disappeared or something. Then I was so mad that I had already told everyone for no reason and would have to deal with that stigma forever.

That's all. Remember this was purely a DREAM. I always have random scenario dreams like this. I have no idea where they come from.

Possible interpretations?

Timeless

Sometimes I think the concept of timing is overrated. Is there really a wrong or right time to do anything? I think it mostly just creates missed opportunities by being overly cautious about this arbitrary time business.

My motto from here on out: The right time is now.

Edit

In reference to my other post, the only type of unavailable man I haven't liked is a boyfriend of a friend.

Because I'm no homewrecker.

Just wanted to make that clear.

Haha

I just came across this quote:

"Every living woman likes wedding crap. Even lesbians."

That's probably true deep down. But I can't speak for everyone...

Pathological

When I was 14, I liked this boy, Aaron*. I would always see him at stake dances, and I always looked forward to my one dance with him every time without fail. I also had this nemesis, *Ashley, who I could also tell was interested in him. Eventually I could tell they were dating (in a 14 year-old sense), and this reality became apparent when he dedicated a song to her at one of the dances. Imagine the crushing heartbreak I felt. [Everything is sooooo important at 14.]

That was in January. By the following summer, I was actually really good friends with Ashley and her friends, and I realized they weren't the stuck-up girls that I thought they were. Ashley and Aaron had gone their separate ways like most short-lived teenage romances, and for a second I thought, "well here is my chance." Nothing was in the way anymore, no more love triangles, or awkward in-between-stages. One day he drove down to see me or hang out or something. As I saw his car driving down, it just hit me. I didn't like him anymore. This boy that I had been crushing over for months, with whom I finally had a wide-open opportunity, now meant nothing to me. It was literally like a light-switch. And so, nothing ever came of that.

*Names have been changed. (And if Aaron or Ashley recognizes themselves in this story, please know it was all in good fun. I was just trying to mimic the dramatization of my 14 year-old self.)

The reason for this story is to show a very pathological problem that I have. I don't think I ever like men who are actually available. I tend to choose men who are very unavailable. Men who don't have feelings for me, men who I have just been friends with, gay men, married men, men with girlfriends, men who don't agree with my religious beliefs, men who live far away, and so on. And even if someone seems available, and I think this chain is broken, my sixth sense will know that they will soon become unavailable. It has never failed me yet.

This isn't supposed to be cynical or melancholic. It's just a weird thing I noticed about myself. Hopefully it doesn't last forever. One day, everything will work out.

That's just the way it is

Today in dance team practice, my coach started to choreograph, and he wanted to put in a small lift in our routine. He scanned our group looking for people to put in and said, "okay, I need skinny girls."



Dang it.



At least he was honest.

15 albums

I got this idea from Annie when it showed up on my facebook news feed. I just want to give credit where credit is due, and I wanted to note that we have similar taste in music because I don't want to be creepy copycat.

Basically the deal is that you write down 15 albums that have stuck with you....

1.) Simon & Garfunkel's Greatest Hits
2.) (500) Days of Summer soundtrack
3.) Pink Floyd--any album (music of my childhood)
4.) Moody Blues-Greatest Hits (also music of my childhood)
5.) Journey--Greatest Hits (again, music of my childhood)
6.) CD #1 & #2--Mixes made by Lauren Hancock (music of my adolescence)
7.) The Reminder--Feist (or Let it Die)
8.) crazysexycool--TLC (don't judge...)
9.) Grand National or April Uprising--John Butler Trio
10.) Patsy Cline-Greatest Hits
11.) Third Eye Blind-Third Eye Blind
12.) Siamese Dream-Smashing Pumpkins
13.) Crash-Dave Matthews Band
14.) This Desert Life-Counting Crows (mostly for the song Colorblind)
15.) O-Damien Rice

This was a little hard since I am more of a song person than a whole album person. 1-11, I've probably listened to and become familiar with the whole album. After that, it's more about individual songs I think. This does not make them less favorable by any means, (because Crash is my ABSOLUTE favorite song in the world), it just means that I haven't been as thorough in my interest yet.

Plus, I feel like I am leaving out so many other artists that I've come across and really like...

Things fall apart

It's really weird.
But they do.
A lot.

The world is in need of some heavy-duty glue.

You are the only exception

I just love his work. And him.

Normally, I'm not one for celebrity crushes, but I'm willing to compromise this rule for Joseph Gordon-Levitt. He just seems so not a celebrity--in a good way. He seems so adorable and down-to-earth in his interviews and commentaries. He's not a sell-out. And because he is very methodical about his film choices, he has gotten some quality roles lately. I feel like he loves acting for acting's sake.

He's practically a normal person, right?

Homeward Bound

So I survived the all-night drive back home to Washington. I pretty much drove the whole way because I'm pro like that. I downed a Rockstar or two and overdosed on sugar. Yep, that will do it. My heart felt like it was going to explode, and I was so wired that I think I didn't blink for like 5 minutes at a time. Caffeine in large quantities makes me really nauseous, so that combined with all the sugar, made me want to vomit out the window, but I kept it together. Although, I couldn't walk straight when I got out of the car because I was so dizzy.

So on the agenda for the next couple days:
-Be a bridesmaid
-Pull off another reception
-Watch a bunch of Tosh.0 episodes with Todd
-Watch (500) Days of Summer with my mom
-Go to a high school football game to catch a few familiar faces
-Eat real food
-Just be with the fam-dam

All Apologies

Dear World,

Sorry if I have been a bit (or maybe more than a bit) petulant lately. Unrequited like can really destroy your serotonin levels.

I promise to be better.

Love, Tanya

Pet Peeve #284

Spell your kid's name the normal way!

I'm all about originality and being a little unconventional with choosing a name, but if you're going to give your kid a name that is already popular/over-used, don't try to convince us that you are hip and unique because you insert/replace a few letters. All it does for the child is give him or her the blessing of having to deal with everybody misspelling his name for his whole life.

Just saying...

Be Okay

I think I'll be okay.

It's not the end of the world.

I just need a distraction or something.

School perhaps?

Sick (insert sad face)

Thank you Adam Murphy for the virus. I waited all summer to see you, and when I finally did, you came bearing gifts. That's what friends are for, right?

So yes, first day of school I had a sore throat. My body feels exhausted, and I almost slept in for my 9:00 class, which is pathetic because I have been going to class or practice at 6 or 7 a.m. all summer. I have been going to school nonstop since my freshman year, and ever since my first winter semester I have had a 7 or 8 a.m class every day. I'm not a morning person per se, but I try to force myself to be. At heart, I'm really a night owl. I always have been.

Despite being under the weather, I'm actually farely optimistic about this semester.
Tissue Biology
Developmental Biology
Reproductive Physiology
Spanish Literature
Research Lab

and Dance...hopefully.

Happy Schooling!

Crazy

Thanks for understanding Patsy Cline.

Nicest thing

You know what I love? Irony.

You know what I love even more? How my life is so predictable sometimes.

Shame on me for expecting differently.

A certain sense of missing

I ran by my old house today. I've lived in two houses my whole life. The first was from birth to fourth grade. The second is from then until now. I've lived in my current house for more time now actually than my old house, but this will always be classified as the new house to me. Not that it doesn't feel like home, because it does. It's just a different home. A different period of my life.

I first run on the road in the back of my house. My dad's superior fence is still standing. I try to look through the boards or look over the top to see the backyard. The playset with the fading red canopy that marked the presence of children is now gone--understandably so. The shed my dad built [where I used to sneak into and kiss the neighbor boy] is still there. I wonder if it still smells the same, like new wood and old possessions. The people moved The Rock to the backyard. It is where that mysterious wooden wheel used to be. I don't see the wheel anymore, but The Rock is out of place. They cut down the leafy tree in the "Jungle" side of the backyard--the one that helped us hop the fence or pretend we were monkeys. They cut down trees in the "Forest" side of our backyard as well. It's not as dense nor as adventurous. I still see the huckleberry bushes begging to be picked. Those used to sustain us for afternoon upon afternoon. The grass is dead. The backyard just seems...tired. It's just there with a hunch in its back and wrinkles in its hands. Years of unuse has left it lonely and dormant. I want to climb fence and give the backyard one last sprint, one last search, one last breath. I feel entitled to break in. This is my yard. The other people are merely borrowing it...for eleven years.

I run around the front up my old street, which is a lot shorter than I remember. I passed Amber's house, the woman who had no children, but had the Garden of Eden for a yard. Her flowers were her babies. As children we were forbidden to go near the masterpiece she had created. But she has since moved away. Her flowers left soon after. There was Felicia's house. Still the same. Pride Rock was in it's rightful place and there were pine cones all over the lawn from the towering pine tree--just like always. Dave's house was different because Dave no longer lives there. The grass is cut in the backyard--no longer three feet high, and the overgrown blackberry bushes have disappeared. I passed the house with the meanest parents, the house with the myriad of pets, the house where the people got a divorce and where I stole from their garage sale, the house where the man kept to himself even when he saw my brother crash his bike, the house where Robin lived whose house always smelled like smoke and perfume--a smell I came to be fond of, the house where the bus driver lived and with the only teenagers on the block, and the house with never-ending kittens.

The neighborhood is quiet now. It got older just as I did. Some people moved away; most stayed. I miss that neighborhood. I miss that house. And it's the kind of missing where you know you can't ever have it again. The kind of missing where it scares you when your memory starts fading. When people miss other people, most of the time it's with the expectation of seeing them again. This is different. You know it's gone, and that it's been gone a long time. It's been gone so long that you wonder if it even happened or if it is the same life. Eventually nostalgia becomes heavy and unbearable.

So I turned around and ran from home to...home.

Vegas!

I just went to Vegas for the weekend for a dance competition. Everyone always asks how I do, and I just want to say, I'm not that good, but it's okay. I learn a lot, and I enjoy a lot. My partner and I have a long way to go. It's hard to stay constructive about the experience. Part of me is sitting on the edge of the floor desperately wishing I had ten years of previous dance training and hyperextended knees and the ability to move and spin like lightning. I develop such a hatred for what my body cannot do. I see so many people who actually have success in their dance endeavors, and I cannot help but flush green with envy. I start developing these grandiose dreams of moving to New York, getting a Russian partner, and spending all extra money on dance lessons. On the edge of the floor, nothing else seems to matter.

But a flush is all it is. Then I come back to reality. I'm grateful for what my body can do. I have ten more years to work on everything I want to. Success is individual.

I just want to live up to my ridiculous standards, that's all.

Scar Tissue

I forgot to mention that a couple of weeks ago I got in a four-wheeling accident. I guess I was feeling a little to invinsible and took a curve too sharply. I hit the edge of a trench, which made my four-wheeler stall, but sent my body flying. When I was on the ground, my four-wheeler continued to run me over, and I was left with the wind knocked out of me for a good minute or two.

Things that went through my mind as I flew off: Vegas competition!, it's over, ohmygoshi'llneverdanceagain, am I dead??, why can't I breath?, bloody hell I should have had a helmet on, maybe I'm paralyzed, ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh.

Yeah a little dramatic. Eventually I could stand and breath again, which was a relief, but I do have this sweet scar on my leg now. There goes my career as a Venus razor blade model.

No Words

Back in Bonney Lake, the newspaper covers are splashed with the latest investigation of a 16 year-old mentally disabled girl, Kimmie Daily, who was killed and sexually assaulted post mortem by her 18-year neighbor Tyler Savage. (Does anyone else feel the unsettling irony of that name...?)

Today in the paper, Tyler was described by his neighbor Jenny Berto as a "good kid" whom she trusted "wholeheartedly."

????

I'm sorry Jenny, but you lose all credibilty with that statement. No one is going to even begin to sympathize with the sociopath. No matter what you say, no one will believe that a necrophilic murderer was a "good kid," and that this is so unexpectedly out of character. I don't want to make a serious subject into sarcasm, but there are these things called warning signs that you so blissfully neglected. Even without a criminal record, no one up and kills someone. Maybe you should look at your own son's behavior because there is this cute saying that goes "birds of a feather, flock together." That's a little scary.

Lastly, this was a girl who was developmentally disabled due to Fetal Alcohol Syndrome (thanks Mom). A loving, innocent disposition is what ultimately led to her death. I hate the term RIP, but I hope she is finding more joy, happiness, and understanding in a world beyond this one.

Ellipsis

"I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet." ~Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
Please don't ask me what I want to do with my life anymore. I just might break down and cry.

If music be the fruit of love...

I really love music. But I guess everyone does too. Sometimes I feel unworthy to be a music enthusiast because I can't play any instrument or sing that well. I don't know all about scales and keys and pitches and whatnot. I just know I like when I connect with something, and that's all that matters. I've had two new music interests lately: Matisyahu and She & Him.

Matisyahu: After my chemistry final on Thursday, my friend texted me about going to a Matisyahu concert. Most people have heard of him, and I had heard one song before (which I liked), but other than that, I didn't know a lot about him. Sometimes that's more fun to just go to a concert and discover something you've never heard before. I loved the concert. I realized I couldn't sing along to the songs like everyone else, but I just liked letting it all sink in. All in all, it was a really good time. Free concerts in Salt Lake are the best. It's basically a calling to all hipsters in the area to gather to the mothership. I felt a little out of place with the high schoolers and their interesting trends, but it's supposed to be about the music, right?

She & Him: This is a recent duo band with Zooey Deschanel and M. Ward (I don't know who that is). On the way to Matisyahu, this band came up, and I had heard a couple of songs before, and it was hit and miss for me. But this conversation made me want to look them up again. Zooey Deschanel is my girl crush, so I really like anything she does. My verdict of this band is that their sound is very retro-indie-pop, so it's not conducive to all situations, but it's better than the pop that's on the radio now. It's not lyrically groundbreaking or anything, but that's not really their goal. I think they are just trying to create a fun light-hearted band, and it works for that purpose. Zooey has a lot of soul and sincerity in her voice. I'm a fan.

Clavin!

Claire (former roommate) and Devin got married yesterday!



This is my first time being a bridesmaid, and then I get promoted to Maid of Honor next Wednesday when my sister gets married (say what?!?).


Claire's wedding was beautiful. I got misty (and a little marriage-hungry) when they walked out of the temple because they both looked so joyful and full of light. I'm so happy that things worked out for them. There wedding was so relaxed because they are both laid-back kind of people, which is really refreshing. I wish them all the best!

Thank you Claire for letting me be part of your special day!

Birth Control

Bad News Bears.

Disclaimer: I'm not on birth control in case you were wondering.

I feel like everyone is on birth control lately, and it kind of sucks from an outsider's perspective. I'm a bit terrified for when I have to take it. I almost don't want to take it at all.

STOP. This does not mean I am one of those "19 Kids and Counting" people on TLC who don't believe in birth control. I do believe in birth control. It is a very useful thing (and absolutely necessary for some people who shouldn't reproduce). There are just a lot of sucky side effects that you have to sift through until you find the right brand, which may not exist. I don't want to get fat, get a larger chest (not a plus for a runner/dancer), lose my sex drive (which is not in gear of course, but you know, someday...), break out uncontrollably, become overly emotional, etc.--all things I have heard from people. Yikes.

I think the overly emotional side effect is what bothers me the most. It just makes me raise a lot of questions about the concept of the 'self.' If I am a naturally laid-back person, but birth control makes me cry or get upset at things that normally wouldn't upset me, am I just a victim to the chemicals in my body? How can I claim a personality, if it can be manipulated by one swift swallow of a pill? Do I have more control than I think or am I helpless to my hormones? Who or what am I really? A person with a soul and self-control or a beautiful mess of chemical compounds reacting with one another?

This is why neuroscience and endocrinology fascinate me. But it is disheartening at the same time knowing that everything that makes you you is simply (yet, not so simply) a series of electrical impulses and chemicals. And somehow the synergy of all that makes a human being with thoughts and feelings and beliefs and passions and questions and worries and joys.

I don't get it.

But when the day comes, birth control will only control my ovaries damnit!

Blueberries

This is the expanded version of my facebook status.

My roommate left a box of muffins behind when she moved out, so naturally I decided to make and share them. I looked at the box, and it said "made with REAL blueberries!" This irked me. What was the alternative? Synthetic blueberries? I don't want to even know what that would entail. Or worse, imaginary blueberries? That would go over really well with consumers.

What is this world coming to?? They actually have to remind me that, "hey, in case you were skeptical, your food is actually real!" I didn't know that I ever needed to question that. Maybe I'm expecting too much from my beloved, corporate America. Does this mean that my food is not real by default? Are we slowly being transformed into robots? Will food not even be necessary?? Is this some Matrix universe about to collapse?!?! Am I being melodramatic???!!!!!!!!

But in all seriousness (or sarcasm), I'm only a tad concerned with the fact that the reality of my food has been called into question.

I can't wait until I just have my own garden. Until then, trust no one.

Adult Tanya

Again, Katie told me I need to write down all the things I say I'll never do, so here it goes:

If and when I'm engaged, we will only have ONE photo in our announcement, and we will be looking straight on at the camera. No awkward engagement poses; no weird photoshop or retouching; no snogging; no excessive photo collages, and no overly match-iness.

If and when I have a child, it will not take over my facebook. I will not have more photos of my baby than myself. I will not post multiple photos of the same exact thing. I will not have every status be about me and my pregnancy or every detailed action of my newborn.

That's all.

Cursed

I am an imdb/movie buff.

I've slowly come to realize this.

I love referencing and discussing movies and pop culture. BUT, the curse of the movie buff is that you have to sift through a lot of lame movies to find a good one. You start to see every plot hole and every narrative ploy to keep the story rolling. Everything becomes cliche and insincere. You've seen everything before. Nothing amazes or even entertains you anymore.

It's annoying.

Summer Dancesport

This will hopefully be short since I still have my ridiculously long nails on, which makes typing very difficult.

Dancesport was pretty fun. I always get there and wish I had practiced more. I'm not super competitive with others, but I am with myself. I don't really care about winning, but when I get there I always wish that I could win--not that I deserve to in the least, but I wish that I was talented enough to win if that makes sense. My partner works a lot, so we don't get a lot of practice time together, which means I need to do a lot of mirror work by myself. Even this doesn't save me when we get on the floor sometimes.

I just hate feeling stupid. I hate when a dance is an utter disaster, and you look completely inept next to everyone, and you're hoping for a stroke of grace to give you another chance to bring you back to the next round, which you know will never happen because ballroom judges cannot afford to be merciful, which I guess helps you in the long run.

I did get second in the tango for a class competition though. Not as intense, I know, but it is kind of exhilarating actually being in a final. That's never happened to me before.

Anyway, despite the non-success, I looked hot yesterday (in dance terms), and I still love ballroom. That's really all that matters. (Okay not really...but it's part of the big picture.)

[untitled]

I don't think you even know.

Rainy Day People

Why is it that people resort to talking about the weather whenever there is nothing to talk about?

There really isn't that much to say about it. "Oh wow, it's really hot. I love this weather." "Yeah, me too." Or, "It's so cold; I hate this weather." "Yeah, me too." You may as well ask a person what color his or her toothbrush is. It will get you an equally long response.

Instead when there's a lull in the conversation, why don't people ask, "So, how about that repeal on Proposition 8?" Or "How do you feel about violence in the media?" "Where do you stand on environmental protection and/or animal rights?" "What do you think John Steinbeck was trying to say about human nature in Of Mice and Men?" "Do you think Lady Gaga is a man or a woman?" "What do you think about censorship in literature?" "How do you feel about Woody Allen films?" And the list goes on...

There are options. Many options. Use them next time.

Maybe I think you're cute and funny

Pet peeve: People who laugh at their own jokes.

I've thought about what really makes people funny to me. The secret to a well-told joke or funny comment is the fact that you don't laugh too much about it yourself or at least delay your laughter until everyone else laughs.

General example: Sometimes people will be talking in a group, and someone makes (or attempts to make) a comment that has the potential to be funny. Three mistakes are possible to be made here. These mistakes can be made separately or in conjunction with one another. Mistake 1: They laugh too soon--meaning before anyone else. Mistake 2: They are the only one to actually laugh. Mistake 3: They keep laughing when others have moved on from the joke.

This isn't to say that you should be stone-faced when you try to say something funny because that could be equally disastrous. Basically, it's all about these little things called social cues.

Basic Formula: Say something you think is funny+wait for your crowd's response+respond to your crowd's response+calm down before everyone else= successful funny person.

Remember, sometimes you may say something that no one will find funny. Chalk it up to a tough crowd and move on with the conversation; don't make it worse by laughing at it. Real humor may not be this methodical or cut and dry, but this is a baby step to honing those skills.

I hope this helps someone, so that I will have one less pet peeve to deal with.

Cheerio!

Follow Through

Yesterday I was just angry for no apparent reason, and I hated that. Actually there probably was a reason, I just couldn't figure it out. Normally, I'm really happy and laid-back. I don't really get mad. I guess angry is the wrong word. Yesterday I was just worn-out and in denial.

And I felt like the lowest person ever because of my faults and shortcomings. It was like the situation made them all come together to stick out like an ugly ink blot on paper. It made me realize that I'm not changing as fast as I want to and that everyone seems to be moving on with their lives except me.

"I want something else to get me through this semi-charmed kind of life."

That's all.

Wise Men Say

I really don't know what's wrong with me.

To be continued...

But before you roll your eyes, it's not one of those "why don't boys like me??" posts. I just seem to be going through a flood of emotions that I haven't really experienced due to a whirlwind of changes going on in my life.

And it's not PMS.

Not that I really get that anyway...

The Big Lewandowski

I've danced more in this past week than...I can't even remember. My feet ache from being a constant three inches taller. My legs are being retrained to rotate more when I stand on them. I'm discovering my core and that it's lower than I think. My center is actually my spine, and it is used as a handy little axis on which I spin. I'm placing my weight better. I'm using my arms more naturally. At the same time, all this body fixing sends me through an awkward dance phase, where my body is challenged to move up in the next level of mature movement.

It's Adult Ballroom Dance Camp, which is where professionals come to BYU, and you just take technique classes all day. They have different levels, and most of us on the team take the most advanced since they don't get too hard. Sometimes I go to a lower level because it has a better teacher or a better dance being taught. There are a lot of social dances that are taught, which aren't my forte or my favorite. Give me technique and structure!

There is this one teacher, Izabela Lewandowski, who is amazing. I love her lines; I love her body; I love her energy; I love her interpretation; I love her technique; I love her artistry; I love her style. She just moves with such ease and speed. Her classes are always really gritty as far as technique goes. We do pretty basic moves even in an advanced class, but we tear each step to shreds in order to define the whole body action of the step. It really just blows my mind.

All this dancing makes me frantic that I only have a year left to get as good as I can possibly be.

And then what?

Mark My Words (katie)

Depending on how well you know me, you might know that I've never been "in a relationship." (whatever that phrase even means because technically I have a lot of "relationships" with people and who kidnapped the word into only letting it signify certain kinds...okay getting didactic and off-topic.) Anyway, I always tell Katie things I wouldn't do when I actually get one (as if it were the next iphone or something...ha). She told me to write it down, so that she can prove me wrong, but she doesn't know that I'M NEVER WRONG.

Things I will never do when in a relationship:
--Use a baby voice
--Use ridiculous pet names
--Time suck the living room (This is when you hang out and cuddle/have tender moments in the public area of your apartment so that everyone else feels awkward coming in and are forced to stay in their rooms.)
--Abandon all my other friends
--Become dependent

That's all for now.

I'm kind of in a cynical mood right now.

Wendover!

To start in the middle of a story, I was in the parking lot of a casino as my gambling friend Matt tried to take a picture of me. I dodged the situation because I was too embarrassed to post it all over facebook, which typically happens with these kinds of trips. A couple days later Matt told me I needed to come out of the gambling closet. So since there is no photo evidence of me, this is my cyber-coming out. I went to Wendover, as trashy as it sounds, played some Blackjack, as sinful as it sounds, and had a damn good time, as unlike me as that sounds.

So I turned 21 in May, but I never got to do anything to celebrate my 21-ness. About a month ago, my two friends Matt and Matt were talking about Wendover, and I expressed desire to go, which apparently is a surprising thing to find in the Provo bubble.

We let the idea simmer, and then one Friday night I found myself driving to Wendover. I don't even know how it really happened.

Net Ionic Equation of the trip (gah, too much chemistry on the brain): I had a lot of fun, but was probably a little too intense about my excitement being a first-timer that was wired on caffeine, sleep-deprived, loopy, and all. Poor Matt to have to deal with that.

The Good: I did something new, and I got to know someone a little better in the process.
The Bad: Okay, maybe I lost some money, but it was nothing that I wasn't planning on losing anyway.
The Ugly: The dealer was a jerk and half. It was my first time! Give me a break for touching the cards with both hands. And don't call me "honey." It's creepy and condescending. I have a problem with arbitrary rules for which I don't understand the basis.

I also learned that people at casinos take themselves way too seriously. Lighten up people!

Because of my bad blackjack experience with the dealer, I came home obsessed with the game. I kind of seriously want to learn how to count cards and basically be a blackjack ninja. I've already started... It's actually quite intense.

Improvement

I had a couple of potentially awkward situations today. I must say, I am getting quite well at handling them.

I'm almost getting to the point where I believe in the phrase, "It's only awkward if you make it awkward."

Almost.

Pool PDA

So I live in an apartment complex that has a pool in the middle of it. My room specifically looks out right over the pool, so I see...a lot.

Pool PDA. This is such a weird thing to address. There is something about it that makes me really uncomfortable. Generally I'm okay with PDA (when it isn't over-the-top) because it's really none of my business, and it's nice to know that there is still love--or maybe just attraction--in the world. But there is something about pool PDA that is overtly sexual. Maybe it's the lack of clothing or the motion of the water...I'm not really sure. It just makes me a little squirmy because I feel like I'm interrupting something really personal that I shouldn't be. But I can't help walking out on my balcony and witnessing a wet, weightless embrace.

I really don't know how to feel about it.

Drifter mode

On a side note, I changed my blog so that only google account users can comment. Hopefully this will eliminate the Asian spam... So in case any readers wanted to come out of the woodwork and comment, that's what you'll need.

Anyway, I've been thinking about dating recently and this little thing called the "fade out" or as some friends called it, drifter mode.

Definition: Drifter mode is when you realize you made a mistake or are simply not interested in someone at all or anymore, and in result, you avoid all contact with that person to communicate this fact.

My thoughts? It's immature and cowardly. Have some gumption people!

I have been victim to the fade-out. I think a lot of people have. Some fade-outs are more abrupt than others, but they always leave you in a humiliating stupor as you find yourself standing alone realizing you did have an attachment that was cut without your knowledge. You are dumbfounded and speechless as you try to fumble with all the feelings left on your doorstep, overflowing in an old cardboard box. You reorganized your shelves too soon. Now you have to find room for all these unwanted feelings. You realize that you leaped a little too far, but hit reality on the way down. You make excuses for the silence to buffer utter confusion. The whole process in general is just so unbecoming to everyone involved.

I used to get hung up over these things, and maybe I still do in a way, but becoming okay with oneself does wonders for a person's coping skills. I don't recite stale cliches or movie quotations to get through this like, "No guy is worth your tears...blah blah blah." I understand that some people use the fade-out as an attempt to avoid confrontation. It doesn't work, but of course it would be nice if it did. Some people use it because they have a complete lack of consideration for other human beings. It is an act of egocentricity. Luckily, these people are a few and far between...hopefully. I think the fade-out drives me crazy because I love information. I crave it, but not because I'm nosy or gossipy; I just like knowing. Not knowing leaves me to my own potentially destructive imagination. I've learned that I can't have all the answers, and I can't expect people to hand me everything that I want to be comfortable.

All I can do is change myself. I try to make it a priority to be honest and upfront. I don't consider myself a huge heartbreaker or anything, but I'm sorry if I have ever been a perpetrator of the fade-out. I know how it feels, and I would hate if I have ever done it to someone else.

In the end, I'm okay. Actually better than that :) So, no hard feelings.

Moral: Honesty is the best policy, but so is forgiveness.

Missed Connection

To the guys who came to the pool today:

1. Thank you so much for making the biggest splash ever as close as you could to me; I love acting like a fourth grader too! You're a big guy if you hadn't noticed. It was so considerate of you to do the physics in your head and figure out how much water would be displaced onto the deck to accomadate your jump that rivaled Shamu.
2. I definitely wanted to hear your immature babbling and awkward guy laughter instead of the peaceful breeze to which I was originally subjected.
3. It's so attractive when you can tell that you're hanging out with girls because you feel so connected to their race and haven't gotten over that 2-year Latin Passion.
4. I unhook my swimsuit straps to get rid of tan lines for my ballroom competition, but thank you for reminding me of my provacativeness by looking at me like I were Jezebel or Bath-Sheba.

In all my sun-bathing experience was totally enhanced this afternoon. So thanks.

In the daylight I don't pick up my phone...

because in the daylight anywhere feels like home... (Great song by Matt and Kim)

I don't answer my phone very often. I have just realized this.

I'm also not very good at texting people back. I know it's really easy, but here is what happens:

I will be OCD about carrying my phone on me and I will get no incoming anything. Then I forget about my phone and I'll get like 5 texts like that. It's annoying, but not too annoying because I do love a good dose of irony, so it's okay.

I'm also not very good at texting lingo. I feel like I use too many smiley faces unneccesarily only because words sound so dry when I text them--especially when I don't know the person that well. Here's what happens:

I get a text often a couple hours after the fact. I'll spend (probably too much) time thinking about how to respond exactly how I would in real life, which is always impossible because it's texting. Then I just avoid the situation all together and don't text back. Besides, I hate being the last person to text anyway (defense mechanism). But I often get chastised by Katie that I'm sending the wrong message or that it is interpreted by most people as being rude and indifferent.



But I promise, that is not my intention. I'm just weird that's all.

The Verdict

I'm not taking Spanish 451 anymore. My reasoning:

1. It would put me at 9 credits, which is a full load for Spring semester. And we all know my struggles with apathy...
2. I'm taking Chem 107, which is a one-credit class, but 6 hours worth of lab time. I feel like it requires more than it's worth...
3. This will be the last Spanish class I take for my minor. I kind of want to extend my courtship with Spanish so I have something besides science classes for the next two semesters.
4. I'm all done with GE's, so this is the only artsy class I have left.
5. If I ever get to Spain for a study abroad, I'll be able to take something.
6. I want to take more credits in my research lab, so that I can become more familiar with everything and feel more like a "regular" lab worker.
7. I want to have time to practice dance.
8. I want to get a solid A in my chemistry classes.
9. I need to find a job that will give me at least 20 hours a week.
10. I still want to be social in the summer.
11. I want to have time to run regularly because I've been on a roll lately.
12. The majority was a nay for my facebook status poll on the matter, so naturally I should follow that advice.
13. I don't really have money to buy all the books for the class anyway.

Well I've thoroughly convinced myself out of taking this class for now. I hope I don't regret this later.

"And I'm gonna be 40!"

I'm kind of feeling like Sally Albright in When Harry Met Sally.

And I'm thinking 9 credits plus trying to find a job may be a little much for the summer term...

Hispanic-American Literature may have to esperar. Only because Chem 107 is a beast, I hear.

Decisions...decisions...decisions.

New Page

Father's Day post coming soon.

Tomorrow I start summer term. Awesome.

Things are gonna be different.

P.S. Dear You,

Sorry I'm such a jerk. I don't know what I want.

--Tanya

Words I hate

There are certain words I really just hate to say. Actually I hate them so much that I NEVER say them. It's borderline OCD. Here's the few I can think of...

Hubby--why can't you just say husband? Or I could even settle for eternal companion or lover or domestic partner. Hubby just gives me the imagery of a fat guy in a wife-beater.

pimple/zit-- Ugh, I almost couldn't write it because I'd have to say it in my head. Bleh, I really hate those two terms. Like I've heard some people refer to goosebumps as goosepim--forget it, I'm not writing it again. But honestly, why would you even think of another way to use that word. I prefer to say "break-out" or "blemish." It's less descriptive and doesn't induce a gag reflex.

Moist--it's just a weird word. And the context can really throw things off. Especially when you're talking to Matt.

Most substitutes for anatomical terms--Just say penis or vagina. It's not that difficult, and you just sound uneducated and vulgar for saying anything else.

Tweet--this is probably why I'll never have an active Twitter account.

Jiggle/wiggle--I'm not really sure why...

Boogie-- I don't think this has been legitimately used since 1970

Pervert, perv, pervy, etc.--it just sounds like what it means

Rural--Everybody sounds ridiculous trying to say it.

That's all I can think of right now. However, I'm still an English supremist. I love most everything about the English language...except these few words.

Summer Goals

The summer is still young I feel like, so here it goes:

-Become more flexible (so I can execute that paso opening and other dance figures)
-Become a CNA--or at least take the test
-Get a ballroom tan
-Lose 10 more pounds
-Be able to run 10 miles
-Get more fit in general
-Read and understand my Spanish Literature
-Get an A in chemistry
-Master my competition routines
-Develop more balance and ankle strength

That's all for now!

Octopus

I have a wide array of defense mechanisms. Here is one that came to mind.

#1: If I get even a hint that someone doesn't like me--even if it's a friend--I will do a 180 and dart off into the sunset. Basically, I drop people before they drop me, but sometimes I do this prematurely. I'm sensing something right now, and so this habit has been kicking in lately.

I probably lose a lot of potential friends by doing this, but at least I still have my pride...right?

"Whenever I want you, all I have to do is dream..."*

*I really love this song by Cat Power

I had a dream about someone last night. It's kind of one of those I-could-never-have-you kind of people. But last night he did want me. And it felt so refreshing and safe to be in someone's arms. Then the image faded like sand running through my fingers.

And I woke up.

Too much, but never enough

I realized today that some of my clothes just disappear. Literally. I was looking at past facebook photos to see how I've changed in appearance (and maybe for a little narcissism), and I frequently thought things like, "what happened to that [insert item of clothing]?" Honestly, these things just were no more one day. I'm not even kidding. One time I flew home and I stuffed some last-minute clothes in a pillow case, and when I was unpacking, they were just gone. I don't ever remember losing any clothes or knowing I left them anywhere.

There really is a black hole out there where the usual socks, hair ties, bobby pins, etc. reside. It has recently taken interest in my wardrobe as well with no explanation.

*cue Twilight Zone music

Letters

Dear Earth,
Sorry I took three showers today. I couldn't make up my mind whether I wanted to stay in the pool or not.

Dear Blogger website,
Can you somehow block the Asian spammers from commenting on my blog? [Or to be politically correct, the racially anonymous people who write in an Asian language] Thanks.

Dear John Butler,
You are hot. Your band was on fire last night. Thank you for putting your soul on the stage and letting everyone partake. I just love everything you do. Thanks for not forgetting what music is all about.

Dear You,
That isn't the only reason I talk to you. I hope I'm not being too weird.

Dear Facebook,
We need to break up for a bit. And could you please not leave the notification number up when there are no new notifications? It sets off my OCD. Thanks.