A Dog's Life

Our dog, Oscar is afraid of the dark. Every night my parents leave the laundry room light on for him. When their children were young (and probably afraid of the dark) they plugged a nightlight into an electrical socket in the hall and called that good.

Yea for Me! (A well deserved long post)

After all the pep talks, over-the-phone therapy sessions with family, in person therapy sessions with friends, financial assistance, and other forms of encouragement I have finally been awarded my bachelor's degree. . . diploma holder! I am confident that after I finish my independent study course that it will nicely accent the official certificate.

The day of graduation was a bit interesting. I slept through my alarm and, if it weren't for Alexis (a roommate) and Amraa (a neighbor) who were also graduating, I probably would have slept through the whole thing (I'm still trying to decide if that would have been a bad thing. . . haha). They woke me up and I got ready in approximately 15 minutes. We rushed over to the ballroom where all the graduates were to meet to have white collars stapled onto our gowns and sit for the next hour. I spent some of that time coordinating a camera drop off with a friend who had agreed to take pictures (to provide proof to all of you that, yes, I did graduate).

In the midst of all this sitting and coordinating the ballroom suddenly got quiet. You could tell that we were graduating from a Mormon university because we did what most Mormons do when it suddenly gets quiet at a gathering: we folded our arms and bowed our heads in anticipation of a prayer. Turns out there was no prayer planned but because we were all ready for one somebody in the Alumni Association offered one.

Finally, all the graduates were lined up to march into the Cannon Activities Center. We then had the opportunity to wait again before we began our processional.

(Guess which route we had to take. . . )

My cap would not stay on to save my life - even with the help of bobby pins. I held it on for the entire processional (so much for looking dignified) and had to catch it as it fell from my head both times I shook hands with the university's president. (When I shook the general RS President's hand it just looked like I was drunk when I dressed myself. . . either that, or that I am one of those geniuses that struggle with simple, everyday tasks (that's obviously more likely the case - which would explain the look of compassion and concern Sister B. gave me)).

When the time came for us to be handed our diploma holders we were lined up once again, each had our hands squirted with antibacterial hand sanitizer (nothing makes a graduate feel special like being de-germified prior to shaking important people's hands) and were each given our first graduation lei. We were then allowed to do all the normal graduation stuff - have our names read, walk across the stage, shake lots of hands, get holder, have picture taken, line up again, move our tassel to the other side, go through a gauntlet of professors, etc.

The picture on the left was taken when I snuck out of the ballroom for the camera drop-off. You can tell it was snapped before commencement exercises because I am not wearing any leis. Leis are a big part of graduation in Hawaii. If you attend school there and are not from any Polynesian islands or have close ties to one of them, it's not uncommon to secretly fear (especially if your family is unable to attend the ceremony) that you will be the sole graduate walking around wearing only the lei the university gave you (Islanders, on the other hand, tend to worry if they will be able to breath and see through all the leis they're given). Bless my friends and their generosity!

Following the post-ceremony reception, I had the brilliant idea to walk home afterward. I figured it would be one of the last opportunities to take the mile journey from campus to my house. I am confident I was the only graduate with such an epiphany.

About halfway to my place I realized how pathetic I looked wearing my gown, carrying my diploma holder and cap, and walking alone. It was if I could suddenly hear the music that follows Charlie Brown around everywhere he goes - do doot doo doot doo doot doo. (Click here to see a great moment from Arrested Development which illustrates the point nicely. Pretend the narrator is saying, "Meanwhile, Marissa decided to walk home from graduation alone. . ."). If no one had given me any leis I really could have been Chuck's living reincarnation.

I'd be lying if I didn't say part of me wished more people could have been there to see what all of their help has enabled me accomplish. However, the other part of me still knew that they were supporting me where ever they were. All in all it was a good day and never could have happened without all the encouragement I received from everyone. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

For those of you who were unable to make it to the actual ceremony, one of my friends recorded a few moments for you. (Thanks Paul!) If I can ever get it to upload on this site, I'll post it here later.

Dieter Dolls

okay, so they are more like action figures - action figures that teach morals. Pull the string and you hear a quote from Pres. Uchtdorf. It gets better: Dieter Dolls is only the working name (what can I say? the aliteration was great). Plans to include other apostles - current (collect the quorum!) and beyond the veil also are in the works (requests have already been made for J. Golden models).

Here's a preliminary rendition of the Dieter Doll - ignore that the back reflection has an uncanny resemblence to Clark Kent. . .





Can't you just hear him saying something like, "When I was a pilot for Lufthansa. . . "?


While worries of portraying the older generations as action figures is something to keep in mind, I'm more concerned that my target market will be relegated to the Mormon versions of Rod and Todd Flanders.

The Bikini Rules

I am not a huge proponent of people wearing bikinis (due, in large part, to my upbringing), but I accept that everyone has agency to do whatsoever he or she chooses. However, I also feel that people should be considerate of others when exercising that agency. After living in Hawaii for a couple years I have developed what I refer to as the Bikini Rules. Here they are:

You may not wear a bikini if. . .

1. you THINK you are fat - which means that if you regularly starve or binge and purge you also should abstain from wearing one.
   
2. when you sit down, you have enough of a fat/skin roll across your middle to hide a pencil - and I'm not talking about the length of the pencil; I'm talking about its width, its circumference.
   
3. you have a fat/skin roll. . . rule #2 was a lie.
   
4. you wear underwear that covers more of your body than your bikini would/does.


5. you would be uncomfortable having someone see you walking around your house in your underwear.


6. you have stretch marks that would be visible as a result of wearing one.


7. you are pregnant, especially to the point that your belly button has popped out like a turkey timer.


8. if AARP sends you things in the mail or you can get a senior discount at most major restaurant chains if you show up for dinner at 4 p.m.


9. you get/are going to get offended by the way guys treat you when you wear one


10. you find yourself saying, "I'm on vacation, no one here will ever see me again."

Bonus: Here, for men, are the Speedo rules:

1. NEVER wear a Speedo. EVER. Even if you are European.

Every so often at 1 a.m. . . .

you get ideas that you should ignore, but you don't; which, sometimes is okay because when your roommate wakes up she is surprised and loves it.



Unfortunately, such reactions make it that much harder to say no when those 1 a.m. ideas pop into your head next time.


Solution: Go to bed before 1 a.m.

Making History

Swine flu is to 2009 as Nuclear warfare is to. . .
a) the Cold War
b) 1945
c) 2009
d) all of the above

I swear that almost everyone out here that knows I have been sick as asked me if I have swine flu. They say I have several of the symptoms. They fail to notice that, unless you have what FarmerBoy revers to as the "Two-Can Syndrome," your average, run-of-the-mill flue strain shares several similarities: fever, body aches, runny or stuffy nose, sore throat, neausea. Deep down I think it is because they want to know someone who has it. . . some sort of weird connection to history that their posterity can share with their fifth grade class for generations to come. i.e. "My great-uncle Cletus knew someone whose first husband had a friend that worked with a guy that had a client who had a cousin that went to school with someone who had a roommate that had swine flu." Sorry I can't help you make history with that one. However, if you are talking about knowing people who may be getting nuked on Independence Day this year, sign me right up.

Word is North Korea is looking to test their long range missiles on Japan and the United States - more specifically, Hawaii and even more specifically, Oahu. Honestly, who gives the date and place to when and where they want to attack? It's like they are sending out an invitation to a party. "You are cordially invited to be blown-up on July 4, 2009. Please RSVP. Aloha wear or trendy Asian attire required." Oh, shoot. I already have other plans for that day. I'm planning on watching fireworks not being part of them. If something changes though, feel free to let your posterity name drop me for generations to come.

Ewww. . .

A nasty cold has been ruling my life. I've been well enough to whine but sick enough to get sent home from work. Bless my roommates for putting up with me and bless me for attempting some of the home remedies they/the internet suggested.

The main symptom associated with my little friend is sinus congestion. The first photo you see is a photo of what I have lovingly deemed 'Mt. Snotmore.' It took shape one night when I decided more effort was exerted placing the tissue in the grocery sack than I had energy. From there it grew into the monster you see now. Gross, I know.

Next week, for my own mental sanity, I HAVE to go to work. Here are the top three things that convinced me of the fact:

I took an 'artistic' photo of Mt. Snotmore. Actually, I took ten. This one was my favorite:

I created rules for and played Phase 10 Solitaire. (I did not take this photo - I found it online).

Money. (I only wish I had taken this photo and that it was my money).

P.S. Check mid-December for a 'new' post entitled "Military Manuevers and Airport Sleepover."

Arrivederci Padri della Calendario

I went and saw Angels and Demons with two of my roommates last night. Although I enjoyed it, I discovered the movie left me a bit traumatized. Before bed I decided I would sleep better if I took down the calendar of attractive priests FarmerBoy and Moo brought me back from their vacation to Rome. Granted, it serves no real purpose anymore as it is a 2008 calendar. . .

Victoria Charring: Shattered Eternities

I am fairly certain that grace is not one of the things that I was blessed with in this life. I was reminded of that this evening when I was working as a backstage crew member at a concert. Not only did the crowd in attendance get to witness this fact in motion but we had an audience watching via live stream over the internet. . . which included people in Israel who woke up at 6 a.m. to view the event. I was on the live feed more than I would have liked (meaning I was seen on it).

The highlight for the crowd (regarding my graceful performances) most likely came when I narrowly missed tripping down the front stairs to the stage and found myself within half an inch, no exaggeration, of walking straight into a microphone. I only missed this by pulling off a move I didn't know I had in me. My roommate, who was also out helping move mics, described what I did as 'Matrix-like' after she was able to compose herself enough to stop laughing and get up off the ground backstage. It took all her will power to make it that far.

Had I actually tripped, fell down the stairs and hit into the mic I'm not sure who would have believed the story. It sounds like something you would hear on Lifetime Channel in a made-for-tv-movie re-run about a woman in an abusive relationship. The title would follow the format of the woman's name, then a colon (no movie worth its weight on Lifetime would be complete without that gem of punctuation) and end with a ridiculously tragic phrase. You could expect something like: Victoria Charring: Shattered Eternities.

One of the highlights of my evening came early on when a group of senior citizens were getting ready to go on-stage. One of the men suddenly needed to go to the restroom REALLY BAD. One of the ladies turned to him and said, "Why didn't you go in the hour we were sitting here before now?" to which another lady responded, "Well, you know how it is now: You stand up anymore and you have to go."

Hopefully, I'll be adding some other posts in the next few weeks that will fill you in on the past 5-6 months of my life. I'm going to try and post them near the dates that they happened so when I add them I'll also add another posts that tell you to check for those dates.