Two New Things

At the beginning of the year, I was totally convinced I should get a dog. I had the breed picked out and everything. I was going to be the proud owner of a toy aussie shepherd. They look like this:



They've got a sort of pomeranian mixed with a border collie look to them, and they're as smart as a whip. It seemed like a match made in heaven.

About three months into the year, I started to research breeders. Sadly, the more I searched, the more I got this obnoxious twinge of the spirit telling me, "I know you think this a good idea, but it isn't. You live in an apartment the size of a comfortable shoe box. You enjoy weekends in National Parks (mostly, very non-dog friendly destinations) at least once a month. You tend to take week long breaks outside of the state or country on a semiannual basis. You treasure your space. Dogs don't tend to do any of the above very well. So you may think you want this, but you're wrong. So very, very wrong."

Don't you just hate it when the spirit is right?

I admitted defeat, and put the idea to rest shortly thereafter. Nevertheless, I still had a nagging feeling that my search for a pet was not over; I just wasn't sure which animal might be a better fit. The dialogue went like this in my head: "Rat? No. They die way too easily. Chinchilla? No. They eat better food than most of their owners, due to their specialized diet. Iguana? Snake? No and no. I don't want a pet whose only thoughts are living, breathing food and heat. Cat? No. [Pause] Well. Maybe. I'll think about it."

Then about a month and a half ago, I saw this on the Salt Lake City Public Library website (click on the picture for a better look):



It was then I had an overwhelming thought flood my brain: "I want one of those."

After a little bit of research and studious observance to the Salt Lake Humane Society website, I did eventually find the exact cat I wanted. (Can you spot her? I named her Two Sox, because she has two spilt milk paws and I love Dances with Wolves).



In addition to acquiring a new cat, I also managed to finally purchase a new computer. I've been without one for the last little bit, and that has greatly hindered both my ability to post and to download at least two months of pictures from my camera.

I've begun the arduous task of editing, but here is a sneak peak of some of the cool shots, so far.


(Canyonlands)


(Goblin)


(Bridle Veil, Yosemite)


(Salt Flats)


(Salt Flats)


(Salt Flats)

More to come...

One of These is Not Like the Others

“To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.”
E.E. Cummings

I remember being in kindergarten and one day noticing the gender segregated groups of kids playing in the schoolyard. First, there was the girl group, who seemed more interested in remaining sedentary, playing house and dolls. Then there was the boy group. They were busy splitting up into teams, making imaginary war boundaries, running around, and smacking the crap out of one another when Mrs. Skinmore, the teacher, turned her back.

I remember very seriously wanting to join the boy games, but I was finally rejected by the lot of them, because I was a “cootie infested” girl. I felt totally underwhelmed by the games the girls were playing, so I didn’t even bother asking to join them. Eventually, I decided to start my own group: The Tomboy Club. I cheerfully advertised under the slogan: “The Tomboy Club is a club for girls who wanna be like boys.” I remained its only member that entire year. I spent my recesses alone or playing with the daddy long leg spiders that hunted in the shade of the school walls.

Five seems like such a young age to realize life is inordinately hard on people who are different.

So the questions I have now, 25 years later, gravitate around the following problem: “What do you do when your own nature is against you?” I find more often than not, boys are afraid of me, because I tend to be better at things they should be good at. Should I try to be less me? Am I less myself, when I attempt for a more feminine personality or appearance? Should I play dumb or weak? I figure, in the end, they’re just going to realize I prefer to wear jeans or cargos, cowboy boots, and t-shirts, and that I can actually smoke most people if challenged to a game of wit.

The hardest question that nobody can answer for me is this: “When will I be loved for exactly who I am?”

Pancakes at Midnight and Pizza for Breakfast: Modern-day Balms of Gilead

Life has given me some incredible opportunities to stretch and grow, as of late. Most of the situations I can’t really discuss in much detail, because they are not necessarily my stories alone to share; but I will say this, I am humbled by Heavenly Father’s careful hand with our hearts. He holds them with the delicate and healing touch of an omnipotent surgeon, cutting when he must, but knowing just the right moment to tenderly massage them back to life.

I also find myself in awe of His ability to time the meeting of things, ideas and people. As I have stood to help lift another, I find myself surprised to look up and find a hand reaching out for mine when my strength is all but spent. Whether it’s chatting it up all night making pizza with my cousin-in-law, only to eat it the next morning for breakfast, or hanging out at my BF’s house and, while I’m busily babbling about my world of cares, she’s making pancakes at midnight: A soft couch, a warm meal, and a listening ear are my balms of Gilead.

Thank you, my loved ones. You are my strength.

Oh, and Sara…congrats on the new home! It’s been a long wait. You and Morg deserve it!

Absent Mind: A Study of An Adult with ADHD

This has been a busy week for me.

Sunday: Lost my brand-effing-new iPhone (PS I LOVE IT!). Took me two hours to find it. Thought it was in my BF’s car, but because my mind was racing and I didn’t find it right off, I just left. Guess where it was two hours later (After I went back to my apartment to search, and after I enlisted the help of other people, and after I searched several levels of parking garages)? In my BF’s freakin’ car. [Simmer] What the hell!?!

Monday: Lost my keys.

Tuesday: Ran out of gas (Thank you again BF for rescuing me in the snow and sleet. Too bad it was so late at night. I would have bought you something from Mrs. Baxter’s Pastry Shop, 'cause that's precisely where I ran out).

Wednesday: Found out my rent check for January hasn’t cleared, and I’m wondering if I sent it at all. Oh, and I can’t find the receipt I got when my bank issued the cashier’s check. It’s going to be a long time in the bank tomorrow, because I also have to get next month’s rent in the mail.

Okay. Are we seeing a pattern here?

Can I even tell you how many times I’ve lost my keys, wallet, cassette player/CD Player/ipod, phone, and Leatherman/Gerber in the last two decades?

My brain is an effing nightmare. And you know what’s worse? I’m totally self aware, and I still can’t seem to help myself. It bothers me exceedingly.

“So what are the general symptoms of people with ADHD?” you might be wondering.

Here’s me.

Predominantly inattentive type symptoms may include:
 Be easily distracted, miss details, forget things, and frequently switch from one activity to another
 Have difficulty maintaining focus on one task
 Become bored with a task after only a few minutes, unless doing something enjoyable
 Have difficulty focusing attention on organizing and completing a task or learning something new or trouble completing or turning in homework assignments, often losing things (e.g., pencils, toys, assignments) needed to complete tasks or activities
 Not seem to listen when spoken to
 Daydream, become easily confused, and move slowly
 Have difficulty processing information as quickly and accurately as others
 Struggle to follow instructions.

I’m not saying I’m not appreciative of the mind I do have. It is very good with information I deem pertinent: literature, film, critical essays & music. I just wish, for once, I wasn’t my own worst enemy when it came to keeping track of things.

PS Girlyman, my favorite band, is putting out a new album in a month. I'm SO happy. It's like an early birthday or late Christmas.

Things Change

I think it’s fairly idiotic to suppose a change in the calendar year could possibly alter a person’s entire outlook on life; but I gotta say, since 2012 started twenty days ago, I feel like the glacial wall surrounding my heart has come crashing down in an abrupt “we-should-all-be-freaking-out-about-this-metaphorical-global-warming-because-the-seas-are-rising” kind of way. (Does that metaphor even make any sense?)

To put it in more understandable terms: I feel a lot better about life these days, and sometimes, I cry a little about it.

What’s different?

Have I suddenly met “The One” (AKA “The Eternal Sucker”)?

No.

Have I gotten into grad school? Landed a better job? Decided to join the Peace Corps?

No. No. And I’m thinking it over (Though, probably not. Can you imagine a $7,000 a year paycheck? Or living on nothing but beans and rice for two years? I know people do it for missions, but there’s a reason I never went on one of those, people).

I can only say this much: There is a reason for it all.

What is that reason?

I haven’t the foggiest. But here’s something I do know. In the last month I’ve found hope in unexpected places: new friendships, stronger connections in old ones, and reasons to keep believing that my life isn’t such a waste. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I have a sneaking suspicion somebody else does.

Am I no longer lonely? Frustrated? Restless? Confused? No. I’m still all of those things, but I’ve discovered an indescribably precious truth: Things Change.

P.S. To the person responsible for a story about an elephant named Georgina and a leopard named Leopard: Until the day I die, I will never be able to express how much our adventure meant to me. It made me remember possibilities are only limited by the mind.

(Winter Shots)

2011: The Year from Hell

It’s been a rough year folks.

One might assume because I spent most of it gallivanting in foreign lands and dropping a small fortune on gear and toys that I’ve been living in the pink. Well, let that be a lesson to you boys and girls: Toys are just toys, and loneliness feels just about the same no matter where you are.

To add insult to serious injury, for the last six months of 2011, with exception of a few bits of journal and one or two essays, I haven’t been able to write—not even my nonsensical blog entries. I think the answer to “why?” is pure and simple: I lost my swing. When I didn’t get into the PhD program, and I was left sort out the answer to “what now?” an asphyxiating fear crept into my life. Proverbially speaking, I’ve just been standing here in the tee box, staring stupidly at the ball, terrified to miss my next shot (I hate golf; but the analogy works). The game won’t start, because I won’t hit anything.

This has been nothing short of infuriating, because my spectators (family), my coaches (mentors), and my beloved teammates/opponents (closest friends, the ones who really push me to be better) keep looking at me expectantly. Their eyes are unwavering, and everyone seems to have same words on the tips of their tongues: “Do something, for hell’s sake!”

Rather unexpectedly, I managed, after almost six months, to get these words to form sentences. Which may leave you wondering, “What’s changed or changing?” My answer to that is simple: “How should I know?” I think I’m just tired of watching other people play. I’m under no delusion this blog entry is evidence that I’m cured. But it does prove I’m still capable and inclined to try my hand at a proverbial game of putt-putt.

In all honesty, I’m at a loss. Got no man. Got no children. Got no school. Have no purpose. The only thing I do seem to have is a wicked, smart-ass tongue and a penchant for creatively wasting time.

The sooner this year ends, the effing better.

PS

I’ve got more pictures. Apparently, misery loves a canon camera.

(Salt Lake City Public Library, AKA Becky's Secular Temple)


(Donut Falls, Big? Little? Cottonwood Canyon, UT)




(Brandi Carlile Solo Concert, Flagstaff, AZ)






(Sunset over the Salt Lake Valley, I think I was on Grandeur Peak)


(Random Winter Hike. I LOVE WINTER!)

Writer's Block (Ergo the Pictures)

(Grand Teton National, USA)




(Yellowstone National, USA)





(Bowron Provincial, BC, Canada)





(Bowron Provincial, BC, Canada)






(Antelope Island State Park, Salt Lake City, UT)



(Somewhere in Montana, USA)


(Mt. Robson, Canada)


(Jasper National, Canada)


(Banff National, Canada)



(Glacier National, USA)