sports & military.

Go cougars! I made this dress to wear to pep rallies. Okay, not really, but I love the way the darts on the bodice so formally express my school pride.

I'm loving wearing my new military bracelet and smelling like mens' Armani cologne all day. Oh man, I've never been this excited for a Valentine's Day in my whole life. . . and it's only less than a month away.

come with a shovel in hand.

One week at church when I was married and living in Provo, a woman stood up and told us the story of how she met her husband. I had always admired their relationship:

"I saw John for the first time when he was shoveling my grandmother's driveway."

I thought it was ingenious. How could you really go wrong marrying someone who had gone out of their way to serve your grandmother?

Two days ago, my brother, Tom, called me just to see how things were going. He's a busy guy with a career as a Navy doctor and 4 kids, so the fact that he called me is pretty remarkable.

After I was done telling him about what's current in my life I asked what was up with him.

"I'm pretty sore from snow-shoveling."

"Is there seriously that much snow in Washington?"

"No, there's just a lady who's husband is deployed right now, so I shoveled at her house too."

This is my new-found criteria for me wanting to date/cuddle/kiss/marry anyone. You must be a snow-shoveler.

swoon (less.)

(a self portrait I drew in 2003)

Last night I saw "Twilight" last with 3 of my siblings as well as my mother (who have all read the "Twilight" series books.)

It was a disaster. Absolutely dreadful. It was like I forgot that movies could be THIS bad. The dialogue: straight from the back of a cereal box. The action sequences: laughable.

But what really killed me were the romantic parts. I wasn't even involved enough to feel awkward about how poorly acted they were. I felt no reaction. None whatsoever.

Then I started to feel scared for myself like, "Laura, are you seriously so jaded about romance that you can't get into chick-flicks anymore?"

I felt even worse when I reflected on my experience watching the 4th season of "The Office" with my 25 yr. old cousin, Scott, on Thanksgiving Day.

"So Scott, do you like Pam? Like, do you think she's cute?"

"Yeah. I'm not sure that I'd go for her in real life, but I think that she's perfect for Jim."

"Okay, but do you really care if they end up together or not?"

"Yeah. I really hope they end up together. It's like the best part of the show."

I can genuinely say that in my experience watching "The Office" that Pam and Jim's relationship feels like the slow part, the thing that you just have to bear with or get through until you hit more of the funny parts. As I watch I find myself thinking, "Why would anyone even want to go for a girl like Pam?" But then I always answer myself with, "Oh yeah, Jim isn't actually that cool either."

I'm certainly not complaining, I think my life is fabulous and blessed. But aren't I missing out on something? Maybe I'm just watching the wrong movies?

Romance feels like a fairytale to me, like something a male would work at until he felt secure in his relationship; until he'd won her over.

Maybe just in most cases?

Maybe my icy, divorced heart will melt someday.

show, don't tell.

This was the most important piece of advice that my English 150 teacher, Lisa Boswell, wanted us to keep in mind when writing our personal narratives. "Show, don't tell." And she gave us numerous examples to ensure that we understood. Because I love The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-time Indian so much, I want to include my own example. I love the way Sherman Alexie writes:

I wanted to watch the sweaty Penelope sweat her perfect sweat on that perfectly sweaty day.
She stood at the service line, bounced the volleyball a few times to get her rhythm, then tossed it into the air above her head. She tracked the ball with her blue eyes. Just watched it intensely. Like that volleyball mattered more than anything else in the world. I got jealous of that ball. I wished I were that ball.
As the ball floated in the air, Penelope twisted her hips and back and swung her right arm back over her shoulder, coiling like a really pretty snake. Her leg muscles were stretched and taut.
I almost fainted when she served. Using all of that twisting and flexing and concentration, she smashed the ball and aced the Lady Gorillas.
And then Penelope clenched a fist and shouted, "Yes!"
Absolutely gorgeous.

And obviously, (since I think everyone who reads this blog has taken ENG150) to tell, rather than show, would be more like this:

I watched Penelope play volleyball today. She looked really hot.

Okay, really, I'm getting to a bigger point. After a conversation with Mark, I decided to adopt the philosophy of "show, don't tell," to my entire life. I decided that it's not really that I talk too much, but that I vocally over-analyze life as it's unfolding around me. It is annoying and it feels annoying. And I know that I do it out of an insecurity and need for confirmation.

I feel like my kissing record (mentioned in my previous post) is, once again, a good example.
It's fine that I am deliberate in my actions. No problem there. I shouldn't kiss anyone that I would regret kissing. But, at further prodding myself about these situations, I really could deduce the implications of kissing someone by the way that "we" individually behave and communicate within our existing relationship. Sure, the future of the relationship may go differently than I can reasonably project, but having a long conversation about the implications of kissing is not likely to change that.

It has always been a sense of insecurity that has led to those long conversations and the destruction of those prospective cinematically romantic moments.

So now, I move forward. I do not need a verbal confirmation of everything. And I am so happy that I came to this realization.

Because no kissing situations are likely to arise in the near future, I've posted pictures of my favorite celebrity crushes; because I never do things this girl-y, and especially because when I name them by name, nobody knows who they are. (It's weird, but for some reason the topic of celebrity crushes keeps coming up.) The first one is Asano Tadanobu and the second is Melvil Poupaud.

deliberation.

I have described myself as having an "intense" personality. While I still believe this is true, I've thought of a more detailed or accurate way to explain it.
I am a deliberate person. A calculated person.
I'm constantly weighing and evaluating the implications and effects of my actions.

This may be best illustrated by my kissing record. I have kissed ten boys in my life and I'm not proud of it. Only two are what I would consider "rape" kisses or kisses completely against my will. Preceding all of the other 8 kisses was an hour< (longer) discussion of what the consequences would be if "we" kissed. I guess I could say I've missed out on a lot of cute/ romantic moments.

I think other people think, "Hey, I wanna kiss you+ you wanna kiss me+ we both like each other= lets kiss." And then without saying it out loud, they tuck some shiny long hair behind a delicate ear, or slide a hand behind a neck, move in closer, and go for it. Right?

I admittedly sometimes regret this aspect of my personality simply because it seems that others may have more fun. Whitney explains the decision to shave her head during high school like this: She's hanging out with her friends and they are feeling crazy. Someone says, "Let's shave a head!" and she says, "I have a head!" Done.

Being someone who has shaved my head before, I describe it much more has an action that breeds excitement because I'm feeling all of the implications of it at once. I'm understanding how much I'm defying cultural norms and I'm loving getting away with it. I'm wondering what people will think. I'm feeling powerful, in a way. The first time I shaved my head, my hands shook as the clumps of hair dropped to the floor.

Ultimately, I don't regret being like this. Although I never have the excuse that I "lost control," I prefer the alternative. I don't tend to do things that I would deem unwise.
Conversely, I have made many bad decisions in my life, and they tend to be enduring because I've reasoned myself into thinking that those bad decisions are decent-- or at least okay.