Cinco de Mayo

I'm very bendy.
Observe.



And I am the winner. Which means I scrunch my face up like a little rat or something.

I pretty much have the coolest job ever. Cinco de Mayo was a banner day for me--My group won the dance-off, and I won the limbo contest. I was very sore later, but I would rather break every bone in my back before I would have let that weak little pole get me down. Yeah! What, pole, WHAT?! Yeah, take that, gumby-chick co-worker! You may be my closest competitor for hottest in the office, but I'm not scared. I'm not blond, and I'm not scared. I can take you anytime. BAM!

26 years young

Well well well. Another year has passed and I find myself in my Late Twenties. *Gasp!*
The Early Twenties have been nothing if not formative, so I can't wait to see what happens in this, the sunset of my life.
I call it the sunset of my life because my golden birthday is next year. (Some people don't know what that means, and I pity you. I also pity you if your golden was at age 2 or something. You weren't even aware, and that hurts my heart.) For as long as I can remember I've looked forward to the age of 27, since that will be my golden birthday. My Golden Age. All the stars will be aligned and my life will reach its pinnacle of awesomeness, to forever surpass my previous peak in fourth grade.

Beyond that, what is there?
I must assume that the downward slope will begin on the dawn of age 28. *audible sigh*

But enough of that Melancholy Molly. Let's talk about birthdays! This year's was one for the books, fo sho. Since I had a Sunday birthday, I got to have a whole birthday weekend. Thanks to all those who endured multiple birthday activities....all I can say is that at least I've scaled it down from a whole week, right?
Here are some highlights:
Flowers at work
Chinese food with good friends -- and the many good things that happened there (i.e. Caboodle, me trying to feed grease to a baby, that old Chinese guy, and everyone trying to eat our potstickers, [including the baby.].) .].).].)
Sleeping in
Shopping with Mom (Market Street wasn't half bad either)
The Barker Birthday Duet
Feats of Strength -- I see it as a sign of our growing age that lately we are continually pitting ourselves against each other in various physical contests...of which I win none. I can just see us all at age 75, pulling a break-dancing stall and saying "look what I can still do!"...and then paying for it for a week. Oh wait, that's what happens now. *even more audible sigh*
A guitar in tip-top shape
HOLGA!
The Stomp-esque birthday rendition that had a 5 minute intro and culminated in a bread pudding candle blowing
The Friendship basket
Cookie sundaes and Sundays with friends
Reading in the warm sun on a beanbag on the deck

Anyway, the list goes on and on. There were only 2 lowlights: 1) No birthday dance by me and Snee, and 2) Colby fell and Frankensteined himself forever (click on The Richins blog for pictures..but only if you can handle it. The cute little guy is a friggin champ, though--look how he poses all gruesomely!)

Okay I'll be done now. But I love everyone and loved this birthday. I loved age 25 and so far I love 26 even more. Wow! That's a lot of love. But that's how I feel so there it is. Rock the 26.

Peeves

Pet peeves, as requested by Cara:
1) People who think they have me figured out...and don't
2) Rhythmic noises, like tapping or clicking or gum chewing or anything like that.
3) Flakiness. Not like buttery roll flakiness, but more like people not doing what they say they'll do.
4) "Without a shadow of a doubt", "with every fiber of my being", "I would be ungrateful if I didn't stand up here today", "nourish and strengthen our bodies", "the 3 Nephites were standing behind her when the killer opened her door" and other church cliches. Yes, I'm very critical at church sometimes. Isn't that awesome?
5) Habitual negativity
6) Papyrus typeface

This post put me in a bad mood. Particularly because I, at any given time, am guilty of any or all of the above trespasses (except #6. Never #6). So now I will write some things I really like, just to make myself feel better:
1) Nice lettering on signs and posters...good design anywhere, really.
2) Beautiful, thought-provoking movies like Big Fish and and O Brother, Where Art Thou and Stranger Than Fiction (watch that for a good design example, too!)
3) Giving the perfect gift
4) Good friends
5) Big tips
6) Sunny birthdays
7) Tater tots
8) Freesia
9) Rainy days for reading and Jolly Time kettle corn
10) My artist alter-ego name: Stella Sanchez

I'm not tagging anyone specific, but feel free to pet peeve post (or good things post) if you desire.

Musical Musings

I really wanted this post to be awesome and click-able, so you could hear the music I'm talking about. But that proves far too complicated and time-consuming than the lazy blogger can handle. So, if you're really interested, just ask me for details and I will reply. Then you can find anything you want using any methods you want. And if you know a good way to do this on Blogspot (without illegally downloading music), please let me know. Mwah.

1) There must have been a rash of incidents involving men dressing up as women and seducing unsuspecting men—a veritable Transvestite Epidemic. Just listen to such songs as “Lola” (I know what I am and what I am is a man, and so is Lola—La la la la Lola”) and “Dude Dressed Like a Lady”. Was this problem really so prevalent? As an isolated incident, maybe it warrants one song, but wow. Confusing times.

2) There’s this song about me by Sting, called “All Four Seasons.” More accurately, it’s about some guy who’s helplessly in love with me, despite my mood shifts.

3) I dare you to find better jogging music than The Sounds. Bring it!

4) One time a boy put my favorite Eva Cassidy song on a random, impulsive mix for me, because he knew I liked it. I’m sure there was no other deep meaning attached—he simply knew I liked it. Little did he know what that song does to me! He declared passionate love to me without even meaning to. Such a reckless use of sacred music. Idiot.

5) I’m willing to bet that the guys from Depeche Mode were the kind of kids who would raise their hands in Sunday school or in sex ed and say that thing that makes everyone cringe. “Vows are spoken to be broken…” or “God’s got a sick sense of humor and when I die I expect to find Him laughing…” etc. These things are designed to set your teeth on edge.

6) Have you ever seen someone rocking out so thoroughly, even violently, in their car that you expect a crash? Have you ever been that person? When I see that, I always wonder if it’s happy music or scary, pulsing, screamo music that they’re rocking out to.

7) Few things move me like music does. Last time I was agonizing over something in my perceived state of solitude, itunes providentially switched to the Killers, and I sang/prayed along as what’s his face repeated “You know you gotta help me out / yeah, you know you gotta help me out / No don’t you put me on the backburner, you know you gotta help me out.” It’s awfully self-absorbed to think songs are written for/about me as much as I do.

8) My college roommate Sarah had this quote on her wall from Pearl Jam: “I know some day you’ll have a beautiful life. I know someday you’ll be the sun in somebody else’s sky.” I’ll never forget that, for some reason.

9) Here’s an idea: Keep a playlist in your itunes called “Right Now”. Next time you’re doing something mindless (folding laundry, cleaning, getting ready for prom), take a minute to select 10-15 songs for this list. Just go quickly through all your songs and throw in the ones that immediately catch your eye. I’ll typically keep a list for a few days (listen to it several times) and then clear it out without looking at it and start over. You’ll know when to clear it, when it’s time for a new Right Now. I think it’s really interesting to see what I choose at different times.

10) If I could name one artist who most expressed the music that would come out of me, it would be Damien Rice. I promise I’m not always so anguished as that—I just think music would come out of me mostly when I was anguished, so it would sound like that….Anyway, the happy music that would come out of me would be like The Origin or sometimes OMD or other 80s stuff.

11) John Mayer may have a raspy voice and not the cutest face in the world, but some of him is pretty amazing. “You should have seen that sunrise with your own eyes—it brought me back to life.”

The Lost Brownies

I've had many requests lately for this recipe (though not really in BlogTowne...but oh well), so I thought I'd share it with the thousands of people who check my blog daily.
The story: I had a random roommate one summer who made these weekly...and I blame her for the 12 lbs I gained in a few short months. The brownies were the only thing we had in common, but she wasn't so keen to share the recipe. I weaseled it out of her eventually, but lost it years later. My dreams were haunted by vague chocolate yearning for years, until I ran into an acquaintance of the former roommate. I weaseled the recipe out of her, and proudly present the results of my weaselly efforts. I think "secret" recipes are so stupid--If you love something, share it with people! If you've had these, share the recipe with your friends. If you haven't, call me and I'll make you some. Enjoy.

The Lost Brownies
1 c. butter
8 T. cocoa
4 eggs
2 c. sugar
2 t. vanilla
1 t. salt
2 c. flour

Melt butter and cocoa over low heat; Cream eggs and sugar. Add cocoa mixture to egg mixture SLOWLY ( to avoid cooking eggs) and stir. Add the remaining ingredients and stir until smooth. Pour into a greased cookie sheet and bake at 350º for 12-15 minutes (you may need practice to see how you like them cooked--I like them kind of fudgy). Frost right out of the oven.

Frosting:
1/4 c. butter
2 T. cocoa
1 t. vanilla
dash of salt
1 1/2 c. powdered sugar
Whole milk

Melt butter and cocoa on low heat; add remaining ingredients, with enough milk to make it pour-able. Stir until really smooth, but don't let it cool too much...and pour on super hot brownies. BAM!

**OCD notes: Use only real butter and whole milk, or you'll anger the brownie gods. And be generous with the salt, my friends!

If nothing else, painful experiences are conducive to thoughtful expression. So….All-aboard the Thought Train! Woot-woot!


I want to discuss how it is that our vision becomes blurred without our knowledge…or at least without our conscious permission. I find that even though I’m getting older and seemingly wiser, I’m not getting better at controlling the blinders that come for the duration of my experiences. Even while I’m practicing practicality, I’m only thinking clearly enough to make my own reality—a reality that becomes truly clear only when I’m looking back. They say hindsight is 20/20 and I’m redefining what that means…I’ve always thought it was like looking back on that stock purchase you should have made, that “near miss” that seems so logical now that everything has played out. I now think it means that once the smoke has cleared and the dust has settled, I can see with unforgiving clarity all the facets of an experience that I couldn’t, or wouldn’t, see before. This is not always an enjoyable process. Having your actions thrown into sharp focus is somewhat painful, if you’re honest. No room for delusions, excuses, or benefit of the doubt. Suddenly I can see how much I fight and push for the things I want, and how much I convince myself that it’s going my way, when the signs throughout are telling the truth more succinctly than my mind will allow.


I have to declare myself as an internal optimist, then. Because I apparently hope for and expect things that aren’t happening, right up until the bitter end. My heart is only convinced of the reality of my failures when there’s no possible room for doubt left—I suppose that’s a good thing in some ways, but I can’t help but wonder….if I didn’t try so hard sometimes to make things so, could I relax and just let them happen? Would they happen? And if they didn’t happen, is that any worse than convincing myself that they are happening, only to experience that crash, that wind-knocked-out-of-me feeling that comes when reality sets in? They say the higher you climb, the farther you fall. Well, I better start investing in a safety net, because I’m not going to stop climbing anytime soon. I would, however, like to be able to better recognize when I have steps to cling to, rather than inventing them. Amazing how high one can climb on imagined ladders—Thank goodness the ground below isn’t imagined as well, since I seem to need that plummeting to wake me up. Wicked says it best: “Don’t dream too far—don’t lose sight of who you are.”


There’s really no point in analyzing it, since I’ve already pointed out that it’s beyond my control. I so fervently wish that it weren't. But I wouldn’t know what to do with that ability if I had it. I don’t know that I’ll ever find that balance between hoping for good, preparing for bad, expecting reality, protecting myself, and remaining open to all possibilities. I’ve never learned how to juggle.


*Note: I realize this may seem like a depressing post. And it is. I apologize. Happiness must be tempered by opposition in order to exist, right? Happiness MUST be tempered by opposition in order to exist…And I’m still having the time of my life ☺

I'M RUNNING A MARATHON.

Please come to the after-funeral. June 14th.
http://www.mammothmarathons.org/bl/bl.html