tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53458445979087848312024-03-13T00:42:39.677-07:00Angie's BlogAngiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11928987966732266015noreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345844597908784831.post-91046807597073415162009-04-18T18:47:00.000-07:002009-04-18T20:30:44.329-07:00Shell Girl and the Black StormOnce upon a time there was a girl who lived in a shell. She was small and light and she had a voice that sounded like the breeze. The shell was warm and smooth, and lay day after day on the sandy beach of the Seneca Bay. When night came and the seagulls slept, the song of the sea harmonized with the girl's sleeping breath, and even Poseidon was lulled. Truly a beautiful sound, the shell projected her voice for miles in every direction. It was even heard on the 12 islands of Tanuket, a cluster of small islands that used to be one many years ago, before the sea welcomed the Black Storm.<br /><br />The Black Storm had changed many things in Seneca Bay, but the most dramatic change was the sky. Torn in peices, it hung like shrouds and even dipped into the sea when the wind stopped blowing them to and fro.<br /><br />It was during the Black Storm that the girl climbed inside the shell, for she had to find shelter or she would have blown away like the rest of the light things on the beach. The shell was small but heavy, and it was lodged in the sand where a man had once built a platform for selling goods during the summer months. The top of the platform sheltered the shell and kept the wind from blowing it away.<br /><br />Every now and then, the girl would crawl out of the shell to find food and drink, but always to the shell she returned when she felt the first hint of a breeze. The Black Storm had not left room for peace of mind, and the sky was a constant reminder of that.<br /><br />She often wondered where her loved ones had blown away to, and thought many times that they might be on one of the 12 islands, but she dared not to enter the sea to travel there, for she was too scared to swim and she did not have a boat. So instead she sang inside her shell, hoping the sound of her voice would carry far enough for them to hear.<br /><br />All around Seneca Bay, the Heavy Ones listened in wonder when she sang. These Heavy Ones had made themselves heavy by eating rocks, for they were afraid of being swept up in the next big storm. They were not used to hearing such a light sound, and their heavy ears and heavy hearts would delight in it. So that they would not loose it to the wind, they caught the songs in metal boxes and buried them in the sand, far from the threat of a returning storm. They did this with every light thing left on the island, and they took comfort in knowing that their heavy bodies sat above everything light, keeping it all safe and protected.<br /><br />However, several of the Heavy Ones did not like this idea. They argued that keeping everything light beneath the ground no longer made it light- that once these objects, sounds, sights, and feelings were inside metal boxes and buried in the earth, they became heavy just like everything else. They longed to dig up the light things, and they longed to hear the songs above ground, in the freedom of the air. When these Heavy Ones vioced their opinions, the other Heavy Ones, who called themselves the Protectors, would point to the sky and say, "Do you not remember the Black Storm? Do you not remember what happened to everything light and good on this land?"<br /><br />In reply, the Heavy Ones who disagreed, who called themselves the Trusters, said that there was no proof that anything light had disappeared, but rather that they had blown to a new location. Further, they argued, how could one deny the presence of a light thing when they heard the songs? Surely this must come from something light, and surely they would find this thing and bring it back as proof.<br /><br />So for days the Trusters waited for a song, and finally one began to swell up from the shell float across the breeze to the Heavy Ones. The Trusters began their journey at once and found nothing but a heavy shell. Upset that they had only found something heavy, they picked it up and threw it into the water, where it sank to the bottom.<br /><br />Standing on the platform, a Truster began to remember a man who used to sell goods during the summer months. He sold kites and trinkets and nets for fishing. The kites and trinkets had blown away during the black storm, but the nets were strewn all over the beach. This truster had a sudden realization which brought joy to his heart. They did not blow away because they had holes! They did not blow away because they did not resist the wind! They allowed for it, and they were spared!<br /><br />As this Truster was relaying his epiphany to the others, the girl was struggling at the bottom of the sea to free herself from inside the heavy shell. She began to realize that the protection the shell had provided had become a trap, and she vowed to never hide inside anything heavy ever again if she broke free. She thought about all the time she had wasted in the shell, and all of the life she had not lived for fear of another storm. She thougth of her friends and family who disapeared in the storm, and she remembered that they all reacted differently. Some were fighting the wind- flailing thier arms and legs and screaming for help. Others were bewildered and seemed in shock. But the ones that she remembered most were the peaceful ones- the ones who seemed to almost comply with the wind by puffing out thier shirts like kites and manuevering this way and that when able. While she fought inside her heavy shell, she remembered those peaceful ones, and she began to understand them. She let out one last long sigh, and it was heard by the Trusters, and they realized what they had done.<br /><br />The Trusters returned to the Protectors with nets in hand and a truth on their lips. Light things are spared in storms when they allow the wind to blow through them. They blow away when they don't. But even when they blow away, they can end up on beautiful islands. It is only when they try to avoid the storm that they end up at the bottom of the sea.<br /><br />Years went by, and most of the Heavy Ones got lighter and lighter, for they stopped eating rocks and started to dig up the metal boxes and set every light thing free. There were those who were still afraid of being light, so they ate rocks and sat all day in thier heaviness. One day the sky turned black and the winds began to blow. The heavy ones sat down in preparation and told the light ones that their day had finally come. But just as the winds carried the light ones up to the sky, the ground broke into islands and the heavy ones sank into the sea. The light ones grabbed onto the shrouds of the sky and make their way to safety on beautiful islands, where they met other light ones and, eventually, other storms.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11928987966732266015noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345844597908784831.post-23294076995142573632009-02-23T01:34:00.000-08:002009-03-03T16:09:27.674-08:00Bedtime story.Once upon a time there was a tiny tree nymph who was thin and as floppy as a stretched out piece of chewing gum. She dreamed of someday living in a tree, but she was too weak to even sit up, let alone climb, and she felt destined to stick to the ground forever.<br /><br />One day a leopard <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ran</span> through the jungle, with one tail acting as a fourth leg, and black spots on his coat that were really holes. He saw the nymph on the ground and knew that she did not belong there. He found her to be beautiful and wanted to be friends with her forever in the jungle.<br /><br />"I see you on the ground, and I feel that you must need a helping hand," said the leopard.<br /><br />"Oh, yes! I am very grateful for your kind concern. I do in fact need to find a way to be on my feet, but it seems that I was stretched at some time, and I am very weak and quite flimsy. I desire to live in a tree, but I fear I will never climb!"<br /><br />"Well," replied the leopard, "I am strong and stable, as you can see. I have four legs and am solid to the core. Let me lift you and I will put you on my back. I can climb the tree and we will live there and be friends in the jungle forever."<br /><br />The nymph thought a moment and saw that this might be good, but wondered at the possibility of never being able to do this thing on her own.<br /><br />"No," decided nymph. "I would rather learn to climb on my own. Besides, it would be a burden if you had to carry me around. And I would grow weak and never learn to be a grown nymph or to climb a tree, where I belong. But I, too, would like to be friends forever in the jungle!"<br /><br />"I will teach you," said leopard. "I will show you how I use my four legs and I will show you how I stay so solid. Soon you will walk beside me and we will both climb and be friends forever in the jungle."<br /><br />At this, nymph decided to crawl and flop, crawl and flop onto leopard's back. She inched her way to the top and saw the sky for the first time. Leopard began to run and she felt the wind and she was happy. He began to jump and she heard the distance of the ground and smiled and laughed. She felt big. She felt fast. She was moving through the air.<br /><br />She heard a buzz as a fly approached her. She was just thinking how exciting it was to<span style="font-style: italic;"> finally</span> be close to a flying creature, when leopard's tail flew up and swatted the fly from view. A feeling of unbalance came over nymph, and she realized that the leopard had only three legs. She felt scared and asked the leopard, "Why do you fake like you have four legs? "<br /><br />Leopard growled and and said he was fine. He had four legs and she must be mistaken.<br /><br />Again the balance was restored and the wind calmed her nerves. She felt big. She felt fast. She was moving through the air.<br /><br />The day was slipping away, and the moon was full in the sky. Lightening bugs of every size and shape appeared to nymph's delight. She flopped on her back and saw one land by her foot. Leopard's tail flew up and abruptly squashed the bug, spilling the glow all over his own back. Balance was lost, and nymph again became aware that Leopard had only three legs.<br /><br />"Leopard, why do you hide from me that you only have three legs? We are friends and you know that I have my weaknesses also. Why not share with me and be friends forever in the jungle?"<br /><br />"I have three legs, is what you say. I guess I might. I make do with my tail, and that's what you should know. You are safe now."<br /><br />With this, he continued running through the jungle. Nymph felt the wind and was happy. She felt big. She felt fast. She was moving through the air.<br /><br />Nymph flopped back over onto her stomach and noticed the leopard's spots. The glow from the squished bug lit them up and revealed that they were hollow.<br /><br />"Leopard, why did you say you were solid? I am weak and stretched and do not move about like I should. I know how to be your friend in weakness, and wish to be friends with you forever in the jungle. You have holes and I am laying on your back. Let me fill them, for I might fall into one and it will be dark."<br /><br />"Nymph, you do not see right. I have spots. I am solid. You are safe and we will be friends forever in the Jungle."<br /><br />Leopard jumped and trotted and ran, and Nymph felt the wind and was happy. She felt big. She felt fast. She was moving through the air.<br /><br />And then she fell into a spot, and it was dark.<br /><br />"Leopard! Leopard! I am scared! I have fallen into one of your spots that you said was solid! I am weak and I am floppy and I can not pull myself out!"<br /><br />"Nymph! I am sorry! That was a lie I told you! Yes, I have holes. I am not solid and I do not have four legs. But I am running through the jungle and we will now be friends forever!"<br /><br />But Nymph did not feel the wind and was sad. She felt small. She felt scared. She felt alone.<br /><br />"Leopard! Leopard! Please let me out! I am scared and it is dark and I must find the sky again!"<br /><br />"I cannot make myself solid, and I do not have four legs. I can not pull you out and I wish to be friends forever in the jungle."<br /><br />Nymph considered this thing. She looked around and flopped on her back. It was true that she had a small view of the sky. It was true that she could still feel that she was moving. It was true that the ground was still far away. She could stay here. She could stay here forever.<br /><br />But she still could not climb, and she would never live in a tree where she belonged. Besides, she could not see leopard's face and this made her sad and lonely. She did not feel that they could be friends this way.<br /><br />She flopped and flopped and twisted and turned. She moved and stretched and finally....<br /><br />she sat up.<br /><br />She flopped and flopped and twisted and turned. She moved and stretched and finally...<br /><br />she stood up.<br /><br />She flopped and flopped and twisted and turned. She moved and stretched and finally...<br /><br />she pulled herself out of the spot.<br /><br />Leopard felt this and he was quite sad.<br /><br />"Nymph, why are you leaving my spot? I though we would be friends in the jungle forever!"<br /><br />"Leopard, I do not want to live inside your spot. I want to learn to climb and live in a tree where I belong. Can we do this together like you have promised, and be friends forever in the jungle?"<br /><br />"I do not like you to see that I have 3 legs. I do not like you to know that I am not solid. I will not fill my spots to make them solid and I will not walk on three legs."<br /><br />It got cold and the wind blew through the jungle fiercely. Leopard was cold and could not keep warm.<br /><br />"Leopard, it is your holes, which you call spots, that are making it hard for you to stay warm. You need to fill your spots to keep the wind from blowing through you!"<br /><br />"I am not cold. I will fill my spots when you come back inside. Don't you remember that you filled my spots? I would not be so cold if you did not leave."<br /><br />"No, leopard, no. I will not go back. I like to walk beside you and I want to be out in the open to feel the wind on my face. You can be warm if you just fill your spots."<br /><br />And this went on and on, and leopard and nymph both got angry.<br /><br />Frustrated, nymph, to her own surprise, found the strength to climb a tree. She climbed to the top and felt the wind on her face and was happy. She remembered the leopard and all that he had done for her, and how she felt the wind the first time when she was on his back.<br /><br />"Leopard, come up here. The sky is beautiful and I want to be friends in the jungle forever."<br /><br />"I cannot. I have three legs, and I cannot climb. Besides, I am cold and I need to rest to get warm."<br /><br />"Fill your spots, leopard! If you do this you will be warm. And I am strong now, I can help you up the tree. You will feel the wind on your face and be happy, not cold!"<br /><br />"I will not do this, nymph. I want to be in the tree, but I don't want to be cold when the wind blows up there. Just come down and get in my spot and you can keep me warm and we will be friends forever in the jungle."<br /><br />Nymph began to climb down, because she loved leopard. She wondered if being inside leopard's spot would be better than being in the tree where she belonged. But just then a bird flew by.<br /><br />"Nymph," said the bird, "why are you climbing down? Don't you know you are in the tree where you belong?"<br /><br />"But I miss leopard and I am sad that he is cold!"<br /><br />"He is cold because he has holes which he made himself long ago. He still has those holes and he can fill them anytime he wishes. He holds those holes in his fourth leg, which he keeps curled close to his belly so he can keep them safe."<br /><br />"Why does he do this, wise bird? Doesn't he want to be warm? Doesn't he want four legs?"<br /><br />"He has forgotten how to be solid. He has forgotten to walk without his tail. He is scared to be slow and heavy."<br /><br />At this, nymph called out again to leopard, "Leopard! Leopard! Let down your fourth leg! You have your holes in them to fill your spots! You will be warm and be able to climb to be near me! I miss you and I want to be friends forever in the jungle!"<br /><br />"I do not have a fourth leg, as I have told you. I do not have the holes to fill my spots. I am this way and I cannot be warm unless you come back. I am this way and I cannot climb."<br /><br />This made nymph cry and cry. She know knew that leopard could climb and be warm, but that he was choosing not to. She cried and cried and repeated her plea. She cried and cried and asked him to just try.<br /><br />He tried to climb with three legs. He tried to stuff his spots with leaves.<br /><br />He would not let down the fourth leg. He would not replace the holes he had made.<br /><br />Time went by and she stayed in the tree. Time went by and he stayed on the ground.<br /><br />The weather got warmer and leopard felt better.<br /><br />"I am not cold anymore nymph! I do not need to fill my spots!"<br /><br />"But the weather will not always stay warm, leopard. And you still cannot climb without your fourth leg."<br /><br />"You said you would help me, so help me now. I am ready for you to pull me up."<br /><br />"I will gladly help you if you stuff your spots. I will gladly be your fourth leg forever."<br /><br />"I do not want to stuff my spots. I do not have a fourth leg."<br /><br />At this Nymph gave up. She climbed to the very top of the tree. She felt the wind on her face.<br /><br />But she was still sad.<br /><br />It would probably be a long time until she could be happy again.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11928987966732266015noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345844597908784831.post-34098308749716988482009-02-10T12:46:00.000-08:002009-02-10T12:55:09.596-08:00Fary Scears.I have too many fears. I have decided that this is the year to conquer them. I have already flown on a Mexican Airline over the ocean and survived. I have lost something that I never wanted to loose. Actually more than one. I am finally taking the math class that I have dreaded forever. I have stepped out of my comfort zone and reached out to people I don't know.<br /><br />Next on the list:<br /><br /><ul><li>Make art.</li></ul><ul><li>Get in shape. Yes, I'm thin. But I've never had one muscle that can do anything other than get me out of bed and open the fridge. </li></ul><ul><li>Get a responsible job and pay my own bills.</li></ul><ul><li>Enjoy alone time.</li></ul><ul><li>Fly in a spaceship.</li></ul><ul><li>Go to the Dentist. </li></ul><ul><li>Take a hip hop class.</li></ul><ul><li>Be naked in public. Just kidding. </li></ul><ul><li>Go on an upside down roller coaster.<br /></li></ul><br />Wish me luck.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11928987966732266015noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345844597908784831.post-16855696751326201652009-02-06T21:16:00.000-08:002009-02-06T21:17:36.177-08:00My 25 RandomsYou gotta love Facebook.<br /><br />1. I have three favorite childhood memories that I think about daily: laying on the grass looking at the sky, floating like a star in the pool (with the help of my Dad) and looking at the sky. and walking around the block at sundown on my Dad's shoulders looking at the sky.<br /><br />2. I don't look at the sky as much as I should anymore.<br /><br />3. My heart beats fast when I think about painting, dancing, writing, or sculpting things. I think that's a good sign I should do more of that stuff.<br /><br />4. Warm toast with salty butter is most of what I eat these days. I'm lazy and broke and I just really like toast.<br /><br />5. I have a tendency to gain weight around the middle, but nowhere else. If I let myself go I end up looking like Spongebob Squarepants.<br /><br />6. I have a fascination with Patricia Arquette's teeth. I think she has the most attractive mouth. When I was a teenager I swore that someday I would get braces to push out my fangs and flatten my front teeth.<br /><br />7. I have a goal to be as self-sufficient as possible by someday owning enough land to plant a garden and keep some chickens and cows.<br /><br />8. I will someday build a tree house that is elaborate enough to fulfill all of my childhood yearnings. And it will put the Swiss Family Robinsons to shame.<br /><br />9. I think The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn could be my favorite book of all time. I reread it every once in a while and it just reaffirms that fact.<br /><br />10. I used to be more insecure about my looks, and as I get older I'm more insecure about my character. It's kinda funny because I actually get jealous of old people because they are so dang knowledgeable and have mastered themselves so much better than I have. I used to feel that way about the girl in the cool outfit.<br /><br />11. I wish I was witty. I'm the most unfunny person I know.<br /><br />12. I don't like being the center of attention, but sometimes I still get jealous if someone else is.<br /><br />13. I'm trustworthy and a really good friend.<br /><br />14. My hands have been old and wrinkly looking my whole life and I used to get free palm readings from a psychic in Santa Cruz every week because of it.<br /><br />15. When I get really stressed out I have spider nightmares.<br /><br />16. When I get really stressed out sometimes I still suck my thumb. Forget you know that.<br /><br />17. I accidentally cooked my Blackberry a few weeks ago. Multitasking in the kitchen.<br /><br />18. I have crushes on women. Not the kind you think. I'd rather study them and be their best friend then kiss them. Besides, as I've already mentioned most of them are ladies in their sixties.<br /><br />19. I'm 29 and I still feel weird calling myself a woman. I think that says something about the society I was raised in.<br /><br />20. I believe in modest dress and feel that it shows self-respect when you cover your body with adequate clothing, however I have urges to run around naked daily. I hope that in the celestial kingdom we will be so righteous-minded that we can all just be naked. Anyway, I can't really imagine a factory in heaven. Or a sewing machine.<br /><br />21. I have tattoos and I wish I didn't.<br /><br />22. I'm a former liberal feminist punk-rocker atheist who is now a member of the LDS church. Yeah, it's been a wild ride.<br /><br />23. I wish every person on this earth could experience the peace that I felt the day I was baptized, and could know the knowledge and love found I found in the Temple.<br /><br />24. I don't have a best friend. I have friends that are the best.<br /><br />25. I am blessed.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11928987966732266015noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345844597908784831.post-10338113891760364242009-02-05T15:00:00.000-08:002009-02-05T15:05:37.607-08:00Today.Sleep until noon.<br /><br />Put on workout clothes.<br /><br />Eat cereal.<br /><br />See cookie recipe on rice milk carton.<br /><br />Make cookies.<br /><br />Work out for 20 minutes.<br /><br />Eat cookies.<br /><br />Go to computer to do homework.<br /><br />Get on Facebook.<br /><br />Get off Facebook to do homework.<br /><br />Blog about what I'm doing instead of homework.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />..........I want another cookie.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11928987966732266015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345844597908784831.post-41424892261816302412009-01-29T22:20:00.000-08:002009-01-29T23:12:37.274-08:00HeroesMany, many years ago... in the days of fruit roll ups and friendship bracelets, I chose heroes. They were sparkly and pretty and sometimes they talked when you pushed a button. They were animated on Saturday mornings and they were in my books at night time and they snuggled with me when I was sad.<br /><br />In the days of writing on your Keds and gossiping for attention, I chose heroes. They had pretty hair and sharp tongues and their Moms bought them Guess jeans. They were found in front of The Wall at lunch and they always bought their food from the snack bar.<br /><br />In the days of Led Zeppelin and meeting at The Park for lunch, I chose heroes. They were pretty without trying, fashionable without fussing, and cooler than you could ever dream of being. They drove cars and drank and sometimes did both at the same time. They had tan lines and boyfriends who threw parties and knew the best place to get beer.<br /><br />In the days of freedom from parents and splitting utilities, I chose heroes. They knew obscure bands and obscure thrift stores and held obscure political/social beliefs. They were "unique" with matching "look-at-me" hairstyles and converse shoes.<br /><br />In the days of disillusionment, I looked around for heroes. I was in my early twenties and wanted to find something to believe in. I looked in bars and coffee shops and colleges and art galleries and ashrams and churches and books.<br /><br />Skip forward.<br /><br />Today, in the days where I know I am a child of God, I have more heroes than ever. I am overwhelmed at how many heroic people I witness every day. I am constantly in awe of them. They walk upright in spite of heavy burdens. They turn the other cheek. They sacrifice. They care. They forgo the excuse and they accept responsibility. They endure. They serve when they are weary. They laugh when they face trials. They cry when they need to. They overcome fears and barriers. And they do all this without sparkles. As a matter of fact, if you don't look close enough- if you aren't paying attention, you just might miss them. You have to train your eye to see them and to recognize them.<br /><br />But they are everywhere and they are my heroes.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11928987966732266015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345844597908784831.post-44304186168664164662009-01-27T15:07:00.000-08:002009-01-27T15:24:02.935-08:00Bad. Bad. Bad Week.Have you ever read the Iliad? Well, you know how the Gods are just so catty and emotionally unstable, but their decisions effect the lives of the mortals?<br /><br />Ok, well I'm beginning to think that there really is some weird incestuous group of bipolar Gods who have decided my fate for the last week. I don't know what the hell I've done to offend them but maybe I should sacrifice a goat or something because I'm about to loose it.<br /><br />I will give a short list of what I have been through in the last 5 days:<br /><br />Stranded in Mexico with just the clothes on my back. Which ended up being little more than a bathing suit. No passport. No money. No phone.<br /><br />Loosing expensive belongings on a cruise ship that I will never get back.<br /><br />Getting a traffic violation ticket for something rediculous.<br /><br />Loosing my wedding ring.<br /><br />And some other really horrible occurances that are too private for a blog post.<br /><br />So, grey-eyed Athena, lay off a bit.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11928987966732266015noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345844597908784831.post-90691318206807287732009-01-13T14:00:00.000-08:002009-01-13T14:08:40.270-08:00Ummm.....Hi.I've become a bit of an introvert lately. And I guess this blog has somehow symbolized another human being to me, because I've been avoiding it also.<br /><br />But I'm back. And I'm ready to have friends again.<br /><br />So, hi. My name is Angie. What's yours?<br /><br />Oh, and I'm kinda shy.<br /><br />And really weird.<br /><br />Hope that's ok with you.<br /><br />Wanna build a fort?<br /><br />Or make some raw food?<br /><br />Or go to the bookstore and look for craft ideas and do them?<br /><br />Or go on a midnight bike ride and find a roof to climb up on and make a secret club that does secret stuff up there? Like throw things on people or play like we're in a spaceship?<br /><br />Or paint something?<br /><br />Or make prank phone calls?<br /><br />Or dress up like a zombie and ride around town?<br /><br />Or just come over and play with me?Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11928987966732266015noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345844597908784831.post-52993667408110605602008-12-06T16:29:00.000-08:002008-12-11T21:16:24.117-08:00Fashion CrisisSo I've been pondering the original purpose behind this blog, and realizing that I have made a mess of it. My intent was to make a list of goals, which I did <a href="http://angielikesyou.blogspot.com/2008/07/first-off-i-just-want-to-present-my.html">here</a>, and then publicly record my progress. I guess I've gone a little astray, as I don't even remember much about what that list said. I don't even know if it's still relevant to what I want today in my life, so I might even revise the list a bit.<br /><br />One thing that I do remember is my desire to become a bit more stylish. I guess this one is on hold for a few reasons, the most important being funds of course. (Feel free to nominate me for What Not to Wear...) But another reason is that I still don't really know what I would like to express about myself- I mean who I would like to become more of. Last year it seemed all I wore was professional attire due to work. I guess what I wanted then was to make money.<br /><br />Today I want to be comfortable. I want to honor my natural beauty and talents. I want to explore looking out more than looking in. I want to recognize quirkiness as perfection, and perfection as relative. I want to rediscover mornings as a time of meditation, instead of a time for alteration.<br /><br />However, with that said, I want to find balance and harmony in design and nature. What I mean is that I want <span style="font-style: italic;">some</span> alteration of the product that wakes up with frizzy hair, bad breath, and an oily face. I want some progress past my <a href="http://angielovesu.blogspot.com/2008/12/dear-uggs.html"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Uggs</span></a> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">hoodie</span> sweatshirts. Yet, I cannot tell you how much I love the idea of waking up, throwing on the most comfortable thing in my closet, brushing my teeth, and walking out the door to start my day. I should have been an <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Indian</span>. With a toothbrush.<br /><br />Like I said, I do want to focus on being more "put together," whatever that means. I refuse to believe that I have to be uncomfortable to achieve it, so I am going on the hunt for designers that make comfortable clothes that are innovative and quirky and practical. I want to stay away from sports clothing, skateboard/surf designers (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Billabong</span>, will you please confine yourself to 16 and younger? Get your <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">logo'd</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">sleeves</span> and candy-colored accessories off of the twenty-somethings!), and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">pu</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">leeze</span>- no spandex. I have been down that road and I don't want to look back, unless it's for <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">exercise</span> or sleepwear.<br /><br />At this time I will open up the suggestion box for contributions. Again, I'm looking for designers/labels who are<br /><br />1. Comfortable<br />2. Quirky/Fun<br />3. Not exclusively fit for teenagers<br />4. Practical (especially for Utah winters. However, every <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">piece</span> does not need to fit this requirement.)<br />5. Modest<br /><br />Some examples of a label I really like: <a href="http://fillydesigns.com/">Filly</a> and <a href="http://prairieunderground.com/collection.html">Prairie Underground</a> (although I would make some alterations to make their designs a bit more modest).Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11928987966732266015noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345844597908784831.post-31717782433985780182008-11-29T20:15:00.001-08:002008-11-29T20:15:54.448-08:00Fannie Brice - It's Gorgeous to be Graceful<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><p><object height='350' width='425'><param value='http://youtube.com/v/whJUDe32yEU' name='movie'/><embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/whJUDe32yEU'/></object></p><p>This weekend I spend many hours laying around watching old movies. This clip is from "Be Yourself," a 1930 film starring Fannie Brice. Fannie has to be one of the funniest people who ever lived. I spent the rest of the weekend watching youtube clips of her.<br /><br />As you can tell, I really need to get a life. Actually, I think I just got hired somewhere, but we'll see. I'm still waiting for the final call. <br /><br />Well I hope you all had a fun Thanksgiving and enjoyed a lazy weekend like I did.</p></div>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11928987966732266015noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345844597908784831.post-90334340684364401272008-11-12T12:37:00.000-08:002008-11-12T12:40:20.750-08:00Why I voted for Prop. 2<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/HjhkJUDm9nQ&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/HjhkJUDm9nQ&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />And I quote, "KFC, that's foul!"Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11928987966732266015noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345844597908784831.post-1637168527204168092008-11-05T12:22:00.000-08:002008-11-05T13:19:11.417-08:00Confessions of a Stinky WomanAll apologies for the lack of posts as of late. School and a California trip are the culprits.<br /><br />Due to a pressing school assignment, I have to keep this short and sweet. But I feel like I need to get something off my chest. Or at least that region. You'll understand in a second.<br /><br />Wait for it.<br /><br />Wait for it.<br /><br />Wait...<br /><br />Ok.<br /><br />Here it goes.<br /><br />My confession.<br /><br />Right.<br /><br />Now.<br /><br />I don't wear deodorant. I haven't in about 8 years or so. I've never had a problem with BO, and I've always believed that the chemicals in deodorant are bad for the body- especially when you put those chemicals on a place that absorbs as much as your armpits do. My mother had cancer twice (ovarian and breast), so I don't take carcinogens lightly. I also think that anti-perspirants are horrible. I mean, if your body wants to sweat, let it sweat. The good Lord made us that way for a reason.<br /><br />Well, I mentioned that I've never had BO. That is, until now. Suddenly I have noticed a slight, well... you know. And I'm horrified by the thought of being stinky.<br /><br />Just a side note here: I think I'm starting to smell because I'm too poor to eat as many fresh veggies as I used to. The lesson here is: Hamburger Helper= stinky pits.<br /><br />Ok, so last week after an especially long jog I was breathing in myself and I decided enough is enough already. So I decided to search for an all-natural deodorant. I've tried Tom's and some weird purple crystal concoction, but didn't like either very much.<br /><br />I google searched "natural deodorant" and this is what I found.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0FQOjBHNXrI/SRIFf2K0ZzI/AAAAAAAAA1I/lI8lkPMGWaU/s1600-h/Prod_LG-TakeAWhiff.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 182px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0FQOjBHNXrI/SRIFf2K0ZzI/AAAAAAAAA1I/lI8lkPMGWaU/s320/Prod_LG-TakeAWhiff.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265276959024506674" border="0" /></a><br /><br />A diamond in the rough. A miraculous miracle of a product. Aluminum Free, Paraben free, Phthalates free, Proplene Glycol Free, Cruelty Free and Vegan. <span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />And</span> it smells like creamsicles. Yum.<br /><br />I am in love.<br /><br />This deodorant is made by a breast cancer survivor. She makes a skin cream and a hair and scalp revival serum also. Her story is pretty amazing. <a href="https://www.pristinerecovery.com/s/about.html">Here's the link</a> to find out more.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11928987966732266015noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345844597908784831.post-32624619907853051462008-10-23T21:29:00.000-07:002008-10-23T22:43:54.991-07:00CimarronLately I've been experiencing an intense nostalgia for all things from my childhood. It started with a sequence of dreams about the first house my family lived in- a home I grew to 14 years of age in. After that, we moved to the "rich" side of town, aka California Park.<br /><br />California Park is a housing development built on a man-made swamp of a lake, which somehow gave the developers an excuse to give each property a half-scoop of backyard. It's like, they thought that we'd all be hanging out at the lake after work and school. Hanging out with the dead fish on the banks. Who would ever want a pool, anyway, when you can take out a little paddle boat and make lines through the green film on the surface of the lake?<br /><br />Anyhow, our California Park home was beautiful from the outside- a replica of an old Victorian complete with a white porch and swing. The inside, however, was undecorated for the most part due to the mortgage not leaving much room for that sort of thing. This whole scenario is in stark contrast to the old home. We'll call that one <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Cimarron</span>.<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Cimarron</span> was a track home. I remember feeling like I had walked into another <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">dimension</span> the first time I visited Robyn, my friend who lived around the corner. Her home was <span style="font-style: italic;">exactly</span> like mine!<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">How could this be? This is my house! How did you get one made to look just like it? </span><br /><br />I didn't understand that all of the homes in my neighborhood were examples of one of three Drake Home models. Later I enjoyed visiting my "other homes" to see the endless decorating possibilities.<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Cimarron</span> wasn't much to look at on the outside, and even the inside was a cozy middle-class cliche of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">mauves</span> and floral wallpaper. My mother's <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">rattan</span> shelves displayed her unicorn collection and white <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">porcelain</span> praying hands. The entry way let to an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">arch</span>-framed Japanese Room, as we called it, that housed oriental-print couches and Japanese figurines <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">galore</span>. The crowning jewel of this room was the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Geisha</span> doll that stood forever posing in her glass case. The fans on the wall seemed to be the backdrop of her stage, and I would sit watching her quiet performance, dreaming of a Japan who's sky <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">consisted</span> of fireworks and dragons. Also in this room was my parent's reel-to-reel. I gauged my maturing body by how well the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">oversized</span> earphones fit on my head. About the time I no longer had to hold them to my ears was about the same time I could sing Led <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Zeppelin's</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Stairway to Heaven</span> all the way through.<br /><br />Years later I would loose a friend in a car accident who's favorite song was <span style="font-style: italic;">Stairway</span>. In <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">remembrance</span> of him, I would sit for hours in the Japanese room listening and crying. The static on the song would always make me think he was trying to communicate back somehow. I would listen and pretend he was telling me that he was fine.<br /><br />My favorite part of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Cimarron</span> had to be the backyard. It was a child's paradise, complete with a pool, hot tub, deck, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">swing set</span>, playing field, fruit trees, and a secret garden for tea parties. At night I would go explore my kingdom while my parents slept. Possessing courage only children have, I would walk around the pool with eyes closed, feeling my way on the narrow edge with my toes. I would run around the yard and spin in place while looking up at the stars, pretending the whirling was getting me closer and closer to space. The <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">swing set</span> hung from the moon, as far as I was concerned, and all I needed to do was kick off a little harder to find out.<br /><br />I miss the magic of childhood. I want it back.<br /><br />What things do you do to recapture the magic?<br /><br />Or am I the only one who thinks about these kinds of things?Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11928987966732266015noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345844597908784831.post-32711980730982381692008-10-20T14:53:00.000-07:002008-10-21T00:57:19.142-07:00I'm Not NormalLast night I realized something: I am not normal.<br /><br />Or at least, I don't think I am. Maybe you can tell me?<br /><br />Let me explain:<br /><br />Since childhood, I have been plagued by an irrational fear of situations that really only happen in horror films. This fear is set on a circadian cycle, resuming every night around around 11:30 or so. It used to start at sundown, but now I have a husband who's mere presence wards off these strange happenings. That is, until he falls asleep. At around 11:30.<br /><br />Thinking back, I can blame a common origin for most of these fears: The movies <span style="font-style: italic;">It, Nightmare on Elm Street, Psycho, </span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></span></span><span style="font-style: italic;">Child's Play, Poltergeist, </span>and <span style="font-style: italic;">The Exorcist.</span> I think these movies have influenced me more than any single bit of media I've ever been exposed to. My nightly rituals are so rigidly structured due to these movies. Let me share some with you.<br /><br />I have a bottle of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">visine</span> in my medicine cabinet that I use almost every night. I don't have dry eyes. I don't wear contacts. I use it to soothe my eyes from the soap.<br /><br />The soap?<br /><br />Yes. The soap. The soap that gets in my eyes every night. From washing my face. From opening my eyes while I'm washing my face. Because I'm too afraid to hunch over a drain with my eyes closed. Because the <span style="font-style: italic;">It</span> lives down there. And he will kill me. And then he will make my blood shoot out of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">someones</span> sink. And I really don't want anyone else to have to buy endless bottles of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">visine</span>. I think it's already a product that's way too heavily used. I mean, they haven't proved it but I think it might be addictive.<br /><br />Moving on.<br /><br />I go through towels like mad. I seriously waste so much laundry detergent on towel-washing. Because I always have to soak up the water on the floor after my showers. Because I take showers mostly without the curtain drawn. Because that way I can see Norman before he can take me by surprise. Because I'd rather know I'm getting stabbed then have to watch it as a blood-squirted shadow on the side of the shower wall.<br /><br />Speaking of being snuck<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"></span> up on, I refuse to showcase any of my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">porcelain</span> dolls in my house. They are out in boxes in the garage and that's where they will stay until I sell them on <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">EBay</span>. Even the collector's edition doll that my grandmother left me in her will. I don't care. These little demons will get no mercy from me.<br /><br />Let me tell you a story.<br /><br />My brother, who is 8 years older than me, once had a clown doll. He loved to squeeze the belly of this doll, which caused an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">eery</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">echoey</span> laugh that haunted me in my sleep. He loved to sneak up behind me when I was alone and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">squeeeeeeeaaaaaze</span>. I can't say that I blame him, for the reaction that he witnessed was the same every time: a high-pitched scream and crying.<br /><br />Is this the reason for my irrational fear of dolls?<br /><br />No, my friends. There is much more to this story. Quit <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">interrupting</span> me and I'll get to it.<br /><br />So, the years went on and the clown joke kind of faded as I got older. Mind you, I was always afraid of that stupid clown, but I just had too much pride to admit it. So the day came when my brother packed the clown away in a box to give to the Salvation Army. I was so relieved. I watched the clown being placed in the box, and a weight was lifted from my chest as I realized that I never again had to hear that shrill laugh.<br /><br />Several weeks later, I came home from school to a very angry brother.<br /><br />"What the hell?! Why did you do that? <span style="font-style: italic;">How</span> did you do that?"<br /><br />"Do what?" I asked. I thought maybe he found out that I'd gone through his room, again, while he wasn't home. I always found the best stuff in there.<br /><br />"That stupid clown! Why did you take it out of the Salvation Army box? And stick it in my closet?"<br /><br />"What? I didn't! What are you talking about"<br /><br />"And how did you get it to laugh again? It's been broken. That's why I was giving it away."<br /><br />"No. Is it really in there?"<br /><br />At this point, I followed him to his room, where, lo and behold- the clown is sitting in his closet. With that sick <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">smirk</span> on its face.<br /><br />My brother picks it up, and it laughs.<br /><br />"<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Huuuaaaaaaahhh</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Huuuuuuaaaahhhh</span>. Ha-ha-ha-ha..."<br /><br />It sounded creepier to me than ever before.<br /><br />"Yeah, it sounds broken. It's all slow sounding and creepy," I said. "But I promise, Chris, I didn't do it."<br /><br />"Really? That's so <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">weird</span>. Well, I guess we just can't get rid of this thing."<br /><br />He threw it over to me, where I reluctantly caught it, setting it off yet again. I turn it over to see if <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">something's</span> wrong with the electrical.<br /><br />Sure enough. No batteries.<br /><br />I'm not joking. <span style="font-style: italic;">No batteries.</span><br /><br />I will never buy a doll for my children. I don't care if it pees itself or cries for its momma. I will decapitate it. I will. I will stab it with a dang knife while it's eyes blink for mercy. As far as I'm concerned, they are all <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Chucky's</span> offspring.<br /><br />You know what else I show no mercy for? Televisions. I have not owned a television. Ever. I have never bought one, and the only reason there is one in my house right now is because Mark just brought his in from storage. And it has never once been turned on because we don't have cable so we will only use it for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">dvd</span> viewing and we don't have a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">dvd</span> player so we watch movies on our computer, which I believe is entirely friendly and non-<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">poltergeist</span> possessed. But I'll be honest, I still don't trust the thing. I wouldn't be surprised if I came home one day to fuzzy static. And let me show you what I would do to either of them if that ever happened:<br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/dNQtncCBSjg&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/dNQtncCBSjg&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br />Because <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">poltergeists</span> can't talk through a pile of glass.<br /><br />As for the movie <span style="font-style: italic;">The Exorcist, </span>I won't speak of my fears surrounding that. Or my experience. I won't do that to you and I won't do that to me. Besides, they say fear gives it more power.<br /><br />I'm going to take a quick break to read scriptures. Excuse me.<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Ok</span>. Much better.<br /><br />So, to sum this post up, I guess I pretty much just realized last night that not everyone checks the front door a bazillion times before bed, as well as the closets and the laundry room. Not everyone insists on being wrapped in a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">cocoon</span> by <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">their</span> sheets, with strict attention to the feet. Not everyone alternates between thinking it's best to just close their eyes, wait- no it's not, I should keep them open, no, because I'll never get to sleep. But how can one sleep in a time like this....?!<br /><br />I digress.<br /><br />Happy Halloween.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11928987966732266015noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345844597908784831.post-25865298075054838182008-10-17T14:47:00.000-07:002008-10-17T14:50:28.246-07:00The Good for the BadI had previously posted a negative post making fun of someone. I thought it was funny, but as the day went on I kept feeling worse about it. I decided that it's better to post positive things than negative things. So I want to post this poster instead.<br /><br />If you are able to attend, it would help NieNie.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0FQOjBHNXrI/SPkIlgDasqI/AAAAAAAAAwI/OVIV9tJAeYg/s1600-h/Mindy3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0FQOjBHNXrI/SPkIlgDasqI/AAAAAAAAAwI/OVIV9tJAeYg/s320/Mindy3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258243480284213922" border="0" /></a>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11928987966732266015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345844597908784831.post-86787723078464262992008-10-16T11:10:00.000-07:002008-10-16T11:15:50.859-07:00*Dear God,<span style="font-style:italic;">*Excerpt from my <a href="http://angielovesu.blogspot.com/">Love, Angie</a> blog.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Dear God,</span><br /><br />Why did you make people homosexual?<br /><br />You did, didn't you?<br /><br />Can you overnight your reply? There's an election coming up real soon.<br /><br />Thanks.<br /><br />Say hi to Aunt Liz for me. Both of them- meaning Mark's also.<br /><br />K. Thanks again.<br /><br />Love,<br /><br />Angie <br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Dear God</span>,<br />Scratch that last letter. I've figured it out, thanks to <a href="http://www.wnd.com/news/article.asp?ARTICLE_ID=53327">this guy</a>.<br /><br />Next question:<br /><br />Why did you create the soy bean?<br /><br />Thanks.<br /><br />Love,<br /><br />AngieAngiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11928987966732266015noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345844597908784831.post-3878807854806222272008-10-14T19:21:00.000-07:002008-10-14T21:00:57.117-07:00Vegans are SmarterI've decided that vegans are smarter. They must be. They've figured out how to make baked goods without eggs and butter that don't collapse in the oven. I can't do that. I tried. And it doesn't work. I made cupcakes tonight with coconut oil instead of butter, congealed flax seed meal instead of eggs, and I even substituted agave nectar for the sugar and used equal parts almond flour to regular flour. I added more of the dried ingredients to make up for the agave nectar. The batter tasted amazing. I was so excited to brag all about my wonderful creation on this blog tonight. <br /><br />But, alas, I have cupcakes that are burnt on the outside and mushy on the inside. They are greasy and they look very, very sad- like they're slouching and hanging their head in shame. <br /><br />Poor cupcakes. <br /><br />Maybe some advice is in order? Any vegans out there? Anyone smart at least?<br /><br />I figure we need a lighter post today. You can't get lighter than cupcakes. That is, unless they're so heavy that they sink. Hmmmm...Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11928987966732266015noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345844597908784831.post-85143674635496982342008-10-13T14:11:00.001-07:002008-10-13T14:21:43.254-07:00Another Political Post- Prop. 8I've become quite the politician over the last few days, in large part to your great comments. Thank you so much. I've had some tasty morsels to ponder. I think my brain really does have teeth. Or at least if feels like it. Have you ever woken up after a night of grinding your teeth? Well, that's about how my brain feels after all of this thinking.
<br />
<br />I do want to share my stance on Prop 8, because it's one that I've thought long and hard about. I'll just cut and paste a comment I made on a friend's thread about the subject:
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font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} .MsoPapDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-margin-top-alt:auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:16.0pt; mso-line-height-rule:exactly;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:auto; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:auto; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:16.0pt; mso-line-height-rule:exactly; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">Erin, I just want to interject and reply to your question of why Mike thinks marriage is an institution of "the church." The truth is that I do not see any secular argument for Prop. 8. There really is not one argument that is credible that does not include God. All non secular arguments sound ignorant and homophobic to me. I'll be honest, I've had a really hard time with this one, even being Mormon, as you can read in a letter I wrote to a gay friend which I posted on my blog: http://angielovesu.blogspot.com/2008/09/dear-drew.html</p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">I struggle with Prop. 8 mostly because I don't believe in telling people what to do. Even our church stresses the importance of agency in letting people choose what God deems as right and wrong, so why limit people's choices by law? It's very hard for me to understand, because I do also agree with Don:</p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">"On the other hand, it would be trivial to argue that violent</p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">criminals and child molesters should not be raising kids. We</p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">really should be voting to ban those marriages involving</p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">those people first, if what we really cared about was proving</p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">ideal families for children."</p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">People are people, and people's personalities are not dictated solely by their sexual preference. There are plenty of heterosexuals that are unfit to raise children by *popular standards, and many homosexuals unfit to raise children by popular standards. The opposite is also true. However, I believe that regardless, it is beneficial for children to have a female and male parent for many reasons, but that boils down solely to my religious beliefs, which I have a right to. </p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">I've heard the argument that there shouldn't be so much focus on the issues of childbearing in the discussion of Prop. 8, as not every couple decides to bear or adopt children. My explanation of that is that one of the main concerns that religious people have about this scenario is that, even if the majority of gay marriages were childless, it would still create more homosexual examples in society, therefore establishing homosexuality as a norm. And the reason this is perceived as problematic boils down, again, to the children issue: Religious couples don't want raise their children in a world that does not uphold their views. </p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">I have often thought that it is controlling to limit others by establishing laws that are based on views that only reflect one party's beliefs. What about all the other beliefs out there? </p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">So the real issue I have with Prop. 8 is this: Do I, being Mormon, have a right to impose laws on others to confine them to a belief system that they do not share?</p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">But after much thought I've concluded that I believe this:</p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">I believe in a democracy. I do not believe in anarchy, so I believe that society benefits from the organization, safety, and development that results from laws. Each law is based on a system of beliefs. This country happens to be founded on Christianity. Other nations/countries are founded on other belief systems, so their laws are different. I think the best way to come up with laws that are effective in a given society is to vote according to your particular beliefs. This does not mean that a person should believe that their particular belief system deserves more respect than any other. It just means that you are representing your theology for consideration for the final word. I am not imposing my belief system on another person by giving my opinion at the polls. I support the right for all different theologies to be expressed at the polls, no matter how much I disagree with it. That is how we create a balanced society: the majority rules and the minority can eventually become the majority by convincing more people to join them. When the minority want to raise their children in a society that shares their values, they either move to a place where their values are practiced (hello, Provo!) or they cut their losses and homeschool I guess. It just happens to be that right now I am the majority, but when/if the time comes that society no longer shares my views, it's my responsibility to teach my children what I'd like for them to learn, then send them off to the world to choose for themselves. </p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">So, yes, I'm voting for Prop. 8. And I hope everyone who believes strongly about it should vote also. That way the outcome will be an accurate reflection of what our nation stands for. Someone has to loose out either way, but that's the price we pay for being able to live in a nation that will do the service of protecting certain freedoms on your behalf. Even communal hippies have to give up some freedoms to be part of the pack. Life isn't fair I guess!</p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">*popular standards meaning what the current laws state as abuse, not based on theological standards. </p>
<br />Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11928987966732266015noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345844597908784831.post-63929623308547945202008-10-11T11:42:00.000-07:002008-10-11T14:14:52.135-07:00Confession of a Politically Ignorant WomanI try to never discuss politics with anyone other than my husband and my immediate family. This is true for a few different reasons:<br /><br />First, my fear of sounding stupid. The truth is, I know there are some die-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">hards</span> out there who follow politics more than I do. I pretty much get everything I know off of Drudge Report. I don't have a television and I don't buy the paper. Mark seems to pick up a lot of information from class discussions, so I get a lot of second-hand information that way.<br /><br />Second, I hate disagreeing with people. This goes back to my fear of confrontation. I don't like to cause ripples in the water. I'd rather just keep silent and smile than start a potential heated discussion with a stranger or acquaintance. Sometimes even with a <a href="http://angielovesu.blogspot.com/2008/09/dear-drew.html">close friend</a>. Essentially, I'm a coward.<br /><br />The sad thing is, I hate people like me. I mean, I don't necessarily love when people throw their beliefs in people's faces either, but there's a balance that I'd like to achieve. I would like to be the kind of person who feels comfortable having an educational discussion about politics. One where I am not afraid to be proved wrong, and I'm also not afraid to attempt to prove someone else wrong. It shouldn't be about winning anyway, but instead about educating. Of course, it takes two humble people to participate in that kind of discussion, and sometimes it just comes to a difference of beliefs or opinions.<br /><br />This whole subject has come to the surface for me, of course, because of the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">presidential</span> election. I seriously have no idea who to vote for. I was raised in a democrat home, and I've always voted democrat across the board. That's so <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">embarrassing</span> for me to admit- that I've always been a lemming. The last three years, though, since my conversion to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">LDS</span> church, I've been reevaluating my beliefs on a lot of things, including politics. I've developed a lot of conservative opinions, of course, due to my new religious take on life. Some people might see that as a continuation of my lemming ways, but I can honestly say that I've weighed out issues in my mind more than ever before. The problem is, though, that I can see both sides to almost every issue. And it seems that there's always more information to consider that changes the overall outcome of an issue. I feel like I could spend months just learning about one thing. It's so easy to just look at the styled position of a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">candidate's</span> proposition, but when you lift and dig a bit, there is always another thing lurking underneath.<br /><br />Sorry I'm talking so vaguely about all of this. That's probably a bit annoying. The thing I'm really trying to get at is that I'm not sure who I'm voting for and I'm frustrated. I don't care about political party anymore. I want to vote for someone who will:<br /><br />1. Get us out of the financial crisis, without letting the people who caused it get away <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">scott</span> free, and without making us pay for their mistakes by raising taxes and cutting programs that make a difference in our communities. (This makes me want to vote for Obama.) However, will the tax cuts that Obama boasts about just move money from a productivity pool to a consumption pool? (This makes me want to vote for McCain.)<br /><br />2. Know how to reestablish good relations with other nations. A lot of this is going to be determined, I believe, with how we proceed with Iraq, Pakistan, Afghanistan, and Russia. Is that too broad of a statement? Anyhow, I am split on this one. McCain is experienced, but what does that matter if he carries things out the same way Bush has? But does Obama really know what he's doing? I was horrified that he announced that he would be willing to attack inside Pakistan with or without approval from the Pakistani government at the debate on national television. I understand that he means attacking <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">al</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Qaeda</span> and Taliban areas, but threatening President <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Pervez</span> Musharraf on live television before he's even president and without meeting with him or meeting with congress...essentially just spouting off his mouth is so destructive. That's not the way to establish a good relationship.<br /><br />3. Protect my religious values, which include an anti-abortion belief and a belief in marriage as a one woman, one man party. With pointy hats and a lot of noisemakers. That was so lame.<br /><br />4. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Healthcare</span>. I don't exactly know how this one should go. I need to spend less time blogging and more time researching this. All I know is that I want <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">healthcare</span>, and I'd like to be able to afford it please. The $5000 refundable tax credit sounds good, but <a href="http://marcambinder.theatlantic.com/archives/2008/10/brownstein_on_mccains_radical.php">this</a> makes me wonder. But is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Obama's</span> plan for more government involvement in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">healthcare</span> a good thing? I really like that he wants to outlaw insurance discrimination against people with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">pre</span>-existing conditions (my husband had cancer, so this would be great). Really, I'm just going to stop talking about this one because I'm just rambling about things I don't know very much about.<br /><br />5. Education. I don't know much about each of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">their</span> plans on this, but I know that I want better education for our country. That sounds lame. I should run for Miss America.<br /><br />Just another note on this one: I'm planning to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">homeschool</span> my children. I don't know that education in our country will ever be good enough for me to trust them with my children.<br /><br />6. National Security. Again, I don't know what I'm doing here. But I just want to be safe. Like a bug in a rug.<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Ok</span>, so now that I've come out of the closet as ignorant, feel free to comment. I love links. I would especially love to hear about who you are voting for and exactly why. I want details.<br /><br />Anyone?Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11928987966732266015noreply@blogger.com55tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345844597908784831.post-31982062151422816062008-10-02T11:24:00.001-07:002008-10-03T02:25:39.504-07:00My Dream HouseHere is my Dream house. Find out more about it by watching these youtube videos:<br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JUwoWF_1eeQ">Part One </a>and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O3sK9LKgbmw">Part Two</a>.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0FQOjBHNXrI/SOUSJhqXk3I/AAAAAAAAAv4/Gk4kh6qSrdM/s1600-h/10-2-08+bahouth1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0FQOjBHNXrI/SOUSJhqXk3I/AAAAAAAAAv4/Gk4kh6qSrdM/s320/10-2-08+bahouth1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252624495261750130" border="0" /></a><br />*Picture taken from Apartment Therapy.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11928987966732266015noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345844597908784831.post-1627072028533700102008-10-02T10:59:00.001-07:002008-10-02T11:16:14.606-07:00Head ColdSorry I haven't posted much lately. The truth is that I have been posting, but just to my <a href="http://angielovesu.blogspot.com/">Love, Angie</a> blog. I guess I've just had a lot to get off my chest lately.<br /><br />I'm sick right now. With a cold that makes me sneeze about 30 times a day. I usually really like sneezing. I've always felt it's kind of like an orgasm for the nose. But I guess you can get too much of a good thing because I don't care if I ever sneeze again as long as I live.<br /><br />This post is pretty uninspired. Sorry. I'll try to turn it around...<br /><br />The focus of my life lately has been decorating our apartment. We're trying to shed the Salvation Army/college-pad vibe. So far we've only bought a wall clock, two bookshelves, and some black spray paint, but it's already starting to come together. I was on my friend's blog, <a href="http://melissaesplin.com/home/">is.<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ly</span></a>, where I was introduced to some inspiring decor sites: <a href="http://www.apartmenttherapy.com/">Apartment Therapy</a> and <a href="http://designspongeonline.com/">Design Sponge</a>. Now Mark has two more reasons to have to pull me away from the computer.<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Ok</span>, well I'm going to be late for my sewing class. Sorry this post is so pedestrian. Blame it on medicine head.<br /><br />More later...Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11928987966732266015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345844597908784831.post-33757649780143789912008-09-23T14:14:00.000-07:002008-09-23T14:41:36.335-07:00New BlogsWe are learning about freewriting in my Humanities class. I'm already familiar with it, as I've attempted the Artist's Way program numerous times, only to be defeated by my own lack of discipline. But when I was on a roll, I did my morning pages religiously and I can say that it did wonders for my writing and my creative thinking process. I love how freewriting just slams that inner-critic to the floor, leaving room for authenticity on the page. The critic can always come back in the form of an editor, but while producing he should just keep his mouth shut.<br /><br />Inspired, I am now reinstating my morning pages in the form of a blog. No, it won't be public. That would defeat the purpose of course. I would like to say that I'm secure enough in myself to let the stream of consciousness publicly flow out of me, but I would be lying.<br /><br />So, if this blog isn't going to be public, why am I telling you about it? To taunt you with the unattainable. No. Well... kind of.<br /><br />Actually, I'm just rambling on. Maybe I'm doing a bit of freewriting as we speak. Or write. Or whatever. But the truth is that I wanted to let you know about another blog that I've started writing called <a href="http://angielovesu.blogspot.com/">Love, Angie</a>. It's a place where I can let out the random things I'd like to say to random people. The posts are in letter format. I guess you could say that I have a problem with confrontation, so here's where I'm just going to let it all hang out. Real names will rarely be used, so if it sounds like I'm writing a letter to you, I probably am.<br /><br />More later...Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11928987966732266015noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345844597908784831.post-50001734454181407442008-09-18T20:31:00.001-07:002008-09-18T20:31:20.324-07:00Flight of the Conchords Ep 3 Think About it<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><p><object height='350' width='425'><param value='http://youtube.com/v/TLEK0UZH4cs' name='movie'/><embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/TLEK0UZH4cs'/></object></p></div>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11928987966732266015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345844597908784831.post-82326981530121850512008-09-17T08:02:00.000-07:002008-09-17T08:23:25.611-07:00Good MorningI am so excited about life right now! Do you see the time I'm posting at? Yes, it's the morning. And I'm functioning. I've actually been up since 6:50am, thank you very much. It's good to see the morning while it's still fresh and new. I'm so used to waking up at 10 or so, and then fumbling around like a zombie trying to get ready and then showing up somewhere late and exhausted. But now I have a 7am ballet class that wakes me right up, even if I did jog for an hour last night until 12am. By the way, bragging is fun.<br /><br />Moving on, I started a post yesterday and it got erased. I don't want to try to recreate it again, so I'll keep this short and sweet. I made a friend. She's an artist. I have a crush. She is amazing and I love her work. You will too. Look:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" >Susan <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Krueger</span>-Barber</span><br /></div><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" ><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0FQOjBHNXrI/SNEfS5q5-sI/AAAAAAAAAvo/uauZEZlxtbY/s1600-h/separation-anxiety-cutout.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0FQOjBHNXrI/SNEfS5q5-sI/AAAAAAAAAvo/uauZEZlxtbY/s320/separation-anxiety-cutout.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247009450442226370" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0FQOjBHNXrI/SNEfSumKiHI/AAAAAAAAAvg/OTVa0qx0kVM/s1600-h/firecracker+cutout.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0FQOjBHNXrI/SNEfSumKiHI/AAAAAAAAAvg/OTVa0qx0kVM/s320/firecracker+cutout.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247009447469549682" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0FQOjBHNXrI/SNEfY4D40XI/AAAAAAAAAvw/JMbmX2Dv1Is/s1600-h/suckle+show.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0FQOjBHNXrI/SNEfY4D40XI/AAAAAAAAAvw/JMbmX2Dv1Is/s320/suckle+show.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247009553089352050" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0FQOjBHNXrI/SNEfSpGGdHI/AAAAAAAAAvY/wD39NaD_KbU/s1600-h/post+partum+provcation_1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0FQOjBHNXrI/SNEfSpGGdHI/AAAAAAAAAvY/wD39NaD_KbU/s320/post+partum+provcation_1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247009445992887410" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0FQOjBHNXrI/SNEfSbHMv_I/AAAAAAAAAvQ/cyBS2r3LB84/s1600-h/advent-cutout.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0FQOjBHNXrI/SNEfSbHMv_I/AAAAAAAAAvQ/cyBS2r3LB84/s320/advent-cutout.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247009442239397874" border="0" /></a>See? Told you so. Visit her on the web <a href="http://www.susankruegerbarber.com/site/HOME.html">here</a><br /></div>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11928987966732266015noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345844597908784831.post-39559174990370612452008-09-15T14:51:00.000-07:002008-09-15T15:37:09.196-07:00To Delete or Not to Delete...Hello again. It's been a while. I've got a lot of excuses, but I won't even bother with them, as I'm sure I haven't really been holding up world progress. Who are "you" anyway? Just me, I'm assuming. I love how my habit of talking to myself is creeping over into my writing. Lovely. I'm feeling a strange connection to my dead grandmother about now. She had Alzheimer's the entirety of our acquaintance.<br /><br />So I'm back in Utah. In school. In a basement apartment. Still married. I have a bike. My favorite zipper to my favorite jeans broke. I've made some shiny new friends. Mark still makes the bed into a taco at night. And I have Internet. That about sums the recent happenings.<br /><br />Oh, and we went on a Zombie Bike ride on Saturday. That was fun. Here's a few pictures.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0FQOjBHNXrI/SM7jODYRyaI/AAAAAAAAAuw/o9_48IQ67ls/s1600-h/pics+109.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0FQOjBHNXrI/SM7jODYRyaI/AAAAAAAAAuw/o9_48IQ67ls/s320/pics+109.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246380446498015650" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0FQOjBHNXrI/SM7jOdhDZfI/AAAAAAAAAu4/elba6woVNfw/s1600-h/pics+116.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0FQOjBHNXrI/SM7jOdhDZfI/AAAAAAAAAu4/elba6woVNfw/s320/pics+116.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246380453514143218" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0FQOjBHNXrI/SM7jOolcOCI/AAAAAAAAAvA/HLvC4u3n7eU/s1600-h/pics+120.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0FQOjBHNXrI/SM7jOolcOCI/AAAAAAAAAvA/HLvC4u3n7eU/s320/pics+120.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246380456485337122" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0FQOjBHNXrI/SM7jO61b3XI/AAAAAAAAAvI/sPt_Yau2Jj0/s1600-h/pics+136.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0FQOjBHNXrI/SM7jO61b3XI/AAAAAAAAAvI/sPt_Yau2Jj0/s320/pics+136.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246380461384260978" border="0" /></a><br />So today I visited this blog after many weeks of being away, and I felt strangely self-conscious. I almost deleted it and I still want to and I'm wondering why it was ever a good idea to post pictures of myself in daily outfits and give tours of my medicine cabinet. I'm thinking about all the people who stumble across this blog (all three of them...) and I'm blushing. I feel exposed. I feel dumb. I feel self-conscious.<br /><br />The blogasphere is such a funny place. It's like a exhibitionist's party. Burning Man comes to mind. And it's so easy for people like me to peek through the crowd and observe it all. But vicarious living looses it's thrill quickly and the next thing you know, you're emulating. Inspired, you- <span style="font-style: italic;">or I, as it seems</span>- find myself dancing on the table. And then the music stops...<br /><br />Awkward moment.<br /><br />So here is my awkward moment. Should I get down off the table? Should I creep back through the crowd and find a dark corner somewhere? Should I just leave altogether and go home to my white walls and the air-mattress that me and Mark sleep on because it creates more of a hill-valley scenario than a taco?<br /><br />Nope. Next song, please. I've still got some dancing to do.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11928987966732266015noreply@blogger.com7