Some Days... The Sequel

I decided that yesterday's rebellion wasn't enough.  So today, I decided to rebel further.

Guys.  I skipped class.
I mean, like I planned it, I went to the first class of the day KNOWING that I would make my excuses and skip the next class so I could do homework.

I know, right? The rebellion is almost TOO MUCH at this point. Skipping class to catch up on homework... WHO DOES THAT?

I do.
Or at least, I planned to.

Until an hour into my rebellion, when I got a text from a classmate, asking me how I knew that class would be cancelled.

#@$&!

So much for the rebellion. I mean, I intended to rebel.  I had no idea it would be cancelled. I seriously thought I was being all sneaky and bad-@$$.

And now I learn that I all was really doing was missing something that didn't exist.

Foiled.

Maybe tomorrow I'll try again.

Some days

You come to a point where you want to do something drastic.

Time to rebel.

Like maybe start drinking. 

Or get a tattoo.

So today I rebelled.

Oh yes.  

Do you know what my rebellion was?

Be prepared for shock. 

Are you sitting down?

I took a bath instead of writing a paper. 

And then.

I didn't squeegee it afterwards.

I know, right.

I'm gonna pay for that later, and I don't even care. 

I DON'T EVEN CARE. 

There's no such thing...

...As too many books. Or shoes. Until you find yourself carrying everything you own up 3 flights of stairs. That's enough to make anyone start questioning their life choices. And fashion choices.

So when the medium size box that I had crammed my Imelda Marcos-sized shoe collection burst between my car and that previously-referenced stairwell, you would think I would wise up. But since today I am apparently the LUCKIEST GIRL IN THE WORLD, things took a rather different turn.

In other words.

I have a tiny confession to make.



How tiny?  Only this tiny.



What are the odds that I can think to myself "I'll just check for a pair of black boots" and the only pair in my size happened to be $4? And cute. What a day.

Later tonight I'm thinking of playing some lottery.

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid?

13 years ago someone at the BYU Harold B Lee Library tried to throw a gem of a poster in the garbage. Luckily I had a wise roommate who saw the value in trash treasures and she rescued it and brought it home, to hang in an honored spot in the dining room.

We had no idea who they were or why they were printed onto a huge poster, used and then thrown away like yesterday's bad egg salad sandwich. But we loved them.  And so did everyone else who visited us.  Well, everyone except for one of our very own roommates.  But she was overruled.  

Late one night, we gave construction paper accessories like watches and pet tigers.  The were dubbed  "Out'a SNYC" in a odd homage to the apartment's preferred boy band.  

One day some guy told us they were Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and Gang.  (Something about the Tall Texan?) I don't know, I'm not from around here and have no idea about the folklore and western history.  I do know that once when I was driving through wyoming, I found a Tshirt with this exact same picture printed on it.  So I bought it.  and some postcards.

Then I moved.  Everyone moved.  The last person left in that apartment was the roommate who hated the picture.  When I moved to a place in clearfield, my roommate was someone who lived upstairs from us at the time of the poster, so she brought it along for me, and it hung at our house.  Then I packed up again and moved to Minnesota for a while.  Upon returning to Utah, I was delighted to find that it was still around.  

Now I'm moving again.  And its probably time to put away silly things and have a grown up house.  

But I'm finding I have trouble parting with my boys.  

So I'm wondering if any of the old gang wants it back?  How much am I bid for this little memory?

Moving and a Stalker*

Oh Friends.  I just reserved the Uhaul.  I'm moving.  Next Saturday morning.  Its funny how much the anxiety kicks in as soon as you make a tiny decision like reserving a Uhaul.  Its not like it cost me to do it.  And I can always cancel.  And I'm only moving a mile and a half down the road.  SO why the racing heart, the sweaty palms, the squeezy feeling in my stomach?

Here's the deal.  On average as a kid, we moved about every four years.  When my family settled down in one place for longer than 4 years, I left for college 4 years into it anyways.  And in college, I lived in the same place for... you guessed it, 4 years.  

And I've lived here for 4 1/2 years.  Which means I've lived here longer than anywhere else.  Not much longer.  But longer still the same.  And I love it here.  I love my ward.  I love my landlord.  I love my cute little house.  

What I don't love is how much it costs, and as a grad student, I really cant afford to be dumping this much rent money.  And I kind of don't love coming home to the alone reminder that there is no roommate, which is mostly peaceful, but also a reminder that I'm paying too much rent.  

SO I'm moving in with Luna.  (You may have noticed that I avoid using identifying features on here, and most often choose to substitute names with Harry Potter names.  Recently I learned even more about the importance of online privacy*.  So I hope she doesn't mind being dubbed "Luna".)  Luna is a fellow Ravenclaw.  And she is delightful and awesome and has become one of the dearest friends I have ever known.  

Part of my anxiety is that living together will screw up our friendship.  But i'm going to try extra hard to behave myself.  And we are grownups, not college students away from home for the first time.  

And I am hoping this is my very last short term living arrangement.  I am a little over a year away from finishing grad school.  As soon as I finish that up, I should be able to get a stable grown up job and buy a place of my own.  

See how I'm talking myself down from the anxiety?

Now.  Who wants to come help me move this couch up a few flights of stairs?

*Oh, you noticed that did you?  Its a little creepy.  Remember this little gem of a post? Well the highlights are: I told him off, he continued to insult in a passive-aggressive feigned kindness, I told him to leave me alone, he asked me out, I blocked him and made my information unsearchable, and so he sent a stalker letter to choir.  This creeper just won't go away. There's nothing quite like having the president pull you aside to give you some "fan mail" and ask if you need help managing the situation.  *shudder* Despite the fact that he's probably not actually dangerous, its still not awesome to feel like unwanted people can find you. I didn't sleep much the night that happened.  The human imagination is a terrifying thing. 

So on a brighter note, moving to a new place where there is another person, and a security gate, should help with that too. Although now this human's imagination is picturing Luna and myself fighting off a crazy person intruder.  And that's actually a really funny picture. 

One-Line Thoughts (and some commentary)

• Cars should be red the way desserts should be chocolate.  (I just don't see the point in any other variety of either )
• Hipsters are just so mainstream. (They really are.  Negativity is the new black. If you really want to be innovative and different, try being positive, liking things, and recognizing that if something is popular, there probably is a reason)
• Bucket list item #34: Win something from one of those claw machines.  (Seriously, if anyone knows how, I want some pointers.  My friend recently saw a Captain Kirk doll in one.)
• My fear is that you will take my silence to mean I agree with you, so I speak out. (and yet, if you do not speak up, I assume that means you disagree with me. I am a hypocrite)
• Disagreement and negativity does not make you smarter than everyone. (Back to that hipster thing. I'm bugged by that today.)
• Don't "dance like no one is watching", dance like the whole world thinks you are beautiful. (The number of so-called inspirational quotes on pinterest makes me wonder how we really define inspiration.)
• God never asked you to sing well, he asked you to sing. (So quit telling me you can't sing church congregational songs. Its church, for heaven's sake.  If someone there is judging you, they are the one who is going to Hell.)
• It is easier to research subjects that you can remove yourself from than it is to honestly research yourself. (I would just about give up a limb to be writing a research paper instead of a reflection paper on my "inner couple".
• I believe that deja vu is God's way of telling me I'm in the right place.  (Or on the right path, or making the right choice.)
• If my coping mechanism is going to be a new pair of shoes every time I have a hard day, I am going to  need a bigger closet. (And Target is going to have to have more clearance sales)
• The more I see of the pain and hurts in the world, the more I am astounded at the resilience of the human spirit. (And as long as I focus on the resilience of the human spirit, the more hope I have for the future.)

I can't give the details of my life anymore, I can't speak of the things that used to send me to the keyboard to write through my thoughts and emotions.  The closer I get to practicing, the more generic this has to be.  But I will maintain it.  I may eventually make it private, I may eventually become so limited in my posting that you won't remember I am here.  But I will be here. 

Sights to See and Tours to Take

Oh my goodness I want to go to Paris.

Seriously.  I have always had dreams about going back, but the last few nights, I have actually had repeated dreams where I went back for just one day, or 6 hours, and I was sitting in a train station deciding how to spend my time the very best way possible.  And all I could think was "I have to get to a pastry shop."

And I know these are just dreams because if I were awake I would be able to access my List.  That's right, I have a List.

The List is of the things I would do in Paris, in order of priority.  And my List might not be your List, but I have probably put more thought into my List than most people do, so take what you can from it.

Priority #1 (this one is purely mine, and no one else is under any obligation to repeat it.)
Give away a Book of Mormon on the train.
I know, its the old missionary thing.  And when I went back to Paris after my mission, I did it at the request of one of my traveling buddies who had brought along a Book just for that purpose.  And it was a beautiful experience.  I'm not saying I'm going back to re-live the mission or try and pretend I'm still wearing that beautiful black nametag.  But its a perfect way to remember why I love the city and the people, and to be grateful for the experiences I had there.

Priority #2
Take the Night Bike Tour
I have never done this, but I have heard that it is the best way to see the city.  There is a company that offers bike tours of the city. You hit the major sites and enjoy the city from above ground rather than taking the trains underground.  And my favorite parts of the city are the parts in between all the famous sites.  Paris has a rhythm and a life to it that is so beautiful.  As a missionary, a member once took us on a night tour of the city in her car, and it was the only time I got to see the City of Lights when it was lit.  So I dream of returning to take the Night Bike Tour.  Incidentally, the rumor is that the best tour company for this is the one that does Priority #3 in the middle of their night bike tour. (Bikes are provided)

Priority #3
The Bateau Mouche
Its a boat tour of the city.  You see all the major sites, including the view of the mini Statue of Liberty in front if the Eiffel Tower.  You see Notre Dame, the Concierge, the architecture, all the good stuff, in about an hour. I was hesitant about taking this tour as a missionary, because I figured a boat tour was a big waste of time, but the elders insisted, and it still stands out as one of my favorite Paris experiences.  Grab a jambon-fromage baguette and sit on the top level of the boat and watch Paris go by.  Its beautiful.

Priority #4
The Musee D'orsay
You've heard of the Louvre.  You can name one (maybe two) things that are there.  The Mona Lisa.  The Winged Victory.  The Winged Victory is better than the Mona Lisa.  The print of the Mona Lisa that your fifth grade teacher showed you is probably bigger than the actual painting, which is crowded by tourists and generally boring.  Seriously, you've seen it before.  The real experience everyone should have is to see the impressionists.  Which is why the Musee D'orsay is what I recommend.  You know how starry nights is pretty and all?  In real life, when you can see the textures and colors, it feels like the whole sky is moving.  That painting is poetry in motion.  And Renoir's shadows and Seraut's pointilism are phenomenal in a way that no print can capture.  And Degas. Sigh.
Beyond artistic considerations, there a practical reasons to choose D'orsay.  It's less crowded, cheaper, and if you are on a limited schedule, get the discounted rates for the last hour of the day.  You can actually see a lot there in one hour.  At the Louvre, it will take you an hour to figure out the map, wandering past thousands of giant realist paintings of religious scenes that you don't recognize.  An hour at D'orsay an you will have seen all of the artists I mentioned above, and you will have seen some of their most famous works.

Priority # 5
The Catacombs
I know it sounds grim, but its really quite amazing.  Paris is built on layers of swiss cheese.  Under the city there are metros, under the metros there are catacombs, and under the catacombs there are natural reservoirs of water (like on Phantom of the Opera).  Yes, you are walking through dark underground tunnels filled with dead people.  And all I really have to say about that is go, look around, and imagine how crowded that place will be at the resurrection.

Priority #6
The Opera Garnier.
I wish this was farther up on my list, because its my favorite place in the city.  But its not purely because the other things are either things I haven't done or they are more efficient tours.  But the Opera Garnier is a museum in and of itself.  If you go last minute, you can get cheap tickets (student or tickets others have returned) and sit in a box and watch an opera at the famed house. Right now, they happen to be doing Wagner, Rheingold.  But even if you cant go for a performance, go for the tour.  And bring me a souvenir.  The only thing I can compare to that tour is the library of congress in DC.  Its moving just to be in the middle of that much beauty. I love this place.  Love it.  Love it.

Priority #7
Climb the Arc de Triomph.
If you want a view of the city, this is the view to get.   I still have never been to the top of the Eiffel Tower because guess what, from the top of the Eiffel Tower, you can't see the Eiffel Tower.  From the top the Arc you can see the Eiffel Tower, Sacre Couer, Notre Dame, and most fascinating of all, the traffic on the roundabout.  Statistically there is an accident every 5 minutes.  And I think the stats are a little thin.  The cars are going every which way and its mesmerizing.  In fact, what I really recommend is that you start there, take the tour and go to the top, then finish off by walking the length of the Champs Elysees.  And bring money.  This is the touristy shopping fun.

Priority #8
Find a Market
Go to the Latin Quarter or the area around Montparnasse and visit an open air market.  This is the non-touristy shopping experience.  The rotisserie chicken sold off the back of the trucks in these is the second best thing you will ever eat.  This first best thing is the baby potatoes they cook in the grease drippings from the rotisserie chicken.  And these markets aren't just for food.  Its like the Farmer's markets in the US.  Homemade crafts, clothes, jewelry, the fun never ends!
Whatever you do, if you are the artists square market by sacre coeur, do NOT let some "artist" bilk you out of money when they cut your silhouette or draw your picture without your permission.  They will have some story about feeding their family or expensive paper.  Wave your had at them, shake your finger at them as rudely as possible (seriously, its not actually rude to do this in France, so be aggressive) and walk away. If you like their work, offer them a couple dollars, but do not pay what people are asking.  Markets are for haggling.


Well now that I am thoroughly homesick, I shall leave you with that list.  I could come up with more, if I knew I had a few weeks, or I knew what season I was going to be there again.  At Christmas there are entire market villages set up in city squares and in the winter there is ice skating at the hotel de ville.  In the Spring and summer, the parks are the perfect place to sit with an ice cream and push the little boats around the ponds and fountains.  I'm going back. Someday. I can't think of anywhere I would rather be.