And necklaces that match everything

A few things you would like, if you were me:

• being the only one awake
• excruciating details
• sweet potato fries
• playing the organ full volume with rockin registration
• rainy mornings
• celery & pb
• your last name
• farmers' markets
• b&b's
• raspberries

the CHALLENGER explosion!

One day, the LaRose family visited Matt at his place of employment, Becker's teaching supply store.

He was tickled pink to see us.

Then, while browsing through the book selection, we stumbled upon this.

As my recently dearly departed* friend Monica would say, WTF?
(*on a mission to Guatemala, not dead)

Child, today we're gonna learn about the Challenger Explosion! A lot of people died! It was really tragic and  scary! But exciting! And through it all the noble astronauts kept positive attitudes. Inspiring lessons for us all.  And since it happened in the 80's, a long time ago, it’s not tactless at all.

Mmm, chocolate pudding.

From the back cover of a motivational book

Immortalized with my camera phone:

28 Secrets to Happiness
Live beneath your means and within your seams
Return everything you borrow
Donate blood
Stop blaming other people
Admit it when you make a mistake
Give all the clothes you haven’t worn in the last three years to DI
Every day do something nice and try not to get caught
Listen more, talk less
Every day take a 30 minute walk in your neighborhood
Skip two meals a week and give the money to the homeless
Strive for excellence, not perfection
Be on time
Don’t make excuses
Don’t argue
Get organized
Be kind to kind people
Be even kinder to unkind people
Let someone cut ahead of you in line
Take time to be alone
Reread a favorite book
Cultivate good manners
Be humble
Understand and accept that life isn’t always fair
Know when to say something
Know when to keep your mouth shut
Don’t criticize anyone for 24 hours
Learn from the past, plan for the future, and live in the present
Don’t sweat the small stuff

I'll get back to you and let you know if it's true.

The Gym

Early morning phone call:
(ring. I see it's L.A. Fitness, and hand it to Matt to answer)
M: He says he wants to talk to you.
Me: oh dear. into phone: Yes?
LA: Jennifer, we see you are a new member here. How has your experience been so far?
(knowing perfectly well he has the computer screen in front of him and can see how many times I have swiped my keycard this summer...a # that requires only one hand to count)
Me: Er. Well. You see...I've been out of town...
LA: Uh-huh. My name is Jeff. I want to help you.
Me: I don't know if I need it, I'm going back to college soon, and-
LA: Fine, fine- tell me, would you like a complimentary training session?
Me: I suppose so.
LA: I'm going to schedule you in for Wednesday. You will be with me.
Me: How wonderful.

My 3rd training session scheduled in the past month. Will disregard the signals my body sends early wednesday morning to call and cancel.
What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger.
Except for AIDS.

Some differences between Italy and home

• Graffiti is omnipresent. And it is ELABORATE. Works of art on the streets, metros, sides of centuries-old buildings. Very rarely obscene. Lots of nice messages to girlfriends and such: "ti amo maria!"
• Bidets. If you don't know what these are, imagine a water fountain that you straddle after going to the bathroom, and there you have a bidet
• When eating out, you have to physically search out the waiter to finally ask for your bill. He will leave you alone for hours. It's rather nice actually- restaurants here tend to make you feel rushed and in general we have a tendency to leave before we've hardly swallowed the last bite of food.
• Stray dogs are rampant. They're cute too, not that mangy looking. 
• Children ride motorcycles. and who ever heard of a helmet anyway? Maybe this is just in Naples, a city which defines chaos, really- they are one and the same. But there's something about the whole lack of safety laws that makes everything seem so charming and quaint, rather than gasping at the impropriety of it all.
  
• Nutella. There is no peanut butter to be found in italy, and most of europe as well. Nutella reigns supreme- cocoa hazelnutty goodness.
• Laundry hanging outside. I don't think the italians like clothes driers. And really, the clothing on the line looks lovely floating in the breeze.
  
• PDA. Italian is the language of love and yikes, the italians know how to love. Especially walking with their lovers down the street. Who said stopping for a passionate make-out every 15 feet ever hurt anyone?
• Cigarette smoking is still quite fashionable. You can find it inside restaurants, shops, heck- inside everywhere. Even the pizza chef does it while he tosses the dough in the air. Makes the health nut inside me squirm.



• Red OJ. The orange juice...it is red. Apparently they have something called "blood oranges" over there. Blood is also red, hence the color of the juice. what? Anyway, it freaked me out the first time I saw it. [it would freak you out too]
• Italian men. They are different from other men. They wear their hearts on their sleeve and their shirts two sizes too small. They love women. During my time in Naples, I was given free sodas; I was whistled at, winked at, and blown-kisses at. Boys took pictures of me with their cell phones, asked me to go to the "disco", and yelled "bellisima!" All in all, it was most flattering. Until I realized- wait a minute- these are italian stallions. Amore is what they live for, and they are scary good at trying to get it.
  
• Naked people. Turn on basic TV anytime after 7 p.m. and you're prone to realize there's no such thing as too much gratuitous female nudity. Here a breast, there a breast. Breasts for everyone! There were channels where women would sit there topless and men could call in and just chat with them. Not about anything in particular, just the weather or what have you. Point is, Life's a [Nude] Beach.
  

A.M. Delightfulness

Nothing like being awoken by your dad at 7:45 in the a.m. as he strolls into the room singing "it's a beautiful day in the neighborhood" and pulling open the blinds, wearing nothing except tight biking shorts, padded butt and all. Now he's banging out mister roger's classic hit on the piano and who could stay in bed at a time like this?

Time for spin class.

Distortion

I've seen other videos from the Dove campaign but only recently found this one:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iYhCn0jf46U
Watch and consider,
how creepy is the beauty industry?
Should be mandatory viewing for every teenage girl in america.

A few small differences between Spain and Home

Some observations over the past few weeks:

• Late sunset. It's still light outside until about 9:30 p.m. This is a total phenomemon to me, especially since it didn't occur in Italy. Just Spain.
  
• In most places, restaurants do not serve dinner until at least 9 p.m. This caused particular issue one day in Avila when we were starving by 7. Luckily, the pastelerias were open until 9.
  
• Outside of the city, people somehow sense you are an outsider. They will stare at you. If you smile at them, they will rarely smile back. They keep looking until you're gone.
  
• In many of the little pueblos we passed through, we noticed that in the early evenings the older folk take their canes or long umbrellas and walk arm-in-arm for several miles.
  
• Upon entering a little shop, the person working will walk towards you and follow you as you browse through the items, not saying a word.
  
• In bars, it seems customary to throw trash on the floors below the counter. Everywhere we went the floor was littered with food, napkins, and cigarette butts. Occasionally, I noticed signs begging customers not to throw things on the piso.
  
• The flavors of juice that I found in the gas station convenience stores: Wild Fruit Seduction, Apple Temptation, Lemon Obsession. Very tantalizing juice.
  
• In restaurants, you pay extra to eat outside.
  
• Spaniards are obsessed with ham. They incorporate it into everything. There is a chain of restaurants called 'Museo de jamon' and they are popular.
  
• Additionally, they are obsessed with carne in general. It is often impossible to find a menu with anything except meat dishes, and they do not count pollo as meat. I am still uncertain as to how the Spanish meet the food pyramid recs.
  
• Sheep and bulls. Everywhere. Bull crossing signs on the highways. The signs show bulls with big, menacing horns. You do not want to mess with a Spanish Bull.
  
• Things in Europe are expensive- this goes for electricity as well. All the places we've stayed have had motion-detector lights in the hallways that stay on for about 10 seconds at a time. Some of the rooms have required the key card to be in a special slot for the lights and other electrical things to work.
  
• Mullets.
  

Stay tuned for my notes from Italy.

This Summer

In random order, I'll be missing:

• dry air
• the mountains
• smith's
• el novio
• independence
• biking everywhere
• mexicans
• roommates
• quality restaurants (el gallo giro, gloria's, bombay, etc)
• a whole lot more

(I have only positive feelings for provo...who'd ever've thought it'd feel like home?)

Meanwhile, this summer I'll be enjoying:

• thunderstorms
• brothers
• traveling the world by which I mean Spain and Italy 
• taking classes online
• my mom's debit card
• driving the corolla, minivan, and audi
• learning valuable golf skills from my dad
• matt's graduation & senior prom
• george's piano recital & 8th grade formal
• earning $$ in various, self-employed ways
• 11 a.m. church
• playing the organ
• my fave little kids and babysitting them
• sleeping in my cheerful yellow room all by myself in the world's best bed
• roadtripping to visit el novio
• rita's italian ice

Oh boy!

Mint Brownies Anyone?

I have decided that I absolutely adore temporary jobs.

• They are fantastic for people with short attention spans (moi, for instance) who get bored with a job rather quickly.
• It's fun to make friends with the other people right away, knowing that if you don't like them after two more days you'll never see them again.
  
• Plus, it's a great way to earn some quick cash and I have never been paid so much in my life (excluding the $20/hour piano lessons...miss those days).

In any event, I highly recommend it.

Working at Women's Conference is an interesting time. Every hour or so, the concession stand becomes busy for about 20 minutes as the womenfolk line up to get their BYU brownies in between sessions. Plus, diet cokes (I had to reassure that they were indeed CAFFEINE FREE about 20 times) and chicken salad croissants- those seem to be the popular women foods. During the sessions, however, it's free time. I just chill in the Marriott Center and sample the various vendings- gratis.
Hello $9.50/hour- Bring it on BYU!

This Month

I want to do something that is:
a.) neat
b.) awesome
c.) spontaneous
d.) artistic
e.) surprising
and/or
f.) just the slightest bit momentous

That doesn't leave me all that much time. Perhaps I will report back on the 1st.

----------------------------------

The 1st:
Since the above post, I have:

• learned how to play tennis,
  
• went to Cracker Barrel for the first time,
  
• cooked a dinner that was not mac & cheese,
  
• jumped on a trampoline with a 5 year old
  
• bought myself flowers
• begun reading Atlas Shrugged
• danced around my apartment realizing I was truly alone
• cut my hair
• used my photos to decorate the apartment, took a step back, and felt proud
  
• sung in the shower
• argued and resolved, kissed and made-up
• said good-bye a whole heckalot

The Legitimacy of Titles

Classes have ended and I'm going to blog.

At the grand old age of 53, my mom began pursuing a path for which she had planted the seeds long ago. 53 and she is blooming into a talented, locally successful writer. I admire and am in perpetual awe of her energy, her dedication, her zest for life. I can only hope that in 32 years I love learning and pursuing new adventures as much as she does.
An interesting thing was, one snowy day over Christmas break we were sitting in the family room, sharing the big leather chair by the fireplace. She was reading aloud to me from her writing journal, sharing her ideas for future stories and articles. I thought they all sounded fantastic- "you're a writer, mum!" She smiled, said hesitatingly, "oh no, not yet." She was reluctant to bestow upon herself the title of "writer" until she had been published in a noteworthy source, until she had received recognition. This made me start to think. At what point can one call themself something? When is it legitimate to print a title under one's name on a business card?


I taught piano lessons all through high school, mostly to little children around the neighborhood. I started off in 9th grade charging $5/lesson, gradually increasing the price until it hit $10 my senior year. Am I a "piano teacher"? I received no formal instruction, notwithstanding the years of private lessons which I ended by middle school. I do not know if I am qualified. I do not know if my little business of a neighborhood piano studio was even legal. All I know is I got paid to sit by my piano bench for several hours per week, gently correcting the little hands that painstakingly searched for the right notes. I witnessed a lot of discouragement during those years. But there were triumphs as well- when those kids showed up for lessons and proudly played through the songs they worked so hard on, I felt like a piano teacher. Can I be one without a music PhD and years of theory classes? As an adult, would I be taken seriously?



I love taking pictures. I love cameras. I love lenses. I love making people look good in pictures. I love noticing details. When I modeled as a kid, I was often more intrigued by what the photographers were doing than the clothes I had to pose in. And I knew that I would rather be behind the camera than in front of it. So where does that leave me? Everything I know about 'taking pictures' is self-taught, or from tips from scouring photography books in Barnes & Noble. But I do not feel quite brave enough to say, "I am a photographer". What I do is taking pictures, not photography. I would not feel comfortable charging people for a portrait session even when they love the results. There's no training or classes to speak of, and fancy equipment? I manage without. For all intents & purposes, I am a picture-taker. Not that other word...yet.



This can be applied to many other skills and talents and hobbies- like, when does a person who likes to draw become An Artist? Perhaps it's when they first get paid. Or maybe it's just when they feel like they're good enough.

An Edit

A few days ago, I began typing a blog entitled, The Future Freaks Me Out. That is the title of a song I like to rock out to. It is also descriptive of my life currently. I started writing about the turmoil in my mind because of the mixed messages I am told by various sources regarding women and careers. Sources such as the Church, "the world", and people who care about where my life heads. I'm working on sorting it out, as will soon be apparent.

On one hand, you have those YW lessons (which are severely in need of revision anyhow) that teach how Women are Mothers. Full stop. Don't put motherhood above a career. To do otherwise is to kick your divine calling in the face, etcetera. (See President Beck's talk on "Mothers Who Know"....

“Home is where women have the most power and influence; therefore, Latter-day Saint women should be the best homemakers in the world.”) 

!!!?!

And THEN- you have the world saying that women are equal and have the same right as men do to pursue a PhD, MD, or whatever your heart desires. Stay-at-home-moms are unambitious, bored, unfulfilled. Also etcetera.

Finally- you have the people in my life who encourage me to be ambitious and question how I will earn an income someday, and I feel if I were to say, "I just want to be a mom" it would be a disappointment, and if I were to say, "I've decided to go to med school", it would be followed with, "but when will you have children?"

It's just complicated, is all. Hypothetically, If I were to have children after attending medical school (& want to stay home with them rather than work), what would have been the purpose of the time, money, stress, and energy spent in school if I never spend much time working as a doctor? Education sure is important, but I feel as if it's a bad idea to attend school for nearly a decade just for the sake of knowledge. There's other means.

Thing is, 1.) I really think I would like to be a stay-at-home mother (SAHM!) who loves what she does and receives enough joy and fulfillment from staying at home to feel satisfied. 2.) However, I don't want to be a woman who goes through her entire life without having worked full time at a real job at least for a few years before kids and after kids. ('real job' meaning one that requires a degree, something ‘career’-ish?). The question is, where is the line? How much of each situation should I aim for? What if I never figure out who/what I should be?  What if it becomes too late? What if I regret not aiming higher...

Point is, trying to discuss this leads me in circles. I didn't say what I was going to say last week because I didn't want to blog a book. But this is at least a mere sampling of things I get confused about.

------------------------------------------------------------

In other news, the semester is halfway over and it has been the 2nd simplest of my entire college career, 2nd only to my first semester as a freshman. Simple, not easy- there's a difference. It's been refreshing not to stress and be all, "I NEED AN A" like I used to. How annoying was that.
I still think A's are a nice little present. But not the be-all, end-all thank heaven

It's time to go stir up some spiderman mac & cheese. Since I was little, I've been convinced cartoon character shapes taste better. Did you know kraft mac & cheese was the first thing I ever learned to cook using the stove? I was so proud too. I mean, learning about toast was cool because it came out looking different than when I put it in- but anyone could push the toaster lever. Precocious George made toast at age 3. The mac & cheese was real cooking, as far as I was concerned. And it still is!

Some Finals Week Christmas Spirit

This Christmas, mend a quarrel.
Seek out a forgotten friend.
Dismiss suspicion and replace it with trust.
Write a letter.
Give a soft answer.
Encourage youth.
Manifest your loyalty in word and deed.
Keep a promise.
Forgo a grudge.
Forgive an enemy.
Apologize.
Try to understand.
Examine your demands on others.
Think first of someone else.
Be kind.
Be gentle.
Laugh a little more.
Express your gratitude.
Welcome a stranger.
Gladden the heart of a child.
Take pleasure in the beauty and wonder of the earth.
Speak your love and then speak it again.
Christmas is a celebration,
and there is no celebration that compares
with the realization of its true meaning
--with the sudden stirring of the heart
that has extended itself unselfishly in the things that matter most.
-Howard W. Hunter

I love everyone

I bought my plane ticket to go home for Christmas:

Friday, December 21, 2007
Delta Air Lines # 490
Salt Lake City International (SLC) to Philadelphia International (PHL)
Departure (SLC): December 21, 5:05 PM MST (evening)
Arrival (PHL): December 21, 11:17 PM EST (evening)
Seat request: 31F
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Delta Air Lines # 604
Philadelphia International (PHL) to Salt Lake City International (SLC)
Departure (PHL): January 6, 5:25 PM EST (evening)
Arrival (SLC): January 6, 8:25 PM MST (evening)
Seat request: 32F

I won't say how much $$ those were because in my opinion it was way too much. At least it's non-stop and I'm not flying on my birthday for the first time in 3 years! I get to start classes on my birthday instead, woohoo.

I am grateful for my roommates for taking care of me when I had a horrible rash today. They got me benadryl and hydrocortisone and Meagan rubbed it in good. And Monica made homemade chicken noodle soup plus homemade rolls and fed me. Oh wait, you guys are the only ones who read this pretty much. I guess I don't need to refer to you in 3rd person.

I am also grateful for my parents, especially my dad who always calls exactly when I need him to. I don't know how he knows but he gets my vibes all the way over there. I think it was hearing the Billy Joel song on the radio that did it this time- he heard it and thought of me playing it and picked up the phone.

And while I'm at it, I'm grateful for a certain boy (who I don't think reads this?) who is pretty dang good at making me happy.

I'd better stop before this takes a turn for the sappy. Wait—

Breaktime

First things first, since I'm link-crazy we'll start off with this. Faces...everywhere you look.

I now work Tuesdays and Thursdays for a total of 8 hours which is hardly anything at all but I was beginning to feel extremely lame never having worked in college. Number one reason I can handle my job? Two words: Free. Muffins.

Blogging feels a little bit redundant since I keep a journal on Microsoft Word and habitually [compulsively?] write in it every night. But there are differences, such as there are no URL links in my journal. And there will unlikely be anything very personal on the blog, unless I am in a sharing sort of mood.
Sharing is caring.
Unless you're an intravenous drug user...in which case sharing is daring.

I think I need to attend another byu stand-up show.

Wasting an Inordinate Amount of Time

I am in the habit of bopping from one computer lab to another on campus, whenever it crosses my mind that I need to Google something. This happens far too often. If I'm in the middle of class I begin tapping my foot impatiently, but then it ends up not being just my foot but my entire body...tapping...wanting to find the internet and Google the thing which has just been brought to my attention that I don't know everything about it that I would like to. This can be quite a challenge when sitting in my apartment and Comcast once again proves unreliable. This also happens far too often. If I overcame my compulsion to check on the weather almost hourly perhaps that wouldn't be such an issue.

I like to keep tabs on my pet peeves because that way if they're out in the open I can figure how to not let them bother me anymore. There's 4 or 5 I can think of right now, which I won't blog about lest I unintentionally cause offense. But one that I know won't because I've only heard some professors say it is...pronouncing words that begin with 'W' with a 'Hw' sound. Examples...'Hwheat', 'Hwheelbarrow', or 'Hwhy'. Hwhat? Maybe it's proper or something. People and their mysterious pronunciations.

In one of my classes I have discovered that there are three, one two three, guys that I have been on dates with and felt awkward about it later. Now I don't like to avoid people but we'll just say that's one class to which I arrive precisely as the bell rings, and not a moment earlier.

Holy Sabbath Day of Prayer

Once again it is the Day of Rest around these parts. I enjoy and look forward to Sundays, generally speaking. However, sometimes I wonder for how many people it is actually a day of rest. For most [*Mormon folk], it is a day of early morning meetings, worship, instruction, more meetings, choir rehearsals, visiting, cooking, socializing, baking, and for some, last-minute scrambling to finish homework and studying. When planned and finangled, a nap is thrown in- that must be the Resting. 

Today in Sacrament Meeting I had a delightfully irreverent time singing the closing hymn. No kidding- try and sing that without having thoughts of, as Monica put it, "Stepford Children." I was doubled over in laughter and singing at the exact same time- talk about multi-tasking. 

Have a super sabbath, and most of all remember you should always be polite and treat ev'rybody right and in ev'ry place be affable and kind. Hark!

I don't know if you knew this or not but...

Oh my gosh, I live in Utah. 

 In other news, despite living in the so-called desert (not dessert, because you don't want more) it is raining heavily and of course the windows are open and how am I expected to focus on schoolwork? 

I know I just posted a few hours ago. But this blog is new and shiny and exciting, not to mention there's not much to read, not even enough to leave you wanting more. For the sake of not being distracted any longer, I'll sign off right here.

The Day After Yesterday

I decided to re-begin a blog for the first time since last time.