A survey and some crafting: a post in two (completely unrelated) parts {M Com Blog #8}

Part One:
One of the mandates for my M Com Blog is to create a survey for my readers to take.  I have many thoughts on taking surveys; but rather than fill this post with those thoughts, I decided to let the survey speak for itself.

Therefore, I hope you'll take it.  It will be entertaining! (Really, though.)
https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1hnPnki1vdcL5UxXeircq2svICQAIIMvoQDgH1F_1S2Y/viewform

Part two:
I decided I don't do enough cliche Mormon blogger things on this site; so, I think it is time I changed that.  Yes, my friends, I am going to share a craft with you!

It's not just any craft.  I am doing this properly.  Anyone who's attended a Mormon "homemaking/enrichment/relief society activity" knows that no craft arsenal is complete without one certain weapon.  On a scale from one to Mormon, *Sorry, had to slip another scale in somewhere ;)* this is right up there with funeral potatoes and family reunions.  I am talking--of course--about Mod-Podge!  For those unfamiliar with this sticky, white substance: it is an all-in-one glue, sealant, and finish.

I even purchased it at the local Hobby Lobby.  I told you I did this properly!

Mod-Podge has even become a verb. For example: Today I mod-podged. I woke up feeling artsy.  It happens sometimes.  Unlike the true artists out there, I can't produce on demand.  Songwriting, drawing, for me, it only happens when I'm having one of my "creative bursts." Thus, when the feeling comes on I go with it.

This morning I had elephants on my mind and a blank canvas sitting around.  Behold!

 +

=

There you have it: my Mod-Podge masterpiece.  I quite like it!
xoxo!

Stick a fork in me {M Com Blog #7}

A whole lot of something has been going around this month, and it’s not love.  Nope.  Senioritis.  It’s bad.  And it’s catching.  So for those of you who are wondering if you may have been infected, please refer to the following list.

How to know if you are suffering from Senioritis:

1. Skipping class always sounds like a good option.
2. Any semblance of motivation you’ve had the past 4 years is completely gone. 
3. All homework begun before the day it is due is considered timely. “Wait, you finished your assignment the night before it was due? I wish I was as motivated as you.” Actual sentiments.  No sarcasm intended.
4. Your email is being spammed by Cecil O. asking you to take a survey about your university experience.  Sorry Cec. Don’t feel like it.
5. You’ve ordered a cap and gown.
6. Statements such as, “we’re not having a midterm—your grade will be based on only the final,” from your professors don’t even phase you.  You find yourself shrugging and saying, “meh.” 
7. The words “I don’t care; I’m graduating,” have become a part of normal conversation.
8. After years of claiming to hate Provo, your feelings now are more ambivalent (like my own) or perhaps even nostalgic (I won’t ever get there.  Sorry Provo. There are some things I can’t gloss over.).
9. You’ve begun thinking about hairstyles that won’t look stupid under a graduation cap.
10. You’ve started a countdown until graduation (58 days baby!), only to remember you still have another whole term left after graduation ceremonies…and oh dear…it is going to be rough…about that…wish me luck!  

For the record, you all should all be grateful I am enrolled in M Com as it is the only thing that seems to be keeping this blog alive (as evidenced by my last 4 posts).  Maybe this next week I'll surprise myself and write multiple posts.  I wouldn't be too hopeful, however!

xoxo!

...because it's baby's birthday! {M Com Blog #6}

Today my little brother is turning 20, which makes today his GOLDEN birthday! Can I get a OOO RAH!  We are going to celebrate tonight, but in the meantime I thought I'd give him a little shout out on a blog he doesn't even read.  It's the thought that counts, right?

We didn't let him keep it..

(This isn't going to be sappy; don't worry. I don't do sappy--at least not when I have an audience.  A crowd brings out the sarcasm in me.)

Because he is leaving the teens behind, and is now the big 2-0, here are 20 incredibly fascinating facts about the birthday boy! Drum roll please....

1. His favorite Christmas song is Santa Baby (Yes, the Marilyn version.  He knows every word.)

2. I used to make him play "Ashley Dolls"(Bitty Baby Dolls) with me when he was little.  He must not have been a fan, because a few years back he started using my dolls as dart boards. Poor Ashley Doll now has holes in her face.

3. He is learning to become a pilot.  The kid can fly an airplane! AND in the next week or so, he will officially be licensed to do so.

4. He has a thing for legos.  Every birthday, Christmas, Easter, you-name-it, he wanted legos.  As you can tell by the picture below, he certainly got them!

5. He is really funny.  If dry humor is your thing (which it should be, since it's a higher form of humor only recognized by the intelligent), you should meet my brother.  You'll get along swimmingly.

6.  He is a skilled emoticon texter.  Check it!

7.  He can touch his nose with his tongue.

8. He has Bieber Fever.  I mean, he flew to London to hear Justin perform.  That, my friends, is dedication to the arts.

9.  If he ever gets laid off as a pilot, he has a future as an electrician  It is not uncommon to find him in ripping up carpet or outside with a ladder rewiring our house for video cameras, internet, etc.

10.  He knows a lot about Christmas lights. ;)

11.  He is one of the world's great orators. In the fourth grade he won a speech writing contest.

12.  Although he rarely cooks at school (let's be honest, neither do I), he is quite the chef.  In fact, he has the recipes for homemade macaroni and peanut butter rice krispies memorized.

13.  He's a good ramp builder! One time we went on a drive to Snow Basin and may have gone over a
12-inch drop-off in the road, and might have had to use a mile marker as a ramp.  Maybe.

14.  He loves huskies.  If anyone is wondering what to get him for his birthday, that would be my suggestion.

15.  He is left-handed.  Obama, Hellen Keller, and Richard Simmons are also lefty's.

16.  He makes a really cute elf.



17.  He found out Santa wasn't real before I did.  (I'm just really trusting, okay?)

18.  He has many nicknames: kimi, Divad the Great, Divad, viddy-vad, viddy, Baby Kunz, Baby, boy, Mr. D.

19.  He is scared of spiders.  He screams like a girl.

20.  I'm his favorite sibling. Fact.

There you have it.  Happy Birthday David!  

xoxo!

Paperback Writer {M Com Blog #5}

The book I just finished for my tourism class was a collection of vignettes.  Perhaps it inspired me, because the following is what I came up with for my post today.

 ^^^

Friday.  I don’t what it was, but my appearance must have stated “If you’ve never met me, please start a conversation with me.”  All day, it seemed, random people felt the need to speak to me. 

It started with “verbal hello kid” outside the SWKT.  Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday there is a boy who, rather than quietly smiling or nodding (like most people do) when we make eye contact as he leaves and I approach the SWKT, offers a robust “Hello!”  It always catches me off guard, as I don’t remember what he looks like.  It also seems I’m the only passerby he shouts hello at.  So instead of responding with a weirded-out “hi,” all I usually manage is a polite grimace.  Yesterday was no different.

After that brief exchange, I went into the break room on the main level of the SWKT to get something to drink from the vending machines.  I watched a girl with dark hair in a braid unsuccessfully try to procure a tuna-fish sandwich for her lunch. At the machine next to me a boy perused the frozen food offerings.  I turned my focus to the bottles of soda in front of me, and selected a flavor.

“Hey do you want to know why this day keeps getting better?”

After a pause in which no one answered, I turned around, aware that I must be the intended recipient for this remark.

“Hmmm?”  

The asker was standing with one leg up on a chair and his backpack open on the table while he fished for his wallet.  “Well, first I discover there are vending machines in this building,” he excitedly pointed out, temporarily halting his wallet search to grandly gesture about the room, ”and then I see they have DONUTS!” He triumphantly finished his search, and raised an arm in the air clutching his wallet. “Did you know that?“

Obviously, as I am in here buying a drink.  Instead, I just smiled and continued to converse awkwardly until the second the machine vended my drink, spit out my change, and I could make a beeline for the door.

Shaking my head over the encounter, I walked to the elevators and pushed the up arrow.

“Hi. What floor is the poli-sci department?”

Turning to the voice beside me I responded, “Um, I’m not sure… maybe 9?”  The elevator arrived and I got in.

“I’ll just go look…” he stole a glance at the directory.  “It’s on 7.” 

I then pushed both the buttons for floor 6 (my destination) and floor 7, silently responding to his murmured thanks with a nod.  After too long a pause to continue a conversation without it being awkward, the boy chose to lead with: “So what’s on the 6^th floor? Nursing?”

(This, my friends, is an example of gender-based stereotyping.  Knowing the SWKT is home to the nursing school, a giant banner fixed to the front of the building with the words “BYU—College of Nursing—60 years“ declares it so, and seeing that I was a girl, he automatically assumed I was a nurse.  See? Profiling.) 

“It’s the geography department,” I replied.

He responded the way most people do when I mention what I study.  A smile, a nod, a look feigning interest, and drawn out “ooooooh…” while their brains are silently scrambling for some type of intelligent response.  Geography.  Oh, she looks at rocks.  No, wait, that’s not it.  Maps. Bingo!  And then they usually blurt out something like, “So you must know where all the countries are!” 

I do appreciate the effort. I do. Yesterday, however, I was feeling especially kind or perhaps just didn’t want to admit that I occasionally confuse Lesotho with Swaziland (They are both enclaves in South Africa), but I stopped him mid-“ooooooh” and said, “I bet I’m the first geography major you’ve ever met.”  He then smiled, as the elevator doors dinged opened onto floor six, and started to say something that sounded like, “yep, but I really like the chalkboard you guys have!”

At which point I looked around for the chalkboard he was referring to, while simultaneously realizing I must have misheard him and my failure to respond to his expectant-looking face inside the elevator could be deemed rude.  But then the elevator doors shut and I was saved a response.

 ^^^

That’s all I have.  Thanks for reading.  I promise I won’t become a novelist and make you endure more elevator conversations.

xoxo! 

...because I am over the flu! {M Com Blog #4}

You know, being this clever isn’t easy.  It requires unusual cognitive abilities—abilities that, thanks to this weekend’s bout of the flu, I have misplaced.  Consequently, today I am instigating a new type of post on le blog: “Ooh-la-la: Lovely Things Found While Trolling the Internet.”

It is less taxing on the brain, and considering I have a test to study for and take today, I'm willing to do anything to preserve what little capabilities my brain has left.

From the depths of the interweb, may I present the following for you all to exclaim “ooh-la-la” over:

// This rug. "It's channeling the Navajo!"//

// I have been wanting this for ages. //

// This is genius.  Too bad it's only available in Japan. //

// Clever.  Fine print valentine stationary from this etsy shop. //

// Aren't these lovely? //

// I made these today! //

// Check out the video below, in which said scones play a starring role. (I was doing a test run of my new favorite app, Vine.  It’s like Instagram, but for movies.) //

xoxo!

The evolution of the chain letter {M Com Blog #3}

It began with the cavemen….

“Whoever visits this cave must paint a depiction of their last successful hunt and tell four other tribes to do the same thing, or else a shaman will drop down dead.” I mean, why else would there be some 900 equine figures in a single cave in France?

And you thought Lascaux was just another example of a Paleolithic sacred space….

Snail mail:  In the fourth grade I got a letter stating that it was the “longest continuous chain letter in the world” and had been going since 1958, so don’t break the chain….blah, blah, blah…Guinness World Record…blah, blah, blah…copy and send to 5 friends…blah, blah, blah…I was ten and, lacking proper judgment, thought it was cool and continued it.  I have not made a similar mistake since.

In case you were wondering:

“Guinness World Records does not accept any records relating to chain letters, sent by post or e-mail.  If you receive a letter or an e-mail which promises to publish the names of all those who send it on, it is not genuine.  Even if it states that Guinness World Records or the postal service are involved, we are not and no such attempt would be recognised as a world record.”

 -Guinness World Records FAQ

Email:  Who doesn’t remember the oh-so-convincing message claiming that after forwarding said message to 10 people and pressing f2, something really cool would happen? Most often accompanied by a testimonial (e.g., “I didn’t really think this would work, but I swear it does!!!!”). Alternate varieties include: death threats or promises of true love.

Facebook: The culprit is always some random person you knew from high school that posts a status with a depressing story trying to guilt trip you into continuing the trend.  It usually goes something like this: 9 out of 10 people who read this status will ignore it, but if you truly care about (insert unfortunate subgroup of the population here) you’ll repost this as your status…(here follows a tragic story about said subgroup).

Now, it has hit instagram.  People, please stop ruining my favorite form of social media.   No more tagging people in the “fun” 5 random things post.  I really don’t care if you wet your pants in the 11^th grade (The event described is fictitious. Any similarity to any person living or dead is merely coincidental).  If I wanted to hear awkward confessions, I’d join a support group.  Don’t you know that instagram is for taking pictures of what you ate and of your shoes?* Duh.  Get with the program.  

 *Have you seen this? If not, please watch and laugh hysterically.   

To conclude, in case you can't tell from this rant blog post, I am not a fan of chain mail, forwards, and the like.  My advanced apologies to the instagram community for depriving them of 5 random facts about myself. 

xoxo!

...because of heated seats {M Com Blog #2}

^^^People of the internet (lest ye be deceived), I don’t actually hate winter.  It provides many recreational activities I enjoy: skiing, snowshoeing, sledding, seeing dumb girls in Uggs—their supposedly snow-appropriate footwear—fall all over campus.  Plus, what is more beautiful than flocked trees in winter? Nothing.  I also enjoy fireplaces and hot chocolate. (Cue end of tangent.)^^^

Utah has this thing called winter.  And despite 17 years of peaceful coexistence between winter and myself, our relationship, as of late, is looking a little rocky.  Winter has turned cold, and I’m not okay with it.

 There is, however, one saving grace in our relationship: heated seats.

I love them.  Winter isn’t official until you use your heated seats.  Now, not all seat heaters are created equal.  My mom’s car, for example, has separate heat controls for the bottom of the seat vs. the back, three heat levels, but no heaters in the back row (lame!).  My dad’s car has heated seats in the back (bonus!), but for some reason the back seats only have 2 heat levels while the front and passenger seats get 3.  My brother’s car has 5 varying levels of heat.

My car?  The fact that it even has heated seats is a wonder.  I mean, who puts a winter package on a convertible?  (Apparently, grandpa does.)

Anyway, when it comes to all other aspects of winter drivability, my car is found lacking.  Convertibles just aren’t winter cars. 

Story: Once upon a time my car got stuck in the middle of a parking lot on the way to church.  The parking lot had a row of cars on each side and a single lane through the middle.  In the center of said lane were frozen tire ruts where the back wheels of my car decided to get stuck.  We had to get out and push. It had snowed that morning, and the iced-over parking lot had a skiff of snow on top making it extra slick. Oh, and we were in heels.  Extra slippy lot + heels = total joke.  Luckily two Tongans showed up and helped us out.

Another story: The first storm of this season brought about 6 inches of snow to Provo.  I went out that morning to where I had parked and spent several minutes clearing my car and numbing my hands, only to notice the big wall of snow from the plow that my car would never get through.   I got to walk to the corner grocery store instead.

Point: My car doesn’t do snow.  Thankfully, I have a parking spot in the garage this semester.

Now, there are perks to driving a convertible.  I can park in tight spots, it’s an automatic self-esteem boost (everyone I drive past checks me out…I know it’s the car, but I can pretend), and I drive it for free!  I happily mooch off my parents’ generosity.  But as discussed, snow is its kryptonite.

So little red, thank you for at least having heated seats.  I think I can handle the freezing temps, nasty inversions, and inexperienced winter drivers as long as my rump stays roasted.  

It’s the little luxuries, right?

xoxo!

Pennies for Thoughts {M Com Blog #1}

Just because I now have ample amounts of time to complete my homework, doesn't mean I am more motivated to do so.  I am supposed to be writing an explanation to convince people why "my major," Recreation Management, isn't just fun, but "fun and important."  My thoughts on this assignment are as follows:

A.  I am not a Rec Management major.
B.  This past week we have discussed the value of leisure and why having fun is important.  Consequently, I find myself inclined to make a practical study of this. Presently, my homework interferes with said study.
C.  This post is an assignment for my M Com class; therefore, I am not actually shirking homework.
D.  Every time I have tried to be diligent and focus on careers in Recreation, my brain has decided it would rather contemplate the merits of medical school.

Why would I think about that?


To quote my dear friend Eric: "I have 6 theories!" (Well, 4, actually.)

Theory 1: My recent obsession with re-watching the early seasons of Grey's Anatomy is to blame. (This is the most-likely theory.)

Theory 2: Perhaps, my subconscious is anxious about graduating and entering the real world and has decided that several additional years of schooling sound nice.

Theory 3: After watching last night's episode of the Bachelor and seeing what becomes of girls whose occupations are uncomfortably similar to where a tourism major could end up (i.e. professional organizer, jumbotron operator), my inner psyche is rebelling.  "No!" It screams, "I shant end up catty, brainless, and loveless, resorting to competing on reality tv for a quote-on-quote prince charming to fill the apparent void that exists in my life due to lack of fulfillment in other areas such as a career or positive contribution to the world!"

Theory 4:  All other tasks falling under the category of "constructive avoidance" (i.e. dishes, laundry, list-making) are complete, and contemplating hypothetical careers is the next-best avoidance tactic I could come up with.

In summation, I have nothing noteworthy to blog about today.  My apologies.
xoxo!