Wednesday, October 21, 2009

My Own Brand of Crazy

Well, it is a pretty well-known fact that I am crazy. I just feel like I should share a (maybe a few) story about my own brand of crazy. Hopefully, by sharing, I'll be able to recognize it earlier and earlier.


My Fiddle
Once upon a time, I decided that my life's dream was to be able to play down-home fiddle. Devil went down to Georgia-style. Because it was my life's dream, it made sense that I should be able to play it by ear. Yup folks! By ear. How does one play the fiddle by ear, you might ask? Here is my easy, tested, 7-step plan!

Step one is to buy a fiddle online for an exorbitant amount of money. (check!)
Step two is purchasing a few hundred dollars' worth of fiddle music from ITunes while waiting for said fiddle to arrive (check!)
Step three is listen to fiddle music 24/7 while waiting for online-bought fiddle to arrive, allowing your brain to memorize the music and preparing your hands to play (check!)
Step four is pick up the fiddle and hope your brain has created the required muscle memory in your hands (not quite a check...)
Step five is repeat step four for a few weeks, while simultaneously trying (in vain) to hide your shame that said plan is not quite panning out (check!)
Step six is come to terms that it is entirely possible that playing the fiddle by ear is A LOT harder than it sounds (check!)
Step seven is list the fiddle on craigslist and ksl and eventually sell it to a [horrible but true stereotype] Asian family, who wants it for their 8-year old child--and wish you could return the hundreds of dollars worth of ITunes music (check!)


Heart Attacks...
Well, one day, I was having chest pains. I was absolutely convinced that it was a heart attack (calm down! Turns out it was pleurisy :) and I called my mom, frantic that I was dying (after I took a healthy dose of aspirin to thin the clot in my heart, of course!) She was trying to talk me down, but I was not having it. I was convinced I was having a heart attack, and was on my death bed (and also quite annoyed that my mom was not concerned that we were having our last EVER conversation) My mom finally, in a very triumphant voice and happy she had bested my retarded logic, told me that in the event of a heart attack, your extremities go numb.

This part is very important, and also absolutely true. At the very moment my mom told me about that symptom, MY HAND BEGAN TINGLING.

Yup, my own brand of crazy. :)

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Life, the Universe, and Everything


I think it is slightly entertaining that there is a politically correct word that people use to describe my Ethnicity. Ethnic is the go-to word when wanting to describe something from another culture. Ethnic music, ethnic food, ethnic dress. How much more vague can that phrase honestly be?

Ethnic, according to Merriam-Webster online means a group of people classified by a common background. Thus, ethnic music could mean anything from down-home country to the twangs of a didgeridoo.

Of course, there is another definition that Merriam-Webster gives for the word Ethnic --Heathen. Heathen is actually the first definition it gives. I think that it is ironic that the politically correct word most people use to describe people from another culture, first and foremost means heathen. Apparently, if you are a person of color, you must also be strange, uncivilized, and not Christian. It is politically correct, though, so no complaints, right? :)



I cannot type that word without imagining the father from A Christmas Story in my head "Fra-Geel-Lay" It must be Itallian! That line really makes me laugh.

I think that if I had to describe life with one word, Fragile would be pretty close to the top of my list of words. I feel like life is happy and fulfilling, but I also know it is so fragile.

It's easy to think of fragile as meaning on the verge of breaking, or easily broken, but I like to think of fragile more as something extremely precious. Something that, yes, is easily broken, but is also worth defending and protecting.

I don't remember where I was going with this anymore, but...

Life is good, and I'm a happy girl!

Sunday, October 4, 2009

Wild Horses

...I want to be like you.

Throwing caution to the wind
I'll run free, too.

I kind of love Natasha Bedingfield. Or at least this song :) It brings up the same feelings that Wide Open Spaces, by the Dixie Chicks does. Those songs speak to my soul and stir up all sorts of restless emotions. They make me want to uproot my entire life and start over somewhere new. Not necessarily because starting over is an option, but because the unknown is fascinating.

I feel like Americans are a restless, wandering people. We have always loved the anticipation and surprise of discovery; whether it is a new valley or a new planet. We like to be aware of our surroundings and thus be assured of our place in this Universe. From the earliest beginnings of Europeans on this continent, we have been curious about what is ahead, and eager to be the stewards of our destinies.

Wandering is a way to control our destinies. It is a way to open new doors of opportunity and move forward. I am realizing more and more that I am pretty firmly planted here in Orem, Utah. I like the known. I like the familiar. However, the more thought I put into it, the more I realize that staying rooted here just equals me closing doors on myself.

Sure, there are a lot of (really convincing) reasons to stay where I am, and not mess with the mix (the economy is comparably good here, I am close to my family, it is familiar, don't fix something that aint broke, and so on) But there are also a lot of really alluring options out there.

My Grandpa lives in a house that his grandfather built. He is the 3rd generation to live there, and the 4th also inhabits it now. My Grandpa's great-grandfather is buried in the same cemetary that he will one day be laid to rest in. I like that my family has a history there in the charming town of Malad, Idaho. I like that I have some sort of heritage there, but I am not sure that is what I want from my life.

When people trace the path that is my life, will it be a tiny circle, with me never venturing out of my comfort zone? Or will I take the plunge and do something different? Forge a trail far out into the unknown? Honestly, I am not sure right now the answer, but I know which I would prefer.