Saturday, November 15, 2014

This Isn't What I Went To School For... Or Is It?

Hello, world. I know there’s this something that my heart is telling me I should write – if for no one else, then for my own benefit. I’m gonna try to pen it all out on here, but I’m really not sure how to start, so bear with me. Loads of it may not be very coherent, or even correct, and it may turn out to be just a whole bunch of rambles. It may also turn out to be kind of long. But it’s all stuff that I’ve been meaning to record for a long time, and perhaps there will be some small nugget in here that may be helpful to you. Here goes nothin’:


THE IRON ROD

I and other members of my faith love to read this book called The Book of Mormon. In it, we read about a certain “rod of iron” that a man named Lehi has a really vivid and even life-changing dream about. Since The Book of Mormon is a non-fiction book about events that did actually occur, Lehi was a real person. Lived approximately 600 years before Jesus Christ was born in the little Palestinian town of Bethlehem. Lehi was a prophet of God as well as a faithful husband to his wife and a loving father to his children.

Colloquially, we “Mormons” (members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints) call the “rod of iron” the “iron rod.” We even have a great hymn about it in our hymnal from which we sing at church on Sundays. (Hymn #274, actually. Ooo la la.)

Hold to the rod, the iron rod; ‘tis strong, and bright, and true.
The iron rod is the word of God; ‘twill safely guide us through.

That’s what the chorus lyrics are. If you’re reading this and you’re not familiar with what the iron rod is, or what it symbolizes (ah! you see? I just gave you a clue as to what it is: it’s symbolic of something deep and important!), then I encourage you to read about it from the very best source, which is – yes, I’ve already told you a couple of paragraphs ago – The Book of Mormon!

One way to look at the iron rod, is seeing it as a way of life that’s dedicated to trusting in God and following Christ’s teachings and example of how to live, and faithfully and prayerfully living accordingly. (That may have been a weirdly-written sentence, but … well … oh well; it is what it is.) And what that way of life leads to, if the best of efforts are put into accomplishing that way of life, is the greatest of all gifts – the greatest of all prizes to be won – by any person. (Again, read more about it here.)


OH, YA KNOW – JUST LIVIN’ THE DREAM…

These days, here in the middle of my mortality, in this current chapter in my book of life, I feel like my life is pretty charmed. You know how sometimes you ask your friend as you’re greeting them, “Hey! How are you!?” and they reply, “Oh, ya know – just livin’ the dream…” Common answer, right? People in America say that phrase all the time. It’s a verbal cliché of casualness that people use when they are feeling too lazy to answer “how are you” with any intricateness whatsoever.

But I just want you all to know, that if you ask me how I’m doing nowadays, and I answer you gustoically with “Livin’ the dream!” … just know that I truthfully, earnestly mean it! Sure, there are things going on in my life that aren’t exactly what I’d like for them to be, and I absolutely do have my tough times and rough days to deal with… But all in all? Life is so good. Aside from the oftentimes-difficult challenges that pop up like startling jack-in-the-box clowns……


……there are so many other things that are so good. I love my job; I love interacting daily with the wonderful people whom I get to call my friends and family; I love serving in my church and community in the ways I do; I love the country that I call home; I love the hobbies that I practice……

And here’s what I attribute much of it to: education.


EDU-MA-CATION

Lots of people go to college. I am among those lots. I had the pleasure of attending Brigham Young University – Idaho and receiving a Bachelor’s degree from there.

When I was a fresh new 18-year-old freshman, I knew exactly what I wanted to be when I grew up. Oodles of the rest of the student body didn’t. I felt lucky, and felt like I was totally ready and equipped to gun for my degree and git ‘er done.

But that’s how I felt for only the first week of school or so. I was sitting in one of my classes one morning – one of those introductory class sessions where they go over the projected schedule for the semester – and some goofy thought seized my thinking cap. I think I need to change majors. This isn’t for me. I don’t know why, but this isn’t for me, I thought.

Back in high school, I really loved the studies that my original college major entailed (the major that I just mentioned that I had abandoned). Like, it was my passion. But fast-forwarding to that day when I decided to abruptly change my major, I remembered that, in high school, I was also really passionate about writing and editing. I had been a writer and lead copy editor for our school’s multiple-time award-winning yearbook. The written word had always been one of my greatest loves. And so to further my work in that field collegiately? Awesome. Let’s go for it! I said.


MAJORS, MINORS, TRA-LA-LA

I still had a special place in my heart for my original major (music), so I couldn’t bag that eternally. It still meant a lot to me. And so I made it my minor. Intensely important choice I made, that was. You’ll see why later in this post.

Zooming through my four years at my university, I’ll just tell you that, yes, I did fill my Communication-major journey with Titanic-loads of writing, editing, event planning, advertising, and radio and television broadcast experience, both academic and professional in nature. I felt like I had become as seasoned of a communications guru as a fresh-off-the-grill college grad could possibly be.

I finished my degree off with a big bang, by successfully completing an absolutely fabulous internship in Washington, D.C., practically on Pennsylvania Avenue. Did tons of public affairs work that involved foreign Ambassadors to the United States. Did tons of correspondence writing that I perceived to terribly nifty and exciting. What an internship. What a summer.

Right after those Back East months, I knew I wanted to keep writing. It was too much fun. I landed several interviews to be a writer/editor for different magazines and newspapers. My notion with each interview was that I had a pretty decent chance of landing the job……


JOB HUNTING = BARF

Never happened, though. Never landed my “dream job.” Not for several months. Kept shooting for it to happen. Kept getting interviews, but was never chosen. I think it had a bit to do with the nation’s overall economy. I think that year was perhaps the USA’s worst year in its latest economic downturn. Yeah, there were tons of kids getting degrees, but the jobs seemed to be fewer. Too much demand, too little supply, in the job sense.

Ladies and gentlemen, these “job hunting” months were possibly the darkest of all my Alisonian time periods. I’ve had plenty of sad stuff occur in my life, but I was always able to find comfort in those trials. This time was somehow very different, and for some weird reason, a lot harder to feel solace in. This time, it was an especially prolonged trial that felt more like I was exhaustedly treading water in a deep well, rather than healing up from a cut in my emotional skin, on which I could apply ointment and receive some relief.

This time? Just downright stinky. Bummeriffic. I’ve never had to undergo long-term depression, never had to take medicine for it. But at this time? I thought, I wonder if this is kind of what depression feels like. With every interview I had, I became bluer and bluer, and I know that it showed in my eyes, face, and mannerisms. The interviewers could see it. I’d go sob in my car sometimes, after an interview.


PLEASANTLY SURPRISING TURN FOR THE BETTER

And then I applied for one more job. Different from everything else I had previously sought after, I noticed an opening for a technical writer, and I thought, I don’t think I know anything about technical writing, but hey! I’m good at many different writing styles, so how hard could technical writing be?

Applied. Interviewed. Nailed it. They wanted me. I said “great!” Didn’t know what I was getting myself into. But it was the happiest day I had had in a long, long time.

It was originally supposed to be only a three-month gig. They thought they’d hire someone on for just a tiny bit, because once the project they needed done was done, they wouldn’t need the person anymore. I knew about that, going into the interview, and perhaps the knowledge of the temporariness should have been a big turn-off, but some little bird prompted me to get interviewed anyway, and accept the job if they offered it.

And they did offer it! (Oh, I think I already said that. Hehe.) And you know what? What ended up happening is them creating a permanent spot for me. They liked me well enough to do that. They wanted to keep me. It was awesome. Over the span of 4.5 years, I learned so much about science and business and exporting (no, I did not take a drug cartel job) than I ever thought I would ever know about.

Other things too: I memorized all the different types of Vitamin B. I learned how to handle an FDA (Food & Drug Administration) audit. I learned how to train fellow employees on Good Manufacturing Practices (GMP). I learned what it means to build good relationships with clients and help them accomplish their business goals. I built great relationships and friendships with people I worked with. I learned how a corporation works, how a warehouse works, how chemistry and microbiology laboratories smell and work, how a plethora of various factory machineries work. Oh my rad. It all rocked. Sometimes I even got to do what I used to love to do in college: event planning! Planned the company Christmas parties! Once even had a handsome Mormon celebrity’s phone number stored in my phone, because I had invited him and his comedy team be the entertainment for the shindiggity-dig…… (**COUGH**CurtDoussett**COUGH**)

What a pleasantly surprising turn for the better. There was such a massive contrast between what those long-ago darksome months of job hunting were, and what those 4.5 years of being a budding businesswoman were. Even though it was never my plan, back in college, to be a businesswoman in that particular realm, I believe it was what I was prepared to do and meant to do. I know God’s hand was all over that.


WHAT CAME NEXT

And then, out of the blue, I got a phone call from the Human Resource Department of my current workplace. Now it was they who wanted me to work for them. It felt like the right time in my life for a change, for another wonderful opportunity to grow myself as a professional and as a person. I took them up on the offer, and a year or two later, here I am.

It’s seriously a dream job that I have now. Again, it wasn’t what I thought would be my dream job, back in high school and college. It wasn’t “music teacher.” It wasn’t “big-time magazine editor.” It wasn’t anything that had even crossed my mind, let alone ever conceptualized in my mind.

But I think it’s what God knew would be my dream job. I think He knew it all along.


DIDN’T GO ACCORDING TO PLAN, BUT IT’S FAR BETTER THAT WAY

And so here I sit, on a sweet Saturday afternoon, gazing out the window at the year’s first snowfall on the ground, contemplating and writing about all that’s good in my life right now, and the bumpy, twisty, turny, sometimes-turbulent road that got me here. I’m thinking a lot about college – a lot about how some of the specific types of work I did in college aren’t anywhere near being ridiculously similar to the types of work I’m doing nowadays. And by that, I mean I’m not writing and editing for publications, and I don’t regularly plan fancy parties and seminars (though I do get to help do that every now and then – oh fer yay!).

But the works I’m doing now are what God knew, from the very beginning, were going to someday be my dream works. (Bahaha! No “DreamWorks” animation studios pun intended!) I’ve lately been noticing how many, many times His hand has been guiding me through my days and life chapters.

-- He led me to learn piano when I was tiny, and to keep working at it. I’d srrrrsly need that initial musical foundation later, like srsly

-- He led me through junior high and high school, years during which I solidly learned that music was my passion (alto sax and choir, baby!)

-- He led me to be on the yearbook staff

-- He led me to my university, helped me with all my responsibilities there, and encouraged me to try new neat things that would help me grow and learn wisdom

-- He led me to D.C.

-- He led me through the awful job hunting quagmires, until He helped me land that splendid sciency, businessy job that I at first thought was totally not up my alley, but it totally was

-- He led me to live in that one terrific town I lived in, and make terrific friends there


-- He led me to move to the next terrific town, and make even more terrific friends there

-- He led me to try out for the Mormon Tabernacle Choir (MoTab). I made it in on my first try, on what at first seemed like a whim, but the longer I ponder it, the more I soundly understand that I was meant to be there all my life. Heavenly Father knows what he’s doing with me

-- He led me to the right people. In my MoTab “night job” I have some flipping-good “besties.” In my professional day job, I have more besties. They are circles of incredible folks who are just what the doctor ordered for me; meaning, I feel like my happiest self when I’m with them. Not only them, but my family too. Again, Heavenly Father knows! And it is my firm belief that He has led you – or will lead you – to the very best people for you, because of your faith





NOT ALL ROADS ARE THE SAME

Not everyone has the same road and life as me. Some people’s roads don’t include college. Some people’s roads do include college, but they are those whose careers do have a lot to do with the specific studies they studied in their classes, practicums, internships, externships, apprenticeships, residencies, la la la.

Some people know what they want to be when they grow up, and they will be that, no questions asked. Some people will change their minds quite a few times, concerning what occupation they want to stick with.

Some people are married now, while others, including myself, are still “working on it” ;)

Some people feel like Little Miss Rapunzel here:



FEELING COMPLETE FOR THE TIME-BEING

I want to let you know that, although I feel like I’m totally “livin’ the dream” right now, I know that my story is not yet finished. I’m not done yet. Have not yet gained all that God has in store for me. He’s led my paths according to His plan so far, and we’ve still got a-ways to go.

So often we want to know everything right now, have everything right now, and to have reached our full potential by right now. Sometimes we forget that a big awesome afghan requires the slow process of crocheting. Each of us is an afghan in the making. We’re not done yet, but we’re looking pretty nice and doing really well so far.

Last summer, a few friends and I were driving home from California. One guy, three gals: Christian, Kerstin, Emily, and me. Christian and Kerstin were sleeping in the back seats, while Em and I had a heart-to-heart life chat. I started saying that my life was a jigsaw puzzle that was in the process of becoming completed. I worded a statement something like: I’m not complete yet. I’m still missing some things. I have not yet accomplished all that I’m supposed to do.

But then she said that she did feel complete. She felt as complete as she could be at that moment in time. Her expressed feelings helped me realize that, although my Alisonian afghan is not yet fully finished, what I am at-present-moment is as complete as it presently should be, that God is in charge of the handiwork, and that He’s making something lovely out of me and taking really good care of me. He’s doing that for each person who will let Him work His wonders on his or her heart, in his or her life.


REMEMBER THAT IRON ROD?

To conclude, I would like for our attentions to jump backwards to when I wrote about the “rod of iron” mentioned in the scriptures.

To me, it seems that part of the definition of what it means to hold fast to the iron rod, alongside feasting upon the “word of God” and keeping Jesus Christ’s commandments, is simply letting the Lord lead you. But instead of the scenario being like this:

Alright, my child, here’s a blindfold for you to put on. Put it on, and I will lead you along.

Rather, I think it’s more like this:

Alright, my child, want to be a team? We can work together. I know what the prize is, and because I love you, I want to help you win it. Sometimes it won’t be easy, and there will be obstacles that will appear on your path, and so you will want to keep your eyes open and watch out for those things. I know your road from beginning to end, like the back of my hand, and so I know how to help you walk it. I would love to help you. Let’s be a team.

And so, in order to let the Lord lead you, your eyes must be open, as well as your ears and heart, so you can listen to His voice through the Holy Ghost’s voice. It will take effort on your part, as it takes effort on my part.


LIVIN’ THE DREAM, ALL THE TIME

God, who is our loving Heavenly Father, will lead us along the iron rod, as we make our way towards everlasting joy. He leads us along, little by little, to be able to taste joy now, too. Future unspeakable joy is in store for us, but some pretty excellent joy can be ours now as we journey on to the ultimate prize.

I know that God is helping me to “live the dream” now, but I now realize that He’s been doing that all my life. There have been so many dreamy and precious eras in my life that I have loved. That was “livin’ the dream.” There will be many more such eras, I am sure. That will be “livin’ the dream” too.

But when we have finished our course here on earth, fought the good fight, and done our very best to trust in God and follow Christ’s example…… Our reward? That will be really “livin’ the dream”!


**This has been an extremely long rambling session by Alison Barton. She did not expect you to read the entire thing. If you did, awesome. Thank you. If you did not, totally understandable. She commends you for reading even just a fragment of it. Writing this was mainly for her own benefit. Have a glorious day. Love you.**

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

Rocky Road

When two people mutually experience difficulties in dating each other, what they have is often described as a “rocky relationship.”

Not uncommonly, when someone is having a rough time in life, is the “rough time” referred to as a “rocky road.”

Speaking of “rocky road,” that phrase has always toted a negative connotation in my mind, because I’m allergic to that kind of ice cream. Bummer, right?

Rocks. Oftentimes they are bulky, heavy stumbling blocks that can inflict big-time pain if you trip on them or if they get thrown at you. But just a few months ago, rocks presented themselves to me in a totally different light.

I was climbing back down from the highest peak of my neighborhood’s mountain range. Mount Nebo is what it was. If the ocean was right next door, the tippy-top would tower 12,000 feet above it.

As a poor attempt to paint you a word picture, I will tell you that it was indeed beautiful, with oodles of trees everywhere. Evergreens. Aspens...

"You can tell it's an aspen......"

There were birds...

Bugs...



And a doe-a-deer-a-female-deer!


It was dusty in parts, flowery in parts, and really steep in a lot of parts. There also were no visible water sources, and so you had to be super prepped with plenty of packed water of your own. I had my trusty CamelBak bladder (hmm… that sounds pretty attractive, eh?).

About halfway into the hike, one begins to laboriously transport his or her already-tired little body up a lengthy slope that I swear is practically perfectly perpendicular to the relatively level grade that was just barely walked upon. Although you’ve heretofore been ascending since step 1 of your Nebo journey, this is where the true ascension begins…

HERE is where “quadriceps + respiratory system = kindred spirits joined together in bravely taking on cruel, cruel gravity + treacherous geometric angles in nature.”

HERE is where you’re beginning to notice that there are significantly fewer trees the farther and farther you go, and you’re closing in on the timberline where foliage ends and the rocks commence.

Yes, I’m back to the rocks again. I’m about to really start inching towards the actual point of my entire tale – yay!

GETTING TO THE POINT
In the process of conquering Nebo, just before one can almost taste the peak (ew, but don’t actually ever do that), one undertakes a serious scaling session up some seriously jagged rocks. (Like, srsly.) The strategizing surrounding one’s rock climbing endeavors sometimes can feel taxing. But in reality, it’s this rocky path that is the best and easiest way to reach the glorious end goal.

And then, there you are. With your friends, and with a view that is très magnifique. What a wonderful time period, here at the summit! You sit down together on the hard ground, chat together, laugh together, take fun photos, and scarf down your bananas and club crackers, which, at that moment, you swear are the absolute most delectable things that have ever graced your buds.



And then it’s time to start thinking about going home. And the only way home is.........back down the rocks.

It’s a whole new ballgame, wholly different from how it felt to scamper UPwards. DOWNwards was downright interesting. And no, it’s not like I’d never hiked before. I’ve been known to trek among the flora, fauna, and geology in my day! But it was this particular Nebolistic descent in my life that provided me with a thought-provoking and heart-penetrating spiritual experience that I’m sure I’ll never forget – one that causes me to believe that I know precisely why God created rocks in the first place.

THE POINT
It was the latter half of the hike, and my friends and I had approximately two miles left. We were doused in dirt. Our feet hurt. We had gotten over our passionate love for nibbling upon crackers, and were in the opening stages of realizing that our bellies were ready for something real.

We were meandering our way down a doozy of a hill. Impacted rocks spotted the trail everywhere – rocks that, if I remember correctly, were valued to be more towards the “nuisance” side of the pH Scale of Annoyance than the “oh pleeeez do come in and make yourself at home” side of it.

But now that we were descending the slopes of the Nebo, the rocks that were once on the brink of problematication were now somehow suddenly transformed into things of beautiful helpfulness. They were basically the core reason none of us slipped and slid anytime during this portion of the expedition. For a while I think I had been subconsciously thinking, Wow, I’m sure glad these rocks are here for our safe footing purposes! But then it dawned on me just how rockin’ly useful they now were, and it immediately made me think of a classically terrific verse in the Book of Mormon, which I consider to be a true book of holy scripture:

“And now, my sons, remember, remember that it is upon the rock of our Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God, that ye must build your foundation; that when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo, because of the rock upon which ye are built, which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall.” (Helaman 5:12)



It was because of the rocks on my path that I wasn’t “dragged down” by whatever elements in the universe are responsible for causing people to topple while hiking. I’m so glad I was eventually able to view the rocks this way; it took several miles of Nebo road, but that’s very much alright.

ROCK AND REDEEMER
What I learned that day from the rocks reminded me a lot of my Savior, King, Brother, and Friend, Jesus Christ, the Son of the Living God. Jesus is the “rock” and the “Redeemer” referred to in the literary excerpt I just shared. He is who I know I count on whenever I need help getting safe footing while on the mountains of my mortality – and that’s pretty much all the time! He is every beautifully helpful rock wedged into the ground, for the sole purpose of aiding His Father’s children in their challenging journey back home to heaven – meaning, He is not only there for me, but for everyone who will choose to use the amazing gift that He Himself is. He is love. I’m so thankful for Him, as well as for Him who is both His Father, my Father, and your Father: God, our Heavenly Father.

Monday, September 22, 2014

Rethinking Failure: What the President of Pixar Taught Me

Ever since I snatched a once-in-a-lifetime chance to go listen to Ed Catmull speak, right in my very own workplace, I've never thought about failure the same way again. (Dr. Edwin Catmull is the President of Pixar Animation Studios, and—get this—he's a member of my faith! I hadn't ever known that! Pretty sweet, eh? Yeah, eh!) … Not because he's a "failure" (gosh no), but because his perception of "failure" is one that had never previously entered my skull.


It's not that Ed's view of failure isn't popular; I think it's just that his view naturally may not be considered very often, due to the intrinsic negative feel that failure possesses.

To most—if not all—of us, failing hurts. It hurts no matter which road we took to achieve the failure:

- It hurt when we knew full-well that we were being lazy slackers, and thus the result we produced was soooo far away from being up to par. Surely we were "asking for it," but somehow it still felt like blows to the head and gut.

- It hurt when we were in a perpetual pit of not "getting it," and we kept on not understanding and not understanding, and not succeeding and not succeeding, and all we wished to be able to do was rise above.


- It hurt when we were sure we were doing everything right, and then we stumbled backwards in surprise when we found out we were mistaken or incorrect.


- It hurt when we didn't know what the outcome would be, but we kept our hopes up and goals visible as we put our most brilliant and excellent foot forward, but then our fate turned out to be not what we wanted.


Ed emphasized the history of all of us who had ever been pupils in a school. He noted that we were all thoroughly taught the following:


- "A" = Excellent

- "B" = Above Average
- "C" = Average
- "D" = Below Average
- "F" = Failing

And lots of times, a "D" was pretty much the same as an "F." 


If I know you as well as I think I do, D's and F's were probably just as disgusting to you as they were to me. Those were hideous letters on the essays, worksheets, and report cards. They were scars that you wanted to keep hidden. They were a dreadful plague if they slithered their way into your life. Bad. Bad. Bad.


Ed said that this disdainful attitude towards failure is a stowaway on the personal ship into the seas of adulthood. It's an attitude that we've been toting along with us ever since our school days. We've been trained to make failing not our favorite. (Yes, I'm kind of alluding to "Elf" here ;)




Now that we're older, failing is still not our favorite. (In fact, it probably won't ever be our most favorite.) It perhaps may always sting a little bit. But what if we made an effort to stop frowning upon failure as harshly as we maybe do? What if we began to continually make an effort to stop frowning upon ourselves as harshly as we maybe do, whenever we make a mistake or don't win?


THIS, my friends, is the point I loved the most in Ed's presentation. The part where he basically called us audience members to action. He urged us to stop hanging negativity over our own heads whenever we come up short, and he also challenged us to similarly stop condemning others whenever they come up short.


Ed spoke of forgiveness. He spoke of sincere respect for others. He spoke of the importance of creating and maintaining something like unto a safe haven, where people can come together and share ideas with each other, without the fear of being deemed absolutely "doof" in case an idea ends up being not the greatest.


(Again, these aren't Ed's exact words, but it's what I learned from him, in my own words.)


I think this can translate into our social relationships with others. I'm challenging myself to continue striving to be a person who is a "safe haven" in the following senses:


- That I may be a person whom someone else can trust with earnest thoughts and ideas that they may wish to share with me


- That I may believe in others whenever it's their heartfelt desire to become better people than they were before; that I may be able to build others up rather than tear them down, whenever they make honest mistakes (for I am a mistake maker too)


- That I may be a "safe haven" sanctuary for my own self; that I may not be an enemy to myself whenever I mess up


One more point of Ed's that I really liked: the road to success is very often paved with mistakes. Or, for a better visual: the road to success ohhh so often is adorned from start-to-finish with potholes.




A parting story for you: Ed told the tale of how the beloved film Up came to be. Up has a looooooo-oooo-oooo-onnng history of "failure" storylines that apparently were simply not good.


Originally, Up was supposed to be about a king who had two sons who were each other's arch nemeses, and the castle they lived in floated in the air......... And for some strange reason there was this one colorful bird......... And then it was decided that that story was pretty dumb.


And so the filmmakers wrote another story, and then another one, then another one, another one, and another....... And the ONLY two elements that remained throughout the entire grueling process of coming up with the perfect story were 1) the bird, and 2) the word "up."




Just as the process of making an exceptional cinematic masterpiece is laden with mistakes along the path, so is life, and so is our journey towards becoming our ultimate best selves.


I am humbly thankful that I got to attend Dr. Catmull's presentation. He's a remarkable human being.


EPILOGUE:

Also, did you know that Pixar has its own "Father, Son, and Holy Ghost"? Ed is the "Father," John Lasseter is the "Son," and the "Holy Ghost" is ... Steve Jobs. Yup. I didn't make that up; it was Brad Bird.

Monday, September 8, 2014

My First Date

{So I guess my blog is purple now. No turning back now. I guess we're all gonna have to just deal with it :) I'm also giving the "center-justified" look a try. I've seen it done on a couple of other friends' blogs, and I'll see if I even like it. If not, then it's back to left-justified for moi!}

Now on to STORYTIME!

The story of my first date ever surprisingly has not yet been recorded, and so I thought this would be a grand opportunity. Here goes nothin':

Once upon a time, in a faraway land about a half-thousand miles yonder, there lived a tall, gangly, bashful brunette who had just turned 16. The culture in which she was reared taught that the dating world is best entered when a person has reached the age of 16.

In retrospect, this brunette gal of the NOW remembers her past self feeling pretty anxious and possibly even squeamish about going on her first date. Ohhh but just you wait, 'enry 'iggins! The tale is just a'beginnin'!

Probably only like three days after her sixteenth birthday, she's chillin' like her favorite villain in the den of the house: a bright, windowy, sunshiny room with happy sunflower wallpaper. No telling what she was doing in there. Surely she wasn't up to no good... Maybe... We'll just say she was being studious with her schoolwork. It was the den, after all...

She heard the telephone ring down the hall, in the kitchen. Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrinnnng! Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrinnnng!

Boys and girls, this telephone was CORDED. It was likely believed, at that time in history, that the only CELLPHONE that was currently in use by any human was Jerry Seinfeld with his cellphone on his sitcom. (Didn't he have that dinosaur cellphone with the foot-long antenna?) Anyway, this corded telephone was hunter green in color, and is still in perfectly good operation. I used it about a month ago. Mint condition. I seriously doubt you'd be able to give similar props to a fancy-pants iPhone in 20+ years from this moment; in fact, I'm sure the iPhone will have decomposed into dust long before then. (And it came to pass that I still do indeed own an iPhone.)

Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrinnnng! Remember how that is what the hunter green phone said? Mom picked it up in the kitchen down the hall. 16-year-old brunette gal could faintly hear her start to speak to whoever was on the other end of the line.

About 15 seconds passed...

"Alison! It's for you!" Mom was now standing in the sunflower room doorway. And then, beaming, she said in a thrilled yet slightly-less-exclamatory tone (lest she be overheard through the technology): "I think it's a boy who wants to ask you out on a date."

HASHTAG: HEARTRISESUPINTOTHROATANDTHUMPSUNCONTROLLABLY

Who could it be? Good gracious, who was this man?

Butterflies fluttered by every known organ in my body. But I couldn't not answer the call! Had to see who this boy was!

"Hello? ... Hello! How are you? ... Friday? Yes, that should be fine! ... Thank you! See you then! Bye!"

{Exclamation point after virtually almost every sentence I spake during that conversation. Why? BECAUSE I ALREADY HAD THE HUMONGOUSEST CRUSH ON HIM.}

His name shall not be named here, publicly, but what can be divulged is that his first name starts with a consonant, from the latter-half of the alphabet. Remember how on the final showdown round of Wheel of Fortune, that the letters that are automatically given to you are "R S T L N E"? (Reminiscent of the Goosebumps series' author R.L. Stine.) Well, the letter I have in mind is one of those, but it definitely is not E, since that, my friends, is what we call a vowel.

This young man, who had just asked young brunette gal on her first date ever, was on the yearbook staff with her. This guy and girl built beautiful, multiple-time award-winning yearbooks together. Romantic, that is? Yes, that is.

He had obviously awaited with eagerness Alison's long-overdue sixteenth birthday (yeah, let's just call her "Alison" now, instead of "brunette gal," because "brunette" and "gal" have already been established); it was not coincidence that he called her far less than 100 hours following the arrival of her age of eligibility. He knew the birthday was gonna happen. He and his dapper handsomeness were lurking in the dark corner, very much looking forward to the time he could ... um ... pounce?

So that Friday evening came around. No one remembers exactly what either party of the date was wearing. We know that there were shoes, probably jeans, plausibly a button-up shirt for the guy, a pretty blouse for the girl... oh wait... it's coming back to remembrance now... it was a coral-colored top with frillyish sleeves. It was lovely, most definitely. It's a fair bet that Alison's hair was worn long, down, and straight. She and him? They were lookin' good. Really good.

They ate something, dined somewhere. Don't remember where. But what was more important was the chain of events that followed dinner.

They found themselves in a local movie theatre, about ready to purchase flick tickets. Movie posters were hanging everywhere, high above everyone's heads. The movie poster that stood out the most in Alison's line of vision was "A Walk to Remember." She recalled that that wasn't a terrible book, and she thenceforth anticipated seeing the movie. The movie ended up being just a'ight.

But the movie that Alison and He-Who-Shan't-Be-Named-Here were scheduled to go see was none other than ... "Singles Ward." Totally a Mormon movie, yes, but she and her date were Mormon, and they loved their religion very much (still do!).

But the funny thing is that neither of them were actually old enough yet to even be in a singles ward. So when they watched the movie, they felt like they could relate to the characters a little, but not wholly. It was a decent show, though. Likable.

In case you were wondering, yes, Alison's first date was indeed what was culturally termed a "single date," and not a "group date." But please, fellow livers of this culture, do not frown upon this factoid of Alisonian history.

However... Alison did feel ever-so-slightly odd about it being a "single date," where it was just her and him. Group dates were at least culturally more ideal than one-on-one dates, as far as freshly new 16-year-olds who have absolutely NO idea how to be on a date are concerned.

But Alison's date was an excellent person, very mature for his age (even all the parents of the community thought so), so Alison felt as calm and rest-assured as could possibly be on a first date. He was a wonderful person to be around.

{In fact, a month or so after this date happened, the end-of-the-schoolyear-yearbook was finally made available, and when he wrote in and signed Alison's yearbook, he made sure to leave his phone number, and beckoned her to call him, should she decide that she wants another date with him. Ahhhh MAN, it was love, surely!}

Years zoomed by, and he married someone else. Alison deems it one of her sadder days in life, when she found out that he was going to marry another woman. But people move on. Life moves on. Ol' Man River, he just keeps rollin' along. Life is beautiful, and there are the monstrous Seven Seas as well as the five Great Lakes, and so there are plenty of quality fishes.

Thus ended the tale of Alison's first date.
Perhaps you enjoyed it.
Good night.

Ode to Floss: My Friend the Brave

I floss my teeth every day. I simply cannot "call 'er a day" and hit the hay without performing my flossing routine. Flossing is something that I wish more people would care more about. So here I am promoting it openly.

If I am nerdy about anything, I am nerdy about flossing. Nerdy enough to take a Saturday afternoon earlier this year to pen a poem about it. The poem lacks magnificence, but flossing does not. Here's the ode:


If floss were alive
With feelings and fears
Straightway he'd go
Regardless his tears

Into the corners
Of that massive cave
Through all tight spaces
Blimey he's brave
Gross is the dross
Dross: it is gross
Gross with dross rhymes
At no times at most

This dross is born
Of all food consumed
In oral manners
Grody it blooms
Grody it grows
Putrid it breathes
All over those rows
You'd better believe

Swift to the rescue
The warrior doth come
To slaughter the residue
The warrior hath won

Floss you're alive
Alive in my heart
Whenever I need you
You're never too far

Into the corners
Of my massive cave
Straightway you go
My friend the brave
Straightway you go
My friend the brave