I like John Edwards

I always have. He seems honest. Yes, he's rich and white, but that doesn't mean he isn't sincere. Two articles from Time (one's a little long, but both are worth reading, in my opinion):

John Edwards Bets the Farm
No Baloney Candidate

Yes, he's not the most knowledgeable when it comes to foreign policy, but at least he admits it and disagrees with presidential micromanaging. Yes, his plans aren't perfect, but nobody's are. At least he has plans (I like Obama, but his rhetoric to actual plans ratio is a little high). But I love how ambitious he is for the country and not for himself. It's refreshing in a presidential candidate. He's been painted often as a hypocrite and, yes, he looks a little like a Ken doll, but I, at least, feel he's a sincere man. I think I've said this before on this blog, but I'm telling the tale again: When John Edwards first entered the national stage around 2003, it was during the years of my life when I only got my news from the radio. I liked the way he spoke and felt he was a very sincere man. It wasn't until later, when I saw him speaking on a TV, that I figured out where people get the idea that he's not very genuine. He looks political. Ah, well.

In other news, Rachael's blog recently had a link to a post I wrote last spring and it spawned in me a long perusal of my old posts, which I found very enjoyable. Perhaps I'm just self-centered. Is it weird that I really like reading my own blog?

What's new

New apartment, new roommates...

My dresser is big enough to hold about two pair of pants. I'm already getting creative with clothes storage and I desperately need to do laundry at which point I'll have far more clothes and...it's going to be very tricky. If only we were allowed to hammer up some shelves or something. The storage situation is atrocious.

I've already created a sensation with the roommates. As soon as I moved in I made it clear that they are to be my minions and directed them to how the furniture in the living room is to be arranged while I am living there. Or, in other words, my TV was too big for the entertainment center so I came up with a plan that everyone agreed to so that we could still have a TV in the room and our living room is totally different/better, but it's not a big deal. But I have left my mark within the first day, which was exciting.

Why, cats paint?

For my birthday last year, my dear roommate Clara got me the best calendar ever. It is based on this book:


As a huge cat lover and a medium-sized art lover, I've found it very enjoyable. It's full of pictures of cats painting and fabulous commentary that illustrates the pretentiousness of modern art criticism better than anything I've ever seen. It's adorable/hilarious. An excerpt:

On mornings when the sun shines obliquely through the aquarium, Purrtle will sometimes spend several hours exciting the Red-Cap Orandas by flicking his fluffy white tail at them. The more frustrated he becomes the more he flicks, and the more the fish dart about until simultaneous bursts of high feline and piscine tail energy are engendered. It is these sessions that are the inevitable precursors to Purrtle's painting. The resulting works are full of frenzy and turbulent passion yet laden with implication, every aspect of them exhibiting the undiluted essence of feline frustration. Using bold downward strokes, Purrtle perfectly captures the essence of piscine form. We immediately see the red head of the fish and its white tail flashing behind as it dives down from right to left and there can be no doubt that this is a fulminating moment of pure escape from the watchful eyes (top right). But despite its evident pictorialism, the feline self, depicted by its own white tail is cleverly dispersed throughout the work. As critic Kevin Casey notes, "...Purrtle's solipsism poignantly reflects the feline self encouraging itself through the juxtaposition of waving appendages--each coexisting as reluctant coordinates in glassed-off virtual reality."

It's brilliant, yes?

My thoughts on that one variety of modern art that people look at and say, "my cat could've painted that": It doesn't take a ton of talent to create. I know that. But that doesn't mean there isn't a lot to appreciate. People who believe that just because something is easy to do it can't be admired are missing out on many beautiful things in life. There's actually real life aesthetic value to some of the cat paintings in the calendar. I don't believe Purrtle was thinking solipsistic thoughts whilst dipping his paws in paint and stroking them on a card on the wall, but I would hang up that picture he is painting in my house because it is pleasing to look at to me. And I can even be and have been emotionally moved by these sorts of paintings. Not because I think they say a lot about philosophies or any of that ridiculousness, but all still have an emotion attached to them. You can look at any set of random brush strokes or shapes and see "balance" or "chaos" or "agitation" or "peace" or "movement" or "progress" or "fury" if you just look to appreciate instead of to criticize. I actually really like this sort of art, judge me if you will.

Happy birthday to me...

Yes, it's my blog's birthday. Last August 26th I published my first post on what has become a very necessary part of my life. I've enjoyed writing here and plan to continue for some time. I hope you've all enjoyed reading. One-hundred-seventy-nine posts strong, baby! And congratulations/thanks to those few who started out reading this and still do and have read every single post over this year.

I definitely thought about writing another post quickly this morning before posting this so that I could say "One-hundred-eighty posts strong, baby!", but I need to get ready for church (my first day with the 8:30 am schedule, ugh) and it would be something completely useless. I just like even numbers so much more than odd plus multiples of ten always put you into the next bracket of having a lot of something...if that makes sense.

You know you've spent a lot of time with Trevor when...

You take a walk with your mother and little brother through the desert and spend your time thinking to yourself, "Day 16: we left the village over a fortnight ago and there's still not a tree in sight to give us shade and temporary respite from the heat. Ammunition and morale low." etc.

Home

I've been home for about 22 hours. Highlights include:

• A marching band-esque productshizzle from the siblings. Including a chorus of "I'm So Glad When Andrea Comes Home."


• Bernadino's with Laura Lee Alida. For old times sake.


• Tommy being so excited that I'm home that he'll randomly run up to me shouting my name then not really know what to do with me so lots of equally random running off.


• Lots of other Tommy running around and saying ridiculous things and being excited to show me everything and tell me all about the plot of The Lion King over and over again which, as far as I can gather consists of "And the monkey climbs on the rocks and holds the kitty," and him running in with his pajamas expecting me to be very impressed with him yelling "jammies!" and the top of his tiny lungs.


• Jenny has zits on her face these days. She's so grown up.


• Showing off the clothes purchases made since I last saw the family to a very impressed Marsha and Melissa who can always look forward to getting those items in a couple years when I grow out/tired of them.


• A really fabulous dress that Melissa has given me that basically means I'm throwing a party in December with the required dress being "festive attire".


• Jenny and Kayla getting all excited to show me that they redid their room, us walking into the room, me exclaiming "uhhh, it looks exactly the same as it did last time I was home," and them realizing that they changed it while I was gone but then changed it back so their recent change was back to what I'd known before.

• Typical Nate things ("I fixed that ancient laptop we had in Indiana, remember it? All I had to do was salter on a couple new wires and you just clip the power source with an alligator clip here and...").

• Waking up at seven this morning to "Four, tres, two, uno..." and the opening bit of that instant classic "Fergalicious". My first thought was, "since when does Allison wake up to this?" Then I was like, "Why the heck is this playing on NPR?" because my alarm is set to NPR. Then I opened up my eyes and realized I was home and the musical wonder I was beholding was thanks to dear Marsha.

• Waking up again this morning at eight to Kevin and Tommy coming in and jumping on me and then asking me to read a chapter of Harry Potter and the Order of the Pheonix to them.

• The Princess and the Pauper, a Barbie movie that apparently my mother loves. (And yes, Laura, it ends exactly like you thought it would, you needn't be in suspense any longer.)

Ridgecrest

I leave for Ridgecrest in an hour. I'm not looking forward to it so much that I haven't started packing yet.

Kevin

My little brother Kevin is a cute as heck 7-year-old and smart as a whip. But not always as smart as he thinks he is: "They should make a gangster version of 'White and Nerdy'."

Thanks Emilee, for another great article...

An interesting/funny read:

When Your Spouse is Hotter than You

I would like to discuss the ladder theory, but it's somebody else's and I'm afraid of screwing it up.

My thoughts: in some cases hot people aren't just hot people. A very few number of them have depth to them and want someone who isn't boring, as most hot people are. But it's got to be near impossible to find another hot person who's also interesting, so you go for a not as hot person and it's great for you. And people shouldn't make comments about it because they're probably happier than a hot/hot couple.

On a semi-related note: at Wendy's yesterday, Allison, Emilee, Melanie, and I were discussing quirkiness and determined that quirky people need quirky people. The four of us are all very quirky and that's why we get along. Other quirky people mesh really well into our group of friends, regardless of what those quirks are. Normal people get judged in our group. We'll be friends with normal people, but really...it's boring to talk to people that aren't at least a little odd. None of us could ever date someone who doesn't have a few peculiarities about them.

What are you going to do with all that junk?

This post was going to be about the sexualization of society and the way young girls dress and why Anna Nicole Smith is news and even the people who complain about her being news on the TV do it while showing pictures of her scantily-clad over and over while talking because people watch that and how women must not only be talented but always sexy to make it in the music or film industry and how this means girls/women in real life thinking the only way to be noticed by anyone/get men is through showing skin and suggestive comments and sex sex sex and there are commercials that qualify as soft porn on all the time and sex sex sex sex sex. But, in an effort to get the streaking post not the top entry because my parents are urging me to take it down (and I can't decide if it's worth it or not to do so), I can certainly, at least, get it lower down the page quickly. So I'm just going to post two music videos of the same song: one by The Black Eyed Peas and one a cover by Alanis Morissette. It'll essentially get the message across.

Mission Accomplished!

Many may know of this goal of mine, as I've been voicing it for years now. I didn't think it would ever be possible, but it always haunted me...wouldn't it be so cool if I could just find a way. Well, my friends, where there's a will, there's a way.

Many moons ago, I had the opportunity to skinny dip in the RB pool. This tale has been and will be sung by the bards for ages. It's come in handy oh so many times when playing "Two Truths and a Lie". The enormous amount of shock value I get from if has made me long for another naked-on-BYU-campus adventure.

The following story is so cool that I'm posting it even though my mother reads this blog and I'm positive she will heartily disapprove.

As many know, they've been doing some remodeling work on at Lavell Edwards Stadium recently. Well, apparently one of the workers forgot to close one of the gates all the way last night and I noticed this walking home from Stadium Terrace yesterday at about midnight. I walked in, heart pounding. Prowled and listened and determined the coast quite clear. Climbed down to grass level and fulfilled a dream. Yes, dear friends, I can now proudly say that I have been streaking across this field:


My only regret is that the lines weren't painted on, so I couldn't think to myself while running, "She's to the 40...the 30...the 20...the 10...TOUCHDOWN!!! Touchdown by Wonnacott after a 76-yard run!!! Incredible!!! Hear the fans roar!!! That's just the kind of play BYU has needed all game. Perfectly executed. Playing to their strengths." Instead, of course, I was thinking more, "I hope they don't have a ton of security cameras and a police vehicle headed here right this moment and...actually it'd totally be worth getting arrested for, what a story that would be."

How things are going these days...

• It's been about the job hunt lately. I've interviewed at a few places and submitted resumes/applications at more. If anyone has any leads on full-time work, I'll gladly take them.
  
• I played Guitar Hero for the first time this week (briefly, in a store). I think I would've done better with Sousaphone Hero.
• Twice this month I've bitten off all my nails for no reason.
• There is nothing you can't do if you just have a plethora of good cardigans at your disposal. I wish I had money, it's time to start thinking about fall clothes again (sure it's still ages away, but you have to start thinking early on or you're at a total loss once you need it, like a day that
  
• I cried watching the music video for Avril Lavigne's "When You're Gone" today when I came across it channel surfing. Yes friends, it's a few days before my period yet again. It's not a spectacular song, but come on, the old man crying holding his dead wife's old clothes? It's beautiful.
• And for no reason other than there is too much hate in the world:
  

Five-Second Rule

A brilliant article from The Washington Post: That Dropped Doughnut (thanks, Emilee).

I remember hearing ten-second rule more than five-second rule as a child, but I could just have a faulty memory. I remember specifically, however, that my uncle Matt was the first person to ever explain the rule to me and I believed him because I was young and Uncle Matt is a doctor. I'm pretty sure I even used "Well my uncle's a doctor and he says..." as an excuse to my elementary school friends. This was before I found out that adults lie to children about what they know and know even less.