So I made a friend from the naturalliving community when someone decided to start a mean and ugly thread against vegetarians, where does it say meat isn’t natural, blah blah blah. A pretty heated argument got going, and about 20 comments down, I decided to say something:
It’s one of the funniest t-shirts I’ve seen. Some people comment they’d buy it if it weren’t pink. Well PEOPLE, the shirt is pink because it USED TO BE white. Right? Right? The pink is no accident, folks.
Anyway, another person commented on the hilarity of the t-shirt before the entire thread got taken down. Luckily, this comment triggered an email notification, so I decided to make myself a little better known and send the person a message. And this person decided to respond. And it’s been good fun.
I signed up for another BYU Independent Study class. Creative Writing, English 218R. This is less mechanics and tons and tons and tons more writing. Forgive me if I use this place for practice.
Frank jumped into a shallow pool when he was eight years old and cut the top of his skull. He didn’t even notice the blood, but his friend’s mom walked him home and showed the gash to my mom. Much hyperventilating ensued.
Sarah used to get up early in high school and take her showers in the dark.
Becky has the biggest crush on Daryl Hall of anyone I know.
Laura once dated a guy who worked at Disney World, and we got Fast Passes from him. We spent the day with the guy, then I pretended to sleep in my bed in the hotel room while listening to them make out for a little bit.
Lisa‘s family have more curls in their hair than the entire rest of the world.
Karissa used to like keeping the plastic clear packaging on all her VHS tapes.
Jenny can trill a third-space C on the clarinet better than anyone I know.
Michelle once sang harmony to “Lean on Me” at our freshman ward talent show, and I was impressed.
Kristin used to sing the National Anthem before Detroit Redwings’ matches.
Wendy used to play her solo festival pieces by heart, walking around the classroom while she played. Super-hard, grade 7 pieces, like they were no big deal.
Matt used to run his track events in high school without any underwear. Just his shorts. This is not a lie. Footage exists somewhere, if it hasn’t been destroyed.
Greg once ate my leftover fries at lunch without knowing that I licked them first. He also flew me home a couple of times with his frequent flyer miles.
Andrea is not as closeted a Celtic Thunder fan as I once thought.
Meredith gave up her job in PR to work for Magnolia Bakery. She frosted a cake for Matthew Broderick for Sarah Jessica Parker’s birthday.
Ray got to high-five Stephen Colbert.
Kate once got me admitted into BYU just by stepping into someone’s office and getting a signature.
I made out with Philip a couple times on the band bus coming home from practice festivals. We were going out at the time. And this is when Joel Agcon liked me. He was a senior.
The baby was actually quite cute and would have been so, so endearing in another setting. Sure, to disturb is to unsettle or to upset. But this baby wasn’t playing with fire in the aisle or trying to start a baby gang war or reciting Hillary Clinton’s concession speech. This baby was squirmy and squealy and if her noises were in tempo with and key of the music, it would have been fine. Maybe the annoyed lady meant to tell the mother her baby was disruptive. Or distracting.
Here is the dichotomy with “Mormon Night” at Carnegie Hall. Families with babies attending cultural events. Someone was bound not to be able to find a babysitter, so that someone sat with her child in her lap, and this child could not keep quiet during the entire playing of Aaron Copland’s Appalachian Spring. Mother picked up her child and left after annoyed lady confronted her about being “disturbing.”
There is not a single bad seat in that Carnegie Hall. (Except if you’re near a loud and wiggly baby.) That means you can hear every single note, no matter where you sit. Props to the acoustics people. Bravi. Woo! But that also means you can hear every single bad note. You can hear when a section is slightly off beat, you can hear the slightest anything. BYU’s chamber orchestra did a fabulous job, and I enjoyed the experience, so I was able to ignore most of the blips and whatever else erroneous bounced off those perfectly contoured walls into my ears. My ears and mind have been so deprived of classical music, they couldn’t help but soak up everything. When they performed Appalachian Spring, it occurred to me that I own a recording of that piece, and THAT is what should have been playing while we drove through Shenandoah National Park. I mean Kenny G is okay, but I must say a very distant second in terms of appropriate driving music. Sorry.
Yesterday, in the middle of the day, my neck started hurting. I mean, really hurting. I can hardly turn my head without feeling a twinge of pain. Turning it to the right is what hurts the worst. And, if I sit a certain way the pain shoots down to my sacrum. It’s a generalized pain, I think, starting at the base of my neck and going between the shoulder blades. It kind of seems like whiplash, and I feel a little better this morning than I did yesterday, so we’ll see how I feel tomorrow before making a doctor’s appointment. Whiplash is serious enough, I mean, there’s definite muscle spasming going on, but what if it’s something else? What if something I don’t know about or scary is going on? What if my spine is dissolving and I’m turning into a Filipino writing snake? How will I be able to take pictures? Will I have to buy new clothes? Also, I don’t know if I can unhinge my jaw like that. Now that is disturbing.