A Sacred Vow

I remember when I first started college and was introduced to the atmosphere of professors pushing marriage in every class and guys proposing to the first gal they dated. Education aside, I started to watch those who I knew were dating (and thus getting married soon) to chart their progression into eternal bliss. Girls started out pretty: they did their hair in elaborate Utah bumps, applied makeup several times a day, flashed huge smiles at every male in the vicinity, laughed loudly. Men started out handsome: they showered and combed their hair, made an effort to match, and inserted themselves into the view of aforementioned girls. Girls and guys continued to dress up for each other throughout the dating and engagement period, then out of nowhere, they became unrecognizable. I was able to follow this as a natural occurrence in the Love Cycle at the university. Normally around week three of marriage I saw that the girls quit putting on makeup and arrived to classes in sweatpants and baggy t-shirts. The guys inevitably started putting on weight soon after. Was this phenomenon due to a recent lack of sleep (wink wink)? Or was there something else at work? It wasn't hard to figure out this answer, in fact, I think I had it nailed down within a semester or two. Once a couple is married--they're stuck! They don't have to look nice for each other anymore because there's no getting rid of them anymore! I found it was the attitude of "Well, he married me, and this is what he gets now." Sad, huh? Then and there I vowed to never let this happen to me.

I can't say that I was immune to this strutting and posturing when I was single. I did my hair religiously (though, fortunately, I was never a fan of the bump), made sure my makeup was in tact before classes, and tried to give "friendly" smiles to guys I met. None of these things happened to work towards getting me dates however, and I decided it wasn't worth it after a while. I started not to fret as much--I didn't let myself go, I did what I had always been doing, just without the thought of a potential date in mind. (It's funny how men start to notice you when you don't care about them anymore... they can sense it or something.) Of course, I met my husband after I had sworn off men and the story continues from there. So fast forward--Jason and I start dating. I'm still watching the progress of couples to keep tabs on their appearance pre- and post-marriage. My vow to never let myself go was still fresh in my mind, though I made sure that Jason saw me without my hair and makeup done several times while we were dating so he knew EXACTLY what he was getting himself into.
My vow still stands today, I think, even after five years of marriage. Though I had an upsetting shock this morning when I looked into the mirror. I saw the most horrendous brownish-yellow circles around my eyes. These aren't new, unfortunately, but today I took a minute to stare at myself and study what's happening to me. Besides my bruised-looking eyes, I realized that I haven't been to the gym in two months, it takes me most of the day before I get dressed, I don't wear makeup half the time, and I can take or leave my hair. I was disappointed in myself. I've always subconsciously attributed a lack of physical grooming to a lack of self confidence or laziness. I'm not lazy and every woman I know suffers from some sort of confidence issue. Most of my lettings-go I can blame on my pregnancy: I've been too sick and exhausted to make it to the gym, I outgrew my bra which has left me uninspired to to wear anything but PJ pants and a hoodie, I'm too tired to care about putting on my makeup and doing my hair. I hope the second trimester (which starts this week) will prove to be a better-feeling one so I can get somewhat back to normal. Even though I know I have a legit excuse for looking like crap, I still can't reassure myself that it's OK. I'm ashamed that I've let myself fall into this category. Since this is the perfect time to think of New Year's resolutions, I found mine: get up! I need to start taking pride in myself again and the best way for me to do this is to go back to my old self. My confidence is boosted when I'm presentable and I have a much more productive day after my personal grooming is done. These small steps will surely lead to bigger personal leaps down the road.

I'll raise my glass to that.

Rant of the Week

I just gotta put this out there: I'm so sick of pop culture!!! Justin Bieber, Twilight, and Lady Gaga all need to lay down and go away for good. Really?? People are so obsessed with all these "celebrities" and fads. It's embarrassing to see full-grown women screaming about how hot this 17-year-old BOY is. And then I have to automatically assume people think I am also into this stuff and that makes me even more embarrassed. I feel like I have to publicly denounce all this crap and I'm glad my husband knows where I stand ("No, honey, I don't think scrawny, white vampires that get all sparkly in the sun are attractive.") And when you turn on the news---it's all you hear about! What outrageous outfit sparked controversy, that couple is divorcing two hours after the reception ended, that one can't keep them self out of rehab/jail, and oh-my-gosh she's pregnant! no wait, she's not... I'm waiting for the day when the Sexiest Man Alive is a real-life non-actor from the suburbs.

The news in general is very negative, so I love to read stories of people who are making positive differences in their communities and in the world at large. Most of the time they're not trying to get on the front page (most of the time they're not, see page D12). I read a story a few months ago about a man who saw a child being forced into a van. He jumped in his truck, took off, and eventually rescued the kidnapped child. What a hero! I certainly hope someone like that is around should my child ever be in trouble. I think of all the people who donate time out of their busy lives to volunteer at hospitals, animal shelters, and soup kitchens. They make a difference.

My dream job is to work for an international humanitarian company. I'd love to be able to provide assistance and necessities to those in regions not as blessed as ours. My plans for after graduating college were to join the Peace Corps and fly off to some obscure corner of the world to provide drinking water and vaccines for kids. Of course, plans change when you get married. ;-) I'm at a depressing point where I feel like I'm not doing anything productive in the world and look forward to the day when I can donate time, money and supplies to people in need.

To loop it all back, there are plenty of famous people out there who have foundations, or donate their money to causes, or are charitable ambassadors. Good for them. They're setting a good example. It's all the other BS I'm tired of. It seems the masses nowadays are so easily grabbed and brainwashed into trends and will believe they should be involved in the moment because the media says so. Political commentators have cult/sheep followings and half the "news" on my Yahoo! page is what gown Kate wore to the Queen's party. I wish it were easier to filter through all that and get to the real stuff. *Sigh* Oh, and did you hear that Kourtney Kardashian is pregnant again?

...To the Death

Paul Ezra Rhoades of Idaho Falls brutally killed three people, two young women and a young man, in 1987. Today he was executed by the State of Idaho. It's Idaho's first execution in 17 years.

Normally I like to stay away from political topics. Things get heated, I tend to hold grudges against those who disagree with me, a lot of times I don't really care about the topic at hand, I don't like when people repeatedly shove their "opinions" down your throat, the sheep mentality... BUT I do think this is an interesting topic: you've got Bible thumpers sitting on both sides, liberals and conservatives arguing over terms like "humane" and "justice", and victims' loved ones struggling between finding closure and reliving the nightmare.

John Grisham has written a few books revolving around the death penalty. The latest I've read is The Confession, where the State of Texas executes the wrong man after the real killer comes forward. Whether or not you're for the death penalty, it makes you think. It made me wonder how many times the wrong person has been executed while the true culprit gets to live. I think it happens rarely, if at all, with all our wonderful advances in technology. Things like DNA evidence, microscopic details that can be computer analyzed, and pyscho-analyses have come such a long long way since even 15 years ago. In a society that uses the death penalty, it's bound to happen unfortunately. This book made me feel sad for innocent men and women who went to their "justified" deaths for crimes they did not commit. On the flip side, it made me feel that there are crimes so heinous that deserve death.

Back to Rhoades: they were grisly murders and I'm not going to go into detail about them here. I ache for the families that had to endure the pain of knowing their loved one had been terrorized and in pain before dying. I feel so sorry that these innocent, young lives were cut short by a sadistic, psychotic druggie. What would they be doing now, I wonder? Rhoades has been sitting in jail, eating and getting fat, for free, for twenty-four years. They knew he was the serial killer they were looking for when they caught him. There was a comment on our local news' website that said something like, "Justice was served when they caught him." I heartily disagreed with that.

I don't want to go into much detail on whether I'm for or against gettin' the chair, but I did want to lay out a few thoughts I've had the past few days. Whether or not citizens of the USofA believe the death penalty is right, it comes down to the fact that many states (and other nations) have adopted it as a legal way to uphold the law. Thus, it is the states' responsibility to uphold the laws and punishments set forth. If you commit a crime, it's understood that there are certain repercussions for when you get caught. Execution has been deemed appropriate in many cases and it is the states' prerogative to carry it out.

Also, I believe that executions serve two purposes, both of which I will say I agree with. One: As awful as it sounds, it serves as retribution. Vengeance, revenge, whatever you want to call it. If you want to get down to the nitty-gritty, any form of punishment, whether it be incarceration, community service, or probation, is one form or another of retribution. Criminals forfeit their rights and, subsequently, owe society a debt when they break a law. Execution is, of course, the extreme and is maintained for certain horrible crimes. If I had lost a family member to someone like Rhoades I'm pretty sure I would want to see the criminal dead.

Actually, I'm 1000% sure.

Two: Execution removes the threat. While these criminals are alive there is always the possibility, however remote, that they will be free someday, somehow. A while ago, there were a few inmates from one of the prisons here in Idaho that escaped. Scar-ree. Inmate escapes happen more often than we care to think about and whether or not they're caught again is moot. Early probation is often given to criminals for good behavior, which means they're OUT, amongst the public. With serial killers, rapists, pedophiles, etc... there's the possibility that they will hurt someone else if they're not being supervised and behind bars. I believe that those sentenced to execution are done so in part because the jury believes them to be a threat to others if they remain alive.

Our justice system seems to have gone down the sad path of victimizing the criminals and trying to make the victims into they-had-it-coming's. There are arguments and studies out everywhere for and against genetic predispositions to alcoholism, violence, and the like. This is another opinion I have no problem exerting: I think genetic predisposition is a crock of sh**. It all comes down to people have the CHOICE. We all have an instinctive buzzer inside us that tells us when we're committing wrong. Rhoades had the choice to kill or not kill (or rape, or maim) those innocent people. I can choose whether or not to snort that line, an abusive parent consciously makes the decision to harm their child.

It's all about self control. Lack of control brings consequences on all levels. I can't say I feel sorry for people whose lack of control harms others. They made the choice, and in doing so, chose their fate.

So... people can argue all they want about the death penalty being wrong or right. It doesn't matter. Our laws have deemed it legal (therefore, executions cannot be said to be illegal) and a proper consequence for certain actions. If you don't like it, move.

To Be or Not To Be... Lazy?

I think the fact that I haven't written in two months argues in behalf of TO BE. I had originally planned on writing twice a week for this blog so I could have something do for myself, that was just my own thoughts and opinions. Alas, time gets away from all of us, especially when we're busy NOT being lazy. There was an article in one of my magazines that inspired thoughts on this post. From Elder Robert D. Hales in the LDS church magazine The Ensign:

"I remember a young couple just out of college. One parent gave them a home; the other parent gave them furnishings and a new car. They had everything in the world given to them. Within three years they were divorced. They hadn't worked and sacrificed. They had leaned on each other and on their parents as a crutch, had crippled themselves, and hadn't grown. They hadn't learned the hard part."

I abhor laziness. I believe people should work to support themselves financially, mentally and physically. I don't believe in sitting in front of the TV; I don't agree with about 90% of the welfare system; I don't believe in others being obligated to fill your shoes as well as their own. This is an extreme. I acknowledge that there are always exceptions, however exceptions aren't normally made because of laziness. In fact, the only reason I can think of is an exception made due to a medical reason: disability, injury, old age, etc... The quote above started me thinking of everything I do for myself, by myself. I don't think that all situations in which people receive handouts are going to resolve themselves in something as extreme like divorce, but I do think that his quote rings true. If we don't work and learn the hard way, when will we learn?

For example, I babysit full-time. I took the job thinking it would be an easy way to work AND be lazy at the same time. I'd just let them play all day, provide some entertainment, snacks, tralala go home. It has proven not to be easy and conducive to laziness at all unfortunately. I digress... The kids I babysit are the youngest of 5. Their family dynamics are much different than ours. They play differently, talk differently, the works. Among this, they don't do much of anything for themselves. Their parents and siblings do absolutely EVERYTHING for them. Taking off shoes, cleaning up toys, using manners and the like are things we do on a normal basis at our house and I think it's been a bit of a culture shock for them. I MAKE them do things for themselves. I do not allow whining; I expect them to use their p's & q's; they speak to me respectfully; they do not fight and yell over toys. There are consequences for not handling yourself properly. I have seen major improvements in their demeanor since they've started at our house, the biggest thing is that they're more independent. I'm pretty sure they like doing things like big boys, all by themselves.

As adults it's the same process. We need to do things on our own to really learn the lesson. My mom has always said there are two kinds of people in this world: Givers and Takers. Givers are normally those who have learned their lessons on independence and seek to help those who are still learning, and those who enjoy giving for the enhancement of others and themselves. Takers, I've discovered, haven't quite gotten there. (Sometimes these personality traits are personality quirks, there's nothing we can do to change them, no matter the lessons learned or un-learned.) There is a balance between giving and taking, no one has to fall completely on one side or the other. My mom and I are both Givers. We feel uncomfortable taking because we're afraid it might inconvenience someone, or put them out, even when they're offering. It makes it hard for other Givers if we're always unwilling to accept what they want to give us. Slowly but surely, I have been trying to get better at taking. I am grateful for the Givers who have blessed my life. People who are constant Takers have the expectation that Givers are always going to be around. They expect that they can ask for what they want and take it, whether it be time, money, space, or other things. The extreme Givers feel obligated to meet this expectation.

I make a conscience effort to give via support. When I make the kids do something on their own that they haven't done before, I show them how and then encourage them from the sidelines, praising them when they've accomplished the feat. I think this could be replicated on all aspects of life. (I'm not trying to set myself up as a perfect mom or babysitter--I am far, far, far from that.) People will learn to support themselves through their hard times and come out stronger and wiser for it. They will like that feeling of independence and the satisfaction that comes from, "Yeah, I totally did that." And all us Givers can give them a high-five and slap on the back, tell them how proud we are, and welcome them to the club.

I Remember

Today is 10 years since the tragic events of September 11, 2001. I was 15 and a junior in high school. We found out in Seminary that something had happened in New York but we weren't quite sure what. By the time I got the first period at the high school the towers had collapsed and hundreds of people had already died. We watched TV all day and saw the timelines, the replays, photos, interviews, speculations.

I remembered we weren't even horrified yet... we were in such shock. It's hard for teenagers to understand something so tragic happening on the other side of the country. I think it finally sunk in when the body counts went into the thousands. We had been attacked in our own land, our free nation. I remember thinking, "War doesn't happen HERE, it happens everywhere else." News anchors kept calling it the "Pearl Harbor of our day."

I remember calling my mom at home from the payphone by the gym. I was terrified that Dad was going to be whisked off to war right away. I was scared that something was going to happen in Yuma. I'd been hearing rumors that Yuma was on the terrorist hit list because it's the location of Yuma Proving Ground and the Marine Corps Air Station. Yuma is also home to a very long runway that is an alternate site for the space shuttle landings. I was worried something was going to happen and I wouldn't have been able to be with my family again.

The news images are seared into my brain. The plane coming around the second tower and the collision. People throwing themselves out of windows. The towers collapsing while thousands were still trapped inside. The firemen and police officers rushing into the debris. People staggering out of the rubble coated in dust, soot, and blood. The flag.

Fred Child hosts Performance Today on NPR and I only ever listen if it happens to be on while I'm in the car. I was driving on Friday and he was doing a reminiscing piece about what went on at his radio station on 9/11. They were requested to play Samuel Barber's Adagio for Strings to help America to mourn. It is a sad, melancholy piece. I cried in the car as they were playing it and remembering everything that happened a decade ago.

May God bless everyone who lost their lives and those who were left picking up the pieces.

May God bless the firemen, policemen, and all our servicemen.

May God bless America. This is His land.

Get a (Private) Room!

We decided to go on San Diego harbor cruise with my parents while we were visiting last month. It's kind of a cheesy, touristy thing to do but we had a good time nonetheless. So let me take you through it: You board the ship, get a complimentary glass of champagne (Martinelli's for us) and are seated. If you chose to pay extra during booking then you are seated at a window-side table for two, complete with special plates, champagne flutes, etc... We did not choose this option, so we were one table away from the windows in our cheapskate non-specially plated table. We shove off, the live band starts, socialization, appetizers, dinner, dancing, blah blah blah... It was fun for about five minutes until the man sitting across from us (at one of the "special" tables) moved his chair over and into the walkway so he could sit right next to his woman. PDA quickly followed (cue horror movie music). Obviously, this atmosphere lends itself to romance: pretty views, music and alcohol. Ah, love.

First, let me say that I believe in love. I believe that love is a positive and complex feeling that two people can have for each other. Physical affection is a natural byproduct that is necessary to propel and maintain relationships. Affection and sex are crucial for successful marriages. I believe these manifestations of love are special, private matters between the couple (unless, of course, there's problems that need to be discussed with professionals, but that's another topic). That being said, public displays of affection should, I think, be limited. Stifled? No. Just...limited. Holding hands, a peck here and there, little things that don't make others uncomfortable.

Let me go into detail about the PDA that grosses me out, specifically what we had to witness ALL NIGHT during our harbor cruise: making out for prolonged periods of time (more than three seconds); ear nibbling; sitting on laps (include arms around the other's neck for double gross-out); foot massages (bare feet in a food establishment?!); butt grabbing; cheesy "come-hither-just-wait-til-later" looks; seductive licking of the lips; the list goes on. When we first sat next to this couple we knew immediately that they were in love by the way they were, er, showing their affection. We thought they'd settle down after a few minutes.

Nope!!

We got to watch them all night, as they were sitting right in front of the window that was in our line of vision. So we stared, shot dirty glances, quit muffling our giggles and comments. This couple wasn't the only one on the cruise feeling a little frisky, however they were the most forward and long-lasting. By the end of the cruise she was hiccuping champagne bubbles and tried to shove her way in front of me to disembark. I took my opportunity to shove her back and stalked off the boat in front of her--without my husband. Oops.

Another funny story: There were two other couples getting married at the same time as Jason and me. We're all sitting and waiting for our marry-ers to come get us to start each of our own ceremonies. Jason and I are sitting on a couch holding hands and talking quietly. I don't know remember what couple #2 was doing, though I do remember they were very quiet and sitting rather stiffly. Couple #3 was on the other side of the room. She was sitting in one of the armchairs with her dress all fanned out around her; he was kneeling on the floor in front of her. They were staring fervently into each other's eyes and clasping hands so tightly I thought I could hear knuckles popping. Jason and I watched them for a while and they NEVER moved! They stared and stared and stared at each other with such a look of sappiness I will never forget it. It grossed me out and we will always have it as one of our wedding day memories. This isn't quite the kind of PDA I was describing before, but it was equally as disturbing--in a funny, I'm-always-going-to-make-fun-of-them sort of way.

Moral of the story: you now have a very clear idea of my take on PDA. The fact that I have written two articles about it (I wrote one in college that was actually quite funny--I think) tells you it's something that I've seen and thought about probably more that I should have. One more opinion from me you didn't ask for.

The Sum of All Fears

A not-so-funny-to-me-but-funny-to-everyone-else-incident inspired this post last night. We had just gotten Troy to bed and were settling down to finish a movie in the basement (where our TV lives). I was sitting on the floor in a banana chair and Jason was in the big chaise lounger. Here I am minding my own business, trying to watch the rest of Robert Downey Jr.'s Sherlock Holmes performance, enjoying myself... and out scuttles a HUGE hobo spider from under the TV stand. All I can do is take two hyperventilating gasps and point at it while jumping onto the computer chair and gasping, "Right there!"

**ALERT! ALERT!** Right now, at this very moment, while I'm typing--right now! out races another gargantuan hobo!!! From under the computer desk, where my feet have been! It just made a beeline towards my baby's feet. I grabbed the first thing I could find (Troy's Little Einstein DVD case) pushed Troy out of the way and whacked the life out of it. I grabbed Troy and whatever else I could carry and we ran upstairs, never to return. The carcass is still smushed into the floor. That'll be Jason's job when he gets up, as I'm still shaking too badly to do much. **END OF ALERT**

Anyway, Jason, always my knight in bug-killing armor, armed with the shoe of vengeance and wadded tissue of death, immediately knows what I'm freaking out about and moves deftly into action. (I believe he used the same DVD case I just did). One more spider put out of my misery and flushed, never to show its arachnid legginess again.

There are poisonous spiders everywhere and I'm scared, borderline phobic, of all of them. However, I am particularly disturbed by hobos. They look like this:

Even searching online and saving this picture has made my heart rate skyrocket and made me want to blow chunks. These effers are aggressive, fast, poisonous, and exceptionally sinister looking. I do not go anywhere in my house without scanning the floor, walls and ceiling for creepy crawlies. There are certain places in our basement storage room that I don't even go near for fear of seeing (and subsequently having to do battle with) bugs. Every little tickle on my skin, shadow, or inconsistent groove in the carpet is a potential spider. I spray the inside and outside of my home with anti-bug poison religiously and after these two encounters I will be re-spraying and also throwing a bug bomb down in the basement tonight.

The fact that I have a physical reaction to these creatures leads me to believe that I'm not just being girly about bugs. I hyperventilate, my heart rate goes through the roof, I get sick to my stomach, my eyes tear up, my arms and hands tremble for many minutes after encounters... I can't even pick up and dispose of dead bugs. Jason is such a gentleman to never tease me about my fear or to wave the dead ones in front of my face. I appreciate this so much. I'm not a fearful person; I'm a bit of a thrill seeker to be honest, but we're all allowed our one thing. Spiders and a few other choice creepies are mine. After the one making out to eat my son's foot a minute ago--this means war. Or avoidance, whichever keeps them away from me and mine.