P-town

World locations have reputations. If, for example, you tell someone you're moving to Wichita it might not have the punch of, say, New York City. When I lived in Germany, being American was very ok and sometimes a talking point. But you'd not find the Germans proclaiming their Germaness (unless it was World Cup season). I don't really find anything wrong with Germans, but country-pride is not looked well on since WWII.

Some places are allowed more pride than others, which is unfortunate. LA is rad, Wichita is less so. though I am quite certain Wichita has it's charms.

It is of one of those spots I'd like to write. P-town, where I live, receives mentions usually in an apologetic way.

"I gotta get out of Provo."

"And I really didn't want to have to move here."

"Yep, still in Provo. Eek."

It's like P-town is not allowed to be liked. One cannot be proud of it. To like it means you have no taste or that you haven't gotten out much. But I like it. I really do. And I flatter myself that I am somewhat well-traveled and educated. To prove my love, and encourage it in others, I have a top ten list of the things I really enjoy about it. These aren't really in an order.

10. Farmer's Market. Sometimes it's more market than farmer but it's fun to be with a community and some of the food is really yummy.

9. Bridal Veil Falls. The grounds make a good walk.

8. The grounds at BYU. If you need a walk or just want to spread a blanket or you like to people watch, this is the place.

7. Gallery Stroll and F-Stop Cafe. The art is fun and the cafe has about one patron, making it friendly and actually the hot chocolate doesn't suck. I went in there one day and there was a puppy just hanging out.

6. Center Street. It's just a cool looking walk.

5. Cocoa Bean. It's slightly bitter and that makes it beyond delicious.

4. Library. I've decided this (and the one in Orem) is my happy place.

3. Riding bikes on Uni Ave and near Center.

2. International Cinema at BYU. And it's free.

1. Communal. Try the squash and the pot de creme.

Literally

I have a game I play with clients who don't seem to be interested in actual therapeutic endeavors called Table Topics. It's a box of questions from "What was your favorite childhood meal?" to "Do you believe in an afterlife?" I've played it often enough that I have my prescribed answers and the game holds little mystery for me. I want to be as honest and open as possible (modeling, a therapeutic term I use for my notes to somehow justify the session's activities). However, some questions baffle me. "What one thing would you ask a psychic?" and "What is your biggest pet peeve?"

I would like to announce that I have an answer for the second (the one about pet peeves). It is the misuse of the word literally.

Literally means in all actuality, the concrete meaning of a word -- no metaphor, no idiom. The antonym of literally is figuratively. Figuratively means metaphor, idiom, a figure of speech.

I have the following rules for the use of literally.

First, the thing must actionable and have actually, physically happened. For example, in telling the story of her son's (figurative) broken heart she said, "He was literally crushed." What! Oh my goodness! Is he okay? Another example, "Time was literally flying." This brings up visions of clocks with wings, stalking prey like Hitchcock's birds. In both of these examples, the events did not actually happen. The offenders intended to strengthen to power of their statements. What they should have said was something like "He was totally crushed" or "Time was definitely flying." One can be totally crushed, so to speak, and time can be metaphorically definitely flying.

Second, it must be the opposite of figuratively. Because literally is used to create emphasis, offenders often use it in a way that can only be literal, making the word unnecessary and out-of-place. For example, "I was literally speeding down the road." Of course you were. There is no metaphor or idiom about speeding down the road. No one is going to think you weren't actually in a car. They get it. Another example, "The duck literally took the bread from my hand." Really? Glad you clarified. Otherwise I might have thought the duck wasn't real. A better way to say it would be "I was speeding down the freeway... really I was" or "The duck came right up, man, and dang if that bread wasn't taken from my own hand."

The best time to use literally is when you actually did something that might be mistaken as figurative. For example, "I literally bought the farm" or "Maria was literally relieved when she got to the restroom."

Check out this misuse from Kristen Stewart and this youtube clip from Frasier.

In sum, I now have a great answer for Table Topics, and it's one (as you might surmise from the impetus to write a blog about it) I feel quite passionate about.

Empire State of Mind

Last week I went to NYC with my mom and sister, Fred. I owned that city.

We had dinner with my girl, E Masi, and I even crashed on her couch (when our hotel messed up our "order"). She is always a delight to be around and I miss her tons since she moved to NYC.

We saw Memphis. Good show. It was about a white, 8th-grade educated loser from, you guessed it, Memphis who rises when he plays "race music" on the radio and subsequently falls for a black singer. It's got the same basic idea as Hairspray but is much more serious.

We visited the island.

And the Statue of Liberty.

Fred and I with Manhattan in the back ground.

Although we couldn't reckon that any of our ancestors came through Ellis Island, some folks with our name did.

The World Trade Center site. It was kind of sad to look at think of how horrible 9/11 was. As we walked the street around the site I kept thinking about the people who ran from the site 9 years ago and the people who were never found.

I got to meet up with Heidikins, who just happened to be in town.

Scouted for wizards but in the end, Waverly Place was just another street. But a really cool street.

The Brooklyn Bridge -- "Brooklyn, I spent a month there one night."

SofL is smaller from Brooklyn.

Imagine no possessions/

I wonder if you can/

And no need for greed or hunger/

A brotherhood of man/

Imagine all the people/

Sharing all the world

Breakfast at Tiffany's

In the Heights -- which I really enjoyed -- staring Corbin Bleu (Jordin Sparks will join him soon). It's the story of Usnavi, a first-generation immigrant living in NYC's Washington Heights. His neighborhood is going to pot and they have to pull together and decide what's really important. It's got great music, good script, and memorable characters. Totally recommend it!

Everyone has a good time in NYC.

May

My nephew graduated. He'll be heading up to USU for a year and then head off on the painful and purposeful adventure we call a mission. I first found out about my nephew after my mom and I raced to the hospital because my sister was in labor. We met his dad in the elevator. He said, "It's a boy; 8lbs 6 oz." He was very calm which I found anticlimactic. And now my nephew's all growed up.

This is my niece. She'll graduate much later. As you can tell, she's not very mature.

This is our friend RDS. He introduced us to Dr. Who. And we love it, love it. It's British, clean, and fun. It about a "time lord" who travels around in his Tardis (a blue police box that's small on the outside and huge on the inside) solving mysteries through out the ages -- it's always the aliens "who done it."

A really scary episode includes angel statues which start out beautiful and get scary. The statues come alive and come after you... but only if you aren't looking at them. So you have can't turn away, leave, run, or even blink. It's a super thrilling episode... that I haven't yet seen, oddly enough. I saw another episode with the angels, but not the episode. I hope to soon. Anyway, we got sidewalked-chalked by RDS and JG and were delighted to wake up to this.

The stairs read "Don't even blink."

And here's a hot photo of my girls and me from the farmer's market, which happened to be less farmers and more market.

And now a poem from Chalie Boy to describe the photo.

On my mamma/ On my hood

I look fly/ I look good

Touch my swag/ wish you could

I look fly/ I look good

Bookmarks

Along the top of my internet page run my bookmarks. There are the usual ones -- gmail, youtube. (I don't have one for Facebook. The reason being that I don't want to go there too often. I find I go there less if I have to type out the address instead of just click a link. it also helps me forget it exists.) The necessary ones because they are useful and I go there often -- this blog and lds.org. The boring ones -- credit card accounts, investment sites. Then there are ones just for me.

Pandora. If you don't know what it is, crawl out from under the rock and prepare to have your life changed. My favorite stations are my broadway and my John Mayer.

Links to my favorite libraries and my paperback swap, where you can trade books for free.

Playlist. This connects to my blog. I use it to make playlists for parties as well. I like it because I can listen to a song until I'm sick of it without paying for it.

Goodreads. Many of my friends are on it. We write about what we are reading and compile lists of the things we read. I also have a link to it on the right side of this page. I enjoy seeing what my fellows are reading; I like writing out my opinions and admiring the list of my readings. And I like reading that other people loved/hated whatever book I loved/hated. For example I loved A Separate Peace as did many others; and I hated Anthem, as did most others. Very validating.

What've you got bookmarked?

Bike

Queen said, "I like to ride my bicycle/ I like to ride my bike." I can relate to this song.

Today I went for a bike ride. I enjoy leisurely bike rides -- I have to, my bike has no gears. But even still I am not an endurance bike-rider. I sit on a beach cruiser.

I love the feeling of bike riding. Especially through a city. It's idyllic for me. Walking you can observe the minutiae of the street, in a car it's much too fast. Bike riding is the goldilocks of transport. I feel a connection to my surrounding. I can hear the street, see the pavement, observe nature, greet strangers, but not soooo slowly.

Bike riding gets two thumbs up.

One Year

It's been one year since my dad died. At first, when everything was fresh, it was hard. But knowing that my dad is ok and that I'll see him again has made a difference. And I've been ok this year. I've gone on with life. But the last few days, leading up to this anniversary, have been reflective and more painful that I'd expected.

I went to his grave today, just to have a moment. I was talking to him and going over some memories when I thought, I don't know if I've recorded these memories. I want to write down a few more.

My dad's back was arched over. A long time ago he was 6'2" but he'd slumped over and was shorter than me. When you'd hug him you could feel his spine, which is kind of odd but somehow sentimental to me. I can remember exactly his hands, callused and long fingers. And when he was sitting and excited he'd bounced his knees and slap his hands over them and say, "Oh! I'm just so..." whatever.

I keep kleenex in my car because my dad did. I'd recommend it.

I reflected on the fact that I have never once doubted that my parents love me. My parents have always, without exception, treated me with love. And I'm a really lucky kid because not everyone has that. My dad was stoked about any decision I made and it was easy to be me around him, and to make my own decisions, and to live my life my way, making my own mistakes, because I knew he'd be stoked whatever. And even if he thought a decision was weird (On going to grad school "Getting married's a good thing too") he still supported me.

He helped pay for my mission. Last night I was going through some things we got from his house and among them were the emails from my mission. My mission means everything to me. It is the most important experience of my life. And I got to go because of my supportive family, and because of my dad.

School too. My dad paid for a lot of my costs associated with school. Yeah, I could've done it without him, but it was so much nicer to do it with him. And he let me use his car until I got my own, which was a big relief to me as I was returning from my mission.

When Fred and Dad and I went to Disneyland -- just weeks before he really got sick -- when I was still in high school, he made us ride the Matterhorn, like, three times in a row. I didn't get a big thrill out of it, but Dad did. Fred and Dad had mint juleps as we rode the ferry around Tom Sawyer island -- I probably had a coke.

Balm Bar. Never heard of it? Dad had some in his house and his car. Apparently it moisturizes very well. When I'd borrow his car we'd have to get his things out: the Balm Bar, medications, his disabled sign, his glasses.

When I was little Dad went to Italy. I know because he bought me back a small bottle of sand that read Venice. I wondered, because Italy was so far away, that he really hadn't told me about it until he was back. It wasn't until much later in life that I learned of a nice beach in California called Venice.

In January 2009, when dad busted his femur, I visited his every week in the rehab. Loved the wheelchair that sat by the side of the bed. I attempted to teach dad to text. But, uhh, Dad had other talents.

When Dad test drove my yellow PT cruiser (which I love almost as much as life itself) he rode the brake. I about died. I kept thinking, don't ruin my car, don't ruin my car. He recommended I think about the car for three days and see if I still wanted it. He went home and I bought the car on the spot. Love is love. And Dad was stoked for me.

Dad and I went shopping before back-to-school night for the sixth grade. We went to the Gap and I got gray stretch pants with a long-sleeved short/mini dress with twirl power (it's a legit power). I felt like a million dollars going to back-to-school night.

A couple years ago Dad and I were driving along way together, probably to the family reunion held in upper Mongolia (or Eastern Utah, I forget which). Dad told me how he broke into a radio station when he was in high school. They played some prank on the DJ.

Dad loved cars. He always wanted a Cadillac. He could name the makes, models, and years of old cars. He would tell me about the cars he'd had and I'd have no clue what he was talking about.

I asked Dad why he didn't wear Wrangler's like most of his family. He said he wanted to have kids.

Dad loved the Golden Girls and Dallas. Probably loved Dallas a little too much.

When I was five, Mom was at work and Dad was tending me. It snowed outside and I asked go out and play. He said no so I told him it was opposite day and asked again. He said yes. So I went out and played for five minutes before I was too cold and came back inside.

Miss you, Dad.

Michael Buble

The tickets were obtained months in advanced. The day planned for... then forgotten... and reminded. Michael fantasized about. I enjoyed Michael's humor in general, his renditions of Billy Jean (here on youtube) and Shake It Up Baby, and just listening to perfectly sung song after song. Check out the photos below.

Necklace Boards

Miss J made one and it was rad, so I -of course -had to follow the trend. I made one for myself (pink) and one for my niece, Kyrsti (green). Don't tell Kyrsti, though, it's a surprise. I don't think Kyrsti reads this blog. If you do, Lou, pretend you didn't read this and be very excited. ;)

I went to Home Depot and found a 48" long board (that's just what size it came in, but I'd also check the scrap heap too) and about a half inch thick. I had the fine worker there cut it into two 21" slabs -- you could go a little longer but not much. I should have kept the left over piece and made place to hang keys-- so take the into consideration if you do this.

I sanded the board then painted it with regular acrylic paint I got for $2 at Robert's. I cut out magazine clippings (I'd think you could also do photos but print on regular paper not photo paper) including letters for each of our names. You can use glue to stick everything onto the board, or just paint the back-side of each clipping and it sticks to the board. Press firmly to get things to stick and hold for a second.

Next, I went over the whole board with a thin layer of white acrylic paint. This gives it a shabby-chic look. If the white it too thick, just use your fingers and wipe it off. On one of them I used some mod-podge at the end just because things were struggling to stay down.

Last, I inserted nails wherever I felt it was right. Hang in your desired way; I drilled two holes through the board and nailed it to the wall.

It was a really simple, cute project.

This I Believe

I believe Suze Orman really cares about me and my money.

Growing up I had two very different monetary educations. My dad's philosophy was "You can't take it with you so spend it now" and my mom was a bargain shopper. This was a difficult difference for me to absorb and assimilate. Instant gratification or slow and steady wins the race?

Buying now and worrying about paying later is a nice way to live most days of the month. I like nice things. I have lots of nice things. And I paid full price for some of them.

Finding a bargain is a nice way to live too. When you find something really amazing then you brag to all your friends how there are none left and you only paid $xx. People envy that sort of thing, I think.

In becoming my own human I've taken the best of both worlds and added a li'l something. I've read some finance books, been online for tips, and attended some workshops. I like Suze Orman's show. She tells people what they can and can't afford and she's really strict. (I don't think I can afford anything.) But she's strict because she cares. And I've read her books bzw. I've skimmed some of her books. My saving account is based on her advice: eight months expenses. And lately, for non-planned items, I've just given myself an amount to spend, however I please (no "budget" requirements or specificities) -- on full- and sale-priced items; for big and small purchases. And I just go until it's gone. I'm also trying to work on a cash-only basis for this part of my budget. I can actually see and feel how much moola I got. I have also felt empowered when I realized I had more than I'd probably need so I bought some curtains that block out all light. Sleepin' good and feelin' in control.

My dad once railed on my girl Ellen because she's gay. Later he mentioned his love for Suze Orman. I thought about bursting his bubble on Suze's sexuality, but stopped myself because I really like Suze and I truly believe she cares about me and my money.