Yes, I am dying at 40--thanks for asking

So, for those of you who missed it, I had mid-life crisis (mlc for short) last week. So here it is in all it's glory:

• My major isn't marketable, and I don't like my minor
• I don't want a career
• I love architecture, but I would rather major in something like "architecture appreciation" than something like actual architecture which would require doing things with contracts.
• If I've learned one thing this semester, it's that I don't like contracts. Every time I go to Bidding and estimating I feel like my soul dies.
• Architecture would require grad school, which isn't the end of the world, but the acceptance rate isn't super high for home and family living majors
• The only job that sounds appealing is being an administrative or personal assistant. It actually sounds fun.
• I thought I would have to get a business minor--but good news, according to my advisor I won't.

So, that's my mlc in a nutshell. Thank you and have a nice day!

Cateching on my Rosary

It's true; if there's one thing I know it's my Catholic holidays. Don't worry, I've been mocked mercilessly for it. But is it really a problem to know things about other religions? I submit to you that it is not. I just like to learn things. So sometimes the things I am learning are the historical background and significance of the celebrations of other religions, and other times its the minor aristocracy of the old German empire and how that influenced WWI. Isn't it interesting that the rulers of all the countries involved in that engagement (excepting the US of course) were descendants of Queen Victoria of England. And she had died within the last 20 years. So these governments fighting each other were cousins. weird.

Okay... back to my point. So I'm not exactly Catholic. Or Protestant. Or Anglican. Or even Southern Baptist for that matter. But just because I'm not any of those things doesn't mean I can't observe their holidays, right? It's like, Jews getting presents for Christmas. Or anyone trick-or-treating at Hallowe'en. That holiday totally got the shaft as far as the deletion of meaning goes.

So I like to have fun on fat tuesday. Traditionally, fat tuesday is the day before lent starts. Lent representing the 40 day fast of the Lord. To recognize this event(if your religion observes this holiday) you are supposed to give up a vice--generally food related. I've had friends give up coffee, or cookies, or ice cream. Way back in the olden days, people would give up fat and sugar. All of it. So, fat tuesday was designed to use up all the fat and sugar in the house. In michigan, this was the day of 1000 calorie donuts. They're called Paczki's. If you want a real treat look at the pronunciation for it on wikipedia. It's a kicker. Say it poon-shkii. Trust me. In Provo, it just means my indulgent roommates let me lead them on a night of fattening foods and deserts plus watching a Val Kilmer movie. It was "the Saint" now that I think about it. Ironic.

Group projects are the bane of my existence

So, y'know that part of middle school when you get super excited because you get to do only part of the work, and (better than best) you get to spend time outside of school with your friends and claim its for homework. Hogwash. Like anyone ever believes that.

Group work becomes steadily less fun the more of a perfectionist you are, and the older you get. Other people also seem to become less responsible. And the bigger the group, the more responsibility is shared, and so the less individual accountability there is.

And thus we see that even when you try and get in a group with people who care about their grade, they still don't get the contact information and interview done in time for you to write the paper. So, if you still want to get a good grade--you not only have to do it yourself, but at the last minute, and often in the middle of the night because your classes don't end until 10:30 at night.

Good times! Good times.

Working is futile

So, I made an unfortunate discovery today. Even if I got a 4.0 every semester for the rest of college, my GPA would only go up 0.04. Lame, eh? It sort of makes trying seem worthless. Especially since I would have to try really hard to lose my scholarship. Just about the only thing convincing me to keep working hard (other than the fact that I would hate myself later if I didn't) is my ultimate goal of graduating summa cum laude. Which has no dividends really. And it's really sort of an ambiguous goal in that I have no idea what GPA I need to have to get there. So basically the only reason I'm trying in college is for intrinsic reasons. So thats a good thing right? I'm learning for my own reasons and not for the number it gives me.

I feel liberated.

Operation Valkyrie is now in effect.

For whatever reason, I have always thought it would be sort of exciting to take part in a protest of some sort. Not one where the flag gets burned or anything, more like in "You've got Mail" where there's the troupe of mom's and small children walking around with picket signs and reciting a goofy little ditty to get the evil book conglomerate to close.

In that vein of righteous indignation, I have decided to stage a rent coup with my management company. I'm currently living in a condo in Provo. There are 15 apartments in our building--most of which are owned by different people and managed by different companies. We have discovered, through painful experience, that our management company currently charges us about $25 more per month than any of the other apartments. Now, if we had some sort of fabulous ammenity that the others didn't have--I'd be cool with it. I don't mind paying extra for something better. Alas, ours is one of the shoddiest in the building. Particularly when comparing couches: most are microsuede and plush, ours is fabric and broken. That and the fact that there is mold growing in one of the closets that they haven't done anything about. And the really dirty bathrooms.

I could however stomach all this, and even planned to live here next year (there is after all something to be said for not having to apartment shop) and then I found out the price for this apartment next year is going up $15/month. That doesn't sound too bad. But in total it makes $40 extra/month that we're paying more than the others in our building. Which in the 8 months of fall and winter semesters amounts to a grand total of $320 extra dollars, which is just enough for another month's worth of rent! That is what I begin to consider exorbitant. Especially when you consider that, in theory, when the economy goes down, generally housing costs will follow. Instead, we get charged more.

So, I have decided to play the disgruntled customer card. I've actually gotten suprisingly good at this. It's amazing what a business will do for you after threatening to take your business elsewhere.

Better than Tom Burlinson?? I submit to you that he is not.

For those who don't already see with crystal clarity what this post will be about: I saw the movie Australia this weekend. It was pretty good. I have not seen a new movie I enjoyed this much in a while. Everything about it just worked for me. The acting-watchable, camera work-wonderful, screenplay-fab. Nicole Kidman and Hugh Jackman (both Australia native's) excelled as the leads, but worked seamlessly with the more minor actors. I found the thing to be absolutely visually stunning with believable characters (I actually felt like they had motivation... not everyone does anymore), and I spent most of the movie more than a little bit covetous of Nicole Kidman's wardrobe. Not to mention the natural scenery was, or course, brilliant. What do you expect, it was Australia for goodness sake! It was, in a word, epic.

It was quite an experience to watch it in a Provo theater though. I don't think I have ever seen a movie where the audience reacted so unanimously to everything as it happened. Which, while funny, would have been fine if they had been mature enough to realize the significance of things like, why the aboriginal man is standing funny. Not to be amusing, but because it's an aboriginal symbol of respect, power, and authority.

Finally, the crux of the issue. To make it understood, backstory:
so, I have in my possession a copy of both "The Man From Snowy River" and "Return to Snowy River." Both movies starring Tom Burlinson as the hero Jim Craig. When people comment on our movies, these recieve more positive reviews from both boys and girls than all the other movies combined. It seems to be the ultimate movie, allowing the romance plot for the women-folk, and (as my friend Joran informed me) it makes you feel like a man--go find a horse and just start riding down mountainsides. Understandable. Heck. If I had a horse and some training I would totally ride down mountainsides. Anyways. One of the beauties in this movie (for me) is that Tom Burlinson is forgotten. For all intents and purposes: he IS Jim Craig. No one even knows the actor's name. If you saw him in another movie you'd just say, "oh, it's the guy from Snowy River." (Be honest. You know you would). So, the point is, general consensus is Jim Craig appears to be the ultimate Australian hero.

Now the problem. For those who have seen the movie Australia, arguments could (and did--I heard it myself) be made that Hugh Jackman is better than Jim Craig. Hah. There in that sentence could be found the inherent flaw in the argument. Hugh Jackman (quite flawlessly) plays merely a role. Jim Craig IS a role. I mean, I know what they meant but seriously; the fact that we recognize one as an actor, and one as a character should make the better one seem clear. Now, the argument could be made that the Drover was a more developed character than Jim Craig, but who doesn't swoon when the man tips his hat? Moral of the story. Hugh Jackman is a wonderful actor who did a fabulous job portraying an Autralian bush-man. Jim Craig is an Australian bush man. The end.

I would apologize for not having a point, but who says life always has to have a point? That would be boring.

Confucious vs. Confusion: who is the author?

So, this has been some kind of crazy week. No free time. None. Not that I'm totally complaining because lets be honest--I go a little bit nuts if I have nothing to do. So week=busy=good.

Then came the weekend, when I had entirely too much time on my hands. Luckily my wonderful roommate hung out with me so I didn't spend too much time being introspective. I'm one of those people who would go crazy in solitary confinement because I would have too much time to think. I had a lot to think about this weekend. A lot to worry and be anxious about. Or, to be more precise, two things to worry and be anxious about.

One is the living situation for next year. My management company wants to know by Friday if I plan on my life having any significant changes in the next 8 months. Which is totally understandable; after all, what kind of person undergoes unexpected significant life-changing experiences in their college years, right? Me and Caresse were thinking of moving in with two of the girls from upstairs, and they were thinking of moving in with us--which is good; but one of them is probably going on a mission now and I don't know what the other one is doing. So I don't know. We'll see.

The other thing driving me just absolutely stir crazy is boys. They are dumb (just in case anyone was wondering). Not just mine either. Lots of boys are dumb. My cousin's cousin and I have decided that boys are dumb, and girls are complicated. I'm okay with that. But sometimes it would really be nice to have a no-holds-barred conversation so I can get inside of that boys head. I don't care what the answer is I just need to know it.

In response to this, my head has been thinking and pondering it all weekend. I knew I was very confused, and I stumbled upon the thought that satan is the father of confusion... or something like that. So I looked it up and found 1 Cor 14:33 "For God is not the author of confusion... but of peace." Sunday I talked with my Bishop, who is wonderful by the way, he gave me some good advice that basically amounted to: try this certain thing, if it doesn't work, it's NOT an issue of timing... he's just not the right guy. Since he is (1) my bishop, and (2) basically answered the question I was fasting about in the direct way that only someone inside my head can... I'm inclined to believe him. Talking to him reminded me of other advice I have previously gotten, that enventually turned into this thought process:

I was told some time ago that "He will give me all He has promised, but that I need to have patience and humility--the blessings will come when He knows I am ready." It occurred to me finally that patience is faith. Faith in turn is tied into hope, charity, and the pure love of Christ; but the most important realization for me at this time was that patience is synonomous with faith. It seems a lot easier to have patience now that I know all it means is to have faith in Him and His plan for me. I have a lot of that.

I can have patience. I can have faith. I just need to wait out the emotional storm, and wonderful things will come.