Christmas! Christmas! Christmas!

Gold, tinsel, blue lights, multi-colored lights, bells, bulbs, balls, bows, wrapping paper, gifts, toys, candy, chocolate, candy canes, snow, ribbons, elves, stockings, silver, cookies, carols, muppets, ghosts, reindeer, sleighs, hot chocolate, nutcrackers, santas, chimneys, trees, stars, home alone, grinch, scrooge, boots, scarves, red, green, ornaments, Bernard, trains, turkey, pixies, presents, nuts, popcorn, cold, shopping, money, cards, pictures, mickey, egg nog, Maureen O'Hara, 34th street, hats, muffs, family, games, shovels, cheese, candles, oranges, snowmen, carrots, coal, mittens, fun, garland, wreath, mistletoe . . . .

. . . . a star, a manger, a child is born.

Confines

There are days when the world seems to slough off me, when responsibility and life become part of the background, unimportant and seemingly forgettable, if only I could focus on words on the edge of release. It is on these days when I want nothing more than to write until I am drained of all that is inside of me, till pages are splattered with my thoughts and a deepening feel of me. Yet my sense of duty crowds in, work a prior claim on my time, an obligation that overrides any sense of creativity bubbling to escape the confines of my cubicle.

It is maddening to sit at a computer all day, wanting to write, but unable to because I have to type work things, I have to type all day, but none of it is what I want to be writing, none of the work I do is for me. My inspiration dries up as I work, the moments slipping through my grasp to be lost amidst the endless facts and instructions I give my offices, my dreams garbling into unintelligible wisps of ideas drifting out of reach.

Undisclosed Desires

"I want to reconcile the violence in your heart
I want to recognize your beauty's not just a mask,
I want to exorcise the demons from your past,
I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart"

Great lyrics by Muse

Chopsticks and Skittles

FHE on the whole hasn't been fun so far this year. Yet I still go, persistently hopeful that one of these times I will enjoy myself. This past Monday started out promising: an object lesson to start out the evening. Each person was handed one chopstick and then told to pick up a skittle from a bowl using only that chopstick. As I approached the bowl, everyone else already there and struggling, I snapped my chopstick in half and used that to pick up a skittle. Everyone was impressed, except the "teacher," who thought I cheated. I thought I was awesome.

We settled down for the lesson, which turned out to be 40 minutes long and about the Book of Mormon as another testament of Christ. We watched two videos, had an emotional testimony from the teacher who then asked us all to bear our testimony of the BOM. I'm sorry, did I walk through the door into a fireside? Ward prayer? Relief Society? No, this is FHE? Oh, good, 'cause I wasn't sure I was in the right place. There were some good things about the lesson, but it was long and not what I would call an appropriate lesson for FHE, not for what the purpose of FHE is. But I endured waiting to see how the activity would turn out. Lesson ended at 8 pm, and oh yeah, by the by there isn't an activity tonight. -Sigh- Why do I still go?

Halloween

Queen Bavmorda!

Pizazz!

Finally I found a template that's more lively and colorful. Sadly all the templates I liked were too wide to show everything, even this one cuts off most of the blue, but it still works. Now I have more options and can switch things around whenever I want. But for now the vomiting frog has new colors. Woot woot.

Distractions

Maybe I'm never satisfied. I sit down to write, either an email or a blog post or to work on my novel or short story, and I get so distracted. Even now, I paused to watch tv. Then I have to shake my focus back to the task at hand. I'll stare at the screen, fingers pressed to the keyboard, but my mind will be blank. At times it is too silent around me, a distracting silence, so I turn on the tv or the radio as background noise. Sometimes I turn on both at the same time so there is noise to block out the world. Then my mind and fingers spiral into a whirlwind.

Today is a silent day. I need the silence to write because my day was so blah that I want things to distract me, to fill my day with something instead of nothing. And work is close to nothing when it is days like today. With my blah day when the tv is on, I want to watch and not write. The problem is my roommate has guests over and they are loud. I need a studio that is sound proof, full of light, full of either sound or silence depending on the day. That's not possible, though, when I'm living in student housing.

Communicating is a good thing.

Feelings have been tense at work for a while, at least in regards to people enjoying their job and feeling appreciated. But the letter helped diffuse that. We all met and discussed a few aspects of the letter of work concerns and even though nothing changed (because we all agree that my department does not have a magic wand contrary to what other departments think), that it can't change overnight, at least management is more aware of how we feel and how things are perceived. Funny, the two managers kept saying we don't know unless you communicate with us and I wanted to raise my hand and say, "um, what do you think we are doing with this letter? That would be communicating." We will discuss more next week. I am just glad that we got things in the open as an example to everyone, that they neeed to talk to the manager with concerns that really matter to them instead of gossiping about it. I will complain too of course, but I was the one to step up and do something about my complaints. I just don't think you have a right to complain over and over and over again and get all worked up if you aren't willing to do something about it. (In a healthy, let's talk about it way and not a I'm feeling angst let get destructive way.) That was Thursday. Friday I went to my manager about personal experiences that I was worried about and we had a good talk.

I am Saffron

Skaggs, Rachel [12:54 PM]:
name some spices
Clymay[12:55 PM]:
cumin
Skaggs, Rachel [12:55 PM]:
more
Clymay [12:56 PM]:
cinnamon. thyme. basil. fennel seeds. dill. rosemary. cardomon. garlic and onion powder. what else? ooh, chili powder
Skaggs, Rachel [1:04 PM]:
Saffron has a spicy, pungent, and bitter flavor with a sharp and penetrating odor.
Skaggs, Rachel [1:04 PM]:
I am Saffron
Clymay [1:05 PM]:
oh yeah, saffron
Clymay [1:05 PM]:
I thought it was sweet too, no?
Skaggs, Rachel [1:06 PM]:
Saffron is used in French bouillabaisse, Spanish paella, Milanese risotto, and many Middle Eastern dishes
Clymay [1:08 PM]:
that is very interesting, thank you for the information
Clymay [1:08 PM]:
I'll log that away
Skaggs, Rachel [1:08 PM]:
A little pinch goes a long way with Saffron. Use it in Italian risottos, Spanish chicken and rice, French seafood stews and Scandinavian sweet breads.
Clymay [1:08 PM]:
and spahgetti sauce
Skaggs, Rachel [1:09 PM]:
what spice are you?
Clymay [1:09 PM]:
I dunno. But my boyf is curry. He is SPICY hot
Clymay [1:09 PM]:
and delicious
Skaggs, Rachel [1:09 PM]:
hehehehehehweheheheh
Clymay [1:13 PM]:
who thought of this game?
Skaggs, Rachel [1:16 PM]:
me of course
Clymay [1:18 PM]:
why did I even ask?

Today I emailed my manager concerns about my department and possible solutions to fixing those concerns. He took the email very personally. He's there for us to go to when we have concerns, that's his job. Sigh.

There's something physically draining about angering your manager. It just doesn't leave me with a lot of energy to go bounding about when there is the possibility your manager could be plotting your termination. But I had plenty of tootsie rolls left over from Halloween, so I snacked on those for energy and read humorous emails and IM conversations I've saved over the past year and a half.

Random IMs make me happy. And we shall see how the email pans out after Thursday when we meet as a team to discuss it.

This is Halloween!

Why is no one enthusiastic about Halloween this year? At work no one wanted to decorate because "there's no way we'll win the decorating contest." Who cares? Have fun! Why do people feel they can't have fun at work? No one was excited to dress up, but I don't work tomorrow so I don't know if people will or not. And everyone voted to keep the kids at home instead have them trick or treat at work because if the kids come they'll get us sick. Who decided to kill Halloween?

Though my Stake Halloween party doesn't sound incredibly exciting, I am going just because it is the only activity I have to dress up for and I can't not dress up this year. That would be ridiculous.

I decided to just do a simple cheap costume and it has turned out to be amazing. I am excited. Queen Bavmorda from Willow. I have the ripped up sheets for the mummy outfit beneath, the black robes, the white nun cap, I've made a crown out of burnt tinfoil, and tomorrow I'm going to buy a doll, wrap it in cloth and a belt so I can walk around exiling it's soul into oblivion. I am so happy.

Stop Wasting My Time

I hate wasting my time on things I don't enjoy. I never have enough time to do everything I want to do, so anymore I have no patience for spending hours at an activity that is boring or isn't stimulating, intellectually or spiritually, etc. (Ironically my job applies to this category, except that it gives me money and that is important).

For instance, FHE. The activity is SUPPOSED to be a get to know you activity so why not do something . . . revolving around the scriptures. After all we don’t get enough religion living in Provo, UT. Devotionals, ward prayer, firesides, 3 hours of church, an hour of visiting teaching, an hour of home teaching, enrichment activities, and then FHE, where the first ½ hour is supposed to be a lesson, which I am fine with. But I draw the line at making the activity also, ALWAYS, about the scriptures. Perhaps I am a bad person and I should make religion a part of every aspect of my life. Perhaps I should be eating, breathing, dreaming, writing, drawing, watching, walking, sitting, washing religion. After all, my faith is very important to me; shouldn’t it pervade every breath of my life? But let’s be honest. Do we all find the scriptures so exciting that we want to be reading them all the time?

And the scriptures, religion in general, is meant to show you how to live your life. They are basically instructions. A user’s manual. But if you spend more time reading the instructions and not doing any practical application then the instructions are useless. You are spending all your time planning your life and never actually living your life. You are gaining nothing.

I feel that way about many of the activities I am semi-forced to participate in. There is no real enrichment from them. FHE activities: 1. Let’s get to know one another. Here is a pile of pieces of papers with scripture names written on them. Grab one, don’t look at it, but put it facing out pressed to your forehead so everyone else can look at it. Go around to people and ask them one question about themselves and then ask 3 yes or no questions about the person you are. YAY! I scream sarcastically. What name do I get on my forehead: Nebuchadnezzar. What in the world? The activity did not allow much getting to know you. The focus was on the scripture name, not the people. 2nd activity: Book of Mormon Golf! Randomly open the scriptures, read out a chapter heading and everyone has to write down the book and chapter they think it is in. How is that helpful? It is like we are always focusing on the facts, the dates, the names, and yet we spend no time on the actual meanings behind the scriptures. We keep reading the manual, the instructions, but we never use what is in there, not in these activities. And reading the chapter headings? It is like reading the description on the back of a book.

I’m not saying we shouldn’t read the scriptures. Reading the scriptures gives you many examples of how to live your life and each time you read them you can get something different and applicable to that moment in your life. However, I am the type of reader that reads and gets meaning, but I do not have the kind of memory to remember which chapter that message came from, which prophet or follower said what, to me it doesn’t matter who said it, the messages all come from God. It doesn’t matter which vessel he uses. I guess my brain works differently. I just don’t want to spend an hour trying to prove who remembers the most about where each thing happened in the scriptures.

For once I am glad it's Costco day at work

This morning I was enjoying my cocoon of darkness and warmth at 7 am, and refused to get out of bed a moment sooner than I absolutely had to in order to at least shower and then go to work, despite having wrapped myself at 7 pm the night before. Copious amounts of sleep is my cure-all, including headaches and sore throats, both of which I had last night. So to bed I went, listening to my mix of La Femme Nikita songs, Enigma softening the pulse in my eye. Just the one.

I barely made it to work, skipping making my own lunch. Hopefully work would have something good to eat, maybe China Isle or something tasty and loaded with fat and protein and nutrients so I could feel like I was combating my oncoming cold. To my disappointment it was Costco written across the menu board. It was then that I realized I'd forgotten my wallet and had no money anyway. Blast. I had two options: 1. microwave popcorn and apple sauce from my drawer of snacks to keep me running through 10 hours at work. or 2. drive home and get my wallet, which would mean I'd have to stay an extra 1/2 hour. 10 hour Mondays are long enough.

My pink, yellow-dotted easter egg of change held 63 cents. I couldn't even get something from the vending machine for that. I scrounged in my purse and AHA! A crumpled dollar bill. With that I could get twinkies, or chips, probably even some poptarts. None of which I should be eating.

That's when I remembered it was Costco day. The cheapest lunch day. My ugh turned to hmm as I realized I could buy a hot dog for 1.50. Now with a hot dog in my belly and Erasure in my ears, I think I just might make it through this day.

Me and Tara, hiking from Boscastle to Tintagel.

The Write Direction

I am moving up in the world. Finally creating an environment I can create in. It was difficult to sit down at my old, tired laptop to write, the over-loud whirring of its uncertain life, the staggered grating of the last working fan as it struggled to give me hope that it would endure another day just for me, for old time's sake. Words and sentences appearing, on a secondary screen because the other was broken, at least 20 seconds after I'd typed them. I was constantly pausing, waiting for my computer to catch up. I might as well have had a scribe.

But I was able to update, my dad giving me an extra computer he had. Words appear as I type them now. I'd almost forgotten how that feels. One step in the right direction for me being able to write more often.

Yet every time I sat down to write, I couldn't sit for long. The metal chair beneath me did not allow for longevity in one position. It compelled me to get up and move around. That didn't help my writing pursuits. Helped my tv watching, which was booming on its own.

But, yesterday I went to the world of desk chairs. Rows and rows stretching before me, yearning for my butt to sit in every one. I hunkered down in slouching positions, moved each chair so I could kick my feet up, rubbed my back against leather like a feline to the leg of a potential petter. I wiggled, wriggled, crossed one leg and both, rocked, flopped, and contemplated my butt, long overdue for some better home comfort, softer plush cushioning without lugging it around with me everywhere I go. I found the perfect one. Brought it home and assembled it myself. Now, here I sit, butt nestled in comfort as I slouch and write. I could lounge here all day. Definitely the right direction.

Edinburgh

We may have gotten up way too early to go to Hadrian's Wall only to decide it was too expensive. But the rising sun made me want to start every morning with such a view.

Newgrange, Ireland

Can you start a Europe trip any better than with green, rolling hills of Ireland, a hot Irish tour guide with a beautiful accent, and going into a burial mound that is lined perfectly so as to have the inside lit by the winter solistice's rising sun?

Hall of Mirrors, Versailles

Blog, Vomiting Frog, Blog

Quite simple really. Certainly not an unfortunate nickname. But a stress ball squeezed to bursting, an ooze of yellow mucus sludging across the already disgusting surface of my desk. Delighted, and of a generous nature, I decided to share my new diversion . . . over the side of my cubicle wall, dangling yellow goo into Jayme's pencil basket. Once the vomiting frog was desiccated thoroughly and his innards ripped out, we made him swallow Priscilla. There he still stands, maw a permanent gulp of cat whiskers, frog stomach lining cocooning the rest of the freaky feline. Every day he watches over me from his perch on the cubicle wall, inwardly snickering at the people who pass by. Their dropped chins showing that no one has a clue about what goes on in my head. Who dares to be weird at work?