Every year on Valentines Day, I would wake up to find a rose and a balloon in my bedroom from my father. My brothers and sister would wake to find the same, and then my sister and I would run to look at all the roses that he had gotten my mother. The roses would be different every year, barely ever being the standard 12 red that everyone gets. I love seeing those roses and can not wait to hear about them when I call my mom on Valentine's Day tomorrow. Yes, my dad still does it. And even now that I'm all grown up, when tomorrow dawns (Valentine's Day), I will miss not having a rose and balloon from my dad.
My dad wasn't always so smooth on V-day. Oh no! His first Valentine's Day with my mom he showed up with a heart shaped box of cheap chocolate, you know the kind you find everywhere on Valentine's Day (not that they can't be fun sometimes, and I like them). Mom is a chocolatier, a chocolate snob. Mom ended up writing what came to be known as "The Chocolate Bible" and she made one travel sized to go in my dad's wallet. After that, he gave a lot more thought to his Valentine's gifts and went with his new knowledge about finer chocolate and my mom's favorite flower, the rose.
When I came along, I was my daddy's little Valentine. I got a single rose (the first one was just like my mommy's) and a balloon. I received the same up until I moved out and I got to see my mom's dozen beautiful roses.
Good memories.
Valentine's Day changed a lot as I grew up. I've had bunches of heart shaped boxes full of chocolate, flowers, and boys a-plenty (usually odd-balls) vying to be my Valentine. But every year my single rose and balloon would be the first thing I'd see. From my first ever Valentine; my dad.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Family Ties
What makes an older sibling?
Meet Ryan Efros
and Melissa Hellewell
my older siblings.
Ok, not biologically. Technically, I am the oldest of four in the Carilli Family. But over the years my family and I have adopted and been adopted by certain people as family members, forming the Carilli Clan.
These non-blood relatives are as much my family as my blood relations. Some I consider closer than blood. They are often referred to as my 'other' or 'extra' family, but there is nothing extra about them. They are my family. In 21 years of gathering The Clan, I have only had two 'older siblings'.
In the dynamic of The Clan (or 'other family') actual age is not a factor. Being older does not make you an older sibling. Many of my 'other' siblings are older than me, but I still play the role of the older sibling. Your role in The Clan is governed mostly by personality and mind sets. I am just cast as the older sister, and I don't have a problem with that. It is just the way it is.
Being the oldest of four, I've never really wanted an older sibling. Not for any real reason, but because I am the oldest and there isn't anything I can do about it. That ship has simply sailed. But now I have two, Ryan and Melissa.
Ryan and I met just after I moved out of my parent's house. I was fine, a little alone and by myself, but I was doing alright. Ryan was my hometeacher from church and kept worming his way into my life. Really I wasn't excited about having a stranger from church in my life and battled against him. Ryan really worked hard to pull me out of my house and introduced me to everyone he knew. He included me and eventually I was thankful. Over time and through (what seemed like at the time) disasters, we became close friends and from there we started referring to each other as brother and sister. Ryan has helped guide me through some tough times, and has supported me in the good things and has called me out when I know I'm messing up. We've had our spats and disagreements, we've been on adventures, and had some great (interesting) times. Despite sometimes not seeing eye to eye on occasion, I know if I ever needed Ryan he would be there for me and I will be there for him if he needs me (probably not going to happen now that he has a wonderful wife but still I'm there). That is what family does. I know I needed to have Ryan as an older brother and to take a turn as a younger sibling. Without him the past 3 years would have been much harder.
Melissa and I also met in my ward, but we didn't start talking until after she pulled me into her group at a dance we both attended. She rescued me from a gentleman of questionable character who wanted to dance with me. WE hung out after that a couple of times and I invited her to Sunday dinner at my parent's house. She fit right in with the family. After that she was my sister and one of my mother's 'extra' daughters. I know I can tell Melissa anything without her judging me, but also know that she'll let me know what she thinks about my actions. I value her opinion and advice (even when I don't want to face facts or hear I'm doing wrong). It was really difficult for me when she found out she would be moving away to another state. But now I know that even though we are out of reach, it doesn't mean we have to be out of touch. My family and I have visited her at her new home, and it makes us all happy when she sets aside time to come home when she is in town.
These are my older siblings. I think what makes them 'older siblings' in the dynamic of The Clan, is that I respect them and look up to them. Maybe that is all it takes to be a true 'older sibling'. What ever it is I'm glad to have them both as part of my family, and to take my turn as a younger sister. Although, I hope to not have too many older siblings as the Carilli Clan continues to grow with new brothers, sisters, parents, and even grandparents. Two is enough.
Love you guys!
Ps. I would also like to shout out to more of those who make up my family and The Clan. To my sisters: Jasmine, Susie, Amanda, Kylee, Laurel, and my twin Maggie. To my brothers: John, Anthony, Mick, Chuck, and Chris. To my parents: Janet, Jhon (yes it is spelled right, that is my dad), Dennis, Toni, Dedee, Lana, Alan, and Margret. To my aunts and uncles: Scott, Connie, Mike, and Coral. And to my grandparents: Grandpa Kerr, Grandma Caroline, and Grandpa Bill. I love you all so much and are happy to call you family!
Meet Ryan Efros
and Melissa Hellewell
my older siblings.
Ok, not biologically. Technically, I am the oldest of four in the Carilli Family. But over the years my family and I have adopted and been adopted by certain people as family members, forming the Carilli Clan.
These non-blood relatives are as much my family as my blood relations. Some I consider closer than blood. They are often referred to as my 'other' or 'extra' family, but there is nothing extra about them. They are my family. In 21 years of gathering The Clan, I have only had two 'older siblings'.
In the dynamic of The Clan (or 'other family') actual age is not a factor. Being older does not make you an older sibling. Many of my 'other' siblings are older than me, but I still play the role of the older sibling. Your role in The Clan is governed mostly by personality and mind sets. I am just cast as the older sister, and I don't have a problem with that. It is just the way it is.
Being the oldest of four, I've never really wanted an older sibling. Not for any real reason, but because I am the oldest and there isn't anything I can do about it. That ship has simply sailed. But now I have two, Ryan and Melissa.
Ryan and I met just after I moved out of my parent's house. I was fine, a little alone and by myself, but I was doing alright. Ryan was my hometeacher from church and kept worming his way into my life. Really I wasn't excited about having a stranger from church in my life and battled against him. Ryan really worked hard to pull me out of my house and introduced me to everyone he knew. He included me and eventually I was thankful. Over time and through (what seemed like at the time) disasters, we became close friends and from there we started referring to each other as brother and sister. Ryan has helped guide me through some tough times, and has supported me in the good things and has called me out when I know I'm messing up. We've had our spats and disagreements, we've been on adventures, and had some great (interesting) times. Despite sometimes not seeing eye to eye on occasion, I know if I ever needed Ryan he would be there for me and I will be there for him if he needs me (probably not going to happen now that he has a wonderful wife but still I'm there). That is what family does. I know I needed to have Ryan as an older brother and to take a turn as a younger sibling. Without him the past 3 years would have been much harder.
Melissa and I also met in my ward, but we didn't start talking until after she pulled me into her group at a dance we both attended. She rescued me from a gentleman of questionable character who wanted to dance with me. WE hung out after that a couple of times and I invited her to Sunday dinner at my parent's house. She fit right in with the family. After that she was my sister and one of my mother's 'extra' daughters. I know I can tell Melissa anything without her judging me, but also know that she'll let me know what she thinks about my actions. I value her opinion and advice (even when I don't want to face facts or hear I'm doing wrong). It was really difficult for me when she found out she would be moving away to another state. But now I know that even though we are out of reach, it doesn't mean we have to be out of touch. My family and I have visited her at her new home, and it makes us all happy when she sets aside time to come home when she is in town.
These are my older siblings. I think what makes them 'older siblings' in the dynamic of The Clan, is that I respect them and look up to them. Maybe that is all it takes to be a true 'older sibling'. What ever it is I'm glad to have them both as part of my family, and to take my turn as a younger sister. Although, I hope to not have too many older siblings as the Carilli Clan continues to grow with new brothers, sisters, parents, and even grandparents. Two is enough.
Love you guys!
Ps. I would also like to shout out to more of those who make up my family and The Clan. To my sisters: Jasmine, Susie, Amanda, Kylee, Laurel, and my twin Maggie. To my brothers: John, Anthony, Mick, Chuck, and Chris. To my parents: Janet, Jhon (yes it is spelled right, that is my dad), Dennis, Toni, Dedee, Lana, Alan, and Margret. To my aunts and uncles: Scott, Connie, Mike, and Coral. And to my grandparents: Grandpa Kerr, Grandma Caroline, and Grandpa Bill. I love you all so much and are happy to call you family!
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
CDO: OCD Like it SHOULD be.
For those who know me, you know I have organizational tendencies. Some may even go so far as claiming I have OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder). I am here today to dispel these beliefs!
Just because a person enjoys going into a room that is an absolute disaster (like the Institute storeroom (in which I went on an epic adventure to discover the carpet last semester), or they feel the need to have a spice cupboard in alphabetical order, does not mean they are overly and obsessively organized. It just means I like things tidy and where I can find them. I like to look at a cupboard or room and see everything in it. And by putting together closets and kitchen cupboards now everyone else can find things too.
Yesterday I set about cleaning the kitchen cupboards at the Las Vegas Institute. I have to work there so I might as well know what is in there. Many people came in and gave me funny looks, lots of people asked what I was doing, and all of my friends who saw me came in to laugh. I was told by chuckling people that the spices don't NEED to alphabetized, the laughing stopped when they saw that's exactly what I was doing. But now I know what I have to cook with. And everything is clean and easy to locate. Each shelf also has an alphabetized list of everything on it, just in case anyone has a question of what is in there where to put things away.
This is not over organization or the workings of an OCD person. It is art! It is creating perfectly linear, alphabetized, ascetically pleasing beauty. Nothing is as beautiful and comforting as knowing where something you need is.
These are not the workings of a crazy OCD lady. This is the work of an artist! Yes I am an artist! And every cupboard, drawer, and shelf is my canvas!
P.S. For those who still hold the belief I am OCD, I believe I have proved the point. :P
Just because a person enjoys going into a room that is an absolute disaster (like the Institute storeroom (in which I went on an epic adventure to discover the carpet last semester), or they feel the need to have a spice cupboard in alphabetical order, does not mean they are overly and obsessively organized. It just means I like things tidy and where I can find them. I like to look at a cupboard or room and see everything in it. And by putting together closets and kitchen cupboards now everyone else can find things too.
Yesterday I set about cleaning the kitchen cupboards at the Las Vegas Institute. I have to work there so I might as well know what is in there. Many people came in and gave me funny looks, lots of people asked what I was doing, and all of my friends who saw me came in to laugh. I was told by chuckling people that the spices don't NEED to alphabetized, the laughing stopped when they saw that's exactly what I was doing. But now I know what I have to cook with. And everything is clean and easy to locate. Each shelf also has an alphabetized list of everything on it, just in case anyone has a question of what is in there where to put things away.
This is not over organization or the workings of an OCD person. It is art! It is creating perfectly linear, alphabetized, ascetically pleasing beauty. Nothing is as beautiful and comforting as knowing where something you need is.
These are not the workings of a crazy OCD lady. This is the work of an artist! Yes I am an artist! And every cupboard, drawer, and shelf is my canvas!
P.S. For those who still hold the belief I am OCD, I believe I have proved the point. :P
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Penny In The Kitchen
Last week I was given a new responsibility. I am now Friday Lunch Committee Chair for the Las Vegas, Nevada LDS Institute. So every Friday my job is to prepare lunch for 110 or so people.
I just survived my first Friday Lunch.
I focused all week on preparing. I went through all the cupboards, seeing what I had to use because we're trying to not store food. I found a ton of rice. So I decided to make sweet and sour meatballs over rice. It wasn't until later I realized I'd need a side dish to go with it, so I added an Asian styled salad with mandarin-vinegarette dressing. For all of you who were eating at Friday Forum here is a secret: I have never made either of these dishes before. Really. I have no idea what I was thinking! When cooking for a lot of people you usually want to make something easy that you've done before and know people will like. Not me. I decided to go a more stressful route. I cook often, have helped at Friday Lunch for years, know what works, and on my first chance I risk completely blowing it by doing something I've never tried, and that hasn't been made for Friday Lunch before. Not the smartest of moves.
So Friday I was nervous. I'm amazed I wasn't in full panic mode. I arrived at the Institute at 9:00am. Overkill. I wanted to have a committee meeting at 10:30am (having called all my volunteers and asking them to come to the meeting), so I prepared and waited for my committee to show up. No one did. At least not until about 11:00-11:30, where I grabbed people from the halls, bullied them into signing up specifically for my committee. Then it got moving. Tables and chairs went up (slower than I'd like because boys like to goof off and get distracted) and the cooking began.
Kitchen disasters: 1)All the large pots in the institute kitchen will scorch because of the electric stove. This makes it incredibly difficult when making large amounts of pasta and RICE!! So the use of 3 small pots that are SUPPOSED to be used on electric stoves replaced the big pot, making things messier, more difficult, and led to a gross burning smell throughout the building. 2) 650 meatballs will not fit into a single slow roaster and even if they do, they will not heat up in 1/2 an hour. Lesson learned. Fix: take the roasting pan out of the roaster, throw it in the oven, and pray that no one will get a cold meatball. IT worked. Thank heavens! 3) Not having a kitchen that is stocked the way you wanted. Needed vinegar, rummaged through the whole kitchen, found 3 different types of vinegar and played chemist to get the flavor I wanted.
Once everything was on the table things were fine. Ok lie. When everything was on the table and people were going through the line, things were fine. The worst part was waiting between putting everything on the table and waiting for the class to get out and start eating. That quiet between storms is nerve racking. IT gives you just enough time to think about everything that could go wrong and there is no longer time to fix it. I can fix anything as long as I have enough time.
My mind was put to rest when everyone started to line up and eat. It brought me back to the moment and gave me something to focus on.
Everything after that went well. People enjoyed the food, most liked how it was different, there were very few leftovers, and clean up was quick. I ran around and told people what I needed to be done. I found that if you ask it will happen. I wish I would have asked more last semester.
I think my first experience went well. There are many more to come. Hopefully they'll be just as smooth or even smoother.
I just survived my first Friday Lunch.
I focused all week on preparing. I went through all the cupboards, seeing what I had to use because we're trying to not store food. I found a ton of rice. So I decided to make sweet and sour meatballs over rice. It wasn't until later I realized I'd need a side dish to go with it, so I added an Asian styled salad with mandarin-vinegarette dressing. For all of you who were eating at Friday Forum here is a secret: I have never made either of these dishes before. Really. I have no idea what I was thinking! When cooking for a lot of people you usually want to make something easy that you've done before and know people will like. Not me. I decided to go a more stressful route. I cook often, have helped at Friday Lunch for years, know what works, and on my first chance I risk completely blowing it by doing something I've never tried, and that hasn't been made for Friday Lunch before. Not the smartest of moves.
So Friday I was nervous. I'm amazed I wasn't in full panic mode. I arrived at the Institute at 9:00am. Overkill. I wanted to have a committee meeting at 10:30am (having called all my volunteers and asking them to come to the meeting), so I prepared and waited for my committee to show up. No one did. At least not until about 11:00-11:30, where I grabbed people from the halls, bullied them into signing up specifically for my committee. Then it got moving. Tables and chairs went up (slower than I'd like because boys like to goof off and get distracted) and the cooking began.
Kitchen disasters: 1)All the large pots in the institute kitchen will scorch because of the electric stove. This makes it incredibly difficult when making large amounts of pasta and RICE!! So the use of 3 small pots that are SUPPOSED to be used on electric stoves replaced the big pot, making things messier, more difficult, and led to a gross burning smell throughout the building. 2) 650 meatballs will not fit into a single slow roaster and even if they do, they will not heat up in 1/2 an hour. Lesson learned. Fix: take the roasting pan out of the roaster, throw it in the oven, and pray that no one will get a cold meatball. IT worked. Thank heavens! 3) Not having a kitchen that is stocked the way you wanted. Needed vinegar, rummaged through the whole kitchen, found 3 different types of vinegar and played chemist to get the flavor I wanted.
Once everything was on the table things were fine. Ok lie. When everything was on the table and people were going through the line, things were fine. The worst part was waiting between putting everything on the table and waiting for the class to get out and start eating. That quiet between storms is nerve racking. IT gives you just enough time to think about everything that could go wrong and there is no longer time to fix it. I can fix anything as long as I have enough time.
My mind was put to rest when everyone started to line up and eat. It brought me back to the moment and gave me something to focus on.
Everything after that went well. People enjoyed the food, most liked how it was different, there were very few leftovers, and clean up was quick. I ran around and told people what I needed to be done. I found that if you ask it will happen. I wish I would have asked more last semester.
I think my first experience went well. There are many more to come. Hopefully they'll be just as smooth or even smoother.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
My Milton Class
So school has started a new semester at UNLV. And I am starting to really worry about my major and if this is really what I want to be doing since it is getting close to crunch time. I only have one year of school left and its getting really late to change my mind. I am really starting to worry if it is right for me to be an English Major especially after my first day of my Milton class. The following is what I wrote in class on my first day as my professor droned on. My rationalization for writing this is I had to find some way to stay AWAKE during class. It was so hard AWAKE took dominance of ATTENTIVE. Sometimes that is just the way it goes.
My Milton Class 1/20/11
My Milton professor is the stereotypical boring professor. He is an aged, gray-haired, quiet, monotone, intelligent, talk-over-your-head, thinks he is funny, New York, lecturer. He talks, that's all there is, his soft, no inflection, voice for an hour and forty five minutes. There are no power points or visual aids to his lessons. You take notes on what he is saying and hope you heard him right the first time because that info will never be repeated until it randomly pops up on a test or paper. It will be a fight every class to pay attention to his soft-spoken ambient noises.
He does love his work and the subject matter, though. Milton is his literary god. But Milton is hard enough with his blank verse and anti-heroes and is only made worse by his inability to make things interesting.
I look around my classroom and I am scared. The shock of the English Major image hits me and I can not believe I am connected to this major. When I think English Major I think of a group of high intelligent, independent, individuals, ready to write about the woes of the world, to right the injustices, and personify the wrong doings. I see a group of united people, pens in hand, who will always be poor, but will always be liked, popular, and social. English Majors can go anywhere, talk to anyone, be and do everything. People and writers like Tolkien, Lewis, and Chaucer. That is what English Majors used to be and should be again. But the image has been hacked and mutated into a different thing.
Yes English Majors still write, but it is more to complain and whine. It is shallow, not well thought out, and self-focused. They are not well-dressed, social to anybody, or seemingly intelligent. They are grungy, clique-ish folk. I look around my class and see a boy with a bright purple triangled mohawk, other boys with scraggly unbrushed hair, dirty beanies abound through the classroom, girls with heavy eye make-up, and painted black nails on both genders. There are three large ladies who dot the class. One must be in her upper 40's, the other two have to be 50+. then there are those who walked into the class and head went straight to desk and they fell asleep. English Majors are not attentive knowledge seekers anymore. They have become the rejects, the outcasts, the anarchists.
They do not conform or talk to others who do not share their beliefs. They want to stand out but not for their brains, but for their looks. They have become a 'stick-it-to-the-man' type of group. The writings are dark, whiny, twists on mew dooms. And depression seems to be the only mood.
Come back scholar! Come those who want to learn and not because it might mean money later! Bring back the voices of the world and take away the wailings of the wild! Come back English Majors!
Yup so that's it. My thoughts during my first class of a new semester. Heaven help us all!
My Milton Class 1/20/11
My Milton professor is the stereotypical boring professor. He is an aged, gray-haired, quiet, monotone, intelligent, talk-over-your-head, thinks he is funny, New York, lecturer. He talks, that's all there is, his soft, no inflection, voice for an hour and forty five minutes. There are no power points or visual aids to his lessons. You take notes on what he is saying and hope you heard him right the first time because that info will never be repeated until it randomly pops up on a test or paper. It will be a fight every class to pay attention to his soft-spoken ambient noises.
He does love his work and the subject matter, though. Milton is his literary god. But Milton is hard enough with his blank verse and anti-heroes and is only made worse by his inability to make things interesting.
I look around my classroom and I am scared. The shock of the English Major image hits me and I can not believe I am connected to this major. When I think English Major I think of a group of high intelligent, independent, individuals, ready to write about the woes of the world, to right the injustices, and personify the wrong doings. I see a group of united people, pens in hand, who will always be poor, but will always be liked, popular, and social. English Majors can go anywhere, talk to anyone, be and do everything. People and writers like Tolkien, Lewis, and Chaucer. That is what English Majors used to be and should be again. But the image has been hacked and mutated into a different thing.
Yes English Majors still write, but it is more to complain and whine. It is shallow, not well thought out, and self-focused. They are not well-dressed, social to anybody, or seemingly intelligent. They are grungy, clique-ish folk. I look around my class and see a boy with a bright purple triangled mohawk, other boys with scraggly unbrushed hair, dirty beanies abound through the classroom, girls with heavy eye make-up, and painted black nails on both genders. There are three large ladies who dot the class. One must be in her upper 40's, the other two have to be 50+. then there are those who walked into the class and head went straight to desk and they fell asleep. English Majors are not attentive knowledge seekers anymore. They have become the rejects, the outcasts, the anarchists.
They do not conform or talk to others who do not share their beliefs. They want to stand out but not for their brains, but for their looks. They have become a 'stick-it-to-the-man' type of group. The writings are dark, whiny, twists on mew dooms. And depression seems to be the only mood.
Come back scholar! Come those who want to learn and not because it might mean money later! Bring back the voices of the world and take away the wailings of the wild! Come back English Majors!
Yup so that's it. My thoughts during my first class of a new semester. Heaven help us all!
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Booth Variety
Last night (actually quite early in the morning after a late night out on the town in Vegas), my boyfriend and I went to a 24 hour restaurant before we called it a night. We sat next to each other, shared french toast and an omlette, and sat down complimenting each other and talking sweetly about nothing at all. Everything was smiley and happy, and we were both excited to be sitting together all dolled and dressed up together in our little booth.
In walks a couple and they sit directly in the booth behind us. Why anyone would do that in a 'seat yourself' restaurant I don't know and I really don't know why you wouldn't go as far away from people as possible when you are engaging in the wonderful activity of arguing like these two were. These individuals trudged in, plopped down across from each other, and began tearing into the other's flaws, self-esteem, and any other issue that could cross their minds. They did it loudly and right behind us for the rest of our meal. Pretty soon my boyfriend and I could no longer focus on our own meal and conversation, but were drawn into theirs as we both tried to not look and listen in (feeling awkward and uncomfortable about the intrusion into our wonderful evening).
A couple of questions. 1)Why would you choose a restaurant to fight in? 2)Ok so you choose to fight over a late night dinner, your seating wasn't selected for you, why did you have to sit right behind me? I didn't barge into your evening. Why are you inflicting yourselves into mine, and everyone else's who happen to be around you? And 3)How could two completely different evenings exist back to back of each other like that? I find it amazing how two situations completely opposite of each other came into such personal contact last night. It shows how many different things can go on in the world at the same time. It is slightly astounding to me, and brought me to reality last night when someone was having a bad evening while I was having a fairytale night.
At one point the woman in the booth behind us left for the restroom, giving us some peace and allowing our own conversation to get back into flow. During this time I noticed the gentleman watching us. A little awkward. I wish I could know what he was thinking. What was going through my head was 'You two were probably like this once. Holding hands, laughing together, and wrapped up in each other's conversations. I hope to never end up like you and her, fighting in a restaurant.' When the woman returned, they quickly resumed their arguments (more loudly than before and with renewed vigor). We promptly gabbed our check and left the restaurant.
How strange all the little isolated scenarios one can find in every booth in a restaurant.
In walks a couple and they sit directly in the booth behind us. Why anyone would do that in a 'seat yourself' restaurant I don't know and I really don't know why you wouldn't go as far away from people as possible when you are engaging in the wonderful activity of arguing like these two were. These individuals trudged in, plopped down across from each other, and began tearing into the other's flaws, self-esteem, and any other issue that could cross their minds. They did it loudly and right behind us for the rest of our meal. Pretty soon my boyfriend and I could no longer focus on our own meal and conversation, but were drawn into theirs as we both tried to not look and listen in (feeling awkward and uncomfortable about the intrusion into our wonderful evening).
A couple of questions. 1)Why would you choose a restaurant to fight in? 2)Ok so you choose to fight over a late night dinner, your seating wasn't selected for you, why did you have to sit right behind me? I didn't barge into your evening. Why are you inflicting yourselves into mine, and everyone else's who happen to be around you? And 3)How could two completely different evenings exist back to back of each other like that? I find it amazing how two situations completely opposite of each other came into such personal contact last night. It shows how many different things can go on in the world at the same time. It is slightly astounding to me, and brought me to reality last night when someone was having a bad evening while I was having a fairytale night.
At one point the woman in the booth behind us left for the restroom, giving us some peace and allowing our own conversation to get back into flow. During this time I noticed the gentleman watching us. A little awkward. I wish I could know what he was thinking. What was going through my head was 'You two were probably like this once. Holding hands, laughing together, and wrapped up in each other's conversations. I hope to never end up like you and her, fighting in a restaurant.' When the woman returned, they quickly resumed their arguments (more loudly than before and with renewed vigor). We promptly gabbed our check and left the restaurant.
How strange all the little isolated scenarios one can find in every booth in a restaurant.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
It has been too long
So I've left this blog dangling for a long time. But I am back at it with renewed vigor.
School will be starting up next week. And unlike most of my semesters I find myself having mixed feelings about this. On one hand we have the rebirth of my social life to look forward too as more and more of my friends trickle back into the school scene from their home towns and families. On the other hand is the death of my free time and fun times with friends since I'll only get to see these people at various school functions and the stressful study sessions for the weeks we're in school. So I'll have all my friends back in one place, but no unrelated to school time with them. It is a hard life.
Another thing I have mixed feelings about. In the past week four pairs of my friends have gotten engaged. Here is a congratulations to them all and a request: Please don't schedule your weddings and receptions all on the same day to make it a little easier on us who want to attend. It'll be so hard to choose between you all!
And you all know I'm happy for you, but who am I going to hang out with now that you're all getting married? Really, could you be any less considerate (just kidding of course).
School will be starting up next week. And unlike most of my semesters I find myself having mixed feelings about this. On one hand we have the rebirth of my social life to look forward too as more and more of my friends trickle back into the school scene from their home towns and families. On the other hand is the death of my free time and fun times with friends since I'll only get to see these people at various school functions and the stressful study sessions for the weeks we're in school. So I'll have all my friends back in one place, but no unrelated to school time with them. It is a hard life.
Another thing I have mixed feelings about. In the past week four pairs of my friends have gotten engaged. Here is a congratulations to them all and a request: Please don't schedule your weddings and receptions all on the same day to make it a little easier on us who want to attend. It'll be so hard to choose between you all!
And you all know I'm happy for you, but who am I going to hang out with now that you're all getting married? Really, could you be any less considerate (just kidding of course).
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