Political Correctness

Just a random thought...

I don't understand why people get in such a tizzy about using "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas." I understand, being a practicing Christian and all, that people want to put the "'Christ' back in Christmas." Makes sense. But...and this is just a thought...isn't the Christ-like thing to do...is to be ALL inclusive? This IS the holiday season, is it not? People DO celebrate other holidays other than Christmas in this holiday season, do they not?

I also understand, after briefing myself on "political correctness," that it burns people's buns when "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas" is said in order to avoid offending people. Sadly (or maybe not, depending on how you see it), the fear of offending others runs thick through the American population. In trying too hard to be politically correct, we lose the true meaning of what we are trying to express; assuming the intention is not to offend anyone, then this can result in quite a frustrating conundrum. Before opinions are given where no opinions have been asked for... I would like to condense my thought:

If someone says "Happy Holidays" to you, GREAT. Did you ever think that MAYBE they also meant to include New Years in their felicitous statement and NOT to be politically correct? And if someone says "Merry Christmas" to you, calm yo' self! Now you know they celebrate Christmas. Sometimes the nitty, gritty details just don't matter.

The End.

"Eul" Tide: Keeping in Mind the Holiday Season

Lying here with a roll of toilet paper to aid me as my nose decidedly turns into a faucet, draining bacteria and my body turns itself into a broken oven...I think to myself, I have much to be grateful for on this day of thanks; and before I die, I would like to enlighten you all on something I have but just learned this past week.

Since before I started preschool, I was taught the story of the pilgrims. More specifically, I was told the tale of Carver, Bradford, and Massasoit. I know, you're impressed. I watched a lot of TV when I was younger, and as a result have learned quite a lot. EXCEPT, for some strange reason, I was JUST informed that President Abraham Lincoln (and some speculate, Secretary of State William Seward) made Thanksgiving Day a national holiday. How, in my 18 years of schooling was I not informed of this? And if I was, why don't I remember? 

No offense to the pilgrims, but they shouldn't hog all the headlines. And thus, for those of you who were as ignorant as I was, please do read ahead.

By the President of the United States of America.
A Proclamation.

The year that is drawing towards its close, has been filled with the blessings of fruitful fields and healthful skies. To these bounties, which are so constantly enjoyed that we are prone to forget the source from which they come, others have been added, which are of so extraordinary a nature, that they cannot fail to penetrate and soften even the heart which is habitually insensible to the ever watchful providence of Almighty God. In the midst of a civil war of unequaled magnitude and severity, which has sometimes seemed to foreign States to invite and to provoke their aggression, peace has been preserved with all nations, order has been maintained, the laws have been respected and obeyed, and harmony has prevailed everywhere except in the theatre of military conflict; while that theatre has been greatly contracted by the advancing armies and navies of the Union. Needful diversions of wealth and of strength from the fields of peaceful industry to the national defence, have not arrested the plough, the shuttle or the ship; the axe has enlarged the borders of our settlements, and the mines, as well of iron and coal as of the precious metals, have yielded even more abundantly than heretofore. Population has steadily increased, notwithstanding the waste that has been made in the camp, the siege and the battle-field; and the country, rejoicing in the consiousness of augmented strength and vigor, is permitted to expect continuance of years with large increase of freedom. No human counsel hath devised nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God, who, while dealing with us in anger for our sins, hath nevertheless remembered mercy. It has seemed to me fit and proper that they should be solemnly, reverently and gratefully acknowledged as with one heart and one voice by the whole American People. I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens. And I recommend to them that while offering up the ascriptions justly due to Him for such singular deliverances and blessings, they do also, with humble penitence for our national perverseness and disobedience, commend to His tender care all those who have become widows, orphans, mourners or sufferers in the lamentable civil strife in which we are unavoidably engaged, and fervently implore the interposition of the Almighty Hand to heal the wounds of the nation and to restore it as soon as may be consistent with the Divine purposes to the full enjoyment of peace, harmony, tranquillity and Union.

In testimony whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and caused the Seal of the United States to be affixed.

Done at the City of Washington, this Third day of October, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, and of the Independence of the Unites States the Eighty-eighth.

By the President: Abraham Lincoln
William H. Seward,
Secretary of State

He Had Me at Hello

Except he didn't. Who is HE? You're wondering. HE is a hippified-hooligany-greenpeace-loving vagrant (if there even is such a thing). For all of you who are thinking relationshipy thoughts, let me stop you in your tracks. This is about one thing, and one thing only...

Marketing.

For those not seeking a degree in the great field that is essentially human trafficking (okay maybe a bit of a stretch), let me enlighten you. Actually, I won't. If you're wondering, look it up in a dictionary. If you don't have a dictionary...shame on you. I guess that's what the internet is for, an easy and convenient place to, you guessed it, buy dictionaries.

Now on to my story. I will make this quick because a) I lack imagination at this point, and 2) I'm lazy. I was walking the streets of downtown Chicago with my long lost friend, Deven (whether he considers himself long lost or not is another matter). We were walking...somewhere...and this guy, (now known as the hippified-hooligany-greenpeace-loving vagrant) dressed in a vest buckled to his chest (or tied, didn't pay attention to detail) and a binder in hand, proceeded to ask, scratch that, he began to TELL Deven about all the great work his greenpeace-loving self had accomplished in sponsoring a starving child in some remote area of the world; and then of course he proceeded recite excerpts of his textbook, "How to Sell the Cause 101."

I am by no means belittling the good deeds of the people in this world who are willing to give a fraction of a fraction of their income (or lack therof) to help the needy. Whether to give or not to give is not the topic of this rant, nor shall it ever be; to each their own.

What infuriated me was that this lack-luster of a guy didn't even look at me!

Let's back-track for a moment. Deven is a...pretentious fellow. A fellow with a love for blazers and pointy shoes (Deven, if you're reading this...I'm not sorry). Needless to say, he LOOKS like he has discretionary income. I, on the other hand, was wearing, and I hate to say this, but the most hipster of my outfits (and yes, I do love it). So obviously, any NORMAL person would go for the guy who has money and try to pester him to donate to whichever cause-of-the-day. Little did this dud know, I was feeling in a particularly giving mood and had a $20 bill in my pocket, ready to be given to the first person who asked. 10 minutes of pestering later, and I still stood next to Deven, waiting for this sorry excuse of an advocate to turn to me and say, "how about you? do you care about people?"

Obviously I don't. And needless to say, my $20 went to the first person (or in this case, thing) to ask...the CTA pass machine. All I had was a $20...

So yes, it did bother me that this nobody didn't try to sell me the cause. So to all you marketer-hopefuls out there, learn a lesson, don't read "How to Sell the Cause 101," it obviously doesn't work.

*To GreenPeace: I do love trees. I have been to New Zealand. And I absolutely dig the flannel. 

Bad News Bears

After having a brief yet meaningful (not that brevity results in less meaning...let's use succinct instead)... after having a SUCCINCT conversation with my younger brother, I was pointed towards the truth. The truth being, "[my] life sucks."

Let's try to keep a positive attitude towards this new revelation. To be fair to my brother, and his state of thinking towards my successes, I was debating whether or not it was worth paying for traffic school seeing as my deadline to finish the course is up in less than a week. Yes, I got a speeding ticket. And yes, I am doing traffic school. How I got that speeding ticket is a story for another time. So it would seem, my life does indeed suck.

My brother then proceeded to inform me that I am the unluckiest person he knows. This I received with less skepticism. I am indeed the unluckiest person I have ever met. It all began in middle school...

As I reminisce about my childhood, I can honestly say I grew up during some very shiny, very golden, years. It was a time of after-school programs, monthly plays and musicals, hoe-downs...well, to put it simply, schools had money, my parents had money, life was good. At least this is how I choose to see the decision my parents made to put my brother and I in some after school program for hours at a time where we were rewarded by our good behavior. I don't remember ANYTHING about the program, except that we received golden stars for good behavior, and at the end of the week, we would enter our stars into a drawing for a chance to win all sorts of cool things.

The first couple of weeks I would gather up my stars, meticulously write my name on the back (as to make sure it was legible, I didn't want to get cheated) and entered them in the drawing. Did I mention I was a saint child? Needless to say, I never won anything. My brother, however, won something every week. Thanks to my brother's lucky streak, I finally got to go to Knott's Berry Farm. The last and final week of our after school program, I got smart. I took all my stars, wrote my brother's name on them, and told him that anything we won, we would go splitsies.

Now, obviously I was an unlucky child, as I had never won anything up until that point in my life; and this experience in particular made matters worse. I will never know why my brother's one, occasionally two, star submission would defy the laws of probability. Anyway, we won. A set of THE COOLEST Buzz Lightyear walkie-talkies, which we used everyday, ALL DAY. I've never seen any walkie-talkies match the awesomeness of these, and probably never will.

In conclusion, it's okay if I'm the unluckiest person in the world, that's what I have my brother for.

The Complete(ish) Mixed-Up Files Part 1 (of many)

2010-11-11

October/November Updates

I made eggs this morning. Instead of using oil I used butter. IT GOT  STUCK TO THE FRYING PAN!!!!. My poor sunny side up eggs got destroyed. I  still ate them. I'm going back to oil though lol.

My new companion is Elder Rios. Yeah 2 brown boys in a white dominated  area lol. Well Ill let you know what going on in a letter. But yeah I'll  be here for the rest of the transfer. This months focus is every member is a missionary. It's great  to see the members here excited about missionary work. We can all share  the gospel with our friends. Even though it might be kinda hard at BYU  (hence why I'm having second thoughts about living in Utah forever)  always look for opportunities to share the gospel. So are you going to be done with school  by the time I get back. Weird.... every time I think about college I  feel like my hair falls. A really bad feeling builds up in my abdominal  area and works up to my throat causing me to gag. I don't know why but  lets just say I'm very happy where I'm at. This week was another good week. I finally got in the water and  actually baptized someone. Before I had had members baptize the people I  taught because missionaries leave but members don't. But this one baptism  I wanted to baptize and she picked me to do so!

2010-10-19

Just a note to say...

I had to take my bike to the shop so  once again I had a little free time on my P-Day. I then wrote to a  family back in McAllen that recently got baptized so I sent them a small  letter. So I'm not getting transferred, and I'm staying with Elder Powell. I'm  happy cause we get along and we work hard. I'm so excited to get back and just work  so hard at school and stuff. Serving a mission has been a blessing for  me. Kinda like a second chance. Thing is that life can be just as a  missionary life. Be proactive, learn everyday, set small goals and make  plans like it says in Chapter 8 of PMG. PMG (Preach My Gospel) helps us  to be more Christ-like and Christ taught us how to be happy in this life  and how to obtain eternal happiness. I was really dumb before my  mission. Serving a mission is the MTC for Life. I hope to send my sister my other memory card soon so that she can  post up all the pictures. I just cant seem to find a post office around  here. There is like nothing in Laredo. Like this has been my favorite  place on the mission thus far but I WILL NEVER LIVE HERE lol.

Elder Vasquez

2010-09-27

Many Are Called, But Few Are Chosen

One thing I want you to know is that when a bishop is called to be a  bishop, or a prophet is called to be a prophet, the calling is not given  to him to show his mad skillz off to the world. But really, the Savior  being the Savior washed the feet of the apostles, helped others keep the  commandments of the father and did all he could to help those in need.  Every calling is an opportunity to serve, you can serve in the same  manner the prophet does today. You can serve the same way your bishop  does, which is the way Jesus Christ would serve if he had any certain  church calling. Being like Christ is a commandment and our goal. Our  goal is not to be a relief society president. Live your life in a way so  that you may do anything the way Christ would do it. I'm happy to hear  that you really want to become friends with those that you supervise. I  know you will help them come closer to Christ and be an example to  them. Remember Ether 12:27. We all have weaknesses. We can do  whatsoever we desire as long as it is the will of the Lord because he is  even willing to make our weak things strong. Honestly just look for  what makes you happy, even if it something you are not good at, God is  willing to make that weakness a strength. Seek for revelation from our  father and follow those promptings/ feelings from the Holy Ghost." ~ Elder Vasquez (9/20/10)

My counsel to the members of the Church is to support the President  of the Church, the First Presidency, Quorum of the Twelve, and other  General Authorities with our whole hearts and souls. If we do, we will  be in a safe harbor. President Brigham Young said he recollected many times the Prophet  Joseph Smith saying that he “had to pray all the time, exercise faith,  live his religion, and magnify his calling, to obtain the manifestations  of the Lord, and to keep him steadfast in the faith.”All of us may expect some challenges to our faith. These challenges may  come in different ways. You may not always like the counsel that the  Church leaders give to you. They are not trying to be popular. They are  trying to help us avoid the calamities and disappointments that come  through disobedience to God’s laws.

We also need to support and sustain our local leaders, because they  also have been “called and chosen.” Every member of this Church may  receive counsel from a bishop or a branch president, a stake or a  mission president, and the President of the Church and his associates.  None of these brethren asked for his calling. None is perfect. Yet they  are the servants of the Lord, called by Him through those entitled to  inspiration. Those called, sustained, and set apart are entitled to our  sustaining support. I have admired and respected every bishop I have ever had. I have  tried not to question their guidance and have felt that in sustaining  and following their counsel I was protected against the “sleight of men,  and cunning craftiness.”  This was because each of these called and chosen leaders was entitled  to the divine revelation that comes with the calling. Disrespect for  ecclesiastical leaders has caused many to suffer spiritual weakening and  downfall. We should look past any perceived imperfections, warts, or  spots of the men called to preside over us, and uphold the office which  they hold. ~ President James E. Faust

Note from the Editor: I encourage all those who attend General Conference to keep in mind the significance of our sustaining votes; that we may remember that these men were CHOSEN by God and are true disciples of Christ.

2010-09-13

...Trained at the MTC to become a DL...

I am currently in Laredo. I'm 5 minutes away from the border as I  write. My area is 5 minutes away from the border too. So guess what, I'm  a district leader. I HATE PUBLIC SPEAKING LOL. I'm over 8 missionaries.  and I give a training every Tuesday for 1hr and 30 mins. I'm excited  to learn how to talk in public especially for an 1hr and 30 minutes and  even better I'm more excited to help other missionaries accomplish their  goals and help them progress as missionaries and people.

This last week has been pretty crazy. I spent my last p-day packing  and the library was closed since it was Labor Day. Then I got transferred on Tuesday so I was in the car instead of the library lol. So  I couldn't  write to anyone in letters or email. Tomorrow I have my first district  meeting and Wednesday I'll be in McAllen to receive a leadership training  from a General Authority, Thursday ill be in Corpus for Zone conference... 

2010-08-16

The Lord's Work

The most effective missionaries, member and full-time, always act out of  love. … If we lack this love for others, we should pray for it.

"This past week with Elder Thomas has been so cool. We have found cool  people to teach, especially yesterday. It's wonderful to see God put His  arm in the work. It builds my testimony every time and reminds me that this work  would not be possible if it was not for His help. I know everything will be fine because the Lord has promised (Mosiah 2:22)." ~Elder Vasquez (8/16/10)

"And behold, all that he requires of you is to keep his commandments; and he has promised you that if ye would keep his commandments ye should prosper in the land; and he never doth vary from that which he hath said; therefore, if ye do keep his commandments he doth bless you and prosper you" (Mosiah 2:22) We also need divine assistance to guide us in sharing the gospel.  Just as our desires must be pure and rooted in testimony and love, our  actions must be directed by the Lord. It is His work, not ours, and it  must be done in His way and on His timing, not ours. Otherwise, our  efforts may be fated to frustration and failure.

All of us have family members or friends who need the gospel but are  not now interested. To be effective, our efforts with them must be  directed by the Lord so that we act in the way and at the time when they  will be most receptive. We must pray for the Lord’s help and directions  so we can be instruments in His hands for one who is now ready—one He  would have us help today. Then, we must be alert to hear and heed the  promptings of His Spirit in how we proceed. Those promptings will come. We know from countless personal  testimonies that in His own way and His own time the Lord is preparing  persons to accept His gospel. Such persons are searching, and when we  are seeking to identify them the Lord will answer their prayers through  answering ours. He will prompt and guide those who desire and who  sincerely seek guidance in how, where, when, and with whom to share His gospel.

In this way, God grants unto us according to our desires. In modern revelation, the Lord has told us that “there are many yet  on the earth among all sects, parties, and denominations, who are  blinded … and who are only kept from the truth because they know not  where to find it." When we are standing as “witnesses of God at all times and in all things,"  the Lord will open ways for us to find and have appropriate  communications with those who are seeking. This will come when we seek  direction and when we act out of a sincere and Christlike love for  others. The Lord loves all of His children. He desires that all have the  fulness of His truth and the abundance of His blessings. He knows when  they are ready, and He wants us to hear and heed His directions on  sharing His gospel. When we do so, those who are prepared will respond  to the message of Him who said, “My sheep hear my voice … and they  follow me."- Elder Dallin H. Oaks

From the Mixed-Up Files of...well...ME

When I was in fifth grade, Mr. Soderberg--the first and only teacher to ever give me a D in a subject--shared with us some of what would become the most influential books in my life. Such a book is, From the Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. The book is about...well here, this summary is more eloquently stated:

When suburban Claudia Kincaid decides to run away, she knows she doesn't just want to run from somewhere she wants to run to somewhere--to a place that is comfortable, beautiful, and preferably elegant. She chooses the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City. Knowing that her younger brother, Jamie, has money and thus can help her with the serious cash flow problem she invites him along. 

Of course, this post has nothing to do with museums or childhood dreams (I tend to ramble in the beginning of my posts) but rather this post is about a person who, perhaps unknowingly, became my confidant in so many ways with so many things in my life; however, due to some unforeseeable circumstances, well, life happened.

Now that I'm home, with enough time to think of "what-ifs" and "why-nots" and "seriously-why-am-I-still-thinking-about-this" moments, I've also had enough time to search through my archives (located in the garage-of-the-house-my-parents-moved-into-while-I-was-away-at-college-thus everything-I-own-is-packed-in-boxes-and-I-am-definitely-still-bitter-about-this) and I found some letters. Part of me wants to dispose of these letters and any hard drive they may be backed-up on, but the other part of me realizes that in life (because I've obviously lived so much of it) moments like these are never meant to be forgotten. Thus ends my epilogue to a series and collection of letters found in the Mixed-Up Files of Yours Truly.

December 10, 2010
"Love of the Game" 

So I had a research paper I was writing on the World Series and I interviewed Elder Vasquez about his experiences playing baseball, this is what he said: Cool so baseball... I guess I can start saying it has been my everything for the first 18 years of my life. When I think of baseball I think of team work, goals, and dedication to something you truly love. Even though we know everythibng in excess is not healthy, when I say it was my life I do not mean it was replaced by all other worldy things such as school, friends, etc. "Losing myself in the game" was something that I knew I was working on. Something I dedicated all my heart, might, mind, and stregnth to. When I would lose myself completely in the game I knew my purpose, I knew my goals, and I knew what was required of me mentally and physically before, during, and after the game in order for me to be triumphant in the end. 

During my high school years, baseball taught me many valuable principles in my life. It was a whole new level of game and required for me to dedicate a lot of my free time to it. But it was something that I loved, it was something I enjoyed doing, and I always looked forward to the 2:30 bell so that I could run out to the field and begin to work on my physical and mental weaknesses. Striving to fulfill my goals, brought excitment and happiness in my life. It gave me a reason to be better everyday; it gave me hope and taught me dilligence. Being lost in what you love the most has not only brought me blessings of joy in my life but taught me a few basic principles that is universal for all. Faith, hope, charity, obedience, dilligence, patience, and knowledge were all fruits that came from being lost in the game. Now as I have grown, there are other things that catch my attention and attracts my love but I will never forget the joy that came from being lost in the thing I loved the most. 

I know now that even though I didnt go to church on Sundays when I was young and missed out on many blessings throughout my life, baseball was supposed to be a part of my life and being lost in it has molded me into the type of person Heavenly Father wants me to be. 

Thanks =) 

Elder Vasquez

All Things Go

There are many things wrong with the notion of remaining a child forever; beginning with the fact that we associate this inability to come to terms with reality with none other than Peter Pan. HAVE YOU SEEN HIS EYEBROWS? My argument should really end there; but, as I have teetered on the edge of adulthood, I have come to realize that what makes "becoming an adult" difficult, is that we assume childhood is bliss. However, it isn't the innocence we seek after as we wish ourselves into regression, but rather, a decrease in responsibility.

I often sit in bed, thinking myself in circles, to the point of exhaustion, with only room for one thought, "if only I were a kid again."But, not once have I thought, "I wish I were stupid again," or in more accurate terms, "I wish I knew less, experienced less, seen less." It is a wonder then that as human beings we have constantly sought after knowledge only to realize, rather abruptly, that we were better off without it; and thus, begin to look for someone to blame, some corner to hide in, or some lie to tell ourselves. The intricacies of human behavior, however, are beyond me. The point to my rather inarticulate rant is this:

It's time to grow up.

And thus, begins the next phase in my life: grad school. Often nights I manage to freak myself out with the overwhelming reality of student loans, moving cross-country, and a bunch of other what-nots. After visiting my new home this past summer, however, I have come to grips with my fears of inadequacy and responsibility, and come to a simple conclusion: All Things Go. (I must admit, I stole that line from a song by Sufjan Stevens, Chicago. Seemed appropriate.) In 5 weeks I will be make the big move, hopefully I'll learn that growing up isn't all that bad.

Oh the Places I Will Go

July has been the month of constant traveling: starting with the 4th of July holiday, when my roommate and I decided an impromptu trip in the middle of the night would be a good idea; then a family-affair, in which my cousin decided to tie-the-knot; and finally my work-related-all-expenses-paid adventure to Chicago, which has yet to happen (it will be documented in a later post.) Let's start with Saint George, Utah (pictured above).

After Lauren's scuba diving class, which ended at 10 PM, we loaded up the car with our camping essentials and made our way to Saint George, 4 hours out of Provo. We got to St. George in exactly 4 hours, but finding our campground took us quite a bit of time, because it was dark...and unfamiliar. When we arrived, I took out my $6 and shoved them in a slot, only to realize a second later that there were envelopes to the side of the slotted box in which I was to put my money in. It was late. Plus, I paid, that's all that matters. We drove in further to the campsite, and of course, as fate should dictate, it was closed. Closed at 10 PM as a matter of fact. We had but little choice and turn around. What happened next I will relate in my old-age, but let's just say, it was the worst night's sleep I have ever gotten, and I've slept in a deserted cabin with wooden bunks and smoked water with only my sleeping bag to provide comfort. We spent the next day touring the place. I do love Saint George. We went to the park, the dinosaur museum, Brigham Young's house, the tabernacle, and of course we ate; a quaint little place called the Bear Paw.

Next. Mexico City. If anyone has watched My Big Fat Greek Wedding, then you will have a perfect idea of what this wedding week was like. I love being with my family, and even tough my grandma's bed is just as hard as those wooden bunks in a remote cabin in New Zealand, I still had a blast. The highlights were, of course, spending time with my cousins. My grandma always says, "pay attention and look, remember that your grandma always had a full house."

I don't think my grandma realizes that I have known this since a very young age. I can honestly say, that the best part about traveling to Mexico is being in my grandma's house with all my family. We talk, we play, we eat. Sometimes we watch horrible movies like The Children of the Corn, sometimes we fling knives at each other, and other times we just sit. Also, if you think the family pictured above is large, well that's not even half. Something that made this trip particularly memorable, was the bus ride to and from the wedding. Imagine 4 benches packed with at least 6 people on each bench, it was...memorable. Between sleeping, talking, puking, and laughing, each of us kids learned that when we get married, we'll make sure and get married to someone who lives closer.

To stay true to the theme of this blog (shoes and traveling)...

 And for a little documentation of my trip...

Grandma and her fig tree.

It was a wedding after all...the happy couple.

my cousins

my favorite little cousin

 my littlest cousin

Probably My Only Recipe Post

I realize that I have deviated from the original purpose of this blog quite a bit, but I haven't bought any new shoes or traveled as of late, so you'll have to pardon me. Also, I rarely, scratch that, NEVER, post recipes...until today. To my roommate, my apologies, since she is the food blogger in our apartment, you know I'm not doing this out of malice. So here it is, my FIRST recipe post.

Slutty Brownies

(I found this recipe on stumbleupon, thought I should give credit where credit is due. Also, I copied most of the instructions...hopefully this doesn't qualify as plagiarism...did I mention I found this here?)

They're best served warm from the oven, with good quality vanilla ice cream.

They take about 45mins to make, including baking time. 

You will need... 

1 Box of cookie mix, 

1 Box of brownie mix (I used Ghirardelli mix instead, YUMM), 

2 Eggs,

2 Packs of Oreos 

Some oil 

& your favourite ice-cream (optional)

Preheat your oven to 350°F.

Line a baking tray with grease proof paper.

Follow the instructions on the cookie mix box & stir furiously until you have gooey cookie dough, I usually add a little extra water and oil to what they suggest, it just keeps it moist as you'll be baking it for longer than suggested. An extra teaspoon of each is just right. 

Squidge (technical term) the cookie dough into a lined baking tray, until it covers the bottom. 

Cover this layer with your Oreos. Don't use the broken ones, eat them as you go. This recipe is too glorious to use substandard Oreos. 

Mix up your brownie batter. Just stick to the recipe on the box for this one.

& pour over your Oreos.

Bake for 30mins.

Remove from the oven and leave to cool. 

When its still a little bit warm, use the paper to lift your creation out of the tray and rest it on a chopping board. 

Use a large, sharp knife to cut it into manageable chunks, sections, slabs... depending on how many calories you think you can handle in one sitting. 

Drop onto a plate and scoop on your ice cream.

Plinko Addiction: Mild

For those who suffer from mild addictions, my sympathies. After spending all my laundry money on a game of Plinko, I think I can honestly say that I have a problem, well, various problems considering not having clean clothes is definitely an issue. More on this topic later...

Now, to the good stuff. Sometimes days are just good. Sure I went to work today and had a to-do list a mile long, but I like crossing things off to-do lists so...it was kind of a win. And it helped that I woke up to this video in my inbox, how can you be in a bad mood when you see a little half-asian baby taking his first steps? I love my little Logan. And yes, I've watched this like 20 times in the last 12 hours.

The Genius of Creativity

The more I think it over, the more I feel that there is nothing more truly artistic than to love people. - Van Gogh

So I came across this TED talk by the author of Eat, Pray, Love. I'll be honest, I haven't read the book, I'm not a big fan of inspirational things. It's a wonder I worked for so many non-profits; selling the FEEL-GOOD thing kinda bugs me. My sister used to say (or still does), that I have no tear ducts (because I've only cried in two movies my whole life), and my brother Ruben has often said I have a black heart. I'll leave it up to you to decide.

I am currently reading the book Tinkers, which has set me off in a spiral of self-loathing and depression. I can't handle old people. I can't, because not only do I see my future, but I see my present. Can I, on my deathbed, say that I have lived a full life? One without regrets? The true test: If I were to, in 50 years, sit down and dictate a memoir to my handy assistant/slave, would it be a book worth reading? I think a lot of my issues stem from my inability to believe I am talented, and by talented I mean, I do not possess admirable talents, and by that I mean, I'm no prodigy.

I blame the warped school system. Why? Because I remember sitting in 6th grade writing a note to each and every member of my class about what I liked about them. Half of them were lies; only because I didn't actually know 1/4 of my class and, I repeated several of my carefully crafted notes on the other 1/4. And of course, I got half-lies written back to me as well. That is when I realized that "you seem nice" or " I like your shoes" wasn't going to cut it. Eight years later, I still find myself sitting in class asking my peers to tell me what it is they think my strengths are, and eight years later, I still get half-lies. Not to say that my 20-25 year-old peers haven't matured beyond three syllable compliments, but rather, they tell me what I don't want to hear.

But, I digress. Point is, we have always been classified, and classified others, into the type of geniuses they are. Some are "book smart," some just "have better things to do," and some are just plain stupid. But then there are the others, that small, miniscule percentage of people who somehow make it into the limelight because they invented, oh I don't know, the internet.

My uncle, a genius in his own right, has always classified people into two groups: Vincents and Theos. Those of you familiar with the brother-ship of the Van Goghs will understand the allusion to its fullest. Those of you who don't, let me enlighten you. There are those who know what it is to feel and live a life of genius (Vincent), they are tormented souls, burdened with incomprehensible talent that goes beyond the understanding of any being. Then there are the Theos, though loved by the Vincents they may be, they fail to understand (or to feel) the great burden that is having uncontrollable talent. They are much more practical beings, burdened with the shallowness of everyday life. They cannot be blamed for such ignorance, and their envy cannot be refuted. Theos are, in today's terminology, "the average Joe." Of course, the construct of our society has made place for Theos, overwhelming them with the monotony of everyday decisions. And similarly, our society has erected pedestals to worship the Vincents, and I venture to say, rightly so; but I am no Vincent Van Gogh...although I DO wear nice shoes.

Coming back to this video, the reason I like it is because it deconstructs the notion that people, the chosen few, have been burdened with their genius. I am the first to admit that I am no genius, but I think this goes far beyond my traumatic experiences in grade school. I like the idea that those who are fortunate enough to experience something beyond themselves, pure genius, have been given that experience "on loan." I do not relish the idea that the genius they possess is not truly their own, but rather, that the genius they possess is not theirs alone to bear. You do not need to be a tortured soul to create great works of art. You do not need to, as Vincent put it, disregard the state of your clothes because you are too immersed in greater matters of existence, in order to create. But rather, true genius is something that flows through you, something that must be caught in the right moment and if caught, can be used to find the true meaning of Godliness. Hopefully you enjoy watching the video (it's 20 min long).

One of Those Days

Upon further deliberation I have decided, I'm better at reading other people's diaries than writing in my own, thank you Ryan for the enlightenment. So, all goals aside, I will write when I feel like writing; and today, well today is one of my writing days.

Thoughts that entered my head today:

(on my way to work) I know it's going to be a GREAT day when the first word out of my mouth in the morning is, "idiot."

Ascots are a perfect excuse to punch someone in the throat; should then probably carry one around with me just in case someone gets on my nerves.

I've never considered myself to be a rabid feminist, and now I know why, GUYS ARE SUCH GIRLS.

I love baseball. I thought I should end it on a positive note as to not confuse people; I'm only having a SLIGHTLY terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Nothing that can't be fixed with...well, I'll let you know once I figure it out myself.

a tribute to one of my favorite books; always worth a read.

Last Year in Utah

I am going to write this post as if I'm remembering it in 20 years, just a disclaimer (it makes me feel like I accomplished something).

After graduating from BYU, I decided to stay in Utah just a bit longer to work. I had a great job on campus working with the RSS and they offered me to stay on for the summer. I thought that making a few extra bucks (I actually got paid quite decently) couldn't hurt any, especially not after being accepted to Northwestern. And so, I stayed, roomed with my best friend, Lauren, who to this day, still doesn't remember how we met. Whenever we attended social gatherings or someone was brave enough to ask us if we already knew each other and how we had met, she always responded, school, and I would finish, we're in the same major. I don't think she ever realized that school wasn't a decent enough answer, it left everyone wondering in which aspect of the college life we had so pleasantly discovered each others existence. Needless to say, for memories sake, we attended the same intro course to the major and not to mention several classes thereafter. 

Now to the point. Lauren quickly fell into a routine of school, work, and internship duties, while I, the independent person that I was, worked from home. Full-time. This was...boring. Not that I didn't go out, but everything always seemed to happen after 6pm, and I was "off of work" at 5 (even if I didn't work from home, I would still be bored for at least an hour). And this is where my other roommates come into play. One of my roommates, Amanda, who we had met briefly when we moved in, traveled to Haiti for some humanitarian-feel-good type of work, not that humanitarian-feel-good type of work isn't essential in today's society, how else are people supposed to know that they have been doing everything wrong for centuries? No but seriously, it's good work. I would do it too if I weren't too chicken. My other roommate, Hayley, was a sweet girl from Korea. Her mom came to visit her once and Hayley was kind enough to ask us if her mom could stay. If it were me, I wouldn't have bothered to ask, we all have our own rooms for a reason. But, that's just the sweet type of person that she was. Well, while her mom was staying with us I didn't actually realize how often she would be in the kitchen, which I also didn't mind a single bit, it would keep me from making trips to the cupboards every 10 minutes to grab a snack. Not that I couldn't talk to Hayley's mom...well actually I couldn't, she spoke Korean, and as adept as I am at understanding people with accents, my 21 years of Spanish training didn't help me any.

Well, one day, as I was working from home, again, I went out to see what I would eat for breakfast, I was quickly dissatisfied with what was in the pantry, so I made my way back to my room. A couple of minutes later, I heard a knock on my door. It was Hayley's mom with a sandwich on a plate in one hand and a cup of milk in another (might I add the cup was a mug someone obviously bought in Chicago; made my day for several reasons). Anyway, I thanked her, relished that sandwich, the milk not so much (don't like milk) and continued working. I then decided it would be a good time to go check the mail, and so I did, as I was leaving, Hayley's mom, in her broken English and pointing to a cell phone and a piece of paper asked if I could dial a number for her. I gladly took the phone in my hand, this woman did feed me after all, and I began to dial, except...it's an old phone...and well, it took me a while to figure out how to unlock it, something about a menu key and then a star key and then...yeah you get it. Well I dialed the number for her, after several unsuccessful jabs at the keys and went to go get the mail. 

On my way back to my room, Hayley's mom held out the phone to me, so I took it and hung up the call. That is all I could assume she wanted. Some of you may be asking where was Hayley in all of this, well she was at school, most duh. Anyway, I walked into my room and 5 seconds later another knock on my door, so I opened it and YOU GUESSED IT, it was Hayley's mom! (I apologize if there is any tone of frustration, because honestly, having Hayley's mom come to visit was probably the most human interaction I had all week and led to ZERO frustrating moments). She carried in her hand a plate, with two hard boiled eggs. I stared at them kind of puzzled as she took an egg and motioned it towards the plate as if she were cracking the egg and then she would carry it up to my face. I guessed she wanted me to peel them and eat them, and so I did. I probably would have died and decayed in my room if Hayley's mom hadn't been there. So, Hayley's mom, wherever you may be, thank you. And an added thank you because you told me my eyes were pretty, so obv you are one of my favoritist people in the world.

The End.

Something Borrowed and Something Very UNblue

I used to think, back when I was a theater employee at the ripe young age of 16, that an hour lunch was more than enough time to eat and have some time to spare; but, then it took me almost two hours to eat my lunchables (without the treat and drink, a rip-off if you ask me). Apparently, I am making the transition to senescence and will soon be spoon-fed by some of my closest friends and relatives.

On that note (the one of imminent deterioration), I have been reading Tina Fey's Bossypants (yes, I googled whether or not book titles are underlined, italicized, or in quotes) and have come to the realization that I have nothing to leave my posterity (AND that I should write a book so I can start thinking about paying off student loans I haven't even acquired yet.) I know what you're thinking, but Liz, you're only 21, you will have your whole life to make memories and then compile them in a 300-page autobiography titled, (how do I double italicize?) Lizzing Through Life. To which I have an answer--I can barely remember the first 21 years of my life, how am I supposed to remember the next 21 when my brain is supposedly deteriorating faster than I can type out this sentence (I have horrible wpm. I still look down at the keyboard, but that's another story). Example, I took a 2-minute break from writing this post to Google work-related nonsense and already forgot where I was going with this post. I don't remember if I was going to make a sudden resolution to exercise my long-term memory or if I was going to begin to document my childhood memories, or what I have left of them anyway.

Why not both? Well, I've already tried to exercise my brain since infancy (whenever Brain Age for Nintendo DS came out is when I consider my infancy to have begun). Every night before I went to bed I would borrow my little brother's Nintendo DS and play for 30-minutes, or usually until it told me I had successfully reached a new level of intelligence. I soon lost interest, however, and...actually, now that I think about it, some would argue my creative peak was probably around the same time I conducted my brain-exercising-nightly-ritual...but if that was my creative peak then I have some rough years ahead of me...ANYWAY, the ritual died. Now, in my geriatric age (I may or may not have made that word up) I try to find ways to prevent Alzheimer's by taking different routes home, a task made simple by the round-about located south of my apartment complex. 

Ah yes, I remember now. I will begin to journal. This seems easy enough, but...it isn't. Since I was old enough to know what a notebook was, I began to collect probably thousands of dollars worth of the most ingenious (and less than genius) varieties of notebooks (ask my Mom). I would literally go around the house looking for notebooks to store in my desk. So, one would assume I was fond of writing...I'm not. I never wrote in those notebooks. As a matter of fact, if I got the urge to use a single sheet in one of my glorious notebooks, I would promptly tear it out. I had to leave my notebooks unscathed! I soon began to realize that no matter what I tried to fill the pages with, it never seemed good enough for the notebook. My handwriting was too messy, my diary entries were to blah, my ink splat drawings were too similar to each other. It was never good enough, so I stopped. And now, I must begin again. Except. SOLUTION. I will not write in a notebook. I will write on the INTERNETS. I know, I'm behind on the times, but can you blame me? I already admitted to needing a caregiver in my near future.

Now to the title of this post. It has nothing to do with marriage. I can probably come up with some deep way of tying memories into time and thus resulting in the act of borrowing, but...I don't want to waste the space in my brain that can be used to store such implied memories, so I won't be making any complex analogies, at least not today. As for the unblue bit...well, I guess the title does have a little bit to do with marriage, what exactly, I have no idea. Thus, I conclude the first chapter of my memoir-in-progress.

Liz out.

p.s. I hate old people marriage...just thought I'd throw that out there.

The Joys of Laughter

Who would have thought laughter would bring so much joy...and so much pain...so. much. pain. I must begin by stating a disclaimer, all the events that occur in this story, though humorous, are quite dangerous and could end in death, do not try this at home.

Incident #1: Smashing my pinky in the glove compartment (only the beginning)

There I was, a passenger in my father's truck, trying to find a place to store my wallet, as I did not want to carry it around with me as I perused the stalls and stands of the OC Market. My dad's truck has this nifty compartment that opens from the bottom (like a normal glove compartment) and then within that compartment you can lift a hatch and there lies hidden another compartment. Of course, I decide to store my wallet in there, ingenious, I would say. Well I slam down the door thingy, not realizing that my left hand was still placed on the divider, and of course, my poor pinky was victim to the ruthless power of my right arm (I've been working out). I couldn't stop laughing at the fact that I had so idiotically slammed my finger and, if I remember correctly, I had been laughing prior to the accident; I think, at a joke my sister made about her AC/DC t-shirt. Something about her shirt making her want to stick her finger in a socket...she was making fun of loiterers in the parking lot, apparently the kid had the same hair cut as the guy on his shirt...

Incident #2: Laugh Attack
We went out to my dad's favorite place to eat, and on our way, my sister begins to tell a tale of a cop that parks in the same spot and the same time every day, it wasn't funny at first, but for some reason after she declared her understanding as to why a cop would park on a shaded slope (not the street) to avoid the suns rays...it somehow became comical. I laughed for 10 minutes straight. Her disgust for the sun is somewhat amusing.

Incident #3: In which I almost lost my life...
After dinner, we drove home so my mom could do whatever she needed to do before she went to the grocery store to buy me all sorts of yummies. My dad parked, my mom got out of the car, and we waited, then my dad got out of the car and opened the passenger door, where I was located of course, and he makes a comment to look at how bright the planets are. I leaned out to see, then lost my grip (I will note that I was indeed laughing as I was doing something, a normal laugh) I began to slip so I grabbed the first thing I could reach...the seat belt...it began to give way OF COURSE and so I kept slipping, and I began to yell with a muttled laugh for my sister to help me so I wouldn't fall, her description of the event include the words: eyes popping out, cartoonish bafoonery in the flesh...bla bla bla, it was comical, apparently!

She helped me sit back up and I started laughing harder, especially when she began to describe how I looked. As I laughed I bent forward to...I don't know, hide my face, hold my side, or something that involved me leaning forward...and I smashed my face against my sister's knee, more like bashed, I started laughing harder and harder and HARDER, that the yummy food we had just eaten 15 minutes prior was beginning to hurt my stomach. I HAD to stop because it was hurting SO much, so I climbed out of the car and walked towards the grass. I imagine that being drunk has that effect on people, because all I wanted to do was puke. It was the WORST.

That's basically my whole story. I have been very accident prone today (my pinky still hurts and my whole body aches from laughing and inhaling air on a full stomach) and I have had a day completely filled with uncontrollable laughter. I love being home.