Wednesday, March 24, 2010

That's Not My Name

I have been really tired these past days. Yesterday morning, in the shower, I had a dollop of conditioner in the palm of my hand. As the water poured over me and I blinked groggily, I literally forgot what I was supposed to do with it. I could not remember. I just stared at it and stared at it, moving to rub it across my face when I realized, no, that could not be it. Finally, I remembered and all was well. Except I was exhausted. Then, last night, at three in the AM, when I still couldn't fall asleep, I decided to try again. So I got out of bed, made my bed, went to the bathroom, got a drink of water, snacked on some cereal, and then fell into bed again.

IT didn't work. So I put it my ipod and fell asleep to the Ever After soundtrack, wishing the whole time that music was not pounding in my head.

ANYWAYS.

I have this terrible habit of doodling. It is terrible because it really is awful. I cannot draw anything. At all. My margins are filled with two things: flowers, and stars. Anything beyond that and it turns uglier. Funny side note: I tend to hide said margins whenever in class. I will subtly rest an arm on it, I will lean over it, I will turn the page--anything to keep people from seeing just how literally terrible my doodles are. Except today, I was too tired to remember that a star, indeed, had five points. Instead, I took to doodling my name. OVer and over again. Then, I wrote out my favorite name ever (Brayden Eloise--future daughter, that is you). And, suddenly, like an angelic epiphany, a life-changing revelation, a new name came to me.

ARE you ready?

ASPEN EMMYELLE

IF you are anything like two of my sisters, you will have trouble with--what I consider to be--phonetical words. Which is sad. But, just for you, I will spell it out. Slowly. Like my sisters needed (I love you guys).

FIRST, Aspen. If you cannot figure that one out, your life is lacking something. Such as an english class. So, moving on.

THEN, Emmyelle. I thought it was pretty straight forward. I look at it and I say "emmyelle"--sounds just like it looks, I promise. You have Emmy (M+E) meeting Elle (Like the letter "L"). Emmyelle. Even better, it is like you are spelling out M-E-L. Emmyelle.

PUT together, Aspen Emmyelle. Yay for pretty names! I love it. You wanna hate on it, don't. Because I will sic my future daughter on you. Her name will be Aspen.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

Note to Self

MY roommates and I had a wicked game of Pictionary. Using my dry-erase markers, and our two mirrors, Laci, Leslie, Sydney and I split into teams and went at it. It was intense. Only, Laci and Sydney were mostly butchering us. And we all discovered something very important: none of us can draw under pressure. Nothing remotely recognizable came out of those pictures.

ESPECIALLY when we tried to draw a carnation. It seems no one knows what a carnation is. Laci finally got it by drawing a car and then the US (which is, in fact, a nation).

Psch.

SARAH eventually joined us as our official word chooser. While we had been drawing things like rabbits and wedding dresses, she made us draw jazz shorts. Spandex. Cha Cha. Quesadilla (It looks like a pizza, which doesn't help matters). Leslie and I were behind, 15 to 23. The winning number was 25. They were so close, and then in a sweet twist of fate, Leslie and I started winning.

I don't know why; it's not like our art had improved.

WE caught up 21 to 24. ANd then we lost. To "can opener."

LESLIE thought my can opener looked like an alligator.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

More of Me, Bordering on Evil

I saw Slumdog Millionaire tonight. Yes, the rated "R" one. Only it was at the BYU International Cinema, so it was BYU approved and censored (Gotta love illegal editing). And, I have only one thing to say:

it was aMaZiNg.

MY heart was pounding, I was cringing; sure, sometimes I averted my eyes. But I walked out of the theater feeling so happy, so enthused. Cliche as it sounds, that movie opened my eyes. I loved it. The actors were so good, the music was fabulous, the filming and editing was just great.

AND, sure, I obviously missed some of the movie, but I could not for the life of me figure out why that was rated "R."

I mean, The Notebook has gratuitous sex--PG-13; Lord of the Rings and even Narnia continuously stack up the bodies--pulled through with PG13 or even PG; The Grinch--aimed for children--relies on crude, sexual humor, but it's PG. So I am just wondering why a practically-fairy-tale story with some cursing, some thematic elements, and some honesty gets slapped with an "R", making me feel guilty at the thought of viewing it.

I know this is an old argument, hashed over again and again. Basically, the rating system sucks. They have it backwards. I would like to think that watching Slumdog Millionaire did not damn me or destroy my soul. Really, it was one of the best movies I have seen in a very long time.

(And, let's face it, I see a lot, so that's quite a compliment).

BESIDES, I am sure even my own mom would rather me watch this movie over some of my other infamous "strayings." Such as my obsession with Moulin Rouge. She'd probably tell me something about the 13th Article of Faith or For the Strength of Youth. And, with those in mind, I think I can still see Slumdog in a positive light. Because it made me happy and it made me feel something.

AND it taught me a valuable lesson: Never go to India, because you will be robbed blind by adorably clever, little boys.