Friday, September 26, 2008
Thursday, September 25, 2008
I'm really not blind at all, but glasses help me a ton when I'm driving or trying to take notes in class. So I've missed those little glasses of mine. They were the same frames Ugly Betty wears, but I swear I had them first. She's a copy cat.
So I went into the eye exam room with Mama Booth (I don't know, I just don't like going to the doctor's by myself okay?!) and got to sit in the special chair with all the weird gadgets. The exam was going pretty awesomely until the Doc decided to do a glaucoma test. He put these bright yellow eye numbing drops in my eyes and it immediately felt like my eyeballs were shrinking. Like there was too much room in my eye sockets. It made me a little queasy, but I endured it well.
That is, I endured it well until he started looking at my retinas. For some odd reason, I could somehow see the reflection of my own retina when he shined his little eye flashlight into my eyeball. At first it was kind of cool.
"I can see all the blood vessels in my eye!" I said semi-excitedly, but then I realized that I was looking at all the spidery veins in the back of my eyeball and I seriously almost threw up right then and there all over the eye gadgets. I tried not to focus on the image, but duh, I couldn't close my eyes so I was forced to look at the innards of my own disgusting eyeball.
To say I am squeamish would be an understatement. Usually, I only get nauseous at the doctor's when they try to take blood or put an IV in me. I can now add the glaucoma test to my list of near vomit-inducing medical situations. And that's not even the best/worst part. But its kind of graphic, so the feint of heart please avert your eyes. All I'm going to say is, your eye drainage ducts are connected to your nasal passages, which in turn are connected to your throat. Throw in some yellow eye drops, and you've got a recipe for the necessity to hang my head out of the car window and spit whilst traveling 60 mph on the freeway. Yep. That happened.
I believe that makes me the queen of the weak-stomached wimps. Who else almost throws up at the eye doctor?
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
I heard this snippet as I was walking across campus. It made me laugh as I tried to figure out what they were talking about. Chromosomes? They're happy they turned out male? Algebra? Who knows. But the way he said it so resolutely just made me laugh.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Some people think the rules are over the top, and that BYU is too strict, but here is a little morsel of trivia: The honor code was written by some students a couple decades ago because they thought BYU was getting trashy. Please note that I said it was written by students. Yep. Not by old crotchety professors. So everyone who whines about it quit your boobin and be grateful you even got in to BYU.
Anyways. I can see how some people think its lame that we have so many "rules" on how we should be acting / living while we go to BYU, but I know its all for our benefit and safety. Even if I slightly disagree with one of the honor code points, I try to hold myself to that standard. Why? Because when I got into BYU I signed a piece of paper that says I'd follow it. And its included in your housing contract too. So you sign it at least every time you move, and I think its on the yearly ecclesiastical endorsements too.
Do people forget that they signed the honor code like five billion times? Or do they really just not care about honesty all that much? By signing the honor code, you have pretty much made a documented statement saying you will do whatever it is the honor code says. Knowingly breaking the honor code is just a fancier way of being a liar. If you don't want to keep it, you shouldn't have signed it. You might as well be wearing these:
Dishonesty is a deal breaker for me, whether it be with friends or guys I'm dating. Ya, its easy to lie yourself out of a tough situation, but since when is the easy way the accepted path? Sometimes, I want to lie. I want to lie my butt off, because it would be so much easier to deal with some things. That doesn't mean I'm going to be a liar. Just because I want to doesn't mean I will. I make a conscious effort to be honest in my every day life. Whether it be owning up to a mistake at work or telling the cashier that the self check-out didn't register one of my 35 cent Strawberry Jell-O packets. I think maintaining confidence in my own character is worth at least 35 cents.
Anyway. The rant is over. I just thought everyone should know that I have been unknowingly breaking the honor code. Apparently, it is against the honor code to walk barefoot on campus grounds. I sat in relief society, pridefully relishing in my knowledge that I'm an honor code Nazi when BAM. I hear our RS president tell us that shoes must be worn at all times. NOOOOOOOOOO! I have hated wearing shoes lately. I usually take them off when I leave work or leave class and put them back on when I walk into a campus building. Those blissful days of oblivion are gone, gone FOREVER.
I will just need to find some really comfy shoes.
HOWEVER. I promise I will not be a Birkenstock weirdy. My kindergarten teacher always wore Birkenstocks with thick, woolly colorful socks. Picture a shaggy muppet wearing sandals (as if their feet weren't awkward enough already) and that's about what it was like. The most ardent memory I have of kindergarten story-time showcases not a book, but a cropped image of Mrs. Wheeler's feet, clad in purple socks and brown Birkenstocks of this nature:
This greatly disturbed me. Even at age 5 I knew it was just wrong. Also. I promise I will never ever purposely wear crocs a day in my life. I don't care how lightweight and comfy they are. They look like leaky garden clogs.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Thursday, September 11, 2008
I have this new mantra. Its actually an old, generic and extremely popular one, but its a good one so who cares. My new dating mantra is "let it be" ... as in, if a guy wants to date me he can be a man about it and get my number all by himself. This really is a huge departure from my nature. Anyone who knew me growing up knows that I have been a boy-chaser since kindergarten. Literally. Some of us girls would just chase boys in huge herds all around the K-wing playground. It was a weird, weird game and no one ever got caught. (Symbolic?) Thank you John Lennon for this bit of wisdom. It has made all the difference.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Anyway. I think its really lame when people ignore something really awkward and try to pretend it isn't happening. Are you kidding? You're just asking to get a load of elephant dung slung in your direction. Awkwardness is not fun. For me, its intolerable. Often times, if something really horribly awkward happens, I put my two cents in immediately. I then feel no awkward pressure, and I really wish other people would pipe up about it too.
Thus, its really hard to get me to feel awkward for an extended period of time. I really do apologize to the rest of the world. Maybe my comments just make it worse? I can be careful, and I really try to stay away from pointing out someone else's awkward blunders. I would hate to hurt their feelings or embarrass them. But personally, if I blow a snot bubble and everyone sees it, I'm going to apologize. I'm not going to get embarrassed and pretend it didn't happen. Therefore I befriend that elephant in the room, and am guaranteed safety from flying pee, poo, and feet. Not to mention derrieres. Homies don't crush each other with their giant butts.