Drive By Spying

I have developed a rather odd...hobby? Yes, we'll call it a hobby. I call it "Drive By Spying." The main point of this hobby is to watch people who are driving and make assessments about who they are and what they're doing, where they're going, etc.

It's fun because you don't have a lot to go off of to make an assessment. You can't see much of their clothes and you can't tell what they're listening to on the radio or whatever. Plus, you have to make your judgements fast since you don't have a long time to stare at them and pick up on anything interesting. But I have found that people offer a certain vulnerability when they are driving. They feel protected by their car and they don't think anyone is watching them. When people don't feel like someone is watching them or even judging them, they act like themselves. They show how tired, angry, upset, happy, etc. they are. It's really fascinating.

There are two different methods of spying. The first is to watch the subjects in the other cars while you drive. This has the benefit of being closer to the subjects and therefore able to detect subtleties that you may not notice far away. The downside to this method is that since you are so close to the subjects you're watching, they can sometimes notice you and look at you. This is uncomfortable. Spies don't like to be noticed by their subjects or worse, another spy. If you want to use this first method, you must be a master of looking away quickly or looking at someone without your head facing them. That way you just have to dart your eyes and not your whole head. The other downside to the first method is since you're driving and spying at the same time, it can be a bit dangerous. Take care not to run into anything or anyone.

The second method is where you sit on the side of a busy road and just watch the cars go by. This is my favorite method. You get a wider variety of subjects, not just the ones you happen to be stuck by. Also, there's not a whole lot of danger involved since you're not driving. The downside is when your subjects do look at you, they think you're really, really weird, just sitting there watching traffic. Try not to draw too much attention to yourself.

I don't know why I find this hobby of Drive By Spying so much fun. I guess I've always been intrigued by the lives of strangers. People are complex, each person with their own stories and experiences. Every person we see on any given day has something they are dealing with right now. It may be good or bad but it is more real and raw than anything we see on television because it is true.

So if you're up for it, go out there and start spying! And if not, beware when driving. Someone may be spying on you.

Love you.
Mean it.

Me and the J-Men

Today I was having a conversation via Facebook messages with my friend Leila and we happen to figure out that the names of the men in my life right now seem to all start with the letter J. I began to think about this and it gets creepier than that.

Right now there's a Joe, a Jon, a Jacob, a John, and a Josh. However, I've dated a Jason and a Jeremy, kissed a James and a Josh, spent the night with a Jim, had a crush on a Jay, a James, a Joe, a Jon, a Jared, a Jeff, a Jimmy, a Jacob, a Josh, a Jake, a Jesse, and a Jon, have been despised by a Jonathan, have been best friends with a Jacob, went to Sigma Chi formal with a Jorgen (Bug), played the love interest in a play opposite of a Jason, spent the summer hanging out with a Justin and a Josh, sat next to and flirted with a Joe in a class, was hit on continuously by a Jordan but I hated his guts, had to put up with a James who annoyed the hell out of me, and fell instantly in love with a James.

And keep in mind that each one of those names IS A SEPARATE PERSON!

do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do (twilight zone music)

Please don't tell me you don't find that a bit odd.
It's weird. And kind of creepy.

I'd really love to think of it all as a happy, humorous coincidence. But it's a bit too weird for me to really, truly believe it. But if it's not a coincidence, then what the hell does it mean???

I almost feel compelled to go over my life with a fine tooth comb and tally up all the first letters of names of guys in my life. But that may be a bit obsessive, right? And I have homework due tomorrow so maybe another time.

But, honestly, don't you think that's weird???

Love you.
Mean it.

Damnit, Jim! I'm a writer, not a physicist!

I just got done failing my physics exam.

I usually like little moments where I'm reminded that I chose the right major. I was meant to study literature and movies and to write. I don't care for moments where I fail at something and think, "Oh, right. I should just stick with what I'm good at." It's a horrible feeling. I don't mean to sound prideful, but I'm good at nearly everything I try. I have always been a good student. I was reading at a first grade level by the time I left pre-school. I was on the honor roll all throughout high school and the Dean's List in college. But I'm becoming more and more aware of things I am not good at. These things, though terribly annoying, are a good reminder for me. As anyone who knows me can attest, I have a slight problem with pride. But all those things that I'm lousy at help keep me humble. So the following is a list of things that I suck at.

1)Physics-- no duh. I can do the math parts no problem. But the concepts are very difficult for me to wrap my head around.

2)Chemistry-- much like physics, I can do the math but not the concepts.

3)Basketball-- The whole hand eye coordination thing is lost on me.

4)Keeping rhythm-- This also means I can't dance.

5)Cooking-- Can't do it. Something disastrous always happens. However, I can bake like no one's business.

6)Spelling-- While writing this post, I've had to revert to my dictionary at least five times.

That's all I can think of right now but I know I could fill a lot of very thick books with all the other things I can't do. But it's okay. Like I said above, I know what I'm good at and I know what I love to do. So I'm going to stick with that. Studying English is my calling in life. And I'm going to keep doing it and hopefully figure out a way to make a career out of it.

But I still have to do physics. And I hate it.

Love you.
Mean it.

Evidence I'm Not Wholly Cynical

"I've been dating since I was 15. I'm exhausted. Where is he?"
-Charlotte York

Yes, yes. This is all about dating, mainly that I'm sick of it. Really super sick of it. The whole talking to guys, them talking to me, both of us trying to figure out if the other likes us, wanting to remain seemingly interested but not wanting to come off as desperate, going on one date but then wondering when it's okay to talk to them again, and on and on, blah, blah, blah. It's rather annoying. When I get on facebook and a girl from my graduating class is announcing the pregnancy of her second kid, I start to think that arranged marriages might not have been such a bad idea. It would eliminate all of this irritating dating crap and save a lot of worry, grief, and you wouldn't have your parents nagging you about if you've met anyone lately.

Of course, with arranged marriages there is always the chance of ending up with someone I didn't love and never could love. That would be rather sucky. I mean, I don't want to say that I'm a romantic cause I'm not. But I'm not as cynical to say that love doesn't exist (it's love, not the tooth fairy) even though at times it seems to strangely elude me. But in the long run, I'd rather put up with all this dating crap with the slight chance of falling in love then be stuck forever with someone I didn't love.

That's the thing. I don't mean to say that all those girls who are my same age and are married and are starting families did something wrong. They just found love quicker than I have. I'm not jealous. Okay, I am jealous that they no longer have to put up with this dating crap and I still do but I wouldn't trade my life for anything. I've had a plethora of experiences that have helped me grow as a daughter, a sister, a friend, a student, a writer, and just as a person. Yes, I've had shitty times, times when I felt alone and unloved but I've also had wonderful moments of true happiness. I'd like to think that all those shitty things that have happened to me happened for a reason. But, as so aptly stated by one of the Tremor Brothers in the movie Smokin' Aces, "Sometimes life just up and fucks you for no reason." Sometimes there were no pre-destined reason for the horrible things we go through but that doesn't mean we can't take something from it and go on with our lives a bit wiser.

I guess what I'm really trying to say is I hate dating. I really hate dating and I probably always will. But if I hold out, grit my teeth, and bear all this dating crap, while at the same time experiencing everything life has to offer me and learning as much as I can, then I might have a small chance of falling in love, getting married, having a family and everything else that implies. It's a long shot. Mathematically, the probability might be even smaller than I grasp but I'm going to hold on. I may be slightly foolish in believing that it'll all be worth it in the end. But for once I'm okay with being foolish. This is the one time I'd rather be foolish and optimistic than smart and cynical.

Love you.
Mean it.

The Trouble with Bleeding

There's this quote I have up on my wall by Ernest Hemingway that says, "There's nothing to writing. All you do is sit at a typewriter and bleed." I like this quote. It's somewhat ironic and does describe what it takes to write. I'm currently taking a creative non-fiction writing class. This has sparked my writing/bleeding. I've been bleeding all over the place (I'm speaking figuratively, of course.) Getting myself to bleed is not a problem. The problem is the quality of my blood. It just seems like every time I write something, even if it has a good strong beginning, it eventually turns into shit. I get frustrated and stop trying. I'm bleeding stuff no respectable American Red Cross volunteer would accept as a donation. It's immensely irritating.

Another thing that's not making it any easier is the class itself. I've read work from five other classmates so we can workshop them. They're really good. I mean, REALLY good. Theirs have substance and meaning and raw truth. They have Grade A quality blood. It depresses me. After reading their stuff, my stuff looks even more pathetic. The biggest thing is most of these people are writing about really heavy stuff in their lives. Divorce, addiction, single-motherhood, and lots of other painful subjects. Me, I'm not writing about that stuff. I mean, I could. I've got a lot of painful shit that has happened or is happening right now in my life. I could talk about my constant battle with depression/suicide. I could write about my nine year struggle with cutting and self-injury. I could talk about me being betrayed by the very women I called sisters and being kicked out of my sorority and forced to move back home. I could even talk about how I have no friends here and spend every night alone. I do have painful shit to write about. But I don't want to. I don't want to write about my pain anymore. I'm sick of it. I guess I'm so used to oozing out pain that it's become rather trite to me. Just the thought of writing about any of those subjects fills me with a jaded disgust. I don't want to bring it up anymore. I'm so tired of writing about pain. I want to write something else. I want to prove to myself that I can write something else, that not everything I write has to be dripping with pain. But I'm afraid it won't hold up compared to everyone else's.

I know I'm not the best writer. I have miles to go before I sleep. But I do want to write something meaningful that is still me. I guess I'm still trying to find my voice and something worthwhile to write about. I started something today that seems very promising. I hope it'll turn out okay. My turn to have something to hand out to the entire class to workshop is on Friday. I'm scared out of my mind. I just hope that in the course of my bleeding for Friday, my blood won't be so muddled.

Love you.
Mean It.

Is This the Beginning or the End?

The title of the post is from a song called "The Big Sleep" by Streetlight Manifesto. It's something that's been on my mind lately. And by "lately" I mean over the past two months. I am living in Provo once again. The reasons for me living in Provo and not Cedar City are irritating, annoying, and, frankly, very painful. I could write about it. I really could. But since two months have gone by, I just don't give a shit anymore about the reasons. Me writing about them isn't going to change anything. That's all in the past and what I want to focus on is the present.

When I moved back home, into my bedroom in my parents' house, my mom kept saying the phrase, "this is a new beginning for you" or a variation thereof. I love my mom to pieces but every time she said that, I wanted to punch her in the face. This wasn't a beginning for me. It was an end. A very abrupt, unexpected end. And I hated it. I had been living relatively on my own for nearly four years down in Cedar City. And I loved it there. I had friends, really great friends. I was finally becoming friends with the people in my major. And I had a great job with an even greater boss. And for the first time in nearly six years I was happy. I was overwhelmingly happy. I didn't even know it was possible to be that happy. I loved my life and every part of it. It felt like I was constantly falling in love. It was great. Then I was prematurely ripped from the place I called home and went 200 miles to live where I hadn't lived in four years. I had no job, no money, and more importantly no friends. The close friends I had in high school were all going to colleges out of state. Any other person I may have considered in high school to be a friend, well, we weren't that close and four years is a long time. That wasn't a beginning. That was an end.

But I don't want to dwell on all that anymore. I'm tired of it. I just can't. I want to make this my Rex Manning Day of sorts. I'm back in school at UVU. It's not SUU but it'll have to work. I need to make the best of this and believe in my mom telling me that this is a beginning. And while I am still spending nearly every weekend night alone reading Chuck Palahnuik or Charles Bukowski or catching up on episodes of Criminal Minds, I know this isn't a forever kind of deal. Things will change and things will get better. It sucks right now and it's hard right now but things will get better. I've never been one to back down from a fight or admit defeat. And this isn't going to be any different.

In my room on the wall across from my bed is a blue plaque I made. It has my granddad's motto written on it: "Don't let the bastards win." That saying has got me through a lot. And it will get me through this. So let what ever bastards come. I'm looking for a fight and I aim to win.

I made this blog because I wanted a new start. I already have another blog but in the mindset of new beginnings I made this one. I want to write and this seems like a good way to do it. So to anyone who is reading out there, thanks.

Love you.
Mean it.