R.I.P. David Foster Wallace

I've talked about David Foster Wallace before. He is without a doubt my all time favorite writer. I just finished reading his book A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again. It was delightful. It's a collection of essays and articles that he wrote for major publications in their entirety. There were so many instances where I found myself giggling out loud while I was reading. The man was a fantastic writer. He had a way of writing about grand concepts that were not only accessible to the general public, but also very thought provoking. He also had a way of talking about every day things or activities that brought out really interesting ideas. His writing has this quality of "smartness" to it that was both intriguing and delightful. And everything he wrote is so fun to read.

The first essay I ever wrote of his is called "Getting Away From Already Pretty Much Away From It All." It has also been printed with the title "State Fair." It's about his experiences going to an Indiana State Fair to write a piece for Harper's Magazine. There's one point where he's watching the Beef Show, where young kids enter their best cows into a competition. Here's David Foster Wallace's description:

"The cow's owners are farm kids, deep-rural kids from back-of-beyond counties like Piatt, Moultrie, Vermilion, all County Fari winners. They are earnest, nervous, pride-puffed. Dress rurally up. Straw-colored crewcuts. High number of freckles per capita. They're kids remarkably for a kind of classic Rockwellian U.S. averageness, the products of balanced diets, vigorous labor, and solid GOP upbringings" (105).

How perfect is that? In that one paragraph, you understand perfectly what he is describing. Not to mention the whole "solid GOP upbringing" thing cracks me up. Not just because I'm not a member of the GOP but because it's such a great & somewhat unconventional way of describing someone.

Another great thing he talks about in that same essay is the adult Prairie State Clogger, a group of adult clog dancers. I know, it sounds lame but just read this:

"But it's adrenaline-dancing, meth-paced and exhausting to watch because your own feet move; and it's erotic in a way that makes MTV look lame. The clogger's feet are too fast to be seen, really, but they all tap out the exact same rhythm...The audience is packed right to the edge of the portable hardwood flooring. The teams are mostly married couples. The men are either rail-thin or have big hanging guts. A couple of the men are great fluid Astaire-like dancers, but mostly it's the women who compel. The males have constant sunny smiles, but the women look orgasmic; they're the really serious ones, transported. Their yips and whoops are involuntary, pure exclamation. They are arousing...The looks on the younger ag-kids' faces have this awakened astonished aspect, like they didn't realize their own race could dance like this"(124-125).

Again, just freaking brilliant writing. He had this way of perfectly describing a situation and drawing out something really special or unique about it.

The essay that gives the book its title, "A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again," is possibly one of my favorites of his. It's about him being sent on a cruise to write an article about it for some magazine (whose name I forget). I'm going to refrain from talking about it here (though I really, really, really want to) because I'll never stop. Do yourself a favor. Go purchase the book & read it. Hell, if you really want to read it but can't afford to buy it, come over to my place & I'll photo copy it for you (I won't give you my book though. Rule #34).

There are also several other wonderful essays in this book ("David Lynch Keeps His Head" is freaking awesome) and in the book, Consider the Lobster, I mentioned in my other post where I talked a lot about David Foster Wallace (the essay "Up, Simba" is about his experiences following the John McCain campaign bus/entourage when McCain was trying to get the Republican nomination against George W. Bush. *Spoiler Alert* McCain loses. But the essay is freaking brilliant (I know I've used that phrase a lot to describe David Foster Wallace's work but it's true). So brilliant, in fact, that half way through I was thinking, "Damnit, David Foster Wallace. Stop making me feel sympathy for John McCain." Another great essay in Consider the Lobster is about when he had to cover the Adult Entertainment Awards. It's hilarious but still keeps that "smartness" that I've come to love about David Foster Wallace).

**Side-Note from Kelly**
I mentioned this in the previous post, but just in case you forgot, I always refer to David Foster Wallace as David Foster Wallace. Not as Wallace. Not DFW. Always David Foster Wallace. The reasoning behind this is because the guy was an incredible writer and one of my heroes. He deserves to have his name written out every goddamn time. If this annoys you, well, you're shit out of luck.
**End of Side-Note**

I think what makes David Foster Wallace's work so great is that it's refreshingly real. When he's at the Adult Entertainment Awards, you can tell when he is very uncomfortable. When he's on his cruise in "A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again",  he talks about how he is a semi-agoraphobe and goes to great lengths to describe how his particular cruise line can be suitable for a semi-agoraphobe, i.e. they will bring an unearthly amount of food up to your room so you don't have to go down to the dinning rooms. He also spends a lot of time describing his cabin, paying special attention to the wonders of the bathroom. He then decides, for the sake of the article, to go out one day and take part in the scheduled activities the cruise line has arranged. He plays ping-pong against the resident ping-pong player (I am not kidding. There is a guy on the cruise ship who, among other things, is paid to play ping-pong with the guests), gets his trash kicked at chess by a 9-year-old girl, and briefly (very briefly) joins a conga-line. His writing is always honest and unashamed. He has no qualms with revealing how weird and "not-cool" he is. There is no feeling of superiority from his writing. You are able to feel exactly what he's feeling because he's so genuine.

If I were to pick my writing role model, it would be, without question, David Foster Wallace. It makes me sad knowing I will never have the chance to meet him or read anything new from him.  He committed suicide on September 12, 2008. (You may have noticed me switching between present and past tense when referring to him. I apologize but I'm too lazy to fix it). He had suffered from depression for over 20 years but was able to function by taking antidepressants. Because of some severe side-effects, he  (under his doctor's supervision) began to ween himself off the medication. When he was completely off, his depression came full force. When he went back on his medication, he found it has lost its effectiveness. He tried many other treatments but nothing ever worked.

There were several times during my reading of his work that I found myself wishing he were still alive. There are so many topics I wish he were still around to write about. I want to know what he thinks about the Coen brothers films, the Twilight series crapfest, this new "movement" that abandons cynicism and embraces activism & hope, the current political schism & how it's destroying our country, and so many more.

I have mentioned recently my feelings about suicide. It's an act that I do not condone but, from knowing exactly what it's like to want to not exist anymore, I do not automatically condemn it either. David Foster Wallace understood this, maybe better than anyone else. He once said this about suicide (I know it's long-ish but read it, damnit):

"The so-called ‘psychotically depressed’ person who tries to kill herself doesn’t do so out of quote ‘hopelessness’ or any abstract conviction that life’s assets and debits do not square. And surely not because death seems suddenly appealing. The person in whom Its invisible agony reaches a certain unendurable level will kill herself the same way a trapped person will eventually jump from the window of a burning high-rise. Make no mistake about people who leap from burning windows. Their terror of falling from a great height is still just as great as it would be for you or me standing speculatively at the same window just checking out the view; i.e. the fear of falling remains a constant. The variable here is the other terror, the fire’s flames: when the flames get close enough, falling to death becomes the slightly less terrible of two terrors. It’s not desiring the fall; it’s terror of the flames. And yet nobody down on the sidewalk, looking up and yelling ‘Don’t!’ and ‘Hang on!’, can understand the jump. Not really. You’d have to have personally been trapped and felt flames to really understand a terror way beyond falling."

That is by far the best explanation on what it's like to be quote "suicidal." And while I know everything that led up to David Foster Wallace's suicide and I can understand exactly the whys of it, I'm still terribly upset that he's gone and I'll never know what David Foster Wallace thinks about anything ever again.

Love you.
Mean it.

New Plan O' Action

"Walk tall, kick ass,...love music, and never forget you come from a long line of truth seekers, lovers, and warriors."

-Hunter S. Thompson

My Inexperiences with Death

I should warn you first and foremost, this is going to be a sadder, more on the heavier side of things kind of post. If that doesn't sound like your cup of tea, go watch some youtube videos of adorable puppies or something (you may view my personal favorite puppy video here.)

So I have to take this stupid health class in order to finish my GE's and graduate. The particular stupid health class I am taking is called "Personal Health and Wellness." It's an online class and is fairly easy to get good grades in. All I have to do is complete a quiz & an exam for each of the 17 chapters and complete 10 assignments that are not too demanding. I just finished my chapter 14 quiz & exam, which dealt with aging, death, and dying. Usually when I "read" the chapter to prepare for the quiz & exam, I mostly just skim over everything, reading the definitions that are conveniently put off to the side and any other bolded aspects of the chapter. But this time was different. I found myself actually reading parts of the text such as "Coping Emotionally with Death," "What is 'Typical' Grief?" and "Making Final Arrangements."

I think the reason I actually stopped and read parts of this chapter is because I've never really had to deal with death in my life. The first time I probably encountered the concept of death was when I was three or four and my granddad passed away from Lou Gehrig's disease. I only vaguely remember my mom telling me that granddad had died but other than that, I don't remember anything. I do have two memories of my mother's father. One, him telling us grandkids we couldn't put water in the sandbox outside, and two, walking to a BYU football game and hearing his voice over the sound system. My granddad, Kenner Casteel Kartchner, Jr., was the announcer for the home BYU football games for over a decade. He got his Bachelor's degree from BYU and his Law degree from the University of Utah. He was recruited to the FBI and worked as an agent back east. My grandmom has told me in Georgia, he solved several cases that were deemed "unsolvable." Later, he left the FBI because it wasn't the type of life he wanted for his family. They all moved back to Provo and he became a salesman. Besides my Grandmom, who is currently 83 or so, he is the only grandparent I have memories of.

My father's parents both died when I was about a year old, my granddad from complications due to a stroke, and my grandmom from complications due to Alzheimer's disease. I have no memory of either of them. My granddad, Bennion Rhead Cannon, got his degree in engineering at the University of Utah and was the general manager of the pipe plant. At one point, he was the leading expert in his field in the entire nation. My grandmom, Helen Maurine Peterson Cannon, was an incredibly loving mother and dedicated wife. When my granddad built their house, he built everything to my grandmom's height (he was quite a bit taller than her) so she'd be comfortable. He had to stoop down to see himself in the mirror.

The second time I ever encountered a death was when I was in the eighth grade. A boy I only somewhat knew had killed himself. He was only 13-years-old, a fact that still baffles me. Suicide is a sensitive issue for me, mostly because it is an option I have considered multiple times when things were particularly bad. And while I don't condone it, I don't believe in automatically condemning the act either. One time I was discussing my suicidal thoughts with a dear & trusted friend. He said one of the most profound things I had ever heard on the subject. He said, "I don't understand why people say that suicide is 'fucked-up.' There is nothing fucked-up about wanting to end pain." But the fact that this boy ended his life at 13 broke my heart. Now, nearly ten years later, it still breaks my heart.

All my other encounters with death have always been at a distance. My old soccer coach died, a member of my sorority whom I didn't know died in a plane crash. It's always been just on the outside of my close circle. I guess I should consider myself lucky in that aspect.

Because death has never really happened close enough to me to truly affect me, I don't know how I would react to the death of a loved one. I mean, I've had five dogs pass away and since I love dogs in general & especially love the dogs we own, each instance threw me into a state of never ending crying and depression. I would be a wreck for days. If that's how I react with just dogs, how will it be for people?

As I said, my only remaining grandparent is my grandmom. She hasn't been doing too well lately and for the first time, I realize she may not be here much longer. I don't know how I should feel or react to this. I mean, on the one hand she is 83 and her health is declining rapidly. She's been a widow coming up on two decades. I don't want her to suffer any more than she has to. But on the other hand, it's my grandmom. I don't want to lose her.

I do believe in an afterlife and I do believe I will see all of my relatives (and dogs) again. But still, death is the great unknown, the big question mark that no one is able to explain for sure. Death is a concept that both confuses and terrifies me. I'm scared of it because I don't understand it, it is something that cannot be 100% explained. I envy people who say death doesn't frighten them. When I think about my own death, I'm scared shitless. Despite what I may believe, there is no way of understanding it completely.

I can't even think of a proper way to end this post because I'm left with just questions and worries about death. I know it is something that will happen to all of us and that's about it. All I can hope is that whenever death does come close to me, I'll be able to cope with it, even if I can't understand it.

Love you.
Mean it.

You're Alright, Governor Herbert

It's been my belief that the lawmakers of the fair state of Utah are not exactly the "best & the brightest." It seems that whenever there is a problem, our lovely lawmakers seem to find the most illogical, back-ass-ward solution possible. All of the stupid solutions they came up with seemed like pretty much standard procedure and, since none of it really bothered me too much, I didn't really care.

Then they hand to go and pull this garbage. I'm talking about HB 477. Unless you have been living in a cave on Mars, you have heard of this idiotic measure that would make living in Utah even suckier than it already is (an amazing feat in itself, I know). For those of you playing the home game, HB 477 is a bill that redefines GRAMA. Representative John Dougall, on utahpoliticalsummary.com, does a great job of explaining what GRAMA means so I'm going to let him do it: 

"The official name of the law is the Government Records Access and Management Act, and it’s codified at Utah Code Ann. § 63G-2-101 et seq. But for those less legally inclined, GRAMA is a law that allows citizens to request the disclosure of certain records from the state government that would otherwise remain in agency files, unavailable to Jon Q. Public. It doesn’t take much imagination to see why GRAMA is the darling of the media nursery, and often the proverbial thorn in the side of our esteemed public officials. Although it has helped launch plenty of “gotcha” pieces, the principle underlying GRAMA is less about “gotcha” stories and more about transparency and providing a means for citizens to responsibly and intelligently exercise their right to check their government through elections." 

So, how would HB 477 change GRAMA? Again, referring to Rep. Dougall, it would change it in four ways:

1. It would narrow the definition of a government "record." Instant messaging (like Gmail chat or Facebook chat), video chats, text messages, notes prepared by government officers or employees for the officer’s or employee’s own reference (it doesn’t matter if the subject matter of the note is a matter of public concern), and any communication by a governmental officer or employee made in a capacity other than that person’s official capacity would all be exempt from the definition of "record" and therefore could not be requested for public access. 
2. It would broaden the definition of "protected records." To read about what that means exactly, got read Rep. Dougall's post.
3. It would change the fee structure provisions of GRAMA. It would add processing fees (whether the request was granted or not), plus a bunch of other fees that can be read about more in depth on Rep. Dougall's post.
4. It would make changes in the burden of proof in challenging a denial of a GRAMA Request. (Just go to Rep. Dougall's post. Seriously, if you haven't yet, go right now. I'll wait.)

Essentially, HB 477 makes it a lot easier for our lawmakers to get away with things because their communications would not be classified as "records," not to mention that it'll make it even harder for people to access things that are records. I think Rep. Dougall hit the nail on the head when he said this less about catching legislators doing bad things. Rather, it's about transparency and allowing means for citizens to check up on their government. 

Now, our lovely Governor Gary Herbert did the unthinkable and actually SIGNED this godforsaken bill. At first, I was like most people, ready to call out such a moronic governor. I figured he was one of "them," meaning he was one of the legislators who wanted to make things easier for them to get away with stuff and harder for citizens to catch them. But, I admit, I was wrong. 

It turns out that Gov. Herbert had a plan all along (as stated in this heraldextra.com article): 

"Earlier Monday Herbert released a statement saying the public had lost confidence in the government because of the process that was used to pass the bill. Herbert also defended not veto-ing the bill in the first place because he said a veto would have been overridden by the Legislature and the law would have gone into effect immediately. Herbert instead worked out a deal to delay the start date of the law to allow for more public input on the bill. Herbert's deal also included amending the bill in a special session based on the public comment. Herbert said the public has a right to have access to government records and processes and that GRAMA is the hallmark of a modern republic."

Gov. Herbert knew that if he immediately vetoed the bill, it would have been overridden in legislature and then it would be curtains for all attempts at trying to stop it. Gov. Herbert was quoted saying "Not only have I responded to scores of GRAMA requests in my public career, I support this process as a private citizen. In fact, I care so much about the process in making policy, because the right process yields the right outcomes." Two days ago, Friday March 25, HB 477 was repealed by the Utah Legislature and will be open for changes and better solutions.

This one act of "sticking-it-to-the-man-while-still-being-apart-of-a-bigger-'man'' already qualifies Gov. Herbert as a bad-ass in my book, but WAIT! It gets better!

The bone-heads of our Legislature (I wonder if it's the same bone-heads of HB 477. If so, we need to stop electing said bone-heads) have also been trying to close state liquor stores in order to help cut state funding. The only problem is the state liquor stores bring in money! Liquor stores owned by the state actually provide the state with revenue from taxes and profits. And these guys want to close these stores? (Again, illogical, back-ass-ward, bone-headed solutions).

Not to fear! Governor Herbert is here! In an excellent article by Josh Loftin from businessweek.com, our awesome governor was quoted as saying, "All of us wonder why, if you're making money, why you would close those stores?" Why indeed. Herbert was also quoted as saying, "Closing stores that bring millions of dollars into state coffers is puzzling, especially during a slow economy." Obviously, Herbert opposes the closure of these liquor stores.

Is our governor the only lawmaker in our entire state with half a brain? It really looks like it, from my perspective at least. And I for one am very glad we have Gov. Herbert to lead our state and to be the voice of reason. And while my political opinion doesn't matter too much in the grand scheme of things, I applaud Governor Herbert's actions.  Way to stand up for the little guy and common sense! I mean, I'm nowhere near being a Republican but I'll vote for you.

So after it's all said and done, I still have a general distrust (and distaste) for the lawmakers in our fine state.

But Governor Herbert, you're alright.

Love you.
Mean it.

She Really Is Into You: A Guide on How to Stop Being Oblivious

It seems like whenever I talk to one of my guy friends (which is nearly all the time because, let's face it, I don't like girls. I can only think of about ten girls whom I would consider to be close girlfriends) he'll start talking about some girl. He'll start describing something she did or something they said. Without looking up, I'll usually say something like, "She likes you." Then, unfailingly, he will look at me incredulously and says, "What? How do you know that? Did she tell you that?" And no, she did not (I hate girls, remember?). I'll then begin to describe the various subtle hints she has been dropping left & right that he has been absolutely oblivious to.

I can't think of how many times this has happened. And I realize that girls are creatures of subtlety and guys are basically oblivious creatures but, really? Are guys that dense that they can't even figure out that a chick likes them? To try and combat this issue, here is a handy dandy guide. If you're the proud home of a Y-chromosome, read, reread, & apply.


Subtle Hint #1: She will text you, asking you what you're up to, says she's either doing something or not doing something, and will casually invite you to join her. 
By casually, I mean she'll use the words, "...if you like," "...if you want." She'll make it seem like it's a passing thought, like if you don't have anything else to do. A guy will read these words and think, "Oh, it's not big deal if I come over or not." But I promise, this chick is really trying to say, "I want you to come over. Now." She can't say those words exactly because it would make her sound desperate or demanding. So, men of the world, if a girl casually asks you to join her, DO IT!

Subtle Hint #2: If the group splits up, she'll make an excuse for staying with whatever faction you're joining. 
Again, she'll make this seem like a casual thing, like the faction she is joining is the one she always wanted. She'll make it seem like no big deal. But, I assure you, it is a Big. Freaking. Deal. She wants to spend time with you. She wants to be around you. Your male brain may not be able to process this but girls equate spending time with someone as an expression of affection. Never ever dismiss the power of spending time together.

Subtle Hint #3: She seems especially concerned about your well-being. 
She'll ask about your day or how you're doing, and if you respond by saying you're sick or depressed or what have you, she'll be worried or concerned. She'll ask questions & really listen. She'll ask what she can do to help or just offer her help flat-out. She likes you, therefore, she cares about your physical and emotional well being. She'll check up with you later & ask if you're feeling better. She may even bring you a little something because she was "worried." Don't brush her off as being overly concerned. She is just the right amount of concern.

Subtle Hint #4: She remembers little details from previous conversations.
You'll be talking to this girl and you'll say something like, "And then my dog ran over & jumped in my aunt's lap" and she'll say, "Oh, your dog Max?" This is extremely subtle, gentleman, and you may not even notice it. But what she just did was remember that your dog is named Max. You had probably mentioned this at a previous point in time. The key is that she remembered it. This may not seem like a bit deal, but, trust me, it is. She remembered because when you talk to her, she really listens. I mean, really listens.

Subtle Hint #5: She'll touch your shoulder, arm, leg, etc. more than average but not so much as to be blatantly obvious about it. 
It might just be a brief hand on the leg when she's laughing. It may be a hand on your shoulder when she's expressing sympathy (or snarky condescension, depending on the girl). These brief physical encounters may not seem like much, but if they occur semi-frequently, then that girl is trying to tell you something via body language. Pay attention.

Subtle Hint #6: She says the words, "I like you."
The End.

Love you.
Mean it.

As Heard in the Newsroom, Part 1

So it's Sunday, the last day of my pathetic spring break, and I'm feeling incredibly lazy. So lazy, in fact, I don't feel like being terribly funny today. So I'm going to let other people do it for me. Allow me to present for your enjoyment the first in what will hopefully be a long series entitled

"As Heard in the Newsroom."

You may not have known this, but the staff of the UVU Review are freaking hilarious. I have written down some of my favorite quotes I've heard said in the Newsroom, as well as a few said outside of those hallowed walls. They are in alphabetical order cause that's how they've been saved on my phone. So enjoy and happy last day of spring break!

I can’t twitter it cause I don’t know how.
-Andrea Lindgren

Sudoku is more hipster than Vampire Weekend.
-Bryan Gomm

It’s like God’s phone is on vibrate.
-Dave Newlin

No! I reject your hug!
-Dave Newlin

Guys, that was way funnier than you gave me credit for.
-Dave Newlin

That is beautifully wrong, sir.
-Dave Newlin

I’m a disc golf freaking guru.
-Dave Newlin

Is he going to answer every question as a wolverine?
Grrrrr...
-Dave Newlin & Jarom Moore, about an interview with Willie the Wolverine mascot.

The Hooters girl called me baby...
-Gilbie Cisneros

I need a new job. Those sex offenders are rubbing off on me.
-Gilbie Cisneros

Can I openly say I snore really loud?
And can I openly say shit?
-Gilbie Cisneros & Jake Buntjer

I need to semi-date more.
-Jarom Moore

If my primary function was to reproduce, I’d be okay with that.
-Jarom Moore

I’ve earned the right to make fun of nerd through decades and decades of playing Dungeons & Dragons.
Wait, decades?
How old are you, Jarom?
-Jarom Moore, Nadia Ashtawy, & Kelly Cannon

I am the hydra of disdain.
-John-Ross Boyce

It's like eating bad meatloaf while watching a NCIS marathon.
-John-Ross Boyce

We could always use a sex scandal.
-John-Ross Boyce

Alcohol, guns, and murder. It’s the unholy trinity of The V.
-John-Ross Boyce

A thriller is a horror film with its balls cut off.
-John-Ross Boyce

Alright! Dinner with Obama! He’s the cool president.
-John-Ross Boyce

I haven’t hackey-sacked since Weezer put out a good album.
-John-Ross Boyce

For legitimate journalism!
-John-Ross Boyce

I have been saying awesome shit tonight.
-John-Ross Boyce

If I don’t drink & smoke like normal, then the terrorists win.
-John-Ross Boyce

That’s about as good as you can get for a mentally retarded rapper.
-John-Ross Boyce

There needs to be guidelines for robot bodies.
-John-Ross Boyce

What the hell? That isn’t doggy-style either!
-John-Ross Boyce

Newlin! My back hurts. Let’s smoke it off!
-John-Ross Boyce

I’d like to date a Nazi, just for the story.
-John-Ross Boyce

Who’s damn kid is making that noise?
That’s my damn kid.
-John-Ross Boyce & Andrea Lindgren

Since I do not own a uterus...
Wait, you can own a uterus?
-John-Ross Boyce & Celeste Rosenlof

Did your heart just grow three sizes?
Something else just grew three sizes as well.
-John-Ross Boyce & Jarom Moore

Have some balls or ovaries, if you will.
Or a little of both.
-John-Ross Boyce & Jarom Moore

Coming up next, Jack Nicholson & Jeff Bridges in Space Mountain.
I’d see it. You’ve sold me.
-John-Ross Boyce & Jarom Moore

Who at Fuddruckers would I know?
Who at Fuddruckers wouldn’t you know?
-John-Ross Boyce & Natalie Psuik

I don’t want you walking on my back with your big Chewbacca feet.
They’re not hairy. They’re just big.
-John-Ross Boyce & Dave Newlin

We’re starting a Newsroom bowling team!
No, we are not!
We’re starting an unsanctioned Newsroom bowling team!
-John-Ross Boyce & Dave Newlin

This next song is by a guy named Prince. I don’t know if you guys have heard of him...
What’s he the prince of?
He’s the prince of your fucking face, Rob Steffen!
-John-Ross Boyce & Rob Steffen

Don’t be a half-assed racist.
-Kelly Cannon

That sounds like a great conversation starter--”So I’ve been seeing a lot of Arabs lately...”
-Kelly Cannon

J.R. does not negotiate with terrorists.
-Kelly Cannon

Has anyone every told you that you remind them of Frank from 30 Rock?
Jesus...
Jesus told you? I didn’t know you were so celestially connected.
-Kelly Cannon & John-Ross Boyce

Are you sure they didn’t take a break?
No, these guys were pros.
-Kelly Cannon & John-Ross Boyce about a couple making-out in public for over an hour.

But we all know it in our hearts.
And in our breasts.
-Kelly Cannon & Sterling Gray

So it’s a controlled substance? Well, of course it is. Newsflash! I’m a reporter.
-Lex Bourgeous

I’ve read two books on Pablo Escobar. I have a little shrine of him.
-Lex Bourgeous

I decided to quit [smoking] when I went to the gas station to buy a new pack & I didn’t have my wallet so I figured, “Okay, I’m done.”
-Lex Bourgeous

I’m trying to quit [smoking].
Congratulations.
Yep, going on 14-hours now.
-Lex Bourgeous & Jarom Moore

We’re doing a story on students with ADD...
Oooo! Just follow me around all day.
-Celeste & Dave Newlin

Dave wants us to push Oklahoma in the next issue. And by push, I mean promote the shit out of it.
-Mindy Haward

Starbusrts are like crack for you.
-Mindy Haward to Andrea Lindgren

They seem like really nice guys with drug problems.
-Nadia Ashtawy

You were probably just bisexual for a half-hour.
-Natalie Psuik

The new astrology signs gave me cancer...
-Rob Steffen

“Is sex an option?” That’s my best pick-up line.
-Rob Steffen

It works for them, homophobic bigots.
-Robbin Anthony

Don’t give me that ADD bullshit.
-Robbin Anthony

Is your eternal salvation in jeopardy because of us?
No, I don’t think so...
-Robbin Anthony & Jarom Moore

Ghihad! I mean, Yee-Haw!
-Sterling Gray

Is that another restriction? Because I have breasts, I’m also dumb? You sexist.
-Sterling Gray, on robot bodies.

Unknown Newsroom Person 1: Where does the BYU newspaper get their budget from?
Unknown Newsroom Person 2: Mormons.

Love you. 

Mean it. 

Being Enlightened by John-Ross Boyce & His Troubles, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying & Accept My Woeful Ignorance

I admit it. I'm not that into music. I mean, if you peek at my Facebook page & look under "Arts & Entertainment," I have 17 artists listed under "Music." This may seem like a decent amount but when you compare it to the 35 writers under "Books," (I just entered the names of writers because if I were to list books, the Facebook server might crash from overload), and the 50 entries for "Movies," it's easy to discern where my true interests lie.

It's not that I have anything against music. I do have an ipod with plenty of music on it & I listen to it when I'm getting ready in the morning, driving around, cleaning my room, etc. (This is, of course, only when I'm not listening to a book on tape. (not to be confused with the band Book on Tape) I've got quite the collection of books on tape & quite enjoy listening to them). Some of the music I listen to for nostalgia's sake (Blink 182, Jimmy Eat World, Green Day, Brand New, Death Cab for Cutie, Taking Back Sunday). Some of it I listen to cause it's fun (Barenaked Ladies, Flogging Molly, Regina Spektor, Lady Gaga). But for the majority of my music tastes, I listen to music that blends beautiful and/or tragic lyrics with a devastating, honest, and/or raw voice singing them. My type of music has to be real. The lyrics have to reveal some sort of truth & emotion. If the song is about heartache, the words sung & the voice singing them have to make me understand & feel his or her heartache. Raw, honest, and devastating.  The music that accompanies the lyrics is only a minor detail in my mind.

 I could go on & on about the reasons I like my very few bands and list various examples of lyrics (and I probably will someday in a later post. I have one in the works but it's not done yet. Stay Tuned). But recently I have discovered I am woefully ignorant when it comes to music at large. Last night I went & saw my friends' band play. They're called John-Ross Boyce & His Troubles. My friend John-Ross is the singer & lead guitarist, while my other friend, Dave Newlin, plays the drums. There are three other guys in the group, James Barlow on bass, Ryan Moore on guitar, and Tom Perry on piano/keyboard. John-Ross describes their music as "gutter country." It's very gritty/folksy/bluesy-esque. (See, this is a perfect example of how my complete lack of broader music knowledge leaves me unable to even properly describe a specific sound. So here's what I'm going to do: click on this handy-dandy link & listen to John-Ross & His Troubles. My favorite song is "The World Needs Ditchdiggers Too" but that's just John-Ross doing some acoustic stuff. My next favorite is probably "No Doctors, No Priests" then " Holy   Sabbath Impending." Last night they played a song called "Old Crow" that was delightful. I'm sad it's not on their page...). I had a blast listening to them. I had heard bit of their stuff before & was delighted by the sound & the lyrics. It is a perfect example of what I mean by blend of beautifully tragic lyrics with a devastatingly raw voice singing them. And it's not that all of their songs are tragic & devastating in a sad, depressing kind of way. Most of them are quite fun to listen to. It's that their devastating because they are so honest & real that it speaks to the individual on such a personal level that it can only be described as tragic & devastating.

After their show, J.R. came & sat next to a group of us (consisting of a girl named Olivia, Eliza, & another one whose name escapes me. Eliza is dating James, I think Olivia is dating Ryan (no guarantees, just a hunch) and Girl #3 is an ex of J.R.'s but on good terms. I had briefly met all of them before back in January(?) when it was Newlin's birthday. This was my second time "meeting" them but whatever). J.R., Olivia, Eliza, & Girl #3 started talking about music, a common subject with J.R. and I was struck, not for the first time, how they might have been speaking a different language. They were discussing genres of music that I had never heard of (such as Sledgehammer Metal(???)) and dropping names of groups left & right so fast I couldn't even keep any of them in my head long enough to process it before another one came out. I had nothing to contribute to the conversation so I just sat & thought my own private thoughts (again, this happens a LOT when I hang out with J.R.).

In those private musings, I realized something. If the topic of conversation were to be something I actually know something about, like films by the Coen brothers, American literature, Russian literature, the auteurism of films by Quentin Tarantino, then I could make a substantial contribution to the conversation. I used to be so bothered that I could never add anything to these conversations, but last night it made sense. Movies & Literature, they're my main point of interest & I am a freaking near-expert on them. My friends, they know music, a LOT about music.  Just because I'm woefully ignorant about that particular topic doesn't mean I'm woefully ignorant about everything in the world.

So I've reached a conclusion: I either need to learn more about music, or make more friends who care more about literature & movies.

Love you.
Mean it.

Tell Me A Secret Part 4

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

In case you can't read that, it says, "Sometimes I feel like I fall in love so often
that my heart is splattered all over the place. Maybe if I were to focus it
all on just one guy, he'd have the chance to fall in love back. 

Love you.
Mean it.

My Visceral, Violent Reaction to Religion

Note from Kelly: Like most things I do, the following is not intended to offend anyone or anyone's beliefs. It is an expression of my own personal beliefs and is not to be interpreted as an attack on anyone else's beliefs. Thank you. 


I am not a violent person. I mean, yes, I occasionally use violent terms when I have to deal with frustrating situations (such as threatening to punch someone in the neck or saying I'd rather dig my ovaries out with a spoon) but I never mean anything like that literally. I could never hit anyone in real life. I feel bad enough squashing bugs  (and avoid it as much as possible). It's true I love violent movies but I'd never, ever want to be in any of those situations. I'd probably freeze up & go irreversibly insane. I can't handle violent or even hostile situations. When my family gathers around the television to watch one of our favorite sports teams play, I am typically not there. My family is very into sports and when our team does something lousy or gets a bad call, the family erupts into a frenzy of angry screaming and stomping around. And while I know none of it is directed at me, I'd rather not be in that kind of hostile environment.

But when it comes to religion, my instinctive reaction is violence. Whenever the conversation I'm in or around turns to religion, not in an intellectual way but in an "expression of my unshakeable faith" kind of way, I want to get up and leave as quickly as possible, remove myself from that situation because I have no desire to listen to that crap any more than I have to. Being a Non-Mormon in a predominantly Mormon society, these situations happen quite frequently. I don't believe any of the things others are discussing and every time I feel like people are closing in on me to reach out and "reactivate" me, my gut instinct is to react with violence and hostility. I don't want to be anyone's "special spiritual project." I don't want my "situation" to be discussed in any Elders Quorum or Relief Society meeting. I'm fine, thanks anyone. I'm more than happy if people want to reach out to me because they genuinely want to get to know me and be friends. But if I ever suspect any ulterior to "bring me back to the fold," I will react with hostility and anger. As Henry Rollins once said, "Get your God in my way, and I will bring you the rapture."

I don't know why I react with so much open hostility toward any pressure from a religion inviting me to "come unto Christ & be perfected in him." I have no qualms withs any religion in general, as long as its members leave me alone. I've seen organized religion bring a lot of goodness and happiness into many people's lives. I think that's great. Everyone needs to find a way to live their life that makes them happy. But the only time I have found real, consistent happiness was by rejecting any and all forms of religion and living my life the way I thought was right. Religion just doesn't seem to work for me. And that's okay. If religious people just kept doing their own thing without trying to get me to join, everything would be lovely.

Maybe that's way I react so viciously when I detect any attempt to try & re-convert me. I did the whole religion thing for nearly 20 years of my life. I was a practicing and believing Mormon. And a lot of that time (specifically from ages 15-20) I was miserable. I fought so hard to find the happiness my religion seemed to promise me. I eventually found happiness once I left the church. I discovered a happiness I never knew could exist. And I'll be damned if anything tries to take that away from me.

Love you.
Mean it.

People/Things I Like & You Should Too

Writers
David Foster Wallace

Stephen King
Kurt Vonnegut
Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Chuck Palahniuk
Charles Bukowski

Joseph Conrad
Leo Tolstoy
Alice Walker
Sloane Crosely
Angela Davis
Cormac McCarthy
Ernest Hemingway
Hunter S. Thompson

Nathaniel Hawthorne
John Steinbeck

Graham Greene
Jack Kerouac

J.D. Salinger
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Mary Shelley
Allen Ginsberg
Truman Capote
Edgar Allan Poe
Betty Friedan
Gloria Steinem
Neil Gaiman
Steig Larsen
Terry Pratchett
Oscar Wilde
Rudyard Kipling
Pearl S. Buck
Douglas Adams
Thomas Hardy
Alexander Pushkin
Stephen Crane
Tennessee Williams
Franz Kafka

Actors/Directors
Quentin Tarantino
Robert Rodriguez
Michael Caine
Marlon Brando

Clint Eastwood
Robert DeNiro

Tina Fey
Cary Grant
Jude Law
Katherine Hepburn
Humphrey Bogart
Ryan Reynolds
Alfred Hitchcock
Woody Harrelson
Martin Scorsese
Joel Coen
Ethan Coen
Meryl Streep
Helen Mirren
Judi Dench
Harrison Ford
Morgan Freeman
Matt Damon
Leonardo DiCaprio
Sandra Bullock

Colin Firth
Joseph Gordon-Levitt
Edward Norton
Orson Welles
Adrien Brody
Al Pacino
Woody Allen
James Franco
Jeff Bridges
Natalie Portman
Justin Long
Liam Neeson
John Wayne
Guy Richie

Movies
Too many. Please go here.

People in General

Jon Stewart

Anderson Cooper

Condoleezza Rice

Rachel Maddow

Ellen Degeneres

Bands/Musicians
Bright Eyes
Dropkick Murphys
Brand New
Ben Folds
Motion City Soundtrack
Flogging Molly
Streetlight Manifesto
The Format
Death Cab for Cutie
Weezer
Lady Gaga
Fiona Apple
Regina Spektor
Postal Service
Alanis Morissette

Jimmy Eat World
Green Day
Blink 182
Barenaked Ladies
Nirvana
Augustana

Television Shows
The Daily Show

30 Rock

Better Off Ted
Arrested Development
Psych
The Big Bang Theory
The Mentalist
Hawaii Five-O
Criminal Minds
How I Met Your Mother
Raising Hope
Doctor Who
Firefly
Dexter
NCIS
NCIS: Los Angeles

Love you.

Mean it.

Odd, Unexplainable Feelings

Last night I watched August Rush. Believe me, I didn't choose the movie. I was at my friend's place and I was just glad to get out of my house for a few hours. I had no place to complain. I had seen August Rush before, though I cannot tell you when or where or who with. I just remember seeing it before. And when I watched it this time, it broke my heart. Not because of the story or the characters or the music. It was just one shot, one brief image:

Once I saw this image, this part of the movie, I quickly & decidedly began to withdraw myself out of the film, not because it wasn't a decent film but because seeing Louis hold Lyla like that, like she were the most important thing in the world, like he was never going to let her go, it broke my heart. I can remember a time when I was held like that, me & a guy could lay in bed all day, him holding me the way Louis held Lyla. It's been over a year since I've been held like that. 

I withdrew myself from the movie because movies always, always have a deep impact on me. I become emotionally invested in any movie, regardless of its genre. And once I saw that scene of Louis holding Lyla, I knew if I didn't stop myself from allowing the movie to impact me, I was going to be upset and lonely the rest of the night. 

Moments like that happen every now & then, moments where the fact I'm alone becomes extremely poignant. In those moments, it's hard to breathe, hard to think. Luckily they are infrequent and I can manage to get through them without too much damage. It's when they happen at night that they become a real bugger. I hate the night. You can't escape yourself in the night. And if you don't have someone lying right next to you, the night is hard to get through. 

Lately I've been doing more reading at night. I find if I goof off on my computer, I never fall asleep. But if I read, I can fall asleep quicker. I'll have my book (David Foster Wallace, Fyodor Dostoevsky, or Kurt Vonnegut have been the most popular lately) and I'll curl up and read. Sometimes I have a weird feeling. It's hard to explain it properly without sounding crazy. It's like for a brief moment, I'll feel like whoever I'm suppose to end up with one day is doing the exact same thing. He's curled up in his bed, reading something as well. It's an insane and unexplainable feeling but I can't just shake it off nor deny the realness of it. I don't believe in destiny or fate, and I don't believe in "the one." But those brief feelings I get when I'm reading at night let me know I'm not going to be alone much longer. Whenever I feel that way, I wonder if he (whoever he is) ever gets those odd, unexplainable feelings too. Whether he feels that his girl is curled up in bed reading, just trying to get to morning. 

Love you.

Mean it. 

Happy Goddamn Anniversary, A Year in Retrospect

Today marks the one-year anniversary of the worst day of my life.

I've tried dozens of times to write about what happened that day, all the events that led up to that day, the questions I still have, the unknown elements that were at play. But I can never get more than a few sentences out before I abandon it. Even now, one year later, I can't figure out a way to write about it all, to think about everything in a way that doesn't hurt, that doesn't remind me of how it felt in that instant when I lost everything. It's like an infection that won't heal, won't go away, but doesn't hurt as long as I ignore it. It's not healthy but I just can't bring myself to relive that day. I wish it would go away, that I could just forget every detail of that day.

When people ask me why I transferred to UVU, I usually make up some reason that sounds legit. I've only told one person everything that happened who wasn't someone involved in all of it. Explaining the course of events, the blatant lies, the realized betrayal, my words were choppy, hesitant, not because I didn't know what to say or how to say it but because going over all of it hurt so much. It was an awful pain stuck in my chest. I'm not sure I ever want to explain it all again.

I compare my life now to what it was a year ago and I'm not sure what conclusions I can draw. My life is  so different now from what it was. It's true I am enjoying myself. Working for the paper has been a great blessing. All of the friendships & connections I've made, the opportunities I've had to improve my writing, and most of all, I finally know what I want to do with my life, these things couldn't have happened if I hadn't moved here. Living here has also led me to form a friendship with Jon, one of my dearest friends. His friendship means so much to me and I am grateful to have it. Being apart of an improv group, also, has done wonders for me and my self-confidence. What's So Funny has given me a place to belong, to feel welcome and accepted. I've had a lot of fun being apart of that group and look forward to practice every week. I guess in hindsight, I owe most of the happiness in my life to Andy Sherwin. He's the one who originally got me to write for the paper. My first assignment was to interview the very improv group I would later join. Those two things have been the most vital to my happiness here. I owe a lot to Andy. I hope one day I have the chance to thank him.

Thinking back to what my life was a year ago, I can't deny the fact I was happy. I was blissfully happy, actually. I had no direction in my life, I was failing half of my classes, and I was constantly striking out with nearly every single guy I met, but I had never been happier in my life. I had great, trustworthy, loyal friends. I had a great job that was one of my favorite parts of my day. I was excited to wake up in the morning, to live another day of my life. That had never happened to me before. And yes, while I am happy here for the most part, it has taken me a year to get back to the point of stable, consistent happiness.

It almost feels like I've lived two separate lives. They're both just too different to have any reasonable comparison. And I don't know which one I'd prefer to live. I guess it doesn't matter now. This is my life now and that's not going to change. But what if everything that happened a year ago didn't happen? What if I were still down in Cedar City? Would I still be happy? Would I know what I wanted to do with my life? I know one thing. You wouldn't be reading this. This blog was started as a way to cope with my moving here. And, as odd as it may sound, this blog has meant a lot to me. Being able to express myself through writing and being able to see and hear the positive feedback from readers has been joyous. So I guess things turned out okay in the end. I mean, I may not have as consistent happiness as I did back then but I am able to find ways to be happy. It's just different.

Happy Goddamn Anniversary, Kelly.
Maybe next year it'll just be another day.

Love you.
Mean it.

Westboro Baptist Church, The First Amendment, and the Difference Between Legally Right & Morally Right

As a writer and a (somewhat self-proclaimed) activist, I am a champion of the first amendment. I believe fervently in the freedom of speech and freedom of the press. It's two of the most important things in my mind in regards to ensuring people are held accountable and voices can be heard. No one should ever EVER feel afraid to state the truth. The first amendment says:

"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or of the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances."

These words are inspired, in my mind. The founding fathers set up this statement as the very first basis of their government. It leaves me in awe that before they tried to establish any other kind of law or structure, they laid out a way that the people's rights to worship, to say, to print, and to assemble were ensured, were protected from the very government they were trying to establish. They set this out first and foremost because they knew what it was like to live under a government that didn't ensure these rights. Their government told them what to worship, what to say, and what to print, and if you disobeyed, you were shut down and punished. These rights seem so basic to us now but to create a system that guaranteed them for every citizen is astonishing and inspiring.

Now, jump ahead some 200+ years. We have stuff like the Westboro Baptist Church, who go around protesting military funerals, holding up signs that read "God Hates Fags" or "God Hates Dead Soldiers" and who shout obscene & malicious slogans at a family who is grieving the loss of a loved one. The WBC's idea behind this is that God is punishing the U.S. for its tolerance of homosexuality by killing soldiers in Iraq or, more recently, the lives lost when Rep. Gabrielle Giffords was shot. They stand behind their "God," saying they are doing his work by protesting & shouting truly horrible things at the funeral of Christina Taylor Green, a nine year old little girl who was caught in the crossfire during the tragic Arizona shootings.

Now, before I say anything else, let me emphasize the fact these people of the WBC are the most reprehensible, depraved, vile human beings in existence. What they are doing is wrong, wrong, WRONG. It sickens me every time I hear about them. They call themselves a Christian organization when nearly everything they do is in direct violation of the teaching of Christ. They are what is wrong with people today. They are what is wrong with corrupt organized religion. They use their religious beliefs to "excuse" truly despicable, deplorable deeds. I have no sympathy nor support for these people and their actions. They disgust me.

However, the question was brought to me about the WBC right to protest these funerals. Are they allowed legally to do these things? And, unfortunately, I have to agree with the Supreme Court and say they have every right to do it. They are protected under the nearly all four parts of the first amendment. They are "practicing" their "religion," they have the right to say and print whatever material they want, and they have the right to peaceably assemble (if any of them were to physically engage with members of the funeral party or whoever, that's a different story and I would hope, in that case, they would get the shit kicked out of them and then have they asses locked up). These people, as deplorable as their actions are, have the right to do them. It'd be the same if a group of us went to Capitol Hill in Salt Lake and protested and chanted slogans against the new GRAMA bill (which is something we all should do. Go look it up. It's just awful). We'd be protected under the same law.

However, this brings up something very, very important. It's so important that it's going to get it's own special line, and be written in larger font, centered and inred:

Just because you can do something doesn't mean you should. 

This is a case where just because something is legally right does not mean it's ethically right. Yes, the constitution protects the WBC's right to say & do these things. They're not doing anything legally wrong. But what they are doing is ethically wrong, wrong, wrong. And while I am disgusted by their actions, I would never try to censor them in any way. It's like that quote from Voltaire that has become so cliche and trite but still rings true:

"I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it." 

That's what's so upsetting about this whole thing. I hate what they are saying and doing but I would never, ever support any attempts to censor them. As I said at the beginning, I am a firm believer in the first amendment. And if the WBC could be censored, who's to say I couldn't either? Who's to say that somewhere people could fervently disagree with something I write and they could try to shut me down? It would be hypocritical of me to claim protection under the first amendment while simultaneously trying to strip another group of its first amendment rights. It's an uncomfortable and upsetting situation and I hate it. But that's the way it is. An attempt to censor one of us is an attempt to censor all of us. And that is something we cannot allow to happen.

Love you.
Mean it.  

Shetland Essays, An Exploration

Last night, my bestie Jon and I were texting. I wanted him to come over and watch Singin' in the Rain with me (I have to for my Cinema Studies class, though it's kind of unnecessary considering I've seen the movie a million times over the course of my life and basically know the entire thing by heart). He had to decline because "I have six Shetland essays to write."

...

While I was mid-way through compiling a text to ask just what the hell a Shetland Essay is, Jon texted me back saying he meant "six short essays." He somehow typed the wrong letter or something and his iphone autocorrected to say "Shetland." This was quite humorous, as you can imagine. However, this is not to discount the fact that a Shetland essay could be quite entertaining. After googling and wikipedia-ing (sigh, wikipedia-ing just doesn't roll off the tongue quite like googling does. It amazes me that google has turned into a verb in everyday vernacular. But that's a topic better left for another day of exploration) and it turns out there are Shetland ponies and Shetland sheepdogs. And as I am a lover of all things fluffy, small, and cute, these two animals fall into my category of adorableness.

Shetland ponies can be anywhere between 28 inches and 42 inches at the withers (withers are the ridge in between the front shoulder blades for those of you, like me, who dreamed of and loved horses but have never actually owned one). This puts Shetland ponies at about the same size as Great Danes or Mastiffs. These ponies are considered quite intelligent and are mainly used for riding, driving, and packing purposes (which begs the question, what else can you do with a horse or a pony? Isn't riding, driving, and packing standard procedure for horse & pony duties?).

Shetland ponies originated on the Shetland Isles, just northeast of mainland Scotland. They were first used to pull carts, carrying coal, peat (which is, apparently, an accumulation of partially decayed vegetation matter. Nope, I don't know what that means either. Go here to read more)  and for plowing farmland. During the Industrial Revolution, they were exported to mainland Britain where they were used as "pit ponies." They were used in coal mines to cart out coal. They were perfect for the job since they're so small. Today they are mostly used for harness driving, children's cart pulling, and, in some cases, guide ponies. They can serve the same capacity as guide dogs, except they're ponies. For its size, Shetland ponies are the strongest of all horse and pony breeds. They were bred to withstand the harsh conditions of the Shetland Isles so they have heavy coats. They can live up to 30 years or more.

The Shetland Sheepdog, often referred to as a "Sheltie" or a "Shetland Collie" are in the herding dog group and originated on the Shetland Isles as well. They were bred primarily for herding and protecting sheep. They are extremely loyal, energetic, and willing to please & work hard. They have what is called a double coat, the first is the outer coat that is thick and water repellant, the second is an inner coat that is soft. They are lively, intelligent, and are very loving and affectionate to their families, though can often be aloof to strangers. They are also excellent watch dogs.

They look a lot like those Lassie dogs, but they are, in fact, not the same breed. Lassie is/was a Rough Collie, not a Shetland Sheepdog. This confusion led to Shetland Sheepdogs to be called Shetland Sheepdogs instead of Shetland Collies. The herding instinct is really strong within Shetland Sheepdogs. They love to chase and herd anything they can find, including children and squirrels. They are ranked the sixth most intelligent dog out of 132 breeds (The top ten most intelligent dogs are: 1. Border Collie 2. Poodle 3. German Shepard 4. Golden Retriever 5. Doberman Pinscher 6. Shetland Sheepdog 7. Labrador Retriever 8. Papilon 9. Rottweiler & 10. Australian Cattle Dog. This ranking is based on the standard of understanding new commands after fewer than 5 repetitions and obeying first command 95% of the time or better. Also, the "dumbest" dog is an Afghan Hound, apparently. Read more about this system here. It's quite fascinating). 

So there you have it, folks. Though it may not have been structured like an essay per se, writing Shetland essays can be a fascinating and interesting task. And, hey, you learned something today. That's always a good thing in my book.

Love you.

Mean it. 

#90: How would you describe your style, i.e. clothes, hair, shoes, accessories, etc?

I have a style? Really? I normally just kind of throw clothes without much thought as to contributing to an overall style. Maybe that's why I'm still single...

Anyway, I'm a jeans & t-shirt kind of girl. My t-shirts rarely have a logo of any kind on them, unless you count the Batman symbol as a logo. I do have some shirts that aren't of the t-shirt variety, like the one I have on right now, a blue flannel-esque button up shirt. As for shoes, Converse and TOMS are part of my daily uniform.

I can class it up a bit, if necessary. It's like those Dos Equis commercials. "I don't wear heels very often, but when I do, I rock the hell out of them." (okay, it's only kind of like the Dos Equis commercials. And no, I'm not claiming to be the most interesting woman in the world. I'd need to own a pet monkey or something before that could happen) I do own heels and skirts but I only wear them when I have a reason to, like a presentation or something. I'm not about to trek all over campus and community in heels just for the hell of it. I'm just too accustom to being comfortable.

I guess that's the perfect way to describe my style. I'll take comfort over pretty much anything else. I don't do cute or sexy if it means I'm going to be in pain all day. It just doesn't matter that much to me. Maybe it should...

Love you.
Mean it.

Enlightenment in L.A.

First and foremost, L.A. is a trashy city. Everything is so garish and gaudy but feels so fake and insincere. Even the people there seem to only have superficial humanity, hiding ulterior motives. The city has no soul, no genuine spirit. It's all flash, carefully crafted so as to blind you from the dingy, grayness of being.

That being said, this past weekend in L.A. was an enlightening one. I was there for a journalism conference and while I did learn a lot about journalism, that's not what I'm talking about when I say enlightening. The trip allowed me to see the true character of a man I barely knew before and revealed some truths about myself that I do not like. I'm not going to spend this post talking about what I learned from that guy (though I do intend on writing about it in the not so distant future) but rather things I found out about myself.

While normally I exude a persona of confidence that's borderline arrogance, there are certain times when I feel paralyzingly insecure. These moments often occur when I am in a new environment or with new people. I can be very social and outgoing but not without a companion who I know and trust. I need that "wingman" to help me feel safe and secure. Without that comforting assurance that at least one person in the room knows me and likes me, I freeze up. I become uncomfortable, don't say anything, and end up having a rather miserable time. It's incredibly irritating. I'm not exactly sure how to combat it either. I can't rely on always having a wingman to help me feel in control.

Another thing I realized is that I talk too much, in the sense I don't listen nearly enough. That guy I mentioned earlier helped me realize this. If I just shut up for five minutes & listen, I could find some of the most incredible people I've ever known. Everybody has stories & secrets. And I am convinced that more often than not, all people want is for someone to listen to them. I've been fortunate enough to have people listen to me when I'm happy or depressed. I need to repay the favor and listen more.

The last thing I realized I've actually known for a while, but never comprehended the far reaching effects of it. Loneliness is the most destructive, poisonous enemy in my life. No matter how successful I am at the Review, at work, or in my academics, if I have no one to talk to, confide in, and trust, then what is the point? I've felt alone for more days than I can remember. If I don't have at least one person out there whom I know understands me and is willing to spend time with me just so I don't go insane, nothing else matters. Loneliness is my enemy. And I have no idea how I am ever going to defeat her.

Love you.
Mean it.

Kelly's Favorites: 2005(ish) vs. 2011

So an ex-boyfriend of mine brought me a list I made around 2005 (maybe 2004. I'm not positive) titled "Kelly's Favorites." Before giving it to me, he made me guess what I had put then. I got nearly all of them wrong. Some of them I didn't even have a vague guess. It was really funny. So I decided to compare my answers then to now, see what has changed. So here we go:

Kelly's Favorites: 2005 (or 2004)

Color: Kelly Green

Number: 6 or 12

Videogame: Mario Party or Monkeyball

Band: Dashboard Confessional, Flogging Molly, Postal Service

Song: "Jaime" by Dashboard, "What's Left of the Flag" by Flogging Molly, "Such Great Heights" by Postal Service

Food: not vegetables, or Italian food

Scripture: 2 Nephi 31:20

Scripture Hero: Captain Moroni

Movie: Thinker movies & Empire Records

Musical: My Fair Lady, The Fantastiks, & Phantom of the Opera

Artist: Norman Rockwell, Van Gogh, Pollock

Disney Movie: Finding Nemo

Cookie: Chocolate chip or Milano

Sport: Football

Sports Team: Colts

Cartoon: Fairly Oddparents

Religion: LDS, Buddhist

Apostle: Thomas S. Monson

Flower: Daisy

Drink: Bawls & Jones Soda

Animal: Duck

Book: Ender's Game

Holiday: Christmas

Subject: English or Drama

Class: Drama & Shakespeare

Teacher: Mr. White & Ms. Gleason

Seminary Teacher: Bro. Hinton & Bro. Degn

Name: Jack & Jamie

Collectable: Glass bottles

Word: Phenomenon

Saying: "Ender will save us all" or "There's more to life than underwear."

Favorite Shakespeare Woman: Beatrice or Katherine

Kelly's Favorites 2011
Color: Green
Number: 7 or 9
Videogame: I don't know...Super Mario Bros? Zelda?
Band: Bright Eyes, Dropkick Murphys, Ben Folds
Song: "Let's Not Shit Ourselves (To Love and To Be Loved) by Bright Eyes, "(F)lannigan's Ball" by Dropkick Murphys, "Tiny Dancer" by Ben Folds
Food: Indian or Asian in general
Scripture: Ummm.... No comment
Scripture Hero: Again, no comment
Movie: Sleuth, Smokin' Aces, Lock, Stock, & Two Smoking Barrels
Musical: I don't know... still My Fair Lady, I guess.
Artist: Van Gogh, Pollock, Degas
Disney Movie: Finding Nemo
Cookie: Chocolate chip or Milano
Sport: Football
Sports Team: Colts
Cartoon: Batman: The Animated Series, Animaniacs
Religion: Buddhism, Catholicism... Does Atheism count?
Apostle: No Comment
Flower: Daisy
Drink: Mountain Dew
Animal: Duck
Book: Anna Karenina, Breakfast of Champions
Holiday: Christmas
Subject: English or Philosophy
Class: American Lit., Journalism
Teacher: Robbin Anthony, Dr. Mark Crane
Seminary Teacher: Bro. Hinton & Bro. Degn, I guess. They were pretty cool guys.
Name: Gloria Peach, Gracie Tulip, Jovie Camille, Alice Coraline, Atticus Sage, Jude Casteel, Damian Thomas, Jesse Conrad, Bryan Augustus
Collectable: Small Buddha statues
Word: Requiem, Pretentious, Fastidious
Saying: "Be so good at what you do that they can't ignore you." "Have your adventures, make your mistakes, and choose your friends poorly--all these make for great stories" -Chuck Palahniuk
Favorite Shakespeare Woman: Beatrice or Katherine

So there you go.

Love you.
Mean it.