San Dimas High School Football RULES

Also, I'm a little pissed off.

Why? You ask.

Well, let me tell you.

1. The Powers that Be have blocked ALL my streaming media sites from the network. Every last stinking one of them. I would understand if I sat around and watched them when I was supposed to be doing work. But I don't. I watch them at 4 a.m. and I'm in grave danger of smashing my head on the keyboard as I slip into a boredom-induced coma. Fascism, I tell you.

2. I got to see my gorgeous sister last night for the Girl Talk concert. Why is this a bad thing? It wasn't. 'Cept for the fact that I got a little weepy on the way home because I had to leave her. Good thing my loyal compatriot was passed out in his passenger seat.

3. I have a million things to do today and won't be able to because I have to sleep all day because I'm at work right now and because I have to come back here tonight. New job: STAT.

4. The reason my loyal compatriot was passed out in his passenger seat on the way home from Chambana Wednesday night (I almost wrote last night, but then I realized that it's officially been Friday for about four hours now, and not everyone views time in the same fashion that I do...but that's another tale for another campfire, dudes) is due to the fact that he's been laid-up, or "down with the sickness" as he would say, with some sort of weird allergy/cold/reaction to our moldy Halloween pumpkins for the last several days. It was exacerbated by the festivities on Halloween at Bradley and Christopher's, as well as the concert. So yeah, that sucks. But, more importantly, I have the weekend off. Had, rather. Because I volunteered to work tonight, and probably will again Saturday morning because my plans for a grand autumnal weekend have been thwarted by someone's crappy immune system. Which REALLY irks me because I wanted to very badly to go here. It's magical.

5. My hair currently looks alarmingly similar to the crazy bag-lady that lives out of a shopping cart near 6th and Capital. Remind me never, EVER to fall asleep with wet hair again.

6. Did I mention they blocked my streaming media sites?! Because they did.

Which brings me to my next point and, as my high school English teacher Mr. Ruter would say, the very "kernel" of my post:

In an effort to prevent the ineveitable and impending death-by-boredom situation that would indeed ensue due to lack of "Scrubs" re-runs, I got re-aquianted with the blogs of some truly awesome peeps, including one that belongs to my friend Libby, an old old friend from my summer camp counseling days (another tale for another campfire...) that I still speak to on occaision. It's less plausible to speak regularly now, what with me trying to change the world without actually knowing what I'm doing, and with her having graduated from culinary school and being married and living in Utah and stuff. But really, she's super-cool--- she's incredibly passionate about everything in her life, really creative, beautiful, and just generally great to be around. She radiates happiness and positive energy. She also happens to be LDS (Latter-Day Saint, or Mormon for all yous who are not as wordly as I...did I tell you that I was Mormon once? Another campfire.) Which I think is super. It really has nothing to do with anything, except for the fact that Mormons have something of an "old-fashioned" way of doing things, which Libby will openly admit. Not as in an Amish old-fashioned way, no funny hats or refusal to own mirrors or live without electricity here. Just, different. Namely, in the way they view women.
In my liberal-raised agnostic mind, I'd always found this to be a little sexist: why should women be treated any differently than men? We're the same! We can do the same things! Well, the truth is: we can't. And I've never understood it better than after reading and old post from Libby's old blog (she's had, like, three...what can I say the girl is a machine) that started about how much she adored her family and turned into something quite different.

You see, Libs is one of 11 children. E-L-E-V-E-N. Those Mormons, I tell you what... She's got something, like, six brothers? Maybe? And they're all freakin' fabulous, according to her. Basically, they raised her standards for potential boyfriends/husbands/lovers/male-whatevers in her life that she feared as though she'd never find someone that was a good as her brothers of her father. At least, in her eyes. She highlighted this is by illustrating an experience in which she'd been lifting something heavy at work and the guy she was working with saw her struggling but didn't offer to help her, due to some sort of morality/fear of women being offended by being seen as "the weaker sex." Basically, he didn't want to insult her. Well, Earth to guy! That wouldn't have been an insult! DUH. Libby's point was that her brother's would've offered to help her. Her father would've offered to help her. All the LDS guys she knows would've offered to help her. Why? Because part of their belief system holds women as sacred. Not weak, people. Not less-significant. Sacred. Precious. Important.

*And try as I might, I simply cannot find the original post, or I'd link it back. That, and I'm pretty sure Libby's blog might be set on private. I'll ask.

A while ago, I wrote a MySpace blog about how John Cusak has totally messed up my love-life by giving me unrealistic examples of romance (think: "Say Anything"). I think Libby's family has done the same for her. Or maybe it's her faith. I'm not sure. Either way, the girl is damn lucky because she's married to a man who fufills all her expectations. That's pretty cool.

I guess I'm not saying that I want to be a holy idol, because I don't. But to fell important to someone once in a while? Cherished, even? That would be pretty cool. Who doesn't want that? It's not just a woman thing, please don't misunderstand. It's a person thing. I think we all need to take a little more time and realize that we don't show the people in our lives who matter the most just how much they mean to us. We live in a world where people, where life is taken for granted . I'm going to try not to do that anymore and see just how much happiness and positive energy it brings me. I'm banking on bunches of it.

Funnily enough, though, I'm reminded of the following Oscar Wilde quote I came across while I was living here. Those Brits, I tell you what...

Men always want to be a Woman's first love.
Women have a more subtle instinct:
To be a man's last romance.

Which is totally ironic because Oscar Wilde was...well, gay?

And now I have to finish making my shopping list before Denise gets here.
So I can go home as pass out with my big gray cat.
Just so I can wake up and come right back here.
And not run any of my errands.
Joy.

Peace and Love.

PS- Was I in love with parentheticals this morning or what? Yeessh. Those English majors, I tell you what...