Dear Lizzie

Dear Lizzie,

I just wanted to thank you for those green workout shorts you gave to me.  Ok, you didn't actually give them to me. I took them out of the trash bag you'd designated for give-away clothes.  But you said I could.  So basically it's the same thing.

Now that's it's finally warm enough to wear them, I was pretty excited to put on those shorts.  I went to the gym and biked (the kind of bike that you recline on, you know that kind I'm talking about?  Not an upright bike) and they were so comfortable and man I felt GREAT!

You'll also be pleased to know that I didn't notice the huge hole in the crotch until I returned home.  An hour later.

Can't wait to see you!

Love,

Sierra

The Pleasures of Working With People

Well there's been a bit of a drought on this here site lately.  Luckily for YOU I have a new job.  I now work at the MTC serving missionaries.  You know what that means??  I work with people.  Like 2500 of them.

I have a love/hate relationship with people.  Minus the love.

They're so weird.  People are weird.  Weird and quirky and hysterical.  Which means that more I interact with them the more I have STORIES.   Brace yourself.  It's been a long week.

Number one.  Interacting with co-workers.  Let me tell you about the wrap bar.  It's a glorified subway worker position essentially.  Apparently this impresses the dietetics board powers that be.  "Oh you know how to roll a tortilla like a baby whisperer knows how to swaddle a newborn?  BAM! ACCEPTANCE!  Come into our program!"  Someday my husband is going to wonder why his children look like chipotle burritos and I'm just going to shrug.

At the end of the wrap assembly line there's space for two people to wrap at a time.  Now my dear friend and coworker _______ informed me at the beginning of the shift that the most polite thing to do is to slide down to the furthest end to make room for a second worker.  Thank you ____  I'm SO glad you major in rocket science.

But ok, yeah yeah I can take a little advice.  Though I may be snarky, I know logic isn't usually my strong point so I really did appreciate the tip.  I tried to remember to move over, but sometimes I'd end up on the wrong side.  And if you have no coping skills then this throws a wrench in the WHOLE SYSTEM AND CAUSES ALL HELL TO BREAK LOOSE.  Hell in the MTC is a no-no.  Coworker reminded me every. single. time.  Not only did he do it with those awkward half smiles but occasionally he'd BEEP at me.  As in, "beep beep, coming through.  Beep beep I'm not actually able to communicate with reals words.  Beep beep if I try to make it funny then maybe I won't seem OCD and annoying."  Beep beep you're wrong bucko.

I PROMISE I will learn to move to the right place every time, in fact, I will practice at home if I need to. But in return can you please learn to cope and GO THE FETCH AROUND every once and awhile?  I promise that's an equally effective reminder as a beep beep.

Number two.  I learned that people will never believe hearing that we're out of something.  Like this, "Would you like lettuce or mixed greens?" Person stares.  "Spinach." Laughs.  (Why do they always do the weird laugh?)
No.  You see it was an either/or offer.  As in these are the ONLY two choices.  There is no third option.  Sorry.  This happened several times during the shift.  Because I'm passive aggressive sometimes I'd simply give them the mixed greens.  It has some spinach in it after all.  Because I'm a people pleaser sometimes I'd pick the spinach out of the mixed greens.  Unless I took the plate back and the person asked for more spinach than that.  Then I resisted the urge to smack him/her and skimped on the sauce.

But I love it.  The funny interactions help pass the time and I enjoy them, saving them as stories for later.  Sometimes the missionaries do really funny things.  They send back roses made out of napkins on their dish trays, along with thank you notes and pictures of dinosaurs.  Or they turn on the charm and ask for extra food (we'd give it to them anyway, charm or no charm but the charm is always amusing.)  Cute missionaries think they're so damn cute.

I can't wait to be on the other side of the serving line.

Four

3 down.  Dos mas.

My arms aren't actually long enough to click the photo button AND get my sweater in AND my face.  Also did you know that opening the camera folder comes with instructions?
1. Tilt the camera down
2. Gaze up into the lens
I followed them exactly.  That's clearly why I look so good.  It's all about the right angle.

 Shout out to Papa Jim from whence this sweater came.

Day 3

2 down.  3 to go.

Here's the sweater.

here's me going back to accounting.

toodles

Sweater Day 2

1 final down, 4 to go.

Here's what's next:

It really is a shame I'm studying in an area that is like ninety percent attractive man.

The full sweater effect.

I won't tell you how long it took to get that picture

*Close this eye.. no wait.. the other eye!  No wait tilt head the other way!  Shoot, it looks like I'm in pain.  Should I smile?  AGH that 's worse!  Delete!  Delete! Oh well."

Also if you think you just felt an earthquake -  you didn't.  It was just the sound of every stomach in a 500 foot radius of me, growling as they watch me finish off the most delicious philly cheese steak e'er.  (Thanks mom.)  *EARTHQUAKE CAUSED BY GROWLS OF STARVING COLLEGE STUDENTS*  Breaking news, you heard it here first.  Someone call Fox 13 and tell them to call off their yellow journali ahem.  Reporters.

I'd post a picture of it but then I remembered I'm viciously opposed to posting food pictures.  It's an ethical thing.  (See mom?  I do have some morals.  Damn morals.)  Also... I ate it. Please, you think it's going to last long enough for me to stop stuffing my face and take a picture?  Good.  And you probably don't want to see a picture of what a stomach looks like while it's digesting food.

Wait you do???

Perfect.

Anatomy is the best.

Homage to Finals Week

For your viewing pleasure.  A sweater a day everyday of finals.  The older/uglier/Christmas-yier the better.

Monday:

This gem was found in the closet of my great grandmother's house.  The house that my roommate Jordan has (endearingly I'm sure) entitled "DI: THE HOME"

The people in the study desks behind think I'm nuts for sure.

It has shoulderpads people.  Shoulder pads softer and pad-dier than any push-up bra you've ever owned.

Yes Ryan.  Even yours.

Just Another Day at the University of the BY

A conversation between me and a complete stranger.

(I'm walking out of the building behind her)

Her: *Pushing the door from the wrong side* "Oh shoot that's embarrassing!" *sideways glance at me*

Me: "Don't worry, it happens to the best of us"

(We continue to walk, coincidentally going in the same direction.  Which I guess means to some people that the tactful thing to do is carry on a conversation.)

Her: "So the review helped don't you think?  I was actually surprised at how much I remembered."

Me: "Well yeah I guess the integration of material helps because now instead of just memorizing random words there's some meaning behind them to make it easier to understand."

Her: "Yeah.  You know I don't really feel like throwing pots at your husband is a good idea though."

Me: "Wait what?"

Her: "You know, how they were saying in Cohash* culture it's like a sign of endearment to throw a pan at your husband?"

Me:  "I'm sorry, what review did you just get out of?"

Her: "Oh.... probably not the same one as you."

Me (delightedly trying not to bust up): "Yeah, I just came from Anatomy."

Her: "Oh mine was something something cultural science heritage something global crap."

Fine that last quote wasn't exact.  I don't remember what she said.  Mercifully at that point I was turning right and she was headed to the left.  So I could laugh all I wanted.  

Bless people.

*Also I have no idea what she said.  I was thinking about CoASH which is acetyl CoA from chemistry.  Probably that's not what she was talking about either.  Unless those enzymes have a violent domestic life we just haven't covered yet.

When Things Get Busy

Sometimes, the only time I can make it to anatomy open lab is at seven.  And sometimes that means I get dressed in the dark because my roommate is still in bed - apparently grad students have the luxury of sleeping till noon?  Yeah I hate her.  And because turning on the light would probably zap my tired eyes into little raisins that get sucked back into my brain (Optic Nerve I), leaving me tragically blind and disgustingly eye-less.  Think the fates in Hercules.  So sometimes I don't realize my shirt is actually inside out until now.  Approximately 10 hours and 3 classes later.

Also.  This is not the first time.

Meet Billy

Before I talk all about my first day of school - actually I probably won't do that at all because it'd be very long and only interesting to me - let me share this one story about the picture on my ID card.

Apologies to those who've heard this story before.  But when I find a funny story that people enjoy (or at least I think they enjoy it.. that's what the grimace means right?) I tell it several times because hey, I'm not that clever that often.  And true to my upbringing, if you have something good: WEAR IT OUT.  Those shoes can actually last two years longer than you think.  Just because they're five shades dingier (yet simultaneously five shades more faded) doesn't mean you can't still USE THEM.  What?  You have a new pair of shoes?  Great.  Those old shoes can become work shoes.  You already have a old pair of almost-but-not-quite-worn-to-dust work shoes?  Great!  You have a NEW pair of CUTER old work shoes!  Or better yet, move them into the little room that holds all the preparations for the last days when the earth blows up and all the shopping centers have burned in sinful materialistic flame.  Because then no one will care if I'm wearing that striped shirt that is "so adorable" but also makes me look like a lumpy dough bag.  Although if I did come down to me to repopulate and all I had were these storage clothes, the future generations would be screwed because any man, desperate or not would take one look and say, 'oh no dough bag'.  He may reconsider but probably not before he gets hit by an asteroid.

So dear readers, prepare to hear this story over and over and over again, every time we meet someone who hasn't heard it yet - and there are about 7 billion people in this world - until this story is memorized, can be recited backwards letter by letter, and is past the point of even the redeeming powers of duct tape.

I'll try not to drag it out, because really it could have started a year ago, when I took a math class so I could work at the Y.  I'm again taking this math class, because I went back to Cedar before it ended, taking an incomplete.  A process which in and of itself could out the Odyssey to shame.  Basically, I had to get a new ID card.  Ok.  Shouldn't be that hard right?  Riiiiiiiiiight.

And it begins.

The search for a new card led me to the library, where a very helpful sign said, "ID Cards" with an accompanying arrow.  Perfect.  So I followed the sign through the library, around a desk, around a corner, and to a door with another sign.  This one read, please go to the front desk to get your ID card.  Well ok then.  I retraced my steps.

"Hi I need to get a new ID card."

"Well what happened to your old one?"

Thinking that honesty would be the best policy and already expecting a charge anyway I answered, "Oh I lost it forever ago. It's been at least a year."

The man at the desk stared at me and said, "Well since you admitted you lost it that almost makes me want to charge you the fee for a new card.*"  And then he laughed awkwardly like that would diffuse the weirdness of his statement.  It didn't.

Knowing that class would be starting soon, I impatiently told him I didn't care about the charge but to just tell me where the heck to go.  He sent me out to another office, where I paid and they sent me back to socially awkward man so he could take my new ID photo.

Now really I should have just waited.  Waited for a different day when I hadn't come straight from swimming or at least for a day when I was wearing make up.  But since I'd already paid the d-a-m-n charge I followed the man back through the library, around the corner, and to the door that originally denied me access.  Here Mr. SA* kind of muttered, "there's a mirror if you want to fix your hair."  To which I replied, "what? Don't I look good?"  I think he still might be red.

I stood on the little x and started to smile because I was told the camera would click on 4.  It clicked on 2.  Apparently it was a new camera and no one knew how to work it.  Here's the result.

 

I know.  I know.  I could have retaken it but I was super late for class and really, it kind of captures my feelings about the whole adventure.

So meet (as my family calls it) Billy.  As in, Billy BYU.  My pained looking alter ego. Destined for all things awkward.  I'm sure he'll be in lots of stories this year.

Do you know how often I use my ID card?  For about everything.  I'm ashamed every time.  In fact, even having this up on the screen is scaring the other people in the library.  It's scaring me at least.  

School rocks.

*I asked him later what I could have said in order not to pay and he stammered out that sometimes if the card gets stolen they don't charge.  I think my card will be getting stolen VERY soon.