Driving Miss Crazy.

My name is Meg, and I have a problem.

I need to get a Utah state ID, but I don't want to do it. If I had one, I'd be able to vote here, and, most importantly, I can establish residency. University of Utah is one of those rare schools that allows out-of-state students to establish residency while attending school. Residency would mean that I have to pay about half of what I'm currently paying for tuition. That is a big difference.

So it seems like a no-brainer that I would just go and get my Utah state ID. There is, however, still one massive problem. Getting a state ID makes my Idaho driver's license invalid.

I've been driving for about five years. I'll never forget how proud I was to pass both of those tests and get that little rectangle of plastic that said I could drive. I love driving, even if I don't have a car. Because I don't have a car down here, I don't really see any way for me to get my driver's license. This is why I would have to settle for a state-issued ID card. But if I get one of those, that means I am not legally allowed to drive anymore.

I have no real reason to need to drive down here. I love public transportation and I love walking. However, my need for a license is about the emotions attached to driving. Getting that bit of plastic made me feel like an adult. Having it say I was over the age of 18 was more of a validation of my adulthood than my birthday had been. Being able to carry a license around makes me feel like I am independent, like I am a real person that matters. Like I said, I don't drive much, but that's not the point. The point is that I can drive if I want to drive.

And sure, there are other factors involved. If I got a state ID, I'd be giving up my Idaho residency. I was born in Idaho, and other than last year's little adventure in Portland, Idaho is where I have spent my life. But now I live in Utah, and I love Utah. I'm just also in love with driving, and I'm in love with my home state. I'm just not quite ready to give those up quite yet.

Religion is like smallpox- I don't want it.

I am a terrible person, and I just can't help it.

It's true; when confronted with a situation where I could either a) be an ass, or b) not be an ass, I choose the former. It's like an involuntary reaction to situations I don't like.

Let me explain this a little better. Today, while walking to the TRAX station after class, there was a man handing out copies of the New Testament. One would think I'd just shake my head, or just take one and get rid of it, or whatever. Well, I did shake my head. He still insisted on giving me one, because he was a persistent little twirp. This is when I could have just taken it and gotten rid of it later. I could have made the decision to behave like a proper human being.

But, dammit, I was mad. I was mad that here, in the country of supposed separation of church and state, it was okay for someone to impose their stupid fairy tales on me. I am totally respectful of religion, as long as its followers leave me the hell alone. The moment they try and pass their crap off on me, though, I am offended. In my mind (which admittedly does not necessarily work like other minds) the act of getting in people's way and pressing your personal religion on them is arrogant, and it is wrong.

So, of course, I demonstrated my anger by throwing the book on the dirt and walking away.

This is hardly the first time I have done this. In junior high, a similar thing occurred which concluded with me skipping down Fort Street, ripping pages from the New Testament and throwing them into the road like confetti.

No, this is not how adults behave, I know. But is it wrong for me to feel upset when someone has the audacity to impose their religion on me? You don't see me standing in the middle of a walkway, forcing people to take leaflets on why if god is real, he/she/it couldn't possibly give a rat's ass about us. You don't see me walking around, telling people they'll burn in hell unless they stop believing.

So is it wrong for me to expect them to follow the same kind of decorum?

Look, I know I'm a minority in this here land of Zion, but my thoughts still count. I'm as much a citizen as everybody else here. I do not worship the Heavenly Father, this is true, but they don't worship Muhammad, and there are way more Muslims on Earth than there are Mormons. Religion is personal. Spirituality is personal. We all have our own standards, and none of us should think we have the authority to tell someone else what to worship. That's their business.

Sometimes I might not be as respectful of Christianity as I ought to be, but sometimes Christians aren't as respectful of my beliefs as they ought to be. That doesn't justify tearing up the Bible or throwing it on the ground, but sometimes, when you're as mad as I was, respect goes out the window. It's unrealistic for me to expect church and state to stay separated, because it's not really. That doesn't mean I can't still feel mad when some guy is trying to get me to take a Bible.

Sleep is Great!

Today is Monday. Normally, Mondays are somewhat of a pain in the ass. There you were, sleeping in and spending the entire day in your pajamas, and suddenly the alarm goes off and you're expected to just get up and go to school. It's cruel and unusual, not because I hate school (I love school) but because while I love school, I love sleep more. Sleep makes me not be a homicidal crazyperson. Sleep makes the world seem like a brighter place. Last Friday, I did not get any sleep. That morning I had a migraine, I was cranky, I hated the world, I could barely tie my shoes, my stomach felt as though it was actively melting its way out of my body, and I would have happily mauled anyone to death if they gave me any sass. It was hot as balls and all I wanted to do was go home, take off my shoes, put on sweatpants and pretend I was part of the couch. A homeless guy was hassling me as I tried to get to the TRAX station, and I wanted to throw him into traffic. Instead I yelled "FUCK OFF" at the top of my lungs. I was on Temple Square, and this got me some pretty somber looks. I'm sure I've sworn while walking across Temple Square more than everyone else in this city put together.

Today, it is rainy, windy, and stormy. It's like 65 degrees out, and because I got enough sleep over the weekend, I was chipper and amicable. Even as the rain sprinkled my head, I walked with a smile and thought of all the reasons I love Salt Lake. I refrained from swearing on Temple Square. I even stopped myself from berating the smelly creeper that sat down next to me on the TRAX as I was riding home.

Sleep is good. You know what else is good? Mormons. They are possibly the most entertaining group I've ever lived with in a city. This weekend, in case you live anywhere besides Utah, was Conference. Basically, it's like the Islamic pilgrimage to Mecca. The downtown corridor fills with men in crisp buttoned, collared shirts and women in knee-length, shapeless dresses with sleeves and high collars. My roommate, Genny, and I decided, ironically, to go shopping down at Gateway Mall. It's not that far from our apartment- like six or seven blocks, maybe- but we took TRAX because we're lazy. (Eight blocks = 1 mile in SLC) I knew it was Conference weekend because there was a notice at the TRAX stop that I vaguely recall noticing as I waited for the train to school on Friday, trying not to kill the obnoxious gangsters standing next to me. Being who I am, however, I instantly forgot the notice. So when we got to State street and saw swarms of momos, we were flabbergasted.

In situations like these, I have an interesting involuntary reaction. I start laughing manically, and uncontrollably, for the duration of the awkwardness. This has gotten me followed by employees in Walmart, held back after school, and all kinds of other great rewards. Naturally, people started walking as far away from me as they could, suspecting, I assume, that I was high as a kite or deranged and possibly dangerous. I continued my hysterical laughter all the way down the block and onto the TRAX. And then it got worse. They were on the train, packed like sardines.

Have you ever seen pictures of the commuter trains in India, where people are literally crammed in so tightly that they have to hang out the windows and doorways? That was what this was like, except they were all wearing collared, buttoned dress shirts in some variation of white. We did see one guy wearing a salmon-colored shirt, and we nearly died laughing. When I'm laughing that hard, it turns into a kind of infinite loop. I laugh, and can't breathe, so I laugh harder, and can't breathe. We must have looked like someone let us out of an institution, because the men getting out at the Temple stop looked pretty grateful to be leaving the train. The harder I tried to stop laughing, the harder I laughed. It was never going to end.

And then we got to the mall and went to Old Navy. Genny wanted formal clothes for the career fair. I just like throwing caution to the wind and spending money every now and then. We bought some stuff and walked back out into the hot air.

A description: Gateway Mall is an outdoor mall, and it's two whole blocks of shops. The place is two stories, and the second story is more shops connected with a network of bridges and paths. There is a cinema and a planetarium in addition to a bazillion stores and restaurants. It's a wonderful place that, like everything else in Salt Lake, was made especially for the 2002 Olympics.

We noticed the Apple Store, and fiendish delight filled me again. We went in and changed all the iPhone backgrounds to various photos of the Google logo, the Adobe Flash logo, the Android logo, et cetera. After that happy distraction, we went to Barnes and Noble and finally back to the TRAX. And there they were: more Mormons. Child Mormons, female Mormons, Mormon mothers, Mormon daughters, old Mormons, young Mormons, they were everywhere. We rode past Temple Square, and they were swarming around Deseret Books like ants on chocolate cake. We contemplated going in and asking where they kept their copies of Wicca for Dummies, but we decided against it. Genny and I enjoy living, after all.

It was great, and I can't wait for Conference next year. Actually, I can't wait for Christmas, because you just know those Momos go whole hog. Screw political correctness, we're in the land of Zion. Portland's Christmas decorations were infantile and depressing, because liberals are very politically correct. But anyway, holidays are great. Living down here in Salt Lake City is great. Sleep is great. And you knwo what else is great?

Boise. Boise is a great city. Fall Break starts on Friday, and I am going back to Boise for most of the week I get off of classes. If you're in Boise, and want to hang, give me a call, because I'll be there too!

I'll Ping you in the Turtleneck.

Once upon a time, I was a fan of Apple. I've only owned iPods, and I liked iTunes well enough. At least, it seemed to work better than any of my alternatives.

Recently, Google has announced that they plan on opening their own music store. Depending on its efficacy, I fully intend on switching to it. I am a huge fan of Google, and I hope they'll stay as cool as they are right now.

I've owned an iPod of some kind for as long as I've been listening to music that didn't belong to my parents. And I've decided that my current one, an iPod Touch, is the last one. I am done with iPods, and I am done with Apple. I've gone from being annoyed to being flat-out enraged, and there's no reason I should stay with a company I don't like.

The beginning of this was the release of the iPad. As I've mentioned before, I hate the iPad. It has a dumb name, it looks dumb, and most annoyingly, Steve Jobs acted like it was the first tablet ever invented. Never mind the fact that my laptop doubles as a touchscreen tablet. I was severely annoyed by the people who waxed poetic about Jobs and his maxiPad. It got old, and, eventually, the world divided into three groups- those who loved the TamPod, those who saw it as a running joke, and those who had never heard of Jobs and thought Apples grew on trees.

Now, however, the turtlenecked vampire has given us Ping. It is a social Network, or at least, it's supposed to be one. I'm not quite sure you can just "create" a social network- Facebook didn't just come into existence with millions of members, it had to work at it and grow. Same thing with Myspace. Even if Jobs is "magic," I sort of doubt his ability to just bring a social network into being.

And this Ping shit is annoying as hell. Even though you don't have to create an account, there are countless icons crowding iTunes that want you to use Ping to tell people what you're listening to, what you're thinking about listening to, what you like, what you want to like, what you don't like, what you recommend to others, et cetera. It's making me crazy.

I want iTunes to store my music, keep it organized, and let me load it onto my iPod. I don't want anything else. I'm not interested in knowing what other people think of some song or album. I don't care. I don't want to know what everyone else is likes. That is not how I choose my music.

So, yes, I am quite annoyed with iTunes and Apple. Steve Jobs will be losing a customer soon enough, I can tell you that. And something tells me I'm not the only one who'll be leaving.

Rotting Our Brains on the Boob Tube

I watch a lot of television, I'll admit it. I watch a lot of news, a lot of Top Gear, and a lot of really dumb crap. In my defense, I'm doing like four or five other things at the same time- homework, writing, blogging, cleaning, et cetera. My apartment is rather large, and it just feels awkward when its dead silent in here.

I watch a fair amount of TLC. It's fascinating, in the same way automobile accidents are fascinating. One of the best shows on there is "Say Yes to the Dress." I don't care what my mom and sister say, I'm not getting married. In the event I do, however, I am eloping. Screw the goofy dress and gaudy traditions. I will never wear a white goddamn dress, and I will never buy one at a bridal store. So it's amusing and interesting to watch people place so much effort into something I find archaic. It cracks me up when they say things like, "I'm on a budget so I want to keep the price below $2000." Two thousand dollars would cover at least four months' rent for me, dude. Maybe it's because I'm in college, but two thousand on a dress you wear for one day is like paying a hundred dollars for a sandwich.

And I realize there are scores of women who lust for my blood when I call weddings antiquated. I don't mean antiquated for other people; I just mean it for myself. Much as I respect people who have a different religion than me, I respect women who, unlike me, have been planning their wedding since pre-pubescence. I'm not a lunatic feminist; women can do whatever the hell they want. You can be a career woman or aspire to bear four thousand children. Whatever, it's up to you.

But I digress. The new show on TLC that is my latest fascination is "Sister Wives." I stayed up till 11 on a Sunday night just to watch the series premiere. And boy, is it interesting.

Basically, it surrounds this man down in Lehi, Utah who was three wives and a bunch of children. His first wife grew up in a polygamous family, so understandably that is the norm for her. I can't remember, but I'm pretty sure the second wife wasn't in a polygamous family but was open to the concept. The third wife was. The eventual fourth wife wasn't, and has been married before. So there you go.

I don't have a problem with polygamy. I'm an anthropologist, so there's no "correct" way to have a relationship to me. In fact, the only reason polygamy is illegal in the US is because it's a historically and politically-loaded concept. So I have a problem with a forced marriage between a twelve year old and a forty year old? Of course I do, don't be stupid. It happens in the polygamous community, and in the monogamous community, and it's equally as wrong on both sides. I personally would never be in a polygamous relationship, but, as before stated, they'll be lucky to get me to marry anyone. They're not part of the norm, and they suffer for it.

So, I give Sister Wives a thumbs-up, if, for no other reason, it makes for a fascinating ethnographic record.

Another one of my favorite shows is "Glee." Ironically, I really do not like musicals. I find them to be rather awkward, with very few exceptions. However, Glee has a great range of characters and conflicts. Jane Lynch deserves an Oscar for her performance as the She-Male cheerleader coach. It's just an overall great show. However, the beginning of the series has been somewhat lackluster, at least in my opinion. The season premiere introduced two new characters who could potentially rival some of the regular cast. And then they went away. Sue and Mr. Schu teamed up against the new football coach, only to sever ties in the same episode. While there was repeated potential for intrigue, the premiere fell flat for me. I had more hope in yesterday night's episode, as they were doing Britney Spears' tributes. Yet again, the episode ended in an awkward spot with little feeling of accomplishment. I waited the entire hour, in vain, for Kurt to sing one of Spears' hit singles. Even though he was obviously the most devoted Spears fan, he never got to do anything. Supposedly, Artie wants Tina back, but we wouldn't be able to tell save for quick allusions to it. Meanwhile, Rachel has a fit about Finn not being on the football team, and then being back on the team. Mr. Schu's ex-wife, who I secretly hoped we were done with because she annoyed the shit out of me, is back and crazy as ever. Emma won't date Schu, and is instead dating John Stamos, who is supposed to be a dentist with poor taste in gaudy cars. Oh, and they concentrate on those two slutty cheerleaders who have the combined IQ of a toaster.

I suppose the reason it all is falling flat for me is that they're trying too hard to cover too many people. Last season, it seemed like they would use the hour to mostly concentrate on the dynamics of just a few people. Now it feels like they're trying to make too many people into main characters, and it's not working.

Finally, there's "House." I love House, and this season's looking like it will continue the greatness. The whole House-Cuddy thing is fantastic. I have no complaints, except that Thirteen better come back soon. Olivia Wilde is a great actress.

There are, of course, other shows, but I have no complaints about any of them. Hooray for Bones and Fringe. Why is it that Fox has all the greatest shows?

Do I Believe in Writer's Block?

A writer friend of mine (Neysa Jensen) posed the question on her blog of whether or not writer's block exists. The query is a valid one- there are plenty of people who claim they suffer from writer's block, and plenty of people who don't. I was about to chime in with my own opinions when I realized I wasn't sure what my opinion is.

When it comes to writing, I have a semi-emotional view of it. I write every day, whether it's a blog posting, or a few pages on my latest novel, or even a three-page short story. Writing is my favorite thing to do in my spare time because it's a kind of release. Now, I frequently display the emotional aptitude of a turnip, but when I'm writing, my thoughts are more articulate, and my feelings have a certain amount of clarity.

But do I believe in writer's block?

I suppose it depends what your definition of writer's block is. If it's a period when a person is unable to write anything, then no. I can write about anything. I can write absolute nonsense, if that's what I have to do. However, if your definition of writer's block is reaching an impasse on a particular story or essay, then yes, I believe in writer's block. There are times when I am working on something and I just cannot eke out any more words.

When I run into a problem like this, I take one of two approaches. Either the story wasn't meant to be in the first place, or there's something that needs to change earlier in the story.

If it's suffering from the former, then away the word document goes to a file aptly named "Writing Shit in Progress." It is, without a doubt, the purgatory of my hard drive. Every now and then, I go in there, find something that doesn't completely suck, and try to revive it. This was the case with my latest story (can I call in a novel? Is that too formal?). I started it, or at least a version with similar characters, several years ago. I got about forty pages into it and realized it wasn't going anywhere. So straight to "Writing Shit in Progress" it went. After I got twenty pages into the handwritten story about two months ago, I realized it was turning into that story I'd already started.

The latter is easier for me to fix. Recently, while working on The Monster (not its title, it has nothing to do with monsters), I came to a point where the progression of the plot had slowed and gotten awkward. At that point, I was about 170 pages into it, and I was not about to abandon it. I went back about thirty pages and found a place that could be altered to revive the plot as a whole. The story roared on, and now it's closing in on 300 pages.

So does writer's block exist? I guess my answer is "only if you let it exist." If you're emotionally invested enough in it to the point where you aren't willing to send it to virtual limbo, then there isn't a block. There's just something that needs to be changed.

And I guess the second part to asking whether writer's block exists or not is considering your writing style. I suppose it's impossible to assess whether or not writer's block exists simply because everyone has a different writing style. There's no "correct" writing process. I don't suffer from any writer's "block," per say, but that doesn't mean no one suffers from blockage.

I Have a Blog? Oh, Yeah...

So, it's been awhile since I made a post. I could blame it on how busy I've been with school, but that would be a lie. I'm remarkably good at budgeting my time when I try, as it turns out. The biggest thing that has been eating my time is my latest writing endeavor.

It started out as a distraction. You see, I had only just finished a zombie story I'd been writing over the last year, and my typical strategy is to place a period of time between the writing and editing processes. This is not my creation; I got the idea from Stephen King's On Writing. Anyway, I started a new story between writing and editing. It began as a lighthearted story about a preacher from a religion that I created to parallel the monotheism of Christianity/Judaism/Islam who goes to serve at a school run by the church. This transformed, over the course of six weeks, into a 280-page monster. It is officially the longest story I've ever written in my life. It got much darker, much more complex, and much more interesting than it had originally been.

It also has yet to give any indication that it's finished. I write anywhere from five to ten pages a day. I wrote the ending two weeks ago. Now I'm working to fill in the gaps and elaborate on details. In case you didn't know, I'm more of a short story person. I like to create stories that fit neatly into a few pages. I've written a couple of stories that ended up being 100-150 pages, and I felt accomplished. This creature, though, is a thing all by itself. I have yet to run into a block or get tired of the story. I don't feel like I'm stretching out parts simply to make the overall product longer. The big difference between this story and my other ones is that 280 pages later, the story has yet to feel tedious.

But enough about the monster. I'm sorry to report Mormons for Dummies has been placed on temporary leave until I do not have school upon which I devote my attention. Mormons are, of course, hilarious. The other day, I earned myself a few good glares by shouting "Jesus Christ" on Temple Square. I was trying to get home when I got stuck behind a crowd of tourists. Another time, I was nearly run over by a woman in a Mormon Utility Vehicle (aka a minivan) who was not paying attention to the red light and was instead looking for parking. Like I said, Mormons are hilarious.

On a not entirely unrelated note, I love Salt Lake City. I really do. I'm surprised by how quickly I've adopted it and its quirks; it took me an entire school year to decide I semi-liked Portland. Salt Lake and Portland share a few things in common. For starters, the homeless people here are just as crazy as the ones in Portland. A few days ago, I observed a man carry on a conversation with a mannequin in the window of a suit store. It was fascinating. Salt Lake also has a decent public transit system. Ours is called TRAX, as opposed to MAX in Portland. We also have a good bus system.

The biggest difference, though, is the most important one- I love University of Utah. I absolutely love it. Portland State did not feel much like a university; it felt like a grouping of buildings where people went to class. The U feels like a real university. It's the kind of campus you see in the movies, with sloping grounds, towering trees, and people hanging out in common areas studying or playing instruments. The University of Utah is perched on a hill, set against the Wasatch Front. Our stadium is visible from virtually everywhere in the Salt Lake Basin. You can tell the city of Salt Lake has fierce pride when it comes to the U- the "drum and feather" logo is visible in business windows and flying from flags in front of homes. Everyone on campus wears their spirit gear with pride. It's a school that brags cutting-edge research and an excellent football team. Utah is a community in every way Portland State wasn't; I'm going to a school I enjoy and can be proud to attend.

So that's what's going on in my life. Thus far, moving to Salt Lake has been the best decision I've ever made. Two years ago, if you told me I'd be happy to be living here, I would have laughed. However, two years ago I was confident in a lot of things that turned out to be wrong. I never would have guessed that I would be studying anthropology, or writing a giant novel, or living in Utah. After the last two years, I've decided that assuming I know where I'm going in life is a dumb idea. I know a few people going into college, and the biggest thing I'd say to them is that it's bad to try and find something to do for the rest of their lives. All we can do is find what makes the present meaningful, and just go along with that. I moved from Portland to Salt Lake and I'm happier than ever. Nothing is fixed.