Does the Security make you feel Secure?

Yesterday, it snowed like crazy. I was worried I was going to have to call Dennis Quaid and ask him to come dig us out before the snow got too crazy. Fortunately, the storm ended just in time for me to go to school.

Last week, they cancelled school because they thought a BLIZZARD OF DEATH was on its way. Now, while it was certainly entertaining, we only got four inches of snow when all was said and done. Yesterday, we got a foot of snow. A FOOT. IN TOWN. And was school cancelled? Well of course not.

I was okay with that, though. I like snow. I went to campus and marched around in the fresh white powder. I watched a football player nail a tree repeatedly with snowballs. It was great.

By the way, we beat those goddamned BYU Cougars. I realize football is not the axis upon which the universe spins, but it was good to beat our arch-nemesis.

But anyway, snow. Snow and Christmas decorations. Nothing goes better with Christmas lights than a good foot of snow. And nothing goes better with snow than a month of Christmas lights, Christmas trees, and Christmas specials on television.

In about two weeks' time, I shall be braving the security lines at Salt Lake International to fly back to Boise for Christmas. I am not looking forward to this. I hate flying, simply because I have to go through security. I'm not a terrorist; far from it. I have never committed a crime in my life (other than jay-walking). I've never gotten so much as a parking ticket. And yet, the moment I cross that automated door threshold, I am treated like I am guilty of terrorism until proven otherwise. My bags are searched, because it's likely I'm carrying bombs. My purse goes through a scanner, my backpack is searched. After all, I probably have a knife or worse, like an umbrella. I better keep my three ounces or less of liquid in my plastic baggie, because if it's not in there, dammit, it's probably made of chemicals that will detonate as soon as I touch them. And now, they search me, because I'm probably the kinky sort who keeps explosives in my underwear. I have my choice of either participating in the production of pornography, or being molested. This is all, of course, to keep us safe.

Funny, I feel like I've heard that phrase a few times before in my life. I think Bradbury said something along those lines. Or maybe it was Orwell. No, wait, that's right, it was Hitler. My bad.

Anyway, I'll opt for molestation, because as Mel Gibson can tell you, once something's on a computer, it never goes away. Ever.

Now, if I say this violates my religious beliefs, that is definitely a red flag. Only terrorists would say something like that. If I say this directly violates the Fourth Amendment, also known as "that fine ditty about searches and seizures," than I am un-American. Only someone who hates America would have such an understanding of the Constitution and Bill of Rights, right?

Of course, if I refuse all this, I could always use some other form of transportation. Well, I can't drive, because I don't own a car. I could take the bus, although the drive from Salt Lake to Boise is pretty dangerous this time of year. Oh, I could take the train! Except that the train doesn't go to Boise anymore. Damn. I forgot. I know! I'll walk! Sure, I'll get there by Christmas, but I'll probably need to start walking now.

I'm sure my professors will understand when I explain I can't fly because I object to having my Bill of Rights violated.

You know, my roommate brought up an interesting point from an article she read. More people are projected to die in roadway accidents with this increased resistance to the new security measures in the coming year than died in the Wold Trade Center attacks.

So good job, TSA. Way to save lives.

Forecast of Snow with a Chance of Little Blinking Lights

It's the most wonderful time... of the year!

Down here behind the Zion Curtain, Christmas is a season, not a day. There are trees all over Temple Square, there are garlands and lights all over Main Street, and every lamppost now wears a "Happy Holidays" banner.

Christmas is, by far, the best of all pagan-turned-Christian-turned-secular holidays. Sure, those Jesus lovers think it's still a religious holiday, but let's be honest here, people. It's all about the lights, and the shiny things, and the trees, and the food, and the presents.

There's just something happy about Christmas. It's a break from reality. For (in SLC's case, a month) a few days, we all drop everything we're doing, eat food we otherwise avoid, and drink far too much alcohol. We throw snowballs, watch cheesy Christmas movies, and make fires in fireplaces.

And I just love it that it lasts for a month here. This means that even if it is freezing cold, and there is a foot of snow, there are also Christmas lights up, and there is at least one happy thing. Even if this city is run by insane, sexist Sprite-Drinkers, at least we have one thing in common. We both love those little colored lights. Even if we can't agree on funding education, or even making discrimination based on sexual orientation, at least we have those ridiculous garlands with this red velvet bows. For a lot of people, Christmas is stressful- they worry about their weight, or their relatives, or paying for everything. Maybe for some, those decorations are annoying, or maybe even insulting.

But let me tell you about Christmas in Portland. They are politically correct, and they don't do very much decorating. That is depressing. It's not because they aren't acknowledging the holiday or anything, it's just that, at least for me, blinking lights and tinsel and decorated trees are a reminder that we can't take ourselves too seriously. Yes, the economy sucks. Yes, it is cold, and dark, and the inversions are only going to pick up speed. Yes, the political situation is dire, as is global warming, and same with our war in the Middle East. But hey, there are also garlands. And strands of dried fruit. And little blue and green lights wrapped around hedges. It might seem like we're in a hole right now, and that everything is going to shit, but those lights remind me that we're going to be just fine. The decorations aren't about Christmas, not really. We could have just as good of decorations for any other holiday. They're supposed to represent joy, and a pause in our "grim reality." They aren't all dedicated to Christ, they're there to make you smile.

So thank God for that.

The Last Surprise

Here's some MS Paint blasphemy for you- I was inspired just as I fell asleep last night. Because everyone knows Jesus would rather have a party than some boring old dinner. I hope you enjoy my sloppy Paint skillz.

Today is the day before Election Day.

Or should I say ELECTION DAY. These commercials are getting ridiculous. My favorite one is the bit where we're taken to a Chinese lecture hall at some school sometime in the vague future. They talk about how the US failed, like all other empires, because they tried to spend their way out of a recession.

I think it's adorable that the Council for Ignorant Americans or whoever made the ad thinks any professor, Chinese or otherwise, would teach such stupidity. I can't think of any empires that failed because they tried to spend their way out of a recession. They also claim that China will own us, which isn't true. If people were paying better attention, they would have noticed that Japan recently bought most of our debts from China. So we're owned by the Japanese, idiots. It's cute because not only does it portray the Chinese as being evil, but it also acts like this recession (which I believe we're on the recovering end of, btw) is going to be the death of America.

There's another one that features a "Canadian" woman talking about how her government-run healthcare tried to kill her because she had cancer and they wouldn't take care of her. She goes on to say she came to the US and we took care of her. I have this to say- if she had the money to be treated in the US, she would've had the money to get fast treatment in Canada. It's not like they don't allow you to pay for treatment if you have the bank to pay for it.

Stupid politics.

Also, this last weekend was Halloween weekend. When Halloween is on every other day of the week, it just lasts for one night and it's over. But when Halloween is on a Sunday, everyone is really confused about when is the appropriate time to celebrate. This causes the phenomenon I am now dubbing "Halloween Weekend," when people spent Friday, Saturday, and Sunday partying and/or begging for candy. My neighbors had parties all three nights, and it was obnoxious and annoying. I realize I'm supposed to be of the age when partying sounds great, but I'm not. I like sleep. I like lying in bed on a cold evening and reading a novel. I really don't care if people think I have the attitude of an old lady; I agree with them. So it was not appreciated when my neighbors' guests were screaming and shouting in the stairway outside my room.

So in general, I can't wait till Thanksgiving. No more political ads. No partying; who the hell parties on Thanksgiving? It will hopefully be quiet for a few days.

Till that Saturday, at least. And then our football team plays BYU.

Breakfast For Dinner

Is there really anything better than breakfast-for-dinner?

I'm pretty sure breakfast for dinner is the greatest thing ever. It's true. I love many kinds of food, but there is something satisfying about having eggs and toast for dinner. Sort of like you're saying "Screw You!" to meal conformity. Who says toast is for breakfast?

In other news, the monster story/novel is 348 pages long. I'm in a mild panic about this, as it is officially now way to freaking big to be printed by my sad little recreational printer. I think it would grow legs, announce that it hates me, and walk out of my apartment if I asked it to print that sucker out. It would be like mechanical childbirth. It would fry its cute little microchips.

The problem is, I have no freaking clue how to get this damn story to be finished. I have written the beginning, the end, and the middle. Everything is totally connected and neat.

And then I'll be in th shower, or in class, or trying to fall asleep, and suddenly it'll occur to me that I should really develop Phineas's (one of the characters) personality in the beginning of the story better, or that I should incorporate Serris (another character) earlier on, since she is one of the main characters. This keeps happening over, and over, and over. I can't figure out when is a good time to just tell my brain to just shut up and let me finish brushing my teeth.

Maybe I haven't reached that time yet. I mean, if I keep coming up with these ideas, they must have merit, right?

In addition to this, I feel you must know that it snowed last night. Yes, it is freezing cold, and I'm quite confident that the entire Northern Hemisphere is going to freeze, and Dennis Quaid is going to have to come and rescue me when our apartment gets covered by ice. Still. I am so excited, and I can't really explain why. I guess it stems from me living in Portland last year, where it never snows. (Okay, it snowed once, but I was in Boise as it was winter break, and it was only like an inch of snow.) I discovered I like snow way more than I like rain.

And there is something fun about having to wear leggings under your jeans and three layers under your coat. I looked like an idiot as I rode TRAX up to the school and stared at the Wasatch, which is under a nice white dusting. There's just something exciting about the really cold weather. And it's supposed to snow more tonight, and tomorrow, and Wednesday.

Of course, I'm sure I will be sick of snow when it's February and everything is under a foot of snow and the inversion is so bad the news is telling you not to go outside. But it's October, not February, and the air is crisp and clear as a little silver bell.Sure, it's cold, but after a long hot summer, I appreciate a little cold.

Oh, and breakfast for dinner, too.

Haiti

I've been pretty silly in the last few posts, but this is a slightly more serious issue.

As we all know, Haiti was struck by a devastating earthquake that killed 300,000 and made at least one and a half million people homeless. There was an enormous response from the US and other countries; celebrities raised millions to try and help this island country that sits just off our shores. Everyone seemed to pat themselves on the backs, and this crisis faded from view after several months. But the problem is not solved.

One hundred and fifty people have died from a cholera epidemic that is threatening to cripple an already-damaged country. It is believed that even more will die before this outbreak is curbed.

I, for one, am shocked. Of all the diseases that are known to wreak havoc in impoverished nations, cholera is possibly the most preventable and most treatable. This is unacceptable, that a country neighboring the United States can have an outbreak of such a ridiculous disease. Where the hell are the celebrities now? Is our collective attention span so short that we can only care about a nation so close to home and so badly damaged for a few months? Cholera is easily treated. There is a vaccine for it. We have no excuse for letting conditions down there get so bad that one hundred and fifty people would die.

We were so forthcoming and so interested in Haiti when this earthquake first occurred. Where is our interest now? They haven't had a cholera epidemic in a century. How could we be alright with simply doing a half-assed job in a country that actually wants and needs our help.

I wish that I could tell people to just go back to donating money to help the relief effort, but I can't tell people what to do with their money, not given the current economic climate. However, I would like to remind people that we don't have a cure for poverty, or HIV, or any of the other things ravaging countries that aren't as fortunate as our own, but we can eliminate cholera. We can eliminate it, and there is no reasonable explanation for why we haven't already done so.

Why eat turkey when you could have zombies?

So, I am trying to convince the Best Friend to come down for Thanksgiving. I could go up to Boise for Turkey Day, but I am lazy. More importantly, my professors think breaks are for homework and studying. However, I want the Best Friend to come down and hang out with me while I am not doing homework.

He is not giving me a straight answer, which is annoying. So I am up with a great reason for why he has to come down for the break. My roommate is going back to Boise, and I will be all alone down here. I do not like being alone at night in my apartment. There are two doors and lots of old windows that seem like they would be easy to force open. I am paranoid.

And I am paranoid because I am afraid of zombies. I'm not going to lie; if you have read my older posts, you know I am obsessed with zombies in some kind of morbid fascination. Some women worry that rapists will break into their house; I say, bring on the rapists. I am not afraid of people. People are easy to overpower. However, I am terrified of the day when I will wake up and hear that low moan that means the apocalypse has come. I'm terrified, and I kind of look forward to it.

However, I look forward to it in the event that my roommate will be here. If she is not here when it happens, I'm afraid I will wake up to this:

I informed my best friend of this, and the long conversation that followed was a discussion on whether or not it would be awful to be a zombie.

Personally, I'm insulted that he would be alright with zombies eating me. He seems to think that my fear of being zombie-food is ridiculous and irrational. I think he would not enjoy being consumed by a zombie.

"I don't want to be a zombie."

"Yes you do, don't lie."

"No I don't! I would rather be raped by Bigfoot than become a zombie!"

I was mad and ignored him for about half an hour.

"I still can't believe you want me to be eaten by zombies."

"Zombies need love, too."

"I hardly see how my being devoured would show them love."

"Trust me, it would."

"Well gee, thanks a ton. Because being eaten sounds like a great way to die."

"But you DON'T die. That's the beauty of it!"

"That is silly."

"True, though."

This also involved me telling him I was going to have to sleep under the couch because I was so terrified of being eaten. He told me to send pictures. I told him I can't take pictures from under the couch. Then I asked why he hates me. He said he hates everyone.

This is still an ongoing conversation. It will eventually end with either him coming down here for Thanksgiving, or me being eaten by zombies and added to their legion of undead.

Gum

I have a massive crisis- I am out of gum.

I love gum. I love how it gives my mouth something to do when I'm in class. I love how it makes my breath minty fresh. I've loved gum ever since I was a little kid.

When my dad owned the Upper Crust Deli, they had a little glass bowl filled with those mini-packs of gum that they kept next to the cash register. You know, the ones with only like five pieces. I used to steal the packs of gum off the counter and eat all five sticks at once. Gum is the greatest. If I had a choice between eating real food for the rest of my life or eating gum, I would pick gum. I wouldn't last long, but at least I would die happy.

My mom sent me a giant package of gum a few months ago, and I have steadily been chewing my way through it. It's that Five Gum stuff,a nd I have to say, the flavor really does last for forever. I have a piece every day, right before I go to school, and it lasts all day long.

By the way, Five Gum makers, I would love to be your spokes-chewer.

However, this morning, I reached into my bag, pulled out my last pack of gum, and realized there was only one piece. I am currently chewing it, and feeling miserable.

The problem is, buying gum is one of those things that I will remind myself to do a few times while I am at home and thinking about it, but the moment I leave to go to school, it will evacuate my cranium. I will go through my merry day, ride the TRAX home, and as I sit down on the couch I will think, "Damn! I need gum!"

And then tomorrow, I will go through the exact same process. It will never end, at least not until someone gives me a pack of gum. I do this all the time. Last year, i ran out of pills for my migraines, and it took me about two months to go and buy more. A few weeks ago, I ran out of facial soap, and it took me two weeks to remember to buy more. It happens constantly, because small things do not stick in my brain the way more important things do. For example, I remember to pay bills, take my pills, turn in my homework, et cetera. But I will forget to fill my water-bottle before I go to school. I will forget to empty the mailbox until it is nearly overflowing with junk.

So I need gum. I don't just want it, I NEED IT. If you love me, you'll give me some.