I start laughing just thinking about this story. I will probably be laughing out loud the whole time I write this. As much as I don't want you to picture it in your mind while you read it... you really have to. Seriously, PICTURE THIS:
This year I was lucky enough to go to conference!! I didn't think I was going to get the chance until I got a call from my good friend Seth asking if I wanted to go with him! I wore this cute black dress that happened to need a cami underneath. Since I forgot my black tanktop at home, I ended up wearing this tight black tube-slip thing under my dress to substitute for my missing camisole. I also curled my hair, which was nice for about 5 minutes until it rained and blew-like-the-dickens on the walk to Temple Square, making me look pretty dumpy for the rest of the day - but that's beside the point. So here we are at conference–Seth, me, Sam (Seth's roommate), and Sam's date Kiersten. We find the location of our seats and then I leave to go to the washroom. (Yes, this embarrassing moment is associated with the bathroom.)
I go to the bathroom and exit the stall.... with the back of my dress tucked all the way up under my black tube dress underneath, which BARELY covers my bottom. I had absolutely no idea - it was completely fine in the front. So here I go, leaving the bathroom stall, walking to the sink, washing my hands at the sink, fixing my hair at the sink, putting on lip-chap at the sink, then finally leaving the bathroom (which was, by the way, FULL of people - people with eyes and mouths but apparently no feelings! What could they possibly have been thinking: Oh dear, that girl's dress is tucked in her underwear... but maybe she wants it that way. Yes, I'm sure she wants her dress tucked in her underwear.). I leave the bathroom, make my way through the hallway (also full of people – female and male now), enter the conference room, stand at the top of the section looking for my people, take the journey like three quarters of the way down the section (passing rows and rows of people on the way), THEN I spot my group sitting in the middle - OF COURSE - of the row, so I have to pass by half the people in our row to get to them: "Excuse me, can I just sneak through here.... Thanks.... I'm so sorry about this.... I'm just going right to that chair over there.... Boy, they sure make these rows close together.... So Sorry.... Excuse me...." I felt SO bad making all those people sit up straight in their seats so I could pass–it's always so awkward. HA. If only I'd known that I should have been apologizing for the disgusting display of my upper upper thighs, which were literally at their eye level. ON CONFERENCE SUNDAY, no less! I can't believe this seriously happened to me. So much for trying to be modest by wearing that cursed slip! So I finally get to the middle of the row and take my seat. My dress feels kind of bunched under me. That always happens. I lean forward quickly slide my hands under to smooth out my dress. It didn't smooth out. That never happens. And then I realized it.
I COULD HAVE DIED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
But the rest of the date went well.
A Kiss-less Campus
I am merely a BYU freshman. I have been here only three weeks. If you asked me for directions to the SNLB or the JFSB, I wouldn’t know which way to point my finger. I did my laundry for the first time last Saturday and only recently learned how a checking account works. I cannot expect my opinion on issues at BYU to have a profound influence; I am hardly a credible source. I do believe, however, that an inexperienced mind, such as mine, can have unique and valuable ideas. My idea is this: making out in public is obnoxious and entirely unnecessary. Perhaps I formed this opinion because I am lacking background in the art, or perhaps (and more likely) it is because I am a conservative, sheltered young woman. It is a belief I established long ago but only recently, since attending BYU, have I been repeatedly faced with situations that bring this belief to mind. We’re talking about PDA here. A public display of affection (PDA) is a physical showing of admiration or love towards someone in a setting where others are likely to see. Obviously, many actions fall under this category. Hugging your mother in the airport is, technically, a public display of affection. High-fiving an admired teammate also fits the definition. However, I am referring to the blatant symbols of affection exhanged between one and his or her significant other: prolonged kissing, making out, cuddling, fondling––whatever you want to call it. I’m not arguing against any of these things, I simply have a suggestion of courtesy with regards to them. We should consider our setting before displaying an obvious physical expression of our feelings. This idea is not a new one. As school children we learned to raise our hand before calling out an answer. Ever since childhood we have been able to easily discern situations where hand-raising is appropriate simply by evaluating our surroundings. Similarly, when finishing a test, we don’t jump and holler in a room of test-takers no matter how happy we are to be done. We would probably try to curb those feelings until finding an appropriate time and place to express them. We don’t curl up on the floor of the chapel when feeling a bit tired during church, whereas, there is nothing wrong with taking a little nap in our own apartment. My simple request is that this principle be extended a little bit further––that we include with it the inappropriateness of publicly and tastelessly showing our feelings to that special someone. This is a reasonable plea. Here are a few things that aren’t reasonable: Last week I thought I would try out the library. I wanted to find my study niche. I headed up to the fourth floor and decided on a small table that seemed like it would nicely accommodate my studious self. For a few minutes it did. Those minutes were few because I suddenly became aware of a hushed but noticeable smacking noise. I glanced around only to find a couple at a close table, the source of the sound, who were certainly not studying as I was trying to. Slightly annoyed, I returned to my books. Unfortunately they continued on in the same manner and although I made a point of not looking back, I could still hear them. I could have asked them nicely to stop and they probably would have obliged. So why didn’t I? Because it isn’t the public’s responsibility to control the displays of affection. It is, instead, the affectionate ones themselves who need to look around every once in a while. Regrettably, the fourth floor could not be my niche. I felt I had to relocate because this couple refused to recognize their improper actions with regards to their surroundings. Which was a ‘Shhh! Zone,’ by the way. This next account is actually a summary of numerous experiences I have had during the past three weeks. I am living on campus in the Helaman Halls dorms. There is a common area on the main floor of the hall that both genders can hang out in for most hours of the day. Also located here are public vending machines, a public water fountain, and a public piano. During the evening many people spend time here. At various times during the day, however, you usually will only find a young, doting couple (it’s not always the same couple; they rotate occasionally). Sometimes they’ll be lying side by side despite the narrowness of the sofa. Other times their legs will be entangled in a way that could never be comfortable. Sometimes they’ll be whispering sweet nothings, and other times their mouths will be occupied with other activities. Although they hardly take up one cushion of the couch, this aura of awkwardness fills the rest of the room, making an innocent trip to the vending machine feel like an intrusion. During these situations I often feel like I ought to apologize for being there––shouldn’t it be the other way around? I give these experiences in support of limiting the presence of PDA on the BYU campus. Some people around the world share this opinion with regards to the places they live. In 2008 a school in Mesa, Arizona made a rule outlawing hugs that lasted for over two seconds. In an attempt to raise levels of public morality in Moscow, Russia, an appeal for a kissing ban was made. In a Russian newspaper, a Moscovite education official declared: “Our children are getting love lessons all day long from what they see around them.” A similar bill was proposed by the Indonesian parliament in 2004, which contained a ban on publicly kissing on the mouth. Violators of this law could be fined up to the equivalent of $29,000 or given five years in jail. To clarify, I do not agree with any of these notions. However, the realization that displays of affection need not be in public is a step in the right direction. Romance on campus exists in abundance––and that’s not a bad thing. Honestly, I enjoy the fact that basically everyone at BYU is either in a relationship or looking for one. The dating scene here is not only entertaining, but also important. I am genuinely happy for the engaged freshmen and earnestly hopeful for the searching singles (who I’m sure would particularly appreciate a little sensitivity from the love birds out there). It’s true, relationships are exciting. I just don’t think that our feelings need to be overly expressed in plain view. Somehow that makes it less special––and more tacky. In the end it’s up to you; you decide what you think is appropriate. But in the making of that decision I urge you to take into account more than just the directly involved parties. Implementing punishment is not the answer. Consideration for others is. Think of your fellow pupils searching for a place to study; keep in mind the innocent passerbyer getting a pack of Skittles from the vending machine. A. A. Milne, through his esteemed character Winnie the Pooh, said it best with these few words: “A little consideration, a little thought for others, makes all the difference.” So next time you feel the need to demonstrate your passion for someone, take Pooh’s advice––have a little thought for others. Besides, a little distance just might make the heart grow fonder.
I have a brother who waves at everyone. I used to find it silly and would roll my eyes when he made the small gesture to each and every car we passed. Sometimes I knew the passing vehicle and agreed that yes, that is someone we ought to acknowledge. More frequently I didn’t recognize the others at all, so I usually sat there wondering and sometimes worrying about my brother the waver.
I now know what my brother has known all along. People like to be waved at, so we should wave at them. I realized this only recently, after moving away from my hometown. I was raised in a delightfully small town and now live in a big city. Occasionally I run into someone I know, but most days I don’t. After only a week in my new reality, I found myself thinking a lot about my waving brother. I found myself wishing people around here were more like him. I wanted to be waved at.
Now conscious of my strange desire, my thoughts have continually been on the subject of waving, of exchanging greetings, of making smiling eye contact. Why do I miss these things? What is in a wave?
A wave is often thought of as a simple motion, either a greeting of hello or an indication of goodbye. The world typically reserves this signal for good friends or at least acquaintances. My brother taught me another definition of a wave to which anyone and everyone are recipients. This kind of wave (the best kind) is given in passing, often with a smile. It says, “I realize that you are here, and I am glad.”
I should not need to know someone to acknowledge them. People everywhere spend hours, days, weeks, and more without being noticed, or at least without knowing they were noticed. The world is big but it doesn’t need to feel so big.
I believe in waving just because. Just because that lady might have had a bad day. Just because that man might be new to the area. Just because that child might be lonely. Just because it might mean getting a wave in return.
(This is my first essay for my "This I Believe" writing class)
Well, I'm 18 now. I've come to really enjoy the title of my blog though, and now I'm not sure what to do. I definitely couldn't just replace the 17 with an 18 because 18 is plenty of years, and I wouldn't yet be comfortable putting an only before it. Plus, when I log on to my blog I always sing the song after which it was named (naturally, not ritually). Unfortunately, eighteen has one less syllable than seventeen, which of course ruins everything. I guess I may need an entirely new title.
:(
I'll think about it and holla back lata. (maybe something in ebonics would be good... Yo A-dawg, help a sista out aaight?)
That is one of those things I wish I'd come up with myself. A new found quote I love says, "you have to be blasé about something or else you'd die from overexcitement." It's funny, although it isn't true at all. If it were, I'm sure most of my friends would be long gone by now.
Recently our school put on a neon dance. I wore a bright blue dress with white polka dots that reflected nicely in the black lights. I even wore red lipstick. I was sufficiently fancied but I certainly didn't stand out. It was exciting seeing everyone in their limes and fuschias and the dance was probably one of the funnest I've been to. Brilliant streamers hung in the doorway, rainbow lights danced around the dancers, and glow sticks hung around our necks and wrists. High school is just so fun! I may or may not have thought.
True, it was a fun night. True, I shook it like jello made the boys say hello. True, I snapped my glow sticks and squirted people. True, it probably did stain.
What was interesting, though, were the other facts I came to realize that night. After the first x hours/minutes, it was surprisingly nice to see a jeans-wearing party pooper wander in; it was kind of lovely when the lighting system suffered a few minutes from technical difficulties; and it was rather refreshing to rest my eyes on the group of emos in the corner.
Basically, I learned from the dance that NEON isn't real life... and thank goodness for that! It was fresh and exciting and I really did enjoy myself, but everyday life, ordinary and unadorned, is much much better. So, thanks to those blasé ones, I didn't die of overexcitement at the neon dance. Phew.
Sometimes nonchalance can be as wonderful as the word itself.
Maybe the purpose of my blog will be to home these lame-o surveys that I pretend to hate but really LOVE. Since it's only you (Mom) and you (Alli) who read this, I think I will go right ahead and do this one.
RULES:
1. You can ONLY answer Yes or No.
2. You are NOT ALLOWED to explain ANYTHING unless someone messages or comments you and asks.
Kissed any one of your Facebook friends?--- YES
Been arrested? --- No
Kissed someone you didn't like? --- No
Slept in until 5 PM? --- No
Fallen asleep at work/school? --- Yes
Held a snake? --- No
Ran a red light? --- Yes
Been suspended from school? --- No
Experienced love at first sight? --- YesokaynotreallyIcheatedoops
Totaled your car in an accident? --- No
Been fired from a job? --- NO
Fired somebody? --- No
Sang karaoke? --- Yes
Pointed a gun at someone? --- Yes
Done something you told yourself you wouldn't? --- Yes
Laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose? --- Yes
Caught a snowflake on your tongue? --- Yes
Kissed in the rain? --- No
Had a close brush with death (your own)? --- No
Seen someone die? --- Yes
Played spin-the-bottle? --- Yes
Sang in the shower? --- Yes
Smoked a cigar? --- No
Sat on a rooftop? --- Yes
Smuggled something into another country? --- No
Been pushed into a pool with all your clothes? --- Yes
Broken a bone? --- No
Skipped school? --- Yes
Eaten a bug? --- No
Sleepwalked? --- No
Walked a moonlit beach? --- Yes
Rode a motorcycle? -- Yes
Dumped someone? --- No
Forgotten your anniversary? --- No
Lied to avoid a ticket? ---- No
Ridden on a helicopter? --- No
Shaved your head? --- No
Played a prank on someone? --- No?
Hit a home run? -- YES!
Felt like killing someone? --- No
Cross-dressed? --- Yes
Been falling-down drunk? --- No
Made your girlfriend/boyfriend cry? --- No
Eaten snake? --- No
Marched/Protested? --- No
Had Mexican jumping beans for pets? --- No
Puked on amusement ride? --- No
Seriously & intentionally boycotted something? --- No
Been in a band? --- No
Knitted? --- Yes
Been on TV? --- No
Shot a gun? --- Yes
Skinny-dipped? --- Yes
Caused someone to have stitches? --- No
Eaten a whole habenero pepper? ---No
Ridden a surfboard? --- No
Had surgery? --- Yes
Streaked? --- No
Taken by ambulance to hospital? --- No
Passed out when not drinking? --- No
Peed on a bush? --- No
Donated Blood? --- No
Grabbed electric fence? --- No
Eaten alligator meat? --- No
Eaten cheesecake? --- Yes
Eaten your kids' Halloween candy? --- No
Killed an animal when not hunting? ---
Peed your pants in public? --- Yes
Snuck into a movie without paying? --- No
Written graffiti? --- Yes
Still love someone you shouldn't? --- No
Think about the future? --- YES
Been in handcuffs? --- No
Believe in love? --- No
Sleep on a certain side of the bed? --- No
Well that wasn't very fun at all...
Woops I think I'm the worst blogger ever. Tonight I was feeling like I ought to write something though, so I decided to do it on here. I am just lying here in bed with some Beatles songs running through my mind. Sometimes I pretend I've come up with a particular lyric myself, and I imagine rambling it off in an ideal moment, causing people stop and think my! Yes, I would tell the insensitive one, "well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool," never minding the flimsy cool/fool rhyme. If my friend was down on her luck I would tell that little darling, "here comes the sun, and I say it's all right." And I'd love to somewhere quote one of my very favorite Beatles' songs. "Yesterday love was such an easy game to play. Now I need a place to hide away. Oh, I believe in yesterday." I would gladly have my heart broken if it meant coming up with a line like that.Or sometimes, I actually am tempted to quote a song or a book or a movie and never confess that they are not my own words. I consider the popularity of the source and try to determine the chances of my audience's already having heard the line. Will they think a minute and say, "wait, didn't Mary Stolz write that?" How embarrassing. I usually end up keeping quiet - definitely the smartest choice.I guess what I'm saying is that I anxiously await the day when I will naturally utter a phrase that reflects my wisdom and experience. I would even be satisfied with much less than that. Simply verbalizing anything at all eloquently would make me happy. It's something I rarely experience but I do know it must be nice.I am no John and I'm certainly no Paul, but someday I'd like to say as much as they did in such few, but beautiful, words.
