"You're so vain; you probably think this [blog] is about you."

You know, some people have a lot of nerve. There. Now that I've said that to all of the Warren Beattys of the world, I give you, as promised, a post about marshmallows.

I don't know what it is about the marshmallow. Usually I try to be sensible, even with my junk food, picking things with nuts for protein, or chocolate for calcium (whatever helps me sleep at night, right?), but I can't resist marshmallows! They have no nutritional value; they're essentially all sugar; and yet...

Who can resist those open arms?  Or that sailor suit?

The Egyptians used the marshmallow plant for its medicinal properties, and even though there is nothing resembling a plant in the modern-day marshmallow, I still think they're pretty darn wonderful. Nothing makes a warm summer night better than does the sweet gooey goodness of a toasted marshmallow as you sit outside by the soft glow of a fire, and the romance lasts until the winter, as I snuggle up on the couch and watch my marshmallows melt in a steamy cup of cocoa. Of course, springtime comes and I'm betrayed by the Marshmallow Peep, an abomination if there ever was one.

Burn in Hades, you sugar-coated nightmare

I don't presume to think I'm unique in my affection for the confection, and there are a lot of places in my culinary world where one might put marshmallows that I've left marshmallow-free (Sweet Potato Casserole, the "Fluffernutter," to name a few) up until this point, so maybe I should take some more chances. Show those marshmallows I mean business. Like "Pumpkin Spiced Whoopie Pies with Ginger Cream"? I could totally step out of my marshmallow-comfort zone for that one.

One thing's certain: these summer days are drifting away, and I have yet to enjoy any S'mores. I've got to get on that.

Some Babbling

NOTE: This is going to be unstructured and scattered. If you're looking for amazing writing, read a different post.

I feel like I have to explain myself sometimes, but I also feel like the people to whom I feel the need to explain myself might find my explanations unnecessary or out-of-line, but that doesn't change the fact that I want to say what I want to say...however unstructured and scattered it might be.

You might not be able to tell by these sentences I'm writing, but I like structure. I like rules. I like boundaries. I believe we have roles in life and in relationships and I believe there are rules as to how we should behave in each situation and with each person we encounter. I don't like feeling like I've crossed any lines. Consequently, sometimes I pull back; I avoid the confusion that comes with blurring the lines between the casual and the careless, the friendship and the flirtation. Sometimes this makes me seem cold or unfriendly, but I would much rather be guarded than guilty.

I'm not going to write about the implications of this, even though I know they exist. That wasn't the part that I needed to explain. And I know I promised to go without a depressing post for longer than this, so I'm sorry...I promise my next blogging adventure will be about marshmallows or something.

My Three Jobs

I'm a pretty big fan of the show "Gilmore Girls," and as such, I've often pondered which of the beloved eccentric characters I'm the most like. Am I a Rory? A Lorelei? A Sookie? Even a Miss Patty? I never thought that I would be a Kirk.

This is Kirk in drag...as a woman of ill-repute.

Why am I a Kirk? For those who don't know Kirk, Kirk has all of the jobs. Seriously. He works everywhere. I too, have all of the jobs...well, not all of the jobs. Currently, I only have three of them, though in 2011 I have had five total. Tax season is sure going to be fun.

Two of my jobs will start in September. The first is an adjunct teaching position at Boston University Academy. I'll be teaching a junior research seminar, and I'm pretty excited about it. Also, I'll be working as a T.A. in my old graduate program (note how I say "old" as if it's been years since I've graduated). It should be pretty fun, and it'll be nice to keep my academic roots firmly planted at BU. In addition to those super-relevant teaching positions, I have a third (less-relevant to my career) job, as there is no overlap on my Venn Diagram of "jobs that look good on my resume" and "jobs that pay for stuff".

As of yesterday, I've been putting on my "9 to 5" airs and working as a receptionist at an office in Newton. For those unfamiliar with the area, to get to Newton from Charlestown, you venture through a magical wardrobe, pass through the seven levels of the candy cane forest, click your heels three times, and then take a forty-five minute bus ride. In other words, the commute sucks. Apart from that, it's a pretty neat gig (and fairly simple, considering everything I know about being a receptionist I learned from watching "The Office") I make the coffee, deliver the mail, and most importantly, answer the phones...all the while sitting at a desk bigger than my bedroom. There's lots of downtime at work since the phones (thankfully) aren't ringing off-the-hook so I can do other things like read, grade papers, and write this blog post.

In short, employment-wise, I'd say my gap year is off to a good start. Even if I do have to be Kirk.

"Surprises are foolish things. The pleasure is not enhanced, and the inconvenience is often considerable."

(The title is a quote from Emma by Jane Austen, spoken by the oh-so-delightful Mr. Knightley.)

I don't believe I care for surprises much either, which is odd because apparently, I am full of them. I'll admit that I am an enigma, but I've always felt that once someone has gotten a glimpse of my personality, all things learned thenceforth should make perfect sense. I had to scold someone recently for continuing to express surprise at aspects of my life experiences (really, at a certain point, one should know better). After further consideration, however, I will admit I have a few surprises and contradictions within myself. Here's just one of them:

I think "On My Own" is the most useless song in all of Les Miserables. Everyone loves it and uses it for their high school musical audition pieces, but I daresay that it should never have existed in the first place. We already know that Eponine is in love with Marius and he's never going to love her back. We don't need another whole song (and the longest solo in the whole show, at that) about it.

I bet you were thinking I was going to write some shocking revelation about myself. I thought about it, but the thing about surprise (and I don't know if this actually a thing or not--I just sort of made it up now) is that it has to be just a little at a time, otherwise you're bound to give someone a heart attack.

And I just really am sick of "On My Own." Seriously. It's too much.

Avocados

I was watching an episode of "Good Eats" a while ago about Avocados. It was quite interesting. Did you know that the word "avocado" is based on "abogado," the Spanish word for "lawyer," but only because it was as close as the Spaniards could come to correctly pronouncing the native name for the fruit, which actually translates to "testicle?" I digress.

One of the most interesting things I learned in this show about the Avocado was that avocados don't ripen on the tree. They have to be picked and then they have to sit around and then they're fully mature. This kind of struck me in an Institute lesson about maturity and preparedness and such. We don't come out of college or grad school or whatever other "preparatory phase" completely "finished." It takes awhile for us to "ripen" into whomever we're supposed to become.

Anyone who has spoken to me in the past few months knows that I feel like I've been sitting on the shelf rather than being used for my "intended purpose" (whatever that may be). Despite all this, I feel like I've become rather "zen" about the whole thing, that I've learned a lot, and that I've really grown and matured as a person.

In other words, I think I'm ready to be guacamole.

I Hate That All Blog Posts Must Have a Title

Before writing anything, I spent a good five minutes deciding what to call this blog post, but the title isn't the point, now is it? It's the content that really should reel you in...or the reputation of the author, and you all know that I'm amazing.

I've always thought that the coolest job ever would be to be the person in charge of picking the soundtrack/extra-diegetic music in movies or TV shows. Does anyone know what that person's job title is? There are so many cool songs out there and sometimes when I hear them, I see scenes and montages in my head that play against the music perfectly.

Apart from this, I've just been thinking that the world needs so much more music in it. I'll admit it, I watch "Glee," and I sometimes envy them for their magically-realistic universe in which bursting into song happens so seamlessly. Or how awesome would it to be to just have a soundtrack to life? Don't you think God and/or whoever else is watching our lives is sitting on the edge of their seats when we have these dramatic, emotionally-charged confrontations and thinking, "wow, if only Kate Nash's 'The Nicest Thing' were playing in the background, it would really drive this point home!"? And who wouldn't be more productive if we could clean our houses montage-style with some fun 80's buddy music helping us chug along?

I'm currently listening to Regina Spektor's album "Begin To Hope," which gets forgotten quite a bit because it's in .wmv format and therefore not on my iTunes (I really need to get around to burning it to a CD and ripping it back in .mp3 format). This album really takes me back to Summer 2007 when I first downloaded it and listened to it constantly in my Provo apartment. It would be great for a "reminiscing" montage. I feel, and I don't know if there's any science to back this up, but I feel that next to smell, music is the best at evoking memories and emotions. I'd muse about the bitter sweetness of nostalgia and how the best music is derived from pain, but I promised to stop waxing insightful for a few months, and so I shall.

Hugs

I don't even really like this kind of hug. I contemplated putting a "Hugs Not Drugs" picture here instead, along with a caption stating that I might have to choose drugs, but then I thought that might spark an intervention...and those always end in a group hug.

I can't believe I haven't done a post about hugging yet!

In general, I'm not a touchy-feely person. I never got along with the "sacrament meeting social groomers" or those girls who hug you when you first meet them or when you haven't seen them for two days. It just doesn't come naturally to me, so as a rule, I don't hug adults who aren't my mom or sister. There are, however, a few exceptions (and you can ask anyone, I didn't just make these up!):

1. The "Extended Absence" Clause: I will hug you if we will not see/have not seen each other for a minimum of four weeks. The length of an absence required to deem a hug necessary is inversely proportional to the amount that I like you.
2. "Post Performance High": Let's say I was in a musical and I was amazing, because, let's face it, I'm incredibly talented, and afterwards you came backstage to congratulate me for being so incredibly talented, I would let you hug me. Or, if by some miracle I played on a sports team with you, and if by some greater miracle this team of which I was a member actually won the "big game," I would hug you and my fellow teammates. Essentially, the awesomeness that I exude in my high levels of performance overcome any reservations I have about touching other people.
3. Extreme Emotional Whatever: If (Heaven forbid) some great tragedy befalls us and we bond over it, we'll probably hug. On the flipside, if something really great happens, like one of us getting engaged (probably you, because if I can't hug people, I certainly won't be marrying them), there'll be an "I'm so happy for you" hug. At any rate, the shock of my actually experiencing emotions of any kind causes me to lash out and hug people.
4. Special Occasions: Birthdays and Pro Forma End-of-Date hugs. If the former, don't expect much more than a flipper hug*, unless I really like you. If the latter, I can't be counted on to initiate this hug; it's up to my date.
5. Individual Exemptions: To be determined on a case-by-case basis. With some people, the relationship transcends all of my hugging rules...or it's just easier to suck it up and hug them than to explain all of this.

*A "Flipper Hug" (patent pending) is a hug in which my elbows are in constant contact with the sides of my body. It's kind of my signature move, not to be confused with my friend Laura's "Thalidomide Baby Hug," in which her hands appear to be budding from her shoulders.