My Music: Holiday Edition

Because I am very strict about only listening to Christmas music during the Christmas Season, and because I went through a phase where I listened to Sarah Bareilles' "Gravity" a million times in a row this past summer, there is no Christmas music on my "Top 25 Most Played" list on iTunes.

However, because I care about you all so much, I went through all of the Christmas music in my iTunes library and found my favorites. Here are the top ten:

1) "Song for a Winter's Night" - Sarah McLachlan. If I could have one moment of extra-diegetic music in my life, it would be with this song. I already have a storyboard for it (in my head).

2) "Snow Angel" - Tori Amos. Tori's voice is just so haunting. It's gorgeous.

3) "A Snowflake Fell (and it fell like a kiss)" - Glasvegas. How could a song start out with the lyric "the breeze from the graveyard keeps murmuring death" and end up to be so beautiful and hope-inspiring?

[NOTE: I realize that these first three songs are about winter and not necessarily Christmas. They're still beautiful. Get over it.]

4) "Wintersong" - Sarah McLachlan. This is also the title of the album. It is my favorite Christmas album.

5) "The Wexford Carol" (arr. Richard Lakey) - BYU Concert Choir. Even though the accompanist comes back in in the wrong key after the a capella verse, it's still beautiful. It sounds like snow. I'm making my ward choir sing it this Christmas.

6) "The First Noel/Mary, Mary" - Sarah McLachlan. If it isn't already clear, "Wintersong" is the best Christmas Album ever, even if I don't already worship everything Sarah McLachlan does. She really shows off her vocal range in this piece. She hits low notes that I even have trouble hitting.

7) "River" - Sarah McLachlan (or Rachel Yamagata, I have both). I should probably look into procuring the Joni Mitchell version at some point in my life if I profess to like this song so much.

8) "All I Want For Christmas Is You" - Mariah Carey. There are two reasons why the original will outlive the Justin Bieber version: 1) Mariah's vocals now aren't what they used to be, and 2) nobody likes Justin Bieber. Nevertheless, it brings out my dancing self.

9) "Santa Baby" - Madonna. This was my very first favorite Christmas song when I was little. I think I liked the way she said "Santa cutie."

10) "Last Christmas" - Wham! I think I really love the line, "I keep my distance, but you still catch my eye," which is a sentiment that I have toward the Christmas season in general, as well as toward other things, probably. More on that later.

Obviously this top ten list seems incomplete as I only based my ratings on songs I currently own. Maybe later I'll make a list about Christmas songs I don't own. I feel an onslaught of many other Christmas-related posts in the future, though. So stay tuned.

"I'm not here for your entertainment..."

[Warning: Rant Ahead]

I've never had the patience to watch "Funny Girl" all the way through. I asked my mom to tell me how it ended one time, and she gave me an ending that turned out to be the ending to "Gone with the Wind." Therefore, as much as I'd like to, I can't make any legitimate allusions to "Funny Girl" with this post.

I am a funny girl (or lady). At some point I developed the ability to make the things in my head turn into things to come out of my mouth in such a way to amuse and fascinate. In many ways, it's a blessing. I've encountered lots of people who are horribly dull, people who cannot appreciate irony or wordplay or subtle nuances that make the delivery of a phrase something a little more special than just parts of speech thrown together to convey meaning.

In other ways, it's a curse. The curse of the "Funny Girl." Whether or not Barbra* ever felt this way would require me to sit through a thousand choruses of "people who need people are the luckiest people in the world" and I don't care to do that, but it's a curse nonetheless. Sometimes I wonder, do people actually hear what I have to say, or are they too busy being amused by my delivery and timing?

While I'm thinking of it, let me tell you something about my delivery and timing [Big Fat Revelation Time]: it's all a miserable accident. I hate speaking. I'm terribly shy, and the feeling of eyes and ears devoted to me does things to my sympathetic nervous system that true love has yet to accomplish. I am not Andy Kaufman reading The Great Gatsby. This presence you speak of is nothing but a poor girl's violent attempt to leave the spotlight as quickly as possible.

Not the point.

I want to stop being the two-dimensional supporting character in somebody else's story, whose sole purpose is comic relief. On the other hand, I don't want to give up my wit! Is being more boring the only way to be more real? How can I change the people in my world from an audience to be entertained to friends to be touched†?

I was hoping that this would be one of those blog posts where I would pose a problem in the beginning and by the end I would have come to an answer. No such luck. I shall continue to be clever and amusing and try to let any hints of depth break through somehow.

*Safari does not recognize this as a legitimate spelling of the name "Barbara." It also said that "Gatsby" was misspelled. What little faith I had in Apple is shaken.

†Metaphorically. Gross.

How I Spent My Thanksgiving Break

Happy First Day of December, everyone! It's been a week since my Thanksgiving day of awesomeness, and I realized that I haven't updated anyone on my "vacation". Here's what happened:

1) I painted my ugly stairwell! It looks so much better (hello, much better, and soon all y'all gonna know much better!) than it did before. I did fall down the stairs and land flat on my bum (and then down to the next step after that and also on my bum), which was not very fun. My next project might be carpeting those stairs...or at least putting some adhesive ducks down.

2) Pillsbury cinnamon rolls basically just taste like Grands biscuits with cinnamon, sugar, and sugary icing. I miss Rhodes rolls. I wonder if there's a way to petition to get them sold in Massachusetts, but I'm sure a more sophisticated grocery store would have something similar. My grapefruit was red and delicious. The parade was pretty good. I didn't sit through the whole thing as I was cleaning and doing other stuff, but I was a fan of the 600 Stompers or whatever those middle-aged men in the denim shorts were calling themselves.

3) I did not get around to Legally Blonde, but Chris and I did discover a fantastic show called "The Only Way is Essex," which is basically the British version of "The Hills," only the stars are making even less of a contribution to humanity. It was fantastic on every imaginable level. There's a pet pig named Mr. Darcy and an old woman named Nanny Pat who goes to all of their clubs.

4) I made Chicken Sausage, Apple, Parsnip, and Sage Stuffing again and some yummy sweet potato casserole. I finally finished my leftovers today. They sadly didn't have pumpkin ice cream at the store (but they did have eggnog--just one more example of how Thanksgiving is being encroached upon by Christmas), so I got mint chocolate chip again, which I haven't even eaten half of at this point (if that's not progress, what is?).

5) I cleaned most of the things. And we bought cinnamon-scented pine cones at JoAnn Fabrics, so our house smells nice (much better than the Glad Odor-Shield tall kitchen bags, anyway).

6) I think we watched enough stupid movies. Chris and I watched something with the sisters Duff and the little boy from "Witness" all grown up and with a mustache. There were some really awkward kissing scenes, and coming from me, that says something.

7) I can't say that I took advantage of the holiday sleeping patterns like I should have. I was pretty much in bed by ten and up by eight the whole time.

8) Believe it or not, I was very sociable this break. I did some things with some people (I'd be less vague, but I've been sworn to secrecy). I was afraid I'd be bored and deprived of human contact, but I feel that I got the appropriate amount thereof.

In non-Thanksgiving-break-related news, I had a day off yesterday and I spent it roaming around Boston in the most sensible quest for a non-sensible thing ever. But I am in love with this non-sensible thing. Pictures to come, maybe.

How I'll Spend My Thanksgiving Break

Guys, I have three days off this week. Normally I don't like downtime, but it's due, so I'll take it gladly. Lots of people have asked me how I'll spend my Thanksgiving time. The short answer is "alone, and I'm happy that way." People often don't accept that and ask, "what could you possibly be doing to make that so enjoyable?" so here are my plans, in no particular order:

1) Paint my ugly stairwell. Whoever lived in our apartment before we did decided that nothing makes white walls more attractive than brown and grey sponge texturing detail. This makes me think that the previous tenants were cave creatures or Fraggles or something who think that water damage and mold are tres chic. After living with the ugly for over two years, I'm going to repaint the whole thing bright white. I've already spackled in preparation for this. I'm a spackling machine.

2) Eat cinnamon rolls and grapefruit for breakfast while watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. This was a tradition I started at BYU when I'd often spend Thanksgivings alone. I'd get the amazing Rhodes rolls that I think they only sell in Utah and other Mormon-heavy places, pop them in the oven, and eat way too many of them while watching the parade. The grapefruit stems from when I was in college and my mom sent me giant grapefruit care packages for the holidays that I didn't go home, and also, I love grapefruit.

3) Watch "Legally Blonde: the Musical." I saw this on MTV for the first time on Thanksgiving of 2007, and since then, the musical and the holiday are linked in my mind. And plus Christian Borle is sooo dreamy!

4) Make (and eat) only the Thanksgiving foods that I like. I actually don't like Turkey all that much. I was a vegetarian for a while when I was a teenager and didn't really miss it then either, so really, I can do without it. I'm going to make stuffing from scratch (that's right), gravy, cranberry sauce (I'm just going to be lazy and use the canned stuff here, but I do make a mean from-scratch version for public consumption), sweet potatoes (sans marshmallows), and in lieu of pie, pumpkin ice cream. I've really got to go to the store sometime before Thursday.

5) Clean my house somewhat more thoroughly than I've been cleaning it in the recent past.

6) Watch some stupid movies. Not sure which ones yet, but maybe I'll Redbox something.

7) Sleep in longer than anyone else on Black Friday.

Enjoy your Thanksgivings, everyone!

Doomy Eyes

I'd call Victor von Doom an expert in this sort of thing.

I must start out by saying that I love my home teacher. He's great for all kinds of advice, but quite enjoys doling out advice on the whole men/women thing. For instance, this sage and novel piece of wisdom:

"Never underestimate what some intense eye contact can do."

Whoa, you mean you're supposed to look into a guy's eyes if you like him? Who knew?

He went on to explain how he was recently on the receiving end of some girl's (and I swear, this is what I heard here:) "doomy eyes."

I remarked that I'd never heard that before; I had heard of "bedroom eyes," though. He gave me a sort of strange look and told me that they were the same thing. We finished the home teaching lesson and afterwards I wrote the following as a Facebook status:

"Got a home teaching lesson about 'doomy eyes' tonight. Buckle up, men!"

My roommate Chris reads this and says, "It's not 'doomy eyes!'"

"What is it then?" I asked, assuming I'd heard incorrectly.

"Do me eyes!"

Much laughter and mocking followed. I had to admit that "do me" made much more sense than "doomy." I just thought that maybe the look in the eyes was like a brooding and foreboding storm of sexiness. The laughing and mocking continued.

I was granted a small* favor when Doree, meaning to say "wanton eyes," made a reference to "wonton eyes" (I tried to find a cartoon of a little Chinese dumpling with googly eyes, but my Google Image searching turned up nothing).

With this (as well as the fact that "doomy eyes" makes me immediately think of the villain from a not-great comic book franchise), I think I may be starting to pinpoint the source of my romantic problems.

*This was about as consoling as the time when Joey Tribbiani was getting mocked for getting his head stuck in a turkey and tried to mock Ross Gellar for saying "Squatternut Bosh" instead of "Butternut Squash" (Friends "The One With All The Thanksgivings").

"It Might As Well Be Spring..."

...and I don't just say this because of the wonderfully, unseasonably warm weather that we've had the past few days (which seems, sadly, to have come to an end).

This song, written in 1945 for the musical State Fair (I never know whether to italicize or use quotes with musicals) contains some beautiful lines, like...

"I am starry-eyed and vaguely discontented, like a nightingale without a song to sing"

or...

"But I feel so gay in a melancholy way.*"

These, and a dozen other lines from a dozen other songs can only begin to describe what's going on in my brain lately. I'm not one of those who likes to scrawl every single thought or emotion all over the internet. Usually I like to have something with a plot to put on this blog. I don't even have a story to describe why my brain might be doing the things that it's doing. It's all very strange.

I have this odd sense of paradox within me, as if I'm feeling compelled by this overwhelming sense of urgency but at the same time, quite uncharacteristically calm and relaxed. I'm torn between doing what I think is expected/proper/safe/sensible and giving in to the green glowworms† crawling under my skin that make me want to run and jump and twirl, both literally and metaphorically (for whatever twirling could be a metaphor).

I want to move‡. I want to stop looking out the window and jump through it instead. I want to fast-forward through pretense and formalities and skip ahead to the good parts. I want to go ice skating. I want to kick my feet through a pile of crunchy autumn leaves.

At the same time, I just want to sit on my sofa at home and watch them fall.

It might as well be spring.

* I love internal rhyme.

† Do you remember the movie "James and the Giant Peach"? I'm talking about those little glowing green things that were in the bag that enchanted the peach and all of the bugs. I couldn't find a picture on the internet, but they're jumpy and jittery, and I imagine they have some sort of electromagnetic and tingly properties.

‡ This is absolutely metaphorical. I hate moving with boxes and stuff.

Musings at the Office: Zweiter Streich

Dear telemarketers, I've got your number. That "there's no message, is there a more convenient time I can reach him/her" of yours isn't fooling anyone.

I took a call from someone whose last name was "Mormon." I wanted to ask if his name was Jack or if he had a wife named Molly. If I took a message, would I be writing down the Words of Mormon?

I am the queen of the Konica Minolta Bizhub copy machine. I know where all of the paper jams live.

All the downtime at the office gives me time to do all of my scripture study and General Conference talk reading. This made me slip up in my phone answering today when, instead of saying "Attorney Such-and-Such's office" I said "Eternal Such-and-Such's office."

Being around people who do divorce law makes me never ever want to get divorced, and therefore kind of grateful for this whole Gospel thing that teaches us how to get married correctly.

Someone keeps turning the air conditioner on. It's not warm in here. Oh well, I guess it's not my utility bill.

I actually took the correct length of a lunch break today. Leaving the office helped. It's hard to entertain oneself in the break room for a full thirty minutes.

It's been really rainy today. I'm not wearing particularly hazardous shoes, but I almost fell on my bottom twice today--once in the lobby and once at the sandwich shop. My sincere thanks to the man standing on the stairs in the lobby for pretending that he didn't see my lack of gracefulness.