The Simple Life

I recently had the opportunity to attend a remarkably extraordinary wedding reception. (Yes I know that those words together are kind of redundant, but it was crazy!) The father of the bride is known to make a huge amount of money, and so no expense was spared. I did not know either the bride or the groom, so I had a really interesting perspective of what was going on. Before I delve into the deeper meaning I am trying to get across here let me describe this reception to you.
The first thing I see when I walk into the driveway is a prowler with weddings gifts stacked in it. I see a blue striped photo booth with a cute girl in a little red jacket handing out tickets for the activities. Everything was bright and happy like in the movies you watch as a kid. Right behind the ticket booth was a full fledged fair sized ferris wheel. I found my inner child when I realized how badly I wanted a ride. There were game booths manned by pretty girls wearing jackets that were uniform with the one the girl in the ticket booth adorned. Little kids walked around with intricate balloon hats and vests because they had found the magic balloon lady wandering around making balloon gifts for everyone. There was popcorn, cotton candy, drink booths, icecream and more. The tables where we sat down to eat our huge meal were decorated with huge flower bouquets and hand pulled candy. There was a photo booth where you could go in as many times as you want, and it would spit out the four picture strips. There was a dance floor laid out right next to the swimming pool designed to look like a red rock waterfall. It was crazy. People walked around with expensive clothes, tanned skin, and lots and lots of long bleached blonde hair. (I think I may have been one of two caucasian girls with dark hair there)
And there we were. The Utah Four. Two country boys with their wranglers, boots, and baseball caps, and the girls in bermudah shorts and t-shirts. For the first few seconds I thought about feeling out of place, but then I looked over at Spencer, and saw his beeming countenance, and decided to be happy to be exactly who I am, and have a grand time indeed doing it. And we did. We had an absolute blast, and met a lot of great people. As we were helping clean up afterward one girl mentioned to me feeling really inferior to that atmosphere and those people because she knew she would never have anything close to that caliber of a wedding reception. I thought about it for a minute. Thought about the people I'd watched all night long, and I came to the conclusion that I wanted to be nothing like them. We had met some incredibly Chirst-like people. The families of both the bride and the groom were so fantastic to us. But as I watched the other guests at the reception, I was saddened by how much IN the world they seemed to be. The wealthy have such problems that I would never want to battle. They battle with pride in a way I hope to never understand. They battle the fight for social standing. I simply always want to be happy to be me, and to have people I love around. As I watched the men there, I was so proud to be there with Spencer who is the most humble and good man that I know. It is good to know men like him still exist.
Really, the point is, I want my life to be simple. I don't want bookoo bucks or fancy things. I like my life.

Otter Pops...

...are purdy much the sustenance of summer living. Put your canine teeth into the corner of the plastic and tear off the top. No hanky panky with the scissors. Use your thumb and middle fingers to push the goodess up past the wrapper, bite down a half inch into the plastic, pull back to slide the frozen glob into your mouth, and enjoy as heaven ensues. Is there a friendlier Popsicle? I submit that there is not. Just take a look at those adorable otter faces, and you will immediately want it to be within you. One per partaking never satisfies; the partaker must intake at least three of those otter characterized frozen flavored sugars sticks in order to build enough will power to not eat four or five. They go on the "your turn to buy list" in the apartment that rotates through the roommates, along with toilet paper and dish soap. There are many reasons why life could be dubbed good, but this, this makes life exceptional.

Expectations

Are high expectations a bad thing? I've been told that it isn't fair to expect too much of people. I've been told I'm uptight and prudish because of high standard and expectation. Is that fair? I expect a certain level of conduct out of myself, and so I like to surround myself with people who make that goal easier to accomplish. I like to think that isn't bad.
Well, whatever the general thought may be on the subject, I am not going to back down from that high standard. I won't try and shove it on anyone who doesn't want to be part of it. I understand that it isn't always the easiest way to live, but the rewards that will ultimately result from it are of far more worth than the approval of people around me.

Boy, I'm tired

It is almost the end. The semester is almost over, and boy, am I ready for the end. Right now I'm so physically tired that I can't even begin to think about the pages and pages I need to write tonight for a research paper that is due on Friday. It seems like every semester I start to burn out a little faster. It happened about midterm this time around. I'm hoping the summer will help me out in building up my enthusiasm for school again. I know I have to finish, but with only two years behind, and three years to go, it's lookin' like a long road. Good thing I'm not gonna be a doctor.

Individuality

I don't know how many of you know that I have a little side hobby (it's really not even something I do often enough to call a hobby....) of writing poetry. Here's a little taste for ya :) Enjoy.

Individuality

One chip in the bag
made me throw up
my whole meal. My
fingers were caked
with the residue of it's companions,
proving I'd partaken
many. But that one,
that last one, got me
good. It must have been
angry. Maybe I'd eaten
the chip that had been it's
neighbor slice in the
potato. Maybe they were
friends, or, perhaps, all
small pieces of the same.
I'm not sure how a
sliced potato works itself
out. Is it still one potato?
Maybe it's become many individuals.
I don't know, but that one piece
of potato caught itself on
the walls of my throat
and stayed, and clung,
and stayed, until I brought
It's self...or it's friends..
back up to greet it.
Except, the burger and
veggies came up too. They
might still count as separate.
Or do they now count as
one acidy sloppy whole?