Happy Birthday, Mama Mia! {I love my mom, because...}

Oh dear. One year and one day since my last post. What better way to get back on the boat ... or whatever people say about getting back into blogging (is it still even called that?) than in celebration / honor of my dear mother's birthday!? I would write her age too, but I honestly don't remember how old she is. I think just remembering her birth date this year is good enough.

For starters, here's a word-cloud that includes some of the many positive adjectives I'd use to describe my mother. I just learned about Wordle a few weeks ago, and thus far my customer review is -- wahoo! 

 And now a million more words + pictures and a kinda-Buzzfeed-style list of 20 things I love about my mom. Or, elementary-school-style title - 

I love my mom because...

1. SHE HAS SUCH A GOOD HEART
She's so great with children. I'm not yet. That's why I cut the newborn baby out of the picture. Also because I can't remember which of Liz & Nick's kids this is. And THAT'S NOT THE POINT. The point is, I think babies and animals can supposedly tell if people are good or something, right? Well, even though most grown human strangers are terrified of my mother's resting face, people who know her and babies who don't yet feel her love and goodness.

2. SHE'S SO TACKY
She has no shame re: her love for ... cheesy / tacky stuff like this ... Then again, who doesn't want a giant button with their faces on it?! I can't count the number of shirts we've given my dad that have all our faces on it and some phrase like, "Dad's Trophies" that connects to whatever spray-painted theme my mom thinks my dad will like. She's someone who goes overboard in the most odd ways, and I think it's absolutely perfect.

3. SHE'S FUN 
This pic was taken during a bathroom break we took during my new sister-in-law, Kara's, bachelorette party. Although her disgusting overshare of gross sex tips may have traumatized me for life, her love and talent for throwing custom and epic parties for people is something I'm so grateful to have inherited from her. She's SO fun to plan parties with. Really, so fun to brainstorm anything with.

4. SHE TRIES TO BRAND HER CHILDREN
She's obsessed with matching. For every.single.holiday. And sometimes just because. This pic was taken on Christmas Eve the year I refused to wear the matching sparkly vests everyone else was wearing. I guess now I kind of regret wearing those glasses more than I would have regretted wearing whatever she picked out for me.

5. SHE'S LOVELY INSIDE & OUT
She's just so beautiful, isn't she!? What I love more than my mother's radiating beauty in this picture is my memory of the moments before it was taken. It was Christmas last year, and after a long day of gifting and eating and napping - all of which my mother spearheads perfectly every year - we watched a movie (usually we watch "It's a Wonderful Life" on Christmas, but I think we watched that "Sound of Music - LIVE" thing this year instead) while I curled her hair. I remember feeling so grateful to have a mother who I can have fun with. It's just easy to be around her. 

6. SHE'S SELFLESS 
This was taken last Easter, I think. Maybe the Easter before that? Well, either 2012 or 2013. Regardless, the takeaway here is that I'm wearing her necklace. Which I borrowed without asking. Which means I still have it. Which I guess is kind of like stealing it. Which she pretends bothers her, but I know it flatters her. Actually, I guess it probably bugs her a little bit. Well, one of my favorite things about this woman is that she'll give up the clothes off her back, the food on her plate, the cute shoes on her feet, the comfortable couch beneath her mom butt, etc if someone else expresses an interest or need in it. She's someone who feels more joy in seeing that she's made someone else happy than she feels in having those things for herself.

7. SHE LOVES BEING ENTERTAINED
My mother has terrible rhythm, so she rarely dances. Her first born child, however, has exceptional dance skills and should have probably been a ballerina or hip hop choreographer. I secretly love how aggressively she pushes her children to get up and dance or entertain her in some way. Albeit uncomfortable/embarrassing, and although I don't always give in to her requests (demands), I think it's given my brothers and I a sense of fearlessness that makes life much more fun. Oh, and I think this pic was taken at my cousin Justin and his wife Amanda's wedding reception. 

8. SHE'S HOT
I just wrote "hot" to keep you reading. I don't really care that my mom is hot. But because this pic was taken during my cousin K.J.'s wedding reception, during which my friend Adam flirted with my MARRIED! MOTHER, I thought her hotness was a good way to tie everything together. Really what I'm grateful for here is that she's HEALTHY. Since I can remember, she's been someone who eats fairly well, exercises somewhat regularly, doesn't smoke or drink and can still kick most men's butts in any sport. If only she'd start wearing sunscreen, I think I'd be set for life in terms of not having to worry about.. you know...all those middle-aged parent health scares that pop up. I know this isn't about me (despite me being in every photo), but I'm really glad my mom's on the road to being a super spunky grandma, even if I wait another twenty years to procreate.

9. SHE'S STYLISH ON A BUDGET
My mom and I share a passion for (addiction to) shopping. But here's the thing! -- ur taste isn't too terribly expensive! We.love.sales. This pic was taken after my family going away dinner at The Fountain on Locust in Saint Louis (love), and I remember my mom strutting in like she was on the runway before telling me in great detail how little she spent on each article of clothing and accessory in which she had draped herself. Although my dad will forever remind us that we're not saving money just because we're buying stuff we don't need when it's on sale (I think he says it more eloquently. Like something you'd read on a 'how to budget' or 'getting over shopaholicism 101' type of book.), I love sharing this little hobby with her.

10. SHE LOVES SHOPPING
...well..and...again...matching... and I guess I already covered shopping in #9. Oh well, I just like this picture. My mom honestly wanted us to wear these matching outfits for Easter a few years ago. We didn't. 

11. SHE'S GOOD AT VACATION
Although my tendency is to make a lot of plans and then sleep through 3/4ths of them, my mother is amazing at making plans for the whole family and then somehow rallying us all together/waking us all up to follow through with them. OR just letting us sleep while she enjoys everything possible to enjoy by herself. This pic was taken when my family went to Mexico for my cousin Don and his wife Jayni's wedding last year. I arrived a bit later than everyone else, and when I arrived I got a detailed tour of the entire resort from my mother. In just a few hours she had scoped out the entire place, memorized the hours of operation and prices of every activity possible, invited half the staff to a volleyball tournament (that I think the Howard family athletes won while I hid in the shade and read a book about Psychopaths) and brainstormed three different options for how we could spend every hour we had there.

12. SHE'S THE BEST COOK IN THE WORLD
This pic was taken during a Mother's Day picnic a year or two or maybe three ago. My gift to her that year was a KitchenAid Mixer that I was re-gifting because I don't bake and which she also later re-gifted because she already owns like five. Anyway, she's a really good cook. She started a catering company when I was pretty young. Maybe middle school. I don't think my brothers, dad and I realize how lucky we are to have had a lifetime of this quality and quantity food that most people have to hire her to enjoy. I also feel like this may be a good place to mention how hilarious I think it is when I mention a menu item I try at a restaurant that my mom then manically tries to duplicate and then improve just so she can say she won. Also because she loves serving people and challenges and the art of cooking.

13. SHE'S A SURVIVOR
If a zombie apocalypse or the rapture or that one Will Smith movie plot ever happens, and I have to choose one partner to try to survive with, it'll be my mom. Although I'm pretty sure we'd kill each other before the world-problem beat us out, I think she'd be resourceful and strong and smart enough to get us to some safe place. She grew up sharing one bedroom with her six sisters, digging worms to make money for food and beating up anyone who bullied anyone else. Sooooo, I think she could take care of us. Sorry, dad. Can you be Steven's partner? 

14. SHE WISHES SHE WAS MY SISTER
I already talked about how tacky/cheesy she is, so this back-to-back pose should just reaffirm #2. And given the title of #14, you may think I'm going to make fun of how she sometimes tries to dress like she's a 14-year old. But alas, no, in #14 I want to share how young-at-heart my dear mother is. She's playful and joyful and loves games and imagination and dreaming and pranks. Although she's not my sister, no matter what she tell you!, she definitely has the spirit of the sister I always wanted (thanks, Donnie, for marrying Kara so I can have one now!) (and NO THANKS mom and dad for stopping at Steven ... you could have given me a baby sister if you hadn't stopped at 4!)

15. SHE THINKS I'M FUNNYEven when I'm not. Which is most of the time.  

16. SHE BRINGS OUT THE BEST IN PEOPLEShe believes in my brothers, my dad and I in this sort of insane confidence-boosting way that I don't know if I'll ever fully understand and certainly don't appreciate enough. She is just so good at seeing the best in people and then finding ways to empower them to fulfill their potential.

17. SHE LOVES CHRISTMAS
And she's passed on her love for Christmas to all of us. Even, I think, my dad a little bit. Without her, he'd surely be a real-life Scrooge. But over the years, I can tell he's grown to love that every inch of our home is covered in Christmas decor from November 25th 'til the beginning of January. 

18. SHE'S COMPETITIVE 
Not quite as intense as my dad, but close. She loves winning. And she usually does. Except when she's playing against me.

19. SHE LOVES MY DAD
I remember the first time I realized how romantic love was supposed to work... I was really young, I think pre-elementary school, and I had overheard my mom and dad arguing. A few minutes post-argument, my mom and I made everyone's lunches (well, I probably watched while she made them) for work and school the next day, and I asked her why she'd make dad's lunch if she was mad at him. My little bratty mind thought it made sense to punish him or something I guess. She explained that people who choose to love each other forever like she and my dad did when they got married may still get mad at each other, but that doesn't mean they don't love each other. And even though it's hard to do nice things for people when you're mad at them, that's when it's especially important for you do to those nice things. She admitted to me that even though she was mad at my dad, she was probably more mad at herself for whatever she did wrong in the context of that argument and for how stubborn she was in delaying her apology. I don't remember exactly what she said or how she said it, but as I think back to that experience, I imagine her spreading peanut butter and jelly on bread as she calmly and wisely as anything. I don't think she realized how influential those few moments would be for me. I'm so lucky to have a handful of anecdotes like that one that have collectively taught me what a good marriage looks like - either because they did it right, or because they did it terribly wrong and realized it. So if I ever mess up a marriage, I need to come up with another excuse besides MY PARENTS to tell my therapist.

20. SHE LOVES HER FAMILY
And it shows in everything she does. Well, except sometimes when she's like, "can I please get some peace and quiet!?!?" But she hasn't screamed that at us for a few years. I think she likes it now when we steal food off her plate and ask her at the last possible second to make us chocolate-covered strawberries for our work thing and text her at 4am to ask her to wake us up in three hours and ... you get it. She loves us despite or maybe at this point because of allllll the times we forget to tell her how much we love her.

Happy Birthday, Mom! I love you (even when I say I hate you).

Improvisation Every Day on the Cheap / Free {in Chicago}

Dearest {b}Readers,

I've sent this list to a few groups of friends / former troupes / etc and figured I might as well make it public so it's easy to share with all you blossoming improvisers out there. This certainly isn't everything, but it's everything I know about that goes on in the city. And I'm not quite as "scene" as a lotta other folk. So do feel free to comment or email me or whatever if you know of other opportunities to improvise on the cheap or for free.

Mondays:

• 10:00 p.m. | The Playground Theatre | The Mixer

Tuesdays:

• 10:15 p.m. | The Second City | Those Who Can't
• 10:00 p.m. | The Second City Donny's Skybox | SHORTS Competition Voting *last Tuesday of each month

Wednesdays:

• 9:30 p.m. | pH Production Theater | pHree for all Open Mic
• 10:00 p.m. | The ComedySportz Theatre | The After Party

Thursdays: 

• 10:00 p.m. | The Second City | Improv Jam

Fridays:

• 8:00 p.m. | Theatre Momentum | The Kinetic Jam
• Midnight | The Second City deMaat | Midnight Melt

Saturdays:

• 4:00 p.m. | The Second City deMaat | Music Improv Jams
• 10:00 p.m. | The Second City Room 405 | Stand-Up Open Mic
• Midnight | iO | BYOT (t = team)

Sundays:

• 11:00 a.m. | The Second City | Stand-Up Open Mic
• 6:00 p.m. | The Second City deMaat | Sirens Workshop (girls only) *2nd Sunday of each month
• 7:00 p.m. | The ComedySportz Theatre | Dual Duel ($5)

Lastly, I haven't actively used this yet, but one of my all-time favorite improv teachers, Mister Michael Girts, sent this to me when my BrB partner for life, Scott Smith, and I were looking for a third roommate. Untwist your panties, kiddoes, we already found the perfect couple to replace my dearest Deborah (she's a drug dealer) (I mean pharmacist)... anyway, here's the possibly useful resource he sent me:

• Chicago Improv Network

Holler,

Sam

P.S. The "{b}" above is for "blog". Cuz you people are blog readers. Also, though, you could be baby readers. Or bossy readers. Or the best readers. Or bored readers. Or boring readers, yeah, YOU'RE the boring one, not me! Or bitchy readers. Or bitchin' readers. Wait, if you're a baby reader, I'm very impressed. You should definitely get into the best private preschools.

{Monday Swimming}

My hair used to shed a lot more when it was longer. Since the cut (October 2012?), I actually hadn't noticed much shedding until this morning. 

This morning when I watched (in seemingly slow motion) two strands of my auburnish hair swim down the drain. 

The focus I dedicated to these two strands matched the focus I imagine A.D.H.D. medication would give me towards everything. 

Lucky for me and you reader(s?) out there, I've never been tested and therefore have never taken A.D.H.D. medication. So this morning after the few moments of focus came the more typical, for me, many moments of imagination. 

I imagined every strand of my hair as a sort of sperm-like swimmer. I assume this is the type of thing that inspired Medusa's character. 

I started thinking about meiosis and mitosis and realized Mrs. Locke (my 9th grade biology teacher) would be proud of me for remembering those words, but gravely disappointed in everything about those words I've since forgotten.

I wondered if there were any South Park episodes in which Cartman started balding and masked his embarrassment with a convincing argument that hair is evil, therefore convincing the rest of the boys, and maybe even some of the grown men and women, to shave their heads in order to avoid the evils of hair. Then, per the usual happenstance, the whole town was wrongfully recognized for their dedication to cancer research and solidarity with cancer patients. That's as far as my mind wandered about that.

Then I remembered how cool it was of my grandma to walk around completely bald when she had cancer. 

Which led me to, of course, remember she and I trying on wigs for hours one day. 

Which reminded me why I cut & donate my hair in the first place -- in honor of my grandma. Who survived breast cancer, but not a heart attack. 

Which made me feel like crap for the non-heart-healthy food I eat every day.

Which has me feeling inspired to go to the gym, drink some soy milk and ... ah ... get to work!

Happy Monday, all! And welcome, me, back to blogging? 

Time {Recyclers}

I started some serious reflecting when I moved to Chicago about 5 months ago. Mostly that reflecting just depressed me. But it also inspired a few neat life additions:

1. I started taking classes at The Second City. 

I'm done with that list. The rest is crap.

My first class was a story telling course that I thought would give me some good professional training for client presentations and what-not. Although I'm probably less composed and professional than I was before I took the class, I'm now a bit more aware of my chronic tardiness and starting to piece together reasons for it.

Mostly, I waste a lotta time. But since I don't think it's wasted {unless alcohol is involved -- in which case -- shots or water? shots!}, I'm calling it recycled time. I'm making seriously good use out of the time most people just consider a sunk cost. Necessary evil or whatever.

The time I'm talking about is that sort of deep in-between time ... you're not where you're going to yet, nor are you where you came from, nor are you exactly or only en route. I mean, you're kind of always en route, but it's the smaller moments, you know? Not just the time you spend begrudgingly succumbing to the smells of public transit and avoiding eye contact with strangers -- but the moments even more in-between when you're secretly wishing you could magically remove the person in that comfortable-looking seat in front of you, but then you get lost in your own creative energy and start wondering if a game like that would be possible or cool or something, and then you start brainstorming a pitch for a campaign that this CTA-Tetris-esque game could really work for, and then you wonder about this person's life... this person who just 30 seconds ago was just a barrier to your comfort, but because you glimpsed down and saw the text he sent to someone named "Suzie Cuzie" in his phone, you can't stop wondering who this S.Cuzie might be ... cute name for his daughter? Weird name for his mistress? Pet name for his wife? Yep, he has a ring. Hmm. Probably two kids. He's the dad type. Man, it's early, but I bet his kids are already halfway done with their first period in school. Ugh, school starts so early. I'm glad I'm done with that. I'm much more productive after 12+ hours of sleep. Gives me more time to dream. Speaking of dreams, last night's dreams were nuuuuuuts. . . . 

See what I mean about deep in-between time? Or is that just me? 

The thing is, I love these deep in-between times more than any other time in the world! My  STORY TELLING prof thinks it's because I'm young and indecisive and wishing life was still just a bunch of potential instead of a bunch of responsibility. He's probably right. Then another girl in my class told me she thinks I'm in love with the concept of liminality - which she describes {much better than Wikipedia} as this transitional time between transitional times ... time in which all energy, all potential lies. Her explanation is good, too. My roommate thinks I need to get  job as a flight attendant so that I'm always in-transition. Her take on the matter is also helpful. But, hell no, I'd be a terrible flight attendant. I'm usually ok with flights, but when I convince myself that the plane is broken, and the stranger sitting next to me is my last chance for true love, dear gawd am I a nutcase. 

Anyway, I dunno exactly what it is about these deep transition times that I love, but I'm pretty sure I'm just looking for impressive excuse for always being late or ways to make myself feel better about my un-diagnosed A.D.H.D. While I find more ways to distract myself, you watch this vid. It's me talking a bit about this part of me. Later I'll make a list of the things I find myself RECYCLING time with. Step 1 is admitting I have a problem, though, right?

Amtrak Station {3:45 a.m. - 4:00 a.m.}

I'm usually running too late to observe much of anything at these stations. Then as soon as I board the train or bus I'm taking, I tend to spread my things out across two seats & pretend to fall asleep right away so that no one tries to sit next to me. So I suppose that means that unless I'm either forced to interact with people or running too late to pay attention to my surroundings, I'm silently judging everyone around me. Awesome. I just reminded myself how terrible of a person I am.

I'm wide awake, orange Crush soda in hand, and acutely aware of two scenarios happening around me. I'll share some of my observations and judgments, but not all of them. You won't like me if you read what I'm really thinking about these weirdos. And more importantly, these weirdos might see what I've written about them once my blog becomes the most popular thing on the internet. They'll be upset and try to avenge me, and it'll just be a mess. So for now - the somewhat nicer version will have to do.

There is an Amish man sitting next to his quietly submissive wife and reading a newspaper. For some reason {probably tv show & movie stereotypes}, I didn't think Amish people read newspapers or watched the news or paid any attention at all to 'culture' ... I thought the whole ideas was to be "not of this world" or something? Well, it was an interesting sight to see. I tried taking a picture with my phone. Here's what I ended up with:

Ok, ok, I'm lying. I didn't even try to take a picture with my phone. I just thought, several minutes after boarding the train, that it would have been a good idea. A neat shot. A nice photo to have. Too late, though. The Amish people already left. Maybe they're on my train now. Maybe they're reading a newspaper again. If so, I promise I'll really try to take a pic. 

Another interesting thing {to me} I saw while at the station was an Asian teenager, or maybe Asian young adult. . . college age? Well, I saw him trying to play a bunch of games without paying. That was strange. 

First he tried to play the racing game for free. He just sat on the racing seat and turned the wheel a bit for a while. Never once motioned towards his wallet and even thought about paying. Just kept fake driving the fake driving machine as if the game would give up and just give him a free round or something in hopes that he'd pay for the second round if he liked the first round enough. Well, it didn't work out that way.

After some time, this kid walks over to that game where you use a claw to try to pick up toys that I don't believe anyone would voluntarily pay 50-cents for. Yet, for some reason, people pay 50-cents ... and then another 50-cents .... and then another to try to win. Strange. I guess it's the fun of the game, not the desire for the prize that inspires participation. Those same kids who love that game as children are the kids who grow up to be -- well, young adults like me -- who justify their crappy lives and failed attempts at success by reminding themselves that it's the journey, not the destination. 

Well, I don't know which school of thought this Asian kid belonged to. But he kept trying the same shenangians from the race car game on this game. Kept trying to play for free. He gave up more quickly on this one. I would have too.

By his third attempt at a third game, I wasn't quite sure how to react. Part of me was impressed by his persistence and sat there silently rooting for him to make the game work for the small cost of will power instead of a few quarters. I thought that if he could successfully pay this game without paying with money, but instead with hard work and sweat -- that'd be a great testament to the Amurican dream and true hope.

Another part of me was pissed that he was trying to cheat the system. An entitled millenial or snotty hipster or something. That part of me hated him and wanted nothing more than for him to get what was coming to him. For some Amtrak station game security guy to come taser him and give him an emotionally-charged speech about pulling yourself up by your footsteps and fairness and stuff.

Yeah, I realize part one and part two of me both reflect sort of contradicting views of American values. Just wait, there's more, the third part of me ... the kind part of me that goes, "awwwww" when I see something cute or heart-warming or sad or whatever. That part of me wanted to give him some change and help him pay for a few minutes of fun game time. 

I'm sure more parts of me {feel free to diagnose me with schizophrenia based on these three 'parts' of myself to which I'm referring and from which I'm deriving feelings} would have manifest themselves if I had stayed at the station longer. But some lady with a muffled voice and terrible grammar announced that we could board the train. 

Ugh, I really wish I had taken a pic of the Amish people. Or that I had tried to strike up a conversation with them. I now realize that I have a lot of questions I'd like to ask an Amish person.

Breakfast Time & Election Day | {Behind the Scenes} WETness

This morning, I made breakfast ... Why?

a. I was hungry. 

b. The food was available to be made.

c. It was breakfast time.

Then took a photo of my breakfast ...

... Why?

a. I spent a lot of time {too much time} moving around all the food to make it look pretty {playing with my food} on the plate. At first this was just for my own strange sense of enjoyment {like, it'd taste better if it looked better? you know, making the book cover easy-on-the-eyes so that people judge my book by the cover...}. I realized this masterpiece {relative to the kind of crap I usually create} deserved to be remembered, and I had a camera phone, so why not!?

b. To send a pic to my boyfriend.

...So, uh, then I sent the pic to my boyfriend ... Why?

a. To make him jealous.

b. Bc I was thinking ... that I really like "sharing" my food, but mostly because I'm selfish and "sharing" means I get to try everyone else's food. I mean, I'm ok "sharing" my leftovers. But usually I claim to love "sharing" food to cover up my true intentions of eating as much food in as vast variety as possible in one sitting. 

As I was eating breakfast alone this morning, I started thinking about how many meals I have eaten with Željko ... most of which have involved some sort of "sharing" - both the part of "sharing" I like and the part I hate. That thought got me weighing the PROs & CONs of "sharing" vs. eating alone. I didn't debate with myself for long, but instead fairly quickly {because aforementioned breakfast was getting cold} decided that I preferred "sharing" over eating alone. {Also, just realized it's probably annoying to my reader(s) for me to enclose the word "sharing" with quotation marks every time I write it. So, that was the last time. I Promise. Well, I'll try to remember.}

Anyway, so I decide that sharing meals > eating alone. And thought I'd share that. You know, to be a sweet girlfriend or whatever. 

That effort to communicate sweetness quickly turned into a strangely emotional internal discussion in which I concluded that all things in life are better shared, I think, although I  kind of like having my own space & stuff, so maybe I'm an introvert? Nah, no way I'm an introvert.  But maybe just a tiny part of me every few months or something is introverted. And, wait, if a bigger part of me was introverted more often, then wouldn't I prefer eating alone to sharing meals? And what would my views on sharing be? Would I be more or less selfish? Slash, wait, I'm sort of being selfish -- ok, really selfish, in  sharing meals. Because it's mostly for my pleasure anyway. You know, because of the sharing stuff I wrote about up there, & because I gotta get my people-fix, you know, because I'm an  extrovert. Or am I? Aaaaaah.

...Then I stopped the schizophrenic? bipolar? normal? debate going on in my head & tweeted a different pic & a question about breakfast time & election day ...

... Why?

a. To test my fb & tweet buds' bullshitabilities.

b. To see if I could ask a question in the form of a riddle & get a brilliant answer, even with no riddle answer in mind. I assume this is how riddles are supposed to be created? 

c. I wanted an excuse to tweet a food pic. People are obsessed with food pics. Granted, I realize the pic I tweeted was less of food than it was a table, laptop, bike & other table. But it's a start, right? The beginning of my food blogging? 

Here's the thing about food stuff & me & makin' food & kitchens & whatever  ... I, uh, don't, uh, create . . . many meals. I'm actually a tiny bit terrified of the kitchen & everything my being there both entails & implies. The actual cooking stuff part is less terrifying than the deep dark fear I have of all my "barefoot & pregnant" / "woman, you belong in the kitchen" joke references coming to life. More specifically, coming to my life. I should really get over all of that. Or maybe write about it some time. You know, as therapy. 

d. 'Cuz I was seriously curious. Ok, this is the only real answer. I was, I promise, curious about what these two times had in common. My initial answer to my quasi-riddle-in-the-making-slash-cry-for-attention was something along the lines of me:

Connecting how little work/time/effort I put into voting & how little work/time/effort I put into breakfast ...  r e l a t i v e  to everyone truly involved in the process. 

So you think that formatting gave that poorly-written sentence a cool effect? Doesn't it seem kinda like I'm quoting myself or some famously profound person? Do you think I consider myself a famously profound person? Errrk, as usual, not the point.

More about that italicized, centered & uniquely spaced thing I wrote above {Yessss, more fun formatting! Bullets this time!}

• Back in my day when I was running for, ahem, political office, {yeah, student government is TOTALLY political and DEFINITELY comparable to what Mitt & Barack are going through!}, I put in so much work/time/effort {here on out, I'll call this W.T.E.} -- not just in getting elected -- but in deciding whether or not to run, in convincing people to (a.) vote and (b.) vote for me & my people & ideas, in following through with the campaign promises we made {when I won}, in responding well to the issues {yes! issues!} I didn't have the foresight to put in my platform, etc. I cared so deeply & sincerely about an unbelievable breadth of issues & knew an exceptional amount of detail about each of those issues. I was a bit obsessed. So obsessed that I don't think I realized, until years later as I quasi-quietly observe the current SLUnanigans happening at my alma mater, how relatively little W.T.E. a majority of students put into Student Government. 
• This isn't me calling these non-obsessively W.T.E'd students lazy or apathetic or anything along those lines. Oh! Just realized I want to switch the acronym to W.E.T., & I wanna remove the periods so I can just write WET. Yesssss. Wait, is "work" too similar to / synonymous with "effort"? Hmm. I mean, I guess not. Although, good work involves a lot of effort. Whatever, I'm not changing it now. I'm also deleting this bullet. No, I'm not. Transparency!! Phew, this is a stressful post.
• So non-WET students aren't less ... of anything than WET students like myself. {Holy cow ... so ... many ... inappropriate ... jokes ... to ... make ...}. Non-WET students just had other things to get them WET. 
• This is getting weird. I'll stop with the WET stuff.
• I think the point is -- maybe no point at all -- just that it's interesting how relatively little WET I put into election time. And this morning's breakfast has helped me decide that although I'm fairly comfortable with how much WET I put into national elections, I think it's important for me to put more WET into local elections. I'm a bit embarrassed to admit that I did all of my research on local issues last night & this morning {yes, that is BeyondNovember {thanks Nine Network, Saint Louis Beacon & Saint Louis Public Radio} on my laptop screen in that picture above. I'm particularly embarrassed because I know better, dammit! I discovered first-hand how that quote about small groups of people changing the world {Margaret Mead, right? Or Mama T?} is true! I was a part of & in charge of some really exciting changes in my world {my high school & college in these instances}, & I saw all the WET pay off. I was brain-washed trained at Missouri Girls State to believe in local government. I live in a digital age where I have no excuse {no, not even moving to a new city} not to stay connected to & involved with my local issues. I have no excuse. So what's my deal? Bah! Well, instead of making a ton of excuses about how I don't have time or don't like dealing with the political bologna or whatever, I'm just using this bullet point to commit to myself & whoever wants to be my accountabilabuddy to get more involved in my local government. 

Oh yeah ... and breakfast time ...

• The relatively little amount of WET I put into election time is about the same relatively little amount of WET I put into breakfast time. Someone raised that chicken {cage free!} so that someone else could process {or maybe not, bc these are technically organic. Although, I dunno if I even understand what 'organic' really means. Eff this, I'm going to watch Portlandia} the eggs from that chicken so that someone else could sell {at a subsidize rate?} them to, what?, grocery distributors? I haven't even mentioned all the machines & packaging & branding & shipping & storing & cooling & shelving & holllly cow, there's so much involved, so many jobs, so many people, so much money involved in the three eggs I ate for breakfast this morning! And that's just the eggs! Think about the baby tomatoes & cucumber & mushrooms & mini oranges {are these called tangerines?} & milk & water & coffee & utensils & napkins & drinking glasses & serving plate involved! And oh, man, then the phone with which I took a picture & the networks I used to post the pics & phone companies & internet providers & device manufacturers & operating system people & creepy marketers watching my every move so they can sell me their brands of  baby tomatoes & cucumber & mushrooms & mini oranges & milk & water & coffee & utensils & napkins & drinking glasses & serving plates!! Ah! I didn't even really do justice to the entire supply chain, & I certainly over-simplified the whole farmers / govt subsidies / etc relationships ... yet, I'm still overwhelmed just thinking about EVERYTHING involved in the most simple and universally encouraged time of day -- breakfast time. 

So both breakfast time & election day provide fairly simple opportunities for participation for most people. But a lot, A LOT, of WET goes on behind the scenes. I don't think it's humanly possible {at least not for this human} to drench myself in everything involved with either election day or breakfast time, but in both cases, I could give a little more WET. And if everyone gave a little more WET to both breakfast time & election day, maybe we'd complicate things even more, & I'd regret recommending something like this {I know, I know, this post will likely not 'count' as a real recommendation for many reasons -- mostly, though, because very few people have the endurance to read this much of a silly blog post. Oh! ENDURANCE! That could replace the "energy" part of "WET" ...hmmm...} ...

Or maybe, just maybe, if everyone gave a little more WET than what they're giving now ... maybe the small % of people who are giving all the WET they've got can take a tiny break, & maybe all the WET we're giving -- as a society -- will lead us in a better direction. Maybe?

... Then I decided {just now, actually} to write a blog post about all of this! ... Why? ...

a. No, not because any of my previous breakfast story is a deeply transcending metaphor for elections or for the politicians & propositions & amendments beneath which my chads-are-uh-hangin' {I don't care how old hanging chads references are; I just used one.} ... although, in hindsight, I realize I coulda allegorized the heck outta that story above. Shoutout to Captain Hindsight, btw. 

b. Because I haven't blogged in a while, and part of my purpose-o-blogging is to instill some sort of discipline and consistency in myself. Also to get better at writing. Also to eliminate all insecurities I may have about writing to a public audience. Also to smack myself in the face / humble myself every time I check the Google Analytics stats on how many readers I have and realize that 95% of my "viewership" is just me refreshing my browser to make myself feel better. Also because there's a small chance {by "there's a small chance", I actually mean "with 100% certainty}, I am a bit narcissistic {by "a bit narcissistic", I mean, I bet you one-hundred dollars that if I went to a psychiatrist, he/she would diagnose me with NPD} {she writes as she looks in the mirror, winks at herself & pretends an audience of thousands are winking back} ... 

Ok, this isn't about why I'm an infrequent blogger! It's about why I blogged about this particular topic today .... uh ... so moving on to letter C. <<<Ohhhh snap, insert Mitt-Romney-fires-Big-Bird-&-Sesame-Street-is-brought-to-you-by-the-letter-C reference here.>>>

c. Because I'm always so dang tempted to blog & tweet & fb & quora & stumbleupon ... all sorts of super relevant cultural references, particularly those political in nature, but truth is -- I'm a huge indecisive pansy! I play it too safe with making my opinions public bc my opinions change basically every other second. Wait, no they don't, every other minute, maybe. See! Changing opinions on frequency of opinion changing! Ah, madness! Anyway, I feel a bit left out, you know? For the last however many annoying months, some chicks have been defriending their sorority sisters whose political views align with someone who differentiates between a legitimate and an illegitimate rape, while some bros have been fist-pumping each others' funny inside jokes about Paul Ryan's widow's peak, while moms have been sending chain emails about the top ten reasons Obama will drive this country into a brick wall or hand-deliver our country "to hell in a hand basket", while dads have been emailing kids about fiscal responsibility and their newfound respect for Joseph Smith's people ... and .... well, you get it. Just a lot of chit chat about these here elections. And I've just been kind of listening quietly {Save your jokes; I'm not that loud}, hoarding articles and personal chicken scratch notes, watching debates {mostly to see how spot-on SNL impersonations are}, yada yada. But no epic / public posts from me -- at least one taking a strong stance in any one direction or another. No, this blog post isn't going to be that either. I told you! I'm indecisive! Or am I undecided? Or indecided? Or undecisive? Hokay, that was just to exaggerate the point. I am indecisive, and I was technically undecided until I actually voted. At which point, I became a decided voter. Whoah. That's grown-up feeling. Adulthood, here I come! Crap, I'm tangenterizing my post again!

It doesn't matter; I'm done w reasons for doing things. Now, I just feel like responding {in David Letterman Top Ten Format, for you, dad} {I didn't say these would be as funny as DL's ... just that the format is similar} to my morning Tweet... 

dave the {megaman} bus driver

My dad sent this to me. Told me it made him think of my megabus experiences.  Said I can use this joke and don't have to give him credit.

I haven't blogged in quite a while.  So I'm going to paste his joke along with this fancy megabus image as a blog post. 

*Note, I am giving my dad all the credit for the joke, and I am giving Google Images all the credit for the image.

Dave the Bus Driver

An inebriated man got on Dave's double-decker bus and sat in the bottom deck close to Dave.  Dave is not to allow drunks on his bus, but Dave had a good heart and let the man stay on.

The drunk man started rambling on and on, so Dave suggested the drunk man should sit upstairs. 

"The air is cleaner up there, and you'll get a much better view."

The man agreed, but returned a few minutes later. 

"What's wrong?" Dave asked, "Don't you like it better up there?"

"It's fine," the drunk said, "But it's too dangerous: There's no driver."