calm and bright. part 2.

while still sick. and tired. oh so very tired. my night of misery evolved into a morning of joy.

I finally returned to bed sometime between 5:30 and 6:00 AM - this was after having been awake since 3, and could not stop the tears, or calm down to sleep. So I layed in bed, eyes leaking.

Clin woke around 6, and proceeded to lecture me on healthy behavior.... kind of ironic. I know. But in the early morning fatigue we both decided sleep was not an option and went downstairs to watch this - which we've had from Netflix since October 15th. What better time to conquer. Thinking it would force sleep upon me, I was wrong.

I enjoyed it.

And it calmed me down. And brightened my day. Because I wasn't so lonely. And it was the first time we've ever watched a movie at 6am.

I'm thinking we have a new Christmas Eve tradition!

calm and bright.

Here it is 5:00 AM, and I'm awake, thinking. Nose dripping. Tired. Sick. And awake.

Which makes me think of my Dad. Do I have insomnia? The thought that plagues me everytime I have a night like this.

(Or aphrodisiac, as I so clearly explained to family friends at a game night when I was in middle school. Or maybe it was high school. But that's normal to mix those two words. Right? Insomniac. Aphrodisiac. Same thing. Don't you see it?)

And I was perusing the beautiful blogs, and saw a Christmas Card declaring "All is Calm, All is Bright." But it's not. And I'm not. I'm lonely. And sad. And I miss my family. I miss friends.

It's my own fault. I don't have time for family. Or friends. Which is okay 90% of the time. Because I'm socially inept that way. (Or perhaps you could also say social insomniac. Or social aphrodisiac.)

And I read these posts about people who live near their siblings, and trade children/get together/like each other on a daily basis and it makes me sad. I will never live by my siblings. And half the time I think they hate me because I mess up Christmas (sorry Lindy) and cause anger (sorry Kyle and Nathan and everyone else) and am not eloquent, funny, or much fun. And I would like to pick up and go visit them all but have this adversion to spending money (another reason I'm loving Christmas this year.)

It's so much easier to connect with siblings who know me and all the negatives wrapped in that package. And perhaps still might be okay with that. But maybe they aren't.

And now I'm just babbling.

But same for Mom and Dad. Who fix things. That I can't.

So merry, merry all. I'm going back to bed.

in the snow.

One thing that I enjoy about blogs -- other peoples' blogs -- not my blog -- are the beautiful, vibrant, photoshopped pictures of the beautiful, vibrant, edited lives of lovely, articulate strangers. How easy it is to present life as a shimmering orb of perfection. And I like following shiny orbs. Or I like perfection. Particularly the glossy cover-art kinds.

And I think it might be a fun hobby to attempt the creation of a snowglobe life filled with sparkling whimsy and splashy fun.

But I can't write that way. If I did, though, you would now be reading about the crisp evening in a backyard covered in mounds of snow, pristine and untouched. Steam from the dryer vent adding a haze to the cloud covered sky, creating stage effects for our first attempt at throwing ourselves into such perfection.

Small bodies stuck in drifts after each fall, as mother makes her way to save each one from the snow angels holding them hostage. Rolling out the snowman layers, creating snowball machines, eating the productions and starting over again.

Frosty appearing underneath the large tree, without carrot, hat, scarf, or buttons but sculpting replicas out of the excess snow that just happens to be laying at our feet.

And you might imagine an evening of perfection and beauty, within a snowglobe of our own.

Until I admit that this is our first snowman. And I feel bad about that.

And that is where I fall out of the orb, in that I am compelled to admit my guilt and complete lack of abilities of submitting my will to the needs of my children.

telling you - watch this.

Thought of You from Ryan J Woodward on Vimeo.

And a making of video with the choreophrapher - Kori Wakamatsu. I'm one of her biggest fans. (I consider her a friend too. Really. As in I know someone brilliant!)

Thought of You - Behind the Scenes Preview - ROUGH CUT from Cambell Christensen on Vimeo.

Did you see 2 of Clin's former students in that? Oh yes you did.

anxious and insecure.

Perhaps it is the eggnog that I had for breakfast. I should not drink eggnog for breakfast. That is what I've learned this morning.

But PhD studies is like a big fat mirror pushed really close to your face and you can see all of your pores, hair, and other exciting weaknesses.

One of which is my inability to accept that I make mistakes. I know that I do, but I cannot handle it when other people think that I've made a mistake. Particularly when it was unintentional. No - particularly when it really wasn't a mistake, but is an assumed mistake on the part of the recipient. And I hate being misunderstood, because that is when I get really, really anxious that something bad is going to happen and have trouble breathing and it doesn't go away.

You know - many of these misunderstandings happen via email, where I send out a message and get something highly unexpected in return...

In the past my solution has often been to declare a decrease in the little socialization that I have. You know, ban myself from people. The thought of which calms me, but it never works because people keep unbanning themselves from me.

So perhaps my solution needs to be more focused to email. However, I can't figure out how to actually ban myself from email without it hurting my grades, job, life. Insight anyone?

posting for posterity.

Two moments of recent happy:

In a brash move to fight the non-cooking phase we are in, I decided to make some cinnamon rolls for Sunday morning breakfast. And since I'm not the early morning type, I made the dough the evening before.....and then forgot. Sometime around midnight I discovered the dough overtaking the kitchen and decided I should get it rolled out before bed.

That is when Ellis awoke and happened upon my rolling bliss. And we worked together rolling dough, spreading butter, and sprinkling the sugar.

Then Millie awoke. And after a few tears of anger upon the post sprinkled discovery, she helped roll, cut, and throw the rolls into pans.

And who knew, but midnight baking is fun. And no one fought. Nor was there a rush to return to homework, or naps, or places. A new tradition is born.

Moment #2:

As told to us by Granny Lany -

Ellis and Millie eating lunch at the counter. Ellis burps loudly.

Millie says: That's the girl I'm going to marry!


There. Posted. Never to be forgotton.

schooled. Week 1.

Orientation began at 8:00 AM last Monday and ended at 4:00 PM Friday. And every hour was scheduled. I was home around 10 every night and left at 6:30 AM each morning.

How strange to see my children a total of 10 minutes awake. Or what seemed like 10 minutes.

What I learned in my first week attempt at PhD:

- I'm vulnerable.

and have very thin skin. One reason I wanted to stop auditions was the call back. Where you return and perform in front of your competition. last week was a callback. Not that I perceive my fellow students as competition. But it still had a callback feel. Particularly by the end of the week when I was very, very tired. I tend to think of this as my hallucination period.

Kind words can bring me to tears.

So can smiles. and familiar friends from the past.

I did nothing at my house last week. And if it weren't for some amazing parents, I don't know what we would have done. Not only was the house clean, dishes put away, family fed, but my daughters were schooled, homework completed, and lawn mowed without a finger lifted by me.

It was insane how kind and giving my parents were. And now that they are gone (refusing my cries for them to move in and take care of me until my vulnerable period ends)....I am on my own.

So I will continue to claim hallucinations until my skin thickens a bit. And I stop perceiving unfounded emotions from others. Or opinions of me.

Because I will just continue to tell my psyche: this is not middle school. this is not middle school. this is not middle school.

a big, fat, piece of cake.

Yes I am. And whenever I feel like dessert I want to eat more. And then it becomes this mad circle that spirals into a slow motion life of little motivation.

That's right, and top on my no-motivation list? Scrapbooking. Hair. Getting out of bed. Showers. Cleaning. Brushing my teeth. Cooking. Dishes.

And then my resentment increases at others for sitting while I have to move. Because. I. don't. want. to. move.

To fight this? I made lemon squares AND Halfway cookies yesterday. Today I plan on making the homemade oreos.

But I have a really good reason. Payment for the substitutes in primary. 36 instructors equals a lot of subs. And the few who actually say yes to subing are getting burnt out.

So my evolution into dessert will be shared, so that the majority of these feelings will not end up in my stomach. But on someone else's doorstep.

And then I will go back to bed.

pondering my stance on beards.

Except I really love the fact that my brother has a beard. And I hope he never goes without. It fits him. You know?

And my first thought in seeing a new picture of him on facebook with a trimmed out beard was:

I need to share this feeling of beard satisfaction with the world.

My uncle has always had a beard. And I like that too.

However, I'm really glad that Clin is without.

set straight.

Millie loves to try on clothes. On her terms.

They must sparkle.

And spin.

In an attempt to get her to branch out and try some jean shorts:

Me: Barbie! Come and try these one.

Millie: I'm not Barbie. I'm a rockstar.

A rockstar who refuses jean shorts.

looking for space in the freezer.

30 meals in 1 day.

Yes I did.

And i turned 9 of those into double for a grand total of 39.

That equals 10 meals per month. For the next 4 months. That's the plan.

Outside of that it's pb&j.

or cereal.

going to kindergarten.

So Tuesday was the day. Summer officially over. And in our anticipation we set out her clothes the night before. 7:30 am, who should peek into our room?

Millie. Fully dressed. And ready to go.

Me: When did you get dressed? Have you been up for awhile?

Millie: No. I slept in them.

I still haven't established when she and how she accomplished this, because at midnight she was still in the p.j.'s.

Of note on the first day of the kindergarten:

--push chairs in when the teacher calls you up.

--Don't throw bark.

--If you can't get on the swing by yourself then you are not old enough to swing.

And we have been practicing the hand motions required for requesting use of the bathroom. All day.

Millie and I plan on implementing these rules with Clin.

checking in.

Here it is the beginning of August. Let's see if I've done anything that I planned to do as of my last post. Because the plan was to be done by August 1st. And focus on my girls. Solely on my girls.

Scrapbooking the first 3 years of my girls lives - I have not started. However, my evenings will be free these first few weeks of August, and slapping some glue on some pics and throwing them in binders will be the minimal goal and I will get this done. And I continue to ask, why do I dread this so?

Update my online Research Course for Fall - Done. Almost. The finishing touches are going on tonight. No matter how late I need to stay up. But in the mad prepping of the past two weeks I learned something awesome. BYU has copy machines in their library that allow you to scan to your email. So instead of wasting all of my coins? I completely mastered the free world of scanning. Seriously, awesome.

We met Millie's teacher. And guess what? She assigned homework. Millie's first homework. And here is the result. All ready for the first day of class.

It's supposed to be Millie. And she did it all herself, cutting, pasting, coloring. The only thing that I did was tie the bow on top. But she placed it. Very Project Runway, don't you think?

As for that Wallace Stegner novel? Scratched. Because I have homework. 3 weeks until school starts, yet I have articles and a nice thick book to read.

So Stegner will have to wait 3 or 5 years. But at least this assigned book is one I've been wanting to read.

in mourning...

for the life that was full of potential but never realized.

doesn't returning to your childhood haunts do that to you?

it makes me sad. every time. and i think of things. like how in first grade i visited Portland, and then wrote that i did not see shark meat, avocados, or policemen on horse in really great handwriting.

my mom and my sister said it was really great hand writing. for first grade.

and i think. at that time. what potential was seen? and was it realized?

not fully. i'm sure. or at all in the manner imagined.

kind of sad.

and now.

the time spent with my girls is coming to an end. and i'm sad.

for i had a vision of the potential of that time. and it wasn't fully realized.

and i also really want that family that all lives near one another. so i can abuse privileges by utilizing the safety of cousins and comfort of siblings to shield me from anxiety and fear.

i've never had that. reliable, automatic, adult friends through family to hang out with on a school night.

but then again, i don't like people. and would probably en anger some.

and then i would have to apologize.

quoted and red. part 2.

So I created the title for yesterdays post. got poetic. and drifted from the intended topic.

I thought I should share the quote that got whisked away. Far from perfect. Doesn't really fit me. But alas, it's done.

Laughter is much more important that applause. Applause is almost a duty. Laughter is a reward.
~Carol Channing

I will be honest. I finally just thought, what do I like? And Carol Channing always pops into my head when I utter these 4 words. So I found a very Carol quote for my time of need. And while I agree. I don't think it truly fits my me-ness at this time in my life.

But you see, this is what happens when one is toasted. Red. From a day at Seven Peaks. And completely embarrassed at the fact that I'm being forced to purchase a new swimsuit bottom.

I spent a good 6 hours trying to hide the fact that what used to be my cute, sassy (and might I add flirty?) swimsuit skirt turns into an uneven, unflattering, evening gown when wet.

Seriously. And rolling it into the waist cannot hide the the atrocity.

You see, bras and swimsuits are in the same category for me. Purchase one every 10 years, and forget about it. Because shopping for these items is a pain. One that should be banished to once a decade. If that.

Unless it's a swim skirt that doesn't hold it's elastic past 2 or 3 years. Which forces you to swim in embarrassment or shop before ready.

So right now? Laughter is not a reward. Only a reminder of those 6 hours. With no place to hide.

quoted and red.

so i have some very intelligent friends. and it sounds like we all need to grab us a wallace stegner novel. stat.

which i will. because i have a plan.

july: update future classes. finish updating all photo albums. 5 years worth. for there will be no time for photos for 5 more years come the end of august.

august: focus. on. two. things. plus a little bit more. for august will be the end. of life. as. we. know. it. kindergarten begins. and i will not work for the first two weeks. only walks to school. and bonding. and a lingering with the final whisperings of toddler-ness. and weekends shall be devoted to freezing meals. 8 months worth. for that will be the next time that i might breathe long enough to cook.

and perhaps. somewhere. sometime. i can throw in a bit of wallace. just for fun. for fall will shroud all reading with discipline and learning. and novels will be replaced with responsibility. and due dates.

needing a quote.

So where do you go to find a quote that's supposed to be your favorite. Knowing that it will be listed under an image of you, out for all to view and judge. Based on someone else's words?

Seriously. I need a quote. As in yesterday.

skipping beats....

because my public relations failure received a slight reprieve this evening when I checked class enrollment for summer 2010.

i now have 4 students enrolled.

the past week, as i spent the wee hours of the eve working to create something to insight life changing educational experiences, i was slowly fading into grief. knowing that my hours of work would only be seen by two people. and realizing the effort might not be worth the outcome.

until tonight. logging in. dreading that number 2.

and then seeing 4.

hope has returned.

and fear.

for 3 masters and 1 phd.

to stay in the course.

and not drop.

continuity theory in human form.

and now i admit to the world the truth.

not too much here in regards to redeeming qualities.

i made cinnamon rolls.

to find redemption.

for everything.

but only found joy in the short journey to my stomach.

and it didn't work.

failure people.

right here.

at connecting with humans. siblings. plumbers. kids. PR.

neglect...

of anything not imminent.

And thus, my little blog, you have suffered neglect. But not to the extent of my hair, my eyebrows, my diet, my house, or my soul... Muah-ha-ha-ha-ha.

That was an evil laugh.
You know.
In case you couldn't hear.

So this is what you've missed. I think.

• Clin grew some hair.
  



• primary 1st counselor calling = utter chaos. as in all of the children look the same. and not one name sticks.
  


• Ellis threw up. on me. in cafe rio. a deep red gatorade. during rush hour. in front of the soda machine. and no one helped. and I aimed her on me, so as not to get others sick. and I watched as those around us slowly moved away. awesome.
  


• Aging and Arts Presentation at Theater Ed Forum @ BYU.
  


• Clin grew more hair.
  



• I gave up the ghost. Of diet coke that is.
  


• Ellis screaming.
  


• nursery toy drive.
  


• Millie screaming.
  


• cleaning nursery toys.
  


• Me - screaming.
  


• cleaning more nursery toys.
  


• more facial hair. for Clin. not me. Although Ellis likes to say, "ew. I kissed your beard," to both of her parents.
  


• Spring Break O Ten. Disneyland.
  


• Ellis throws up again. This time temperature won't come down. Until Clin realizes that I have been giving her expired medicine. Yeah for me! And Back to the Disneyland.
  


• Kindergarten orientation.
  


• The smell of bleach will not go away. Neither will the nursery toys.
  


• Snow for Spring.
  


• Millie's 5th Birthday: Scooter, Tag books, princess Tiana figurines, My Little Pony, memory game. And the declaration: "Now that I'm five I get to go to kindergarten. I do not go to preschool when I'm five."
  


• I'm still working on prepping my class for Summer. And realize, tonight, that only 1 person is registered. Hmmmm, so much for inspiring all of campus. Deadline approaches. Number of late nights increase.
  


• Millie tells me about her dream. I can't remember it now. But somehow, in someway she used the word drunk.
  


• Fiddler done. Beard gone. Hair cut. We now have Clin back. He is unrecognizable.
  


• Planning princess party as I feel that Millie should be allowed to make friends sometime in her life.

And.

PhD. I've been accepted. For Fall 2010.

I've said yes.

So be prepared for more neglect.

racing...

towards an end. sometime. in some way. do you know that feeling that invades after reading for eight hours straight? brain headache. of sorts. that is how i feel. all the time. right now. i can't get my mind to stop running. and just breathe. it won' stop racing. even when i close my eyes. or attempt escape. like through a post. such as this. it jumps to another place, another job, another thought. and I can't organize it. at all. it is everywhere. all the time. at once. continually. i am not in the moment. but ahead of the moment. or behind. i'm unsure.

and i don't know how. or when it will find release. it is out of control. and i am all over the place.

stacks of books. jump drives full of articles. i drown in pages of lists, thoughts, questions, quotes, references, resources, websites, videos.

and i can't seem to come up for air.

were you...

...told by interlibrary loan that your order of 30 books and articles had to be ordered from a different library? One that charges for ILL? And it will now cost you $174.00 to access resources that could make your class that much better?

Me too.

Good thing I got a grant.

Too bad none of it has actually materialized.

But I only spent one afternoon crying. Only one. Because, you see, I expect all good things in life to be free.

I need to get over that.

On to happier thoughts....

finally posting something that I should not forget.

Today's post is a multi-media experience. Click play on this clip. And then read.



Early January, Clin's Music Dance Theatre (MDT) class performed an evening of songs, dances, and group numbers that they had been working on throughout the semester.

Each year one number is a choreographed for a small group by a Kori Wakamatzu (former dance teacher) - usually modern or jazz. It's often audition only for the dancers. Difficult, and beautiful. Inspirational on the verge of a tear of two. I wish I had a video. But alas. I've been trying to simplify for anxiety sake and photos/video are not so much on my important list.

This year, the song was Run Away with Me - from the Unauthorized Biography of Samantha Brown. Which you are listening to right now. Or you should be. And if you are not, scroll up. Click play. Then return to the story.

At one point, a boy lifts a girl up over his head in some crazy, unexplainable feat.

Millie loudly proclaimed:

Mom, when I'm older can I be a girl so a boy can hold me like that?

Me:

No.

inspired...

from Liz Lerman Dance Exchange at The John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts' Millennium Stage.

spilt.

Today I made a lot of mistakes:

I forced myself out of bed.

I burnt a crockpot dinner.

I woke Millie from a nap at a stage when she never naps.

I purchased doritos for a rebate only to discover that they do not meet the rebate requirements.

I forgot to use a fifty cent coupon that expired today, causing me personal frustration at the knowledge that my ten items could have been $3.56 instead of the $4.06 I paid.

I boiled my hot chocolate to the point of overflowing - loosing half of the original cup to the microwave.

I wallowed in a pile of academic readings on art, creativity, and aging; accomplishing absolutely nothing.

And I allowed all of the above to accumulate into overwhelming anxiety.

photo via Dano

a fan...

of this:



the ending. right? Nice.

and it reminds me of my brother Bryan. and his wife Melissa.

because i think they would like it.

seeing my shadow...

this dragged me out of hybernation; making me feel.

good.

so did the flowers on the kitchen table. surprising me with a card and a small gift of ituneage for my orange pod.

and then. your list. and i saw my shadow.

which means six more weeks. at least.

...

Dear Blog,

I am too busy keeping warm under my Snuggie and listening to a bit 'o' Kate Nash, Regina Spektor, Iron & Wine, and The Be Good Tanyas to care.

As represented by the Christmas tree that stands fully adorned in our front window.

And the cookies in my belly.

Clin's vacation is over. The store ads declare the time is now for weight loss and organization. Newspapers are telling me all about resolutions for the new year.

I'm still working on the candy from my stocking.

Who knows when it will be gone.

--Me