Can I Be the Second Worst Missionary?

Wendy texted this morning, having discovered the awesomenes of Jamie the Very Worst Missionary's blog.  She thought I would like her, and she was correct!  I was all into keeping up with her irreverant but somehow incredibly reverent (read her to know what I mean) stories before I went to Mongolia, but I had forgotten about her.

In news that will quickly connect to the paragraph above, I've been having thoughts about my blog.  I want very much to be honest here, to lay out my weaknesses and strengths, to tell the story of my life so others might be inspired, take caution from, or whatever.  But of course, I like that best when I lay out myself and everyone approves.  When people start disagreeing or frowning or ignoring, then I shrivel up and think "whyyyy?  why does no one love me?  why am I not perfect?"

You could say I am terribly self-conscious, and you would be correct.

Back to Wendy and Jamie TVWM.  I went to her blog, and guess what her latest post was?  Read it here.

Guess that answers that.

Things I Love: Aa

Adele

This woman.  I want her to sing at every major event of my life.  Rolling in the Deep is popular and deservedly so, but Someone Like You will always be my favorite.  Luckily, she just sang it at the VMAs, so I've got a nifty little video to prove how much soul she pours into her songs.

 Animals

I've only found one person in the world who share my belief that it is far sadder (in movies, at least) when animals die than people.  In fact, I refuse point blank to watch "animal" movies.  This might sound like a counter-argument to loving animals, but those stupid animal movies always kill off one or more!  STOP IT.  I want to see cute animals frolicking and living!  No deaths.

You know the way some women get around babies?  Where they lose their command of the English language and instead just mumble nonsense words?  That's me with animals.  I'm pretty sure I tell my dog I love her more than I tell any humans.

So why are animals so awesome?  Because they are innocents!  They just live life, loving simple pleasures, not overthinking their existence or relationships.  They can be beautiful, ugly, completely strange, or huggly adorable.

Anthropologie

In 2009, my mom and I visited Roy and had an epic roadtrip down the West Coast.  We parked in Portland, walked on to the street, and turned left.  I shrieked, out loud, in public.  Why?  Because my all time favorite clothing store was right there, and I'd never been to one before.  It might seem strange that it was my favorite store before ever going to one, but that's because you've forgotten about the internet.

However, I've never bought anything from Anthropologie, because their prices are ridiculous, yo.

Alex Day

If I asked you what my greatest weakness is, what might you say?  Unless you answered "snarky British boys," I'm afraid you are incorrect.  And that is why Alex Day, the snarkiest of British boys, is my Youtube True Love.  I first discovered him because of his series of videos reading Twilight and intelligently ripping it to shreds.

"Now, this is a normal person glare.  The only way I could imagine a bizarre glare would be this."

"It's a bit like a subplot, except I don't care at all."

"I could reach out meaning to touch your face...and crush your skull by mistake?!  If that isn't a warning sign to leave this relationship, I don't know what is."

But he doesn't just read Twilight!  That was ages ago.  I just got distracted with the quoting.  He updates his vlog about weekly, and every single time I end up cracking up.  Also loving him.  I may or may not have had more than two dreams in which we hang out and he loves me.  This...might be a problem.

Anime

I don't think I was terribly into cartoons when I was a kid.  I mean, I loved Disney movies (still do).  But Saturday morning cartoons?  I was mostly into those real people shows, like Saved by the Bell and Hang Time.  Except for one.  I was obsessed with Digimon, and absolutely horrified by the fact that I loved it so.  I used to lock myself in my parent's room when it came on, because obviously they would find nothing strange about that.  It blew my mind, and I'm pretty sure it made me cry at one point.

But I went the entirety of my first 20 years never admitting to myself or definitely to others that I liked anime.  Until, for one semester, this girl moved into my dorm.  The only thing I remember about her is that she was dating a 50-year-old man, and also she introduced me to the wonder of anime.

We watched Studio Ghibli movies, which made me go, "Oh yes, I see the awesomeness, *zzzzzzzz*"  (I will say that in Senegal I watched more of his movies with Yayoi, and I liked them a lot more.)  And then she brought out Fruits Basket.  Not only did this show convince me to become an out and proud anime lover, it even got my nerd-phobic roommates to watch and love it.  The three of us even got into a fight when we got to the end of the season (after three days of non-stop watching it after classes) and couldn't agree whether to finish it through midnight or save it for the next day.

Tohru is this bright light of humanity who wanders into a cursed family and makes them all better.  Sounds cheesy, and it is for awhile.  But then the show really delves into how their curse affects their lives, and like other things in this list, this show made me laugh and cry.  Oh, and Kyo is the funniest, most outrageous character ever, and I love him.

From there, I just kind of took off into the world of anime and manga.  Some is too graphically violent for my tastes, and I tend to gravitate toward the ridiculous shojo romantic sop, but whatever.  It's so much fun!

Hair

For the past week, I have been swaggering around Peoria, swishing my hair and knowing that I look better than ever before.

I love how I cut my hair. I love the darker color. I think I look super chic and stylin'. Every single morning I have grinned at myself as I left my room, because my hair is so awesome.

And no one (besides a quick comment from Bill) has said a word. I can't really draw attention to this, because you can't say, "Do you find my hair blindingly attractive?" without sounding pompous.

Then I went to Jackson, and Dusty said he liked my haircut, which, coming from the man who makes fun of me more than anyone else in the world combined, is like an atomic bomb compliment. And Jennie said she liked the darker color, that the difference was very obvious.

So now, every time I change my hair, I'm swinging by Jackson first for a bit of an ego pick-me-up.

(Also, compliments are this point are invalid. Even if you genuinely mean them, I will not believe you. Hahaha, of course, maybe everyone just hates it, and Jennie, Dusty, and I have very weird taste. THIS IS A REAL POSSIBILITY.)

Encouragement Fail

My mom and I were reminiscing about how I was an English major for one whole semester.


Mom: I do wish you would still do something with writing.

Me: I keep a blog.

Mom: Something more!

Me: ...

Mom: Youre so good! Everyone should read your stuff. Just send something in.

Me: I don't think you understand how difficult it is to get something published.

Mom: I would read it!

Me: I did start a book in Mongolia. Did you read that scene I posted on my blog?

Mom: Well, see, I didn't finish that one.


LOL, encouragement. You're doing it wrong.

Giddy Rambling Kinda Sorta With A Point?

My self-worth is hugely dependent on other people's opinions of me.  I know this is not the way it ought to be, but it is the way that it is.  When I was in middle school, I thought the more AIM windows I had going, the cooler I was, and the more I was worth as a human being.

I have not actually matured much since middle school.  I have simply expanded my internet trolling.  And tonight I felt so happy!  First Whitney was hilarious and answered all my hypothetical dating questions from yesterday (with the best being: Of course you will marry a geek, why is that a question?).  Then Laura sent me all sorts of David Tennant links.  Then I found out a stranger on tumblr had sent me the gif of John Simm that I wanted, and it was just a squee feeling of strangers helping each other out.  And I talked with Stephanie on the phone!  And then Mary and I had an epic conversation on facebook comments, which made me lol several times and then suddenly made me spiritually conscious.

All these people I love, some current big figures in my life, some past, some random, talking to me!  I LOVE FRIENDS.

Also I realized I need to be spiritually aware more often.  I am very quickly being sucked into the glittering abyss of entertainment.  So I'm limiting myself to only two TV shows a day (remember when we pledged to do that, like, a year ago, Stephanie?), which is so sad that that is a sacrifice.

Baby steps!  Because of friends in Scotland who I've only seen in real life for three days.  God does cool things with people and crossing timelines.

The story I want to tell is very short and necessitates a massive amount of backstory. I'm pretty sure this is the worst way to tell a story, but I'm also pretty sure I can't be bothered to care.

FLASHBACK

So in April, I fangirled over a magician who chose me to tie him up in a straightjacket, and promptly hired him for our Summer Reading Program. He was our last performance in June. He showed up two hours early and talked with me nearly that whole time. Later that night he Facebook friended me (ooo la la) and invited me to be his date to a movie premiere. I was enormously flattered, since he is the first person to ever ask me out, but also massively freaked out, because he is the first person to ever ask me out.

I played for time, told him I wouldn't give him an answer until I returned from Mongolia, and left my blog in plain view for him to read if he chose to stalk me further. While driving through the Mongolian countryside, I decided I would tell him no, for various reasons. But when I got back, he had already unfriended me on Facebook. I can only assume he either a) disliked my frequent mentionings of God, b) disliked my frequent mentionings of bathrooms, or c) found a hotter librarian.

END FLASHBACK

Today my boss and I had a bit of a girly chat. She asked if I had heard back from "that magician guy" and I explained the situation to her. She paused, then said she didn't envy me. If her husband died, she said, she didn't think she would try to date and get remarried.

I nodded as she voiced my insecurities and hesitations. "Mmhm, Mmhm," I thought. "Dating and commitment are far too scary! You are so right."

"It's a different world from when I was dating. All the diseases! There are so many diseases to worry about now."

Diseases!? I have never once worried about diseases! Ugh. One more thing to add to my awkward conversation with prospective husbands: "Excuse me, but do you mind if I love God more than you? And can you guarantee me privacy at least for thirty minutes every day, maybe more? How about geekery? Can you handle the fact that I will never find you as sexy as David Tennant? Oh, and by the way, what diseases do you carry around in your private bits?"

Oh man, just kidding. That imaginary conversation has completely changed the point of this post. I have now decided that DATING WILL BE SO FUN.

When Memories Become Fiction

I like to think that I'm not shallow, but hahaha, obvs that is not true. I've finished all the David Tennant episodes of Doctor Who, and this morning (hurray for the return of my lazy Monday mornings!) I started watching Matt Smith as the Doctor.

I watched with squinted eyes, ready to hate everything about him. But then he opened his mouth, and oh my word. He has the sexiest voice. He sounds ike Heath Ledger in a British movie. And that sexy voice was all it took for me to look favorably on the 11th Doctor.

In other news, I got lost on my way to the Teen Librarian meeting at the Washington library. But afterwards, I caught up with my Brimfield librarian friend! She is so sweet--she immediately asked about Mongolia, and said she'd been looking forward to hearing my stories today.

As I told her about it, I experienced that really awful feeling where real stories feel like fiction. I've only been back in the US less than a month, but wandering the streets of Ulaanbaatar, peeing in an open field, and manipulating my mouth into forming Mongolian words seems so long ago.

This is my least favorite part of traveling. And here is my one reason why traveling alone is bad: there is no one to help keep the memories of your trip alive.

Now I'm sad. And I desperately want to return to Mongolia, get the second half of Anya's mom's kiss, curl up in my bed with the itty bitty pillow, and wake up to Gany knocking on the apartment door, whisking me off on another adventure.

...that sounded like Doctor Who. No wonder I loved it there so much! Ugh. Gosh darn it, I only lasted three weeks stateside, and I'm already itching for more travel. Wanderlust is inconvenient!

Nope, There's No Title For This

I am embarrassingly awful at hiding my emotions. There are certain people I just need to completely avoid, apparently, because I can't help but act like a smitten puppy no matter what. Cringe.

But I get to see Jennie and Dusty in five days! And talk weddings with Ashley in six! YAY! I'm so looking forward to this trip to Jackson.

She Only Reads Books and She Cannot Draw

I can't draw imaginatively, but I love to steal other people's drawings off the internet and try to recreate them.

And you know what feels good?  When I can get the shapes and body parts in the right places and dimensions THE FIRST TIME TRYING.

I'm like a drawing rock star.  Copier.  That's a thing, right?

My drawing pad is also a good indication of my obsessions.  First it was my friends, then a LOT of Harry Potter, and now Doctor Who is taking over.

Hahahaha, that sounds awful.  It is awful.  Oh well!

*Anyone know where the blog title comes from?  YOU SHOULD, if you....find humor....humorous.*

Animals Vs. Babies (CAGEFIGHT!) (no not really)

I'm maybe going to get a kitten in October (gosh darn it, Mom and Dad, just go to Italy and come back already!), so I've been a bit Little Animals crazy lately.  Thankfully, the Bakers got a puppy, and Mom has been taking it out during lunch for them.  Since Mom was busy today, I walked over and played with him.  He is adorable but kind of needy and pesky.

Mom compared it to having a baby.

"But--" she said.

I nodded sagely and finished, "Animals are cuter."

That was...not what she meant?  So we had a long argument about whether or not animals or babies were better, and neither of us could be convinced.  Finally, she said, "If you feel that way, you probably shouldn't have kids."

"Not telling me anything I don't want to hear," I answered.

"If you adopt a kid, you still have to keep them."

"Hm...I will just wait and adopt them when they are old, so I don't have to take care of them for very long."

I'm going to be a brilliant mother.  Ugh.  Nope, that's still weird.  Don't want to be a mother.

I Think I Met Charisma Personified

My favorite book vender came today to sell non-fiction.  He is super friendly and charismatic.  I kind of want him to be my father-in-law, because in just two hours, he told me 1) Christians would be better off if we just shut up and listened to God, 2) his wife threw him a surprise party for his 50th birthday in which all his friends brought cheap bottles of wine with names that reminded them of him, 3) it's sad his wife can't talk about Jesus in her social worker role, because that's the only thing that would really help those kids, and 4) his father was cursing up a stream when they coerced him into driving their son to the airport, which was really a surprise mission trip to the Dominican Republic.

These are all of my favorite things!  He must not be Baptist.

He also told me about his son, who just graduated from Annapolis with the second highest number of medals in the history of the school (WHAT?).  And he told me about his nephew, who just spent a couple months working in African schools, helping organize new buildings for kids too far from cities.

Then he asked how old I was and whether I was single, and mused that he should get me to date...one of them?  I'm not sure, he talked really fast.

So what I said was, "Yes, okay.  Both?"

Haha, no.  I'm scared of everything.  What I really said was, "Eh, long distance would be a pain."

Moral Quandries

I love shows like Battlestar Galactica, Doctor Who, and Torchwood, because they introduce all these moral quandries that you can't quite explore realistically in our world.

For instance, in the Children of the Earth miniseries, there is this really excellent scene where I gaped at the characters on screen, absolutely repulsed by their decision.  "I would NEVER do that!" I thought.  "Never even consider it!  That's horrible and inhuman!  I mean, right?  I wouldn't do that?  But I guess the alternative...and it kind of makes sense....OH GOSH WOULD I!?"

Your turn!  Let's say an alien race appears on earth.  It says that you have to give up 10% of the world's children or else it will destroy everyone.  It shows you that it is more than capable of doing so.  What is your response?  Do you give up the children, or fight and therefore die along with the entire planet?

And it gets trickier and more disgusting when YOU and you alone are in the know.  If you decide to give up the children, how do you pick which children?  Is it a fair lottery?  Do you include your children/grandchildren/brothers/sisters/nieces/nephews in the lottery?  Do you pick kids from poor schools?  Do you pick orphans?  Do you pick the handicapped?

MY SOUL IS CRYING.

I'm really hoping there's another option, because there's still one episode left, and I'm hoping Captain Jack Harness will somehow bypass "give up the children" and "die" and find the hidden option 3.  Please!

But regardless, good show!  It's nice to stretch some hypothetical moral muscles.

BAM! Feminist Manifesto

In light of my recent post, I want to clarify something.

'Feminist' is not a bad word! 

It makes me sad, genuinely sad, when people clarify "but I'm not a feminist."  Whyever not?  Especially women.  I mean, I can understand men not wanting to be feminists.  They've got all the cultural power, and it makes sense not to want to give that up.  That's why men who are feminists rock my soul.  Jesus messed with gender expectations all over the place.  Joss Whedon is an outspoken feminist in Hollywood of all places (and if you need to look anywhere to see gender inequality, just look at Hollywood).  My brother hugely respects women and actually taught me how to be a better feminist.

But women?  When you avoid calling yourself a feminist, it's like you're saying, "but I agree with the fact that myself and all humans with two X chromosomes are genetically inferior to those with an X and a Y."  Why would you agree to that, and furthermore, why would you support that idea and continue it?

Feminism doesn't mean thinking women and men are exactly the same.  It does mean thinking that men and women are equals.  No matter the differences, no matter the similarities, both sexes deserve equal status, equal pay, and equal respect. 

How is that a bad thing?  Here's a pretty graph.



If you found yourself shocked and/or appalled by this, and especially if you think, "well something should be done to change that!" then you, my friend, are a feminist!  Welcome!  It's not a dirty word, I promise.

Oh, and real quick, about the stereotype of "angry feminists."  First of all, that's silly.  Stereotypes are always silly, because in a group of people, not once is everyone exactly the same (unless you get together a group of clones).  But the ones who are angry?  So what?  Feminists are men and women who see oppression and inequality in the world, in their workplace, and in their homes, and they find that inequality repellant.  Of course they get angry!  We should be angry when we see something that is wrong!

And to lighten the mood, here's a real life example of feminism.  On a mission trip, Ashley and I were sitting at the top of a roof throwing shingles to boys who were doing the nailing, because heights are not my friend, and also I have no experience with nail guns.  One of the boys said, "Sure, girls.  Leave the work to the men!"  I snapped and said, "I'm incompetent because I'm incompetent, not because I'm a woman."  And then Ashley got up and worked circles around him. 

And that's feminism.  Owning our skills and our weaknesses as individuals rather than hiding behind labels such as "man" "woman" "masculine" or "feminine."

So, please.  Women, have a little pride.  Men, have a little humility.  Women are not inherently inferior to men.

Nerdfighting

The other day I was getting into an excited rant about how awesome it is to be a nerd, because why would you love something a little when you could love it a lot? When I see something I like, I want to talk about it all the time, introduce my friends to it, dress like it, analyze the deeper meanings, make jokes about it, and look up fan sites about it online. That is far more preferable than saying, "Eh, yeah, it was pretty okay."

I was feeling pretty good about myself until I realized I was skimming the top off a fabulous quote of John Green, Head Nerdfighter and writer extraordinaire.

"Saying 'I notice you're a nerd' is like saying 'Hey, I notice that you'd rather be intelligent than be stupid, that you'd rather be thoughtful than be vapid, that you believe there are things that matter more than the arrest record of Lindsay Lohan.' Why is that?"

Me Too?

I was listening to a song that will be HOPEified, and although it says "men of God" I was totally relating to its theme of rising up and standing firm in faith. Then I learned it was for the mens, and that if I wanted, I could be a part of the bridge, as "the girl who isn't married, but is looking for a guy like this."

There usually aren't specific instances where I feel my feminism exploding, but this was one. Sure, a guy like that would be great. But you know what else would be great? If I could be like that! And I'm not going to sit around waiting for some mythical man when there is spiritual work God and I could be doing in my life.

I mean, sure, whatever. It's good we're encouraging the men in our church. But women need encouragement too. Next song, please?

I figured I would have mentioned this already, as it's fairly important, but I haven't! So here it is: I am genuinely happy to be in Peoria. I like my life right now. I'm not itching to leave.

I think my realization in Mongolia that I'm still in the waiting phase of missions did me wonders. With the possibility of "but maybe" hanging over my head, I could never really settle here. Just a simple brain click, and there it is.

It also helps that I have a friend at work, that I have kind of a lot of friends again, that I'm watching an awesome TV show, that I enjoy my job, that I've realized I can travel a lot by flying all over the US, and that God helps my fears.

And that's a fun story. The day I got back from Mongolia/Chicago, I actively stopped reading my Bible and praying. For no reason. I just didn't want it. And that whole first week, I would go to bed terrified that someone was going to break into my room and hurt me (no doubt influenced by conversations with Gany and Kim). But here's the thing--I thought, I bet if I read my Bible before sleeping, I wouldn't be so scared. And then I would think, "Meh, I don't care. I don't want to read it so there." Because I'm stupid and obstinate.

Finally after a week, I cent stand it anymore, and I got back into reading my Bible morning and night and praying. And I haven't been scared since. Weird.

So yeah, life is good. I love being happy.

Adventures and Being Adventurous

I think people sometimes view me as an adventurer.  When Stephanie and I interviewed our friends about what they thought of us, Bruce called us "spontaneous."  When I told people about Mongolia, they often said something like, "omg!  You're going alone?"  All of which has added up to me thinking that others see me as cooler than I am.

Because yes, okay, going to Mongolia on my own was pretty badass.  But the typical day in my life?  Goes like this:  I have an idea of an awesome party or adventure.  Then I decide to watch a TV show instead.  Or a friend calls me up to hang out, and I decline because I'm in the middle of a really good book.

I am usually very boring.  A homebody.  An introvert.

But then, I do like the idea of adventure.  I love new things, weird things, awkward things.  The getting me to do it, though?  Pretty difficult.

For instance.  Two years ago, Stephanie and I decided it would be totally awesome if we went to Harry Potter Land in FL.  At the time, I thought, "That will never happen."  Two months ago, Stephanie called to tell me that she had planned the whole trip....with two other people, but of course I should come too.  I mostly felt pissed and betrayed and unneeded, so I decided not to go.

And then I watched Doctor Who.  And the image of him, hand outstetched, offering new worlds and adventure, fun and possible danger?  It resonated deep inside me.  Having  a life of adventure means making choices.  It means choosing to do something out of the ordinary, throwing caution or good sense out the window for the sake of an awesome experience.

So now I'm choosing to go to Harry Potter Land.  I'm going to fly there and back in a weekend.  I'm going to drink butterbeer and buy Chocolate Frogs and take pictures of everything.  I'm going to have fun with Stephanie and her friend, and also....I'm bringing Laura.  Because even the Doctor, adventurer extraordinaire, likes to have a companion.

The Pain of Life, as revealed in doctor who

For several weeks, you got to have endless posts about Mongolia.  Now there are endless posts about Doctor Who!  Mwahahaha!  No, not really, because I have finished season 4 and must now take a break to catch up continuity by watching seasons 2 and 3 of Torchwood.

However.  I have feeeelings.  These kind of feelings:

You might remember how I got overly emotional at the season 2 finale of Doctor Who.  At the time, I had never cried so hard at a TV show (movie/book/etc) before.  And maybe this wasn't as bad, but it might have been.  There was definitely blanket biting and sobbing involved.

Which got me thinking.  WHY?  Why do these stories affect me so much?  And I figured it out.  In both of these finales, we are forewarned that the Doctor's companions are going to die.  So I'm prepared for the worst, ready to watch them go out as heroes and shed a few tears.  And then the loophole kicks in and THERE ARE WORSE THINGS THAN DEATH.

In season 2, Rose is forever (kinda sorta) separated from the Doctor.  She can never travel with him, see new worlds, and experience that kind of reckless, important, and awesome life ever again.  In season 4, Donna has her mind wiped by the Doctor.  She can never travel with him, see new worlds, and experience that kind of reckless, important, and awesome life ever again.

Some reviewers I read were complaining about that, how promising a character death but not delivering lessens the impact.  I could not disagree more, because their fates are much sadder to me than mere death.  They have to endure, to live on with the pain of separation.

And that is why I love Doctor Who, because it gets deeper than merely the pain of death.  It deals with the pain of life.

Geeking Out

On Friday night, I dressed up like Dumbledore and had the best time with 50 kids who came to the library aka Hogwarts.  They called me "Hey Dumbledore" the whole night.  When I got onto several boys who were wearing Dark Marks, half tried to duel me, and the other half I convinced to be double agents.  Many said it was "SO MUCH FUN" and one kid fell over in wishfulness, saying, "Why can't school be like this?"

Best library party ever.  Also, I want to find more reasons to dress up.  It is so fun!

I've been trying to watch as much Doctor Who as possible this weekend, which has been sadly interrupted by an unprecedented amount of social activity.  I hung out with Michelle, ate dinner with my grandparents, partied at the Monahan's, went to Missions Sunday, went golfing (er, golf cart driving with Lindsay, really) with the Wineingers, and stopped by the bowling alley.

I KNOW.

I was trying to get Emily into Doctor Who.  Unsuccessfully, to her detriment.  You know when you say something, then realize just how true that thing is?  Different parts of the brain sparking at different speeds.  I told Emily that Doctor Who is generally a decent show, with average fun episodes.  But one fourth of the show just suddenly becomes mind-blowingly awesome, and it is those episodes that make me a fanatic.

I just watched two such episodes.  AND MY MIND IS BLOWN.

Yesterday I put as my facebook status: "Some girls are waiting for their Prince Charming.  I'm waiting for the Doctor."  Not very many people got it, but I meant it so hard.  Traveling through space and time, being witty, marveling at his genius?  Yes please!

I really enjoy being a geek.

Huh.

I had dinner with a high school friend, and I started to talk about how I really missed college but not high school, which.  You know.  Is vaguely insulting to a friend from high school.  But she picked up the dropped ball and said, "Yeah, you always seemed just done.  From the beginning.  Didn't you even try to graduate early?  Yeah?  We all thought you couldn't get out fast enough."

And.  I didn't know other people thought this about me?  Which I realize is stupid because I talk about it all the time.  I am constantly searching for the next adventure, the next place, the next fun.  I just didn't know that everyone was as aware (or more so) of this as I am.

So I'm going to stop that.  Hopefully.  Because now it just feels really rude.  Even though she didn't say it as an accusation or anything, I just felt like it is no longer an okay emotion when everyone is aware that you are always mildly dissatisfied.

Quelfing (not as dirty as it sounds)

I've been busy since returning to Peoria.  Working.  Unpacking.  Fixing pictures.  SEEING HARRY POTTER.  (Which maybe doesn't deserve caps.  I didn't love it, which seems to be an unpopular opinion on the interwebs.  But, the scene where Harry walks to his death?  Oh, the tears.)  In the midst of all this busyness, I have neglected to relate my Senegal Reunion Weekend.  Which was very awesome, and therefore totally deserving of a blog post. 

I was a bit nervous on Friday, because Mallory and Mary were coming around 4:00, and Liz wasn't coming in until midnight.  Mallory and I had had some epic adventures in Senegal, but I didn't know Mary at all, and I feared being the third wheel.  Silly worrying.  I love them separately, and I love them together.  You know when you find someone with your exact sense of humor?  Mine is irreverent, sarcastic, constant, and dry.  Previously shared with Josephine.  Now shared with Mallory and Mary.  Oh my word, they crack me up so hard.

We played Quelf on Friday night.  It's a game that advertises itself as random, and the advertising doesn't lie.  If there is one thing I like, it is randomness, so obviously, Quelf is my new favorite game.  I had to move my piece with my elbows and mime falling down an elevator shaft.  Kim had to belly dance.  I had to shout, "I command you to be silent!" every time someone laughed.  Mallory did a one-man can-can.  So much fun, every second.

At midnight, Kim and I went to pick up Liz from Midway.  I love that we can instantly reconnect and laugh, which granted, was made easy as I regaled her with my love life.  Some things were embarrassing in front of Kim, because I cannot quite get out of my mind that she is my spiritual mentor.  But whatever.  You're supposed to share your life with your mentor, yes?

Liz and I stupidly stayed up until maybe 3:00 a.m. talking even though we had to get up at 7:00 to go to Chicago!  The whole Forsythe fam came, plus Kim's sister Tammy, who served as our guide.  The main thing we did was walk and walk and walk.  We saw Grant Park and Millenium Park.  We saw the Spirit of Chicago and the new Marilyn Monroe statue.  We went to Borders and the library.  AND.  We ate at Ed Debevics, the restaurant where the staff is rude to you.

Our waiter was cute, let me get that out of the way first.  While ordering drinks, I was the only one to get water, which made him mutter, "Of course you do."  When he returned with drinks in hand, he stood behind me and said, "High Maintenence!" at which point I turned around and took my water, before realizing I had answered to "high maintenence."  Oops.

Ethan had been skeptical about people being mean to him, but he quickly fell in love with the concept.  So much so that he started hitting the waiter every time he walked by.  Travis also had a ball, and thought it would be hilarious to ask the waiter which one of us he thought had lived in Africa.  He chose Liz (of course), and then we all had a good time saying, "It was all of us!"  With this new information in hand, our waiter left.  Ethan hit him.  Our waiter shouted, "Stop punching me, missionary!"  Best.  Of.  All.

Also, all the waiters did a dance.  In the windows.  With twists and swim arms.  And our waiter didn't smile at all!  I leaned over to Nate and Liz and said, "Is it horrible that I have a crush on our rude waiter?"  Nate made a face, but Liz said, "Oh my gosh!  I do too!  Why do we always like the mean ones?"

Chicago was a win.  We were all dead tired when we got home to Joliet, however, and instead of staying up having fun, we fell asleep by 10:00.  The next morning, the four of us drove to church to hear Kim and Travis talk about Senegal.  Then it was back to the house to eat leftovers and wait for the Woodlanders and Friendshippers who came to the big Senegal reunion party.  Where we played Quelf again!  And it was still awesome.

I had a really excellent weekend, and I love Liz, Mallory, and Mary an awful lot.  It is nice to be around people like myself, who remind me that I am not totally weird.  It's so fun to have conversations that go, "I just got back from Mongolia.  How was your time in Nicaragua last month?  And how do you feel about leaving for Scotland next week?" without anyone being even slightly surprised or impressed about traveling.  Also we're all kind of weird.  Maybe that is a pre-requisite for living in Senegal?