Mary Versus the Trumpeting Legions of Apathy

I feel just a little white-guilty about Hawaii. I mean, it was a sovereign nation that we annexed mostly because of corporate pressure. It's so remote, so different culturally, that my niece (who has been living here for 3 months) was shocked that it was a state: "This is part of America ?!" she exclaimed. No kidding. That being said, it hasn't been a bad trip out here so far. Most delightfully, we've averaged a pineapple a day.

Jess Lally's wedding where I got to see Sister Pearson again. sailing in San Francisco On a Run with my Nephews Eden Hatchets the Shark Melon Birthday pre-birthday with Henry Birthday Pre-Birthday with DC Friends Actual Birthday in Texas

I'm a good traveler. Part of what this means is that I like going to new and/or exotic locales, eat weird foods, talk with strangers and not know 100% where I'm going to sleep. But this also means that I'm good at the traveling part. This is the 8-hour-flight part, the legs-tucked-up-on-your-luggage part, the waiting-at-the-bus-station part. I'm good at hunkering down, entering my own headspace and getting through the actual process of travel. This has made me terrible at road trips. Because for all I want to see the remarkable things passing me by at 70 miles-per-hour, I also just want to hold my pee, eat a granola bar and finally get there. It's hard for me to stop my flow and get out to look around, but this time, this drive from California to Utah, solo, I was going to have the road trip I kept meaning to have. I needed to take one sister's car from the other sister's house to our parents and there was no deadline of when I has to be there.  So I c...

Last night I canceled on a party that I agreed to go to thirty minutes earlier. A party that I had practically begged to be invited to, and invited others to. Not cool. In fact, as I sat down and started listing all the people and activities I had flaked out on that week, the list was chringingly long. Something's got to change. I feel icky when I flake out, but most importantly, being a flake suggests that I don't actually care about the people I make plans with, that something else coming up, being tired or cold or hungry is enough for me to bail on the being who planned on me being there. "Flake" is just another word for "selfish." I remembe r Sarah Westerberg's speech about this years ago: "Whether your commitments are in the form of promises, pledges, covenants, callings, contracts, or your word of honor, they must be kept. Whether they are commitments that are spiritual in nature, legal contracts, or seemingly trivial temporal thin...

I think it surprises people when they hear that I write horror. I am cute, cute little blonde Mormon girl, and often smiley and cheerful. But although they don't know it, I am one happy childhood away from being a goth. So why do I write horror? How do I reconcile my general joy in life with a genre that has the reputation of attracting alcoholic dyspeptic misanthropes? I think I write horror because I love people. I love humanity in the abstract and individuals I meet, almost every single one of them. My philosophy underscores again and again the ways in which people are remarkable--individual, resilient, inspiring. This has been proved to me through so many different experiences: through the testimonies that I hear from the pulpit, through the personal statements I consult over at work, in the books that I read. People are able to so incredible, able to write poetry and construct spaceships and fall in love and conquer nations. For me, the horror of horror is this--people are r...

Just spent a melancholy half-hour on the bus, listening to the Decemberists' 2011 album The King is Dead . Oh, the first half-hour of the ride wasn't bad, read Enos, listened to a book about crusades, but the second half, staring out the window listening to the music that had so moved me a year ago, I got to nostalgia. I'm constitutionally prone to nostalgia, especially at the turning of the seasons: late spring and early fall. This time I started thinking of all the people who used to be such a part of my life, part of the routines of my days and weeks, who simply aren't any more. They've moved or I've moved and they keep moving and I keep moving. Jon Stoddard who went to Utah or Jon Johnson, who just went 20 miles south; Carrie von Bosie, who used to run grad student lunch, or Beth who used to haunt the institute building. Amy and Lindsey who I used to live with. My sister who is now two moves away from San Antonio--I don't even turn onto the street by h...

I'm gonna count this for a whole month of journalling, because I somehow can't just have new years resolutions: I need to have new months. Actually, I set a lot of goals. Goal setting is probably one of my strengths. Goal achieving being a totally different thing. But I love Sundays for reflecting, and Fast Sundays are like King Sunday for reflection. Here's the nuts and bolts of it: Ah, February... What I Did Not Do: Write a full draft of my dissertation Lose 5 pounds What I Did Do: Enjoyed a visit from my parents to Texas Figured out my weekly routine Finish revising my novel Send my novel to an actual agent of novels Party it up: Pink Dance, dates, "Knitting Circle" Move to a new apartment with a new roommate Start a new novel Get an article accepted for publication Study the heck out of the idea of love and friendship in the gospel Ah, March... What I'd Like to Do:   Lose 5 pounds Write a full draft of my dissertation Run a lot mo...