[Insert Thoughts Here]

Red Rock Relay Training Record

2012-01-23T16:09:00.001-08:00

Monday January 23, 3 miles, 27 min., 9 min/mile

My Future

2012-01-09T20:35:00.000-08:00

Angel Mortensen
Are you going to Paris?

Jordan Reasor
I'm saving to. I'll have the money by Spring 2013.

Angel Mortensen
Fun Time! That would be awesome for you.

Jordan Reasor
I know! I expect to find love there.
And then you can get married.

Angel Mortensen
Just make sure you Make out on top of the Eiffel Tower!

Jordan Reasor
A small kiss...I'll leave him wanting more.

Angel Mortensen
Haha!

Jordan Reasor
And then I'll be carried away by a crowd of junior high students on summer tour, and we will never meet again.

Angel Mortensen
Haha!

Jordan Reasor
Until the summer of 2015 in NYC, in a quaint little coffee shop (book store?).
I will have a red rose that an old merchant gave me as a gift...
He will see the red of the rose, and the, the red of my lips, and remember...

Angel Mortensen
That night in Paris!

Jordan Reasor
And he will have with him his gaming coach, who will be a strapping fellow the size of a barge.
And then you will remember, Ben Schilaty's prophecy, and you will thank me for wearing a vintage red dress, in Pari'

What I Love

2011-12-30T22:04:00.000-08:00

I've been pretty snarky the past few...years. So I thought it might be nice to give up the keys to the snarkmobile and post something that might make me vomit.

I love...
1. Sugar free jam. It's like smooshing smashed fruit into your bread.

2. Watching married couples attempt to include each other in seemingly one-sided conversations.

3. When married men don't argue with their wives concerning bold statements that are obviously exaggerated.

4. Pickles. Someone has to. It ought to be me.

5. Cooked apples. They're sour and sweet, but not too sour or sweet. And you don't eat them on rice.

6. The texture of brown rice. It's like magic in my mouth.

7. Rubbing fake fur on my face.

8. Stuffed animals that are really soft and good looking.

9. Valentine's day. I love home made valentines, with lace and buttons and sappy poetry. I love it even if it comes from someone who doesn't mean it, because I can imagine that it comes from someone who does.

10. That I don't even consider buying clearance holiday candy.

11. Dental floss and baking soda toothpaste. The mint flavored kind tastes like the mint taffies with Christmas trees on them that you can only find at work holiday parties.

12. Having a reason to use a cartoon bandaid and being able to find one.

13. Canada. I love everything about Canada. I even love what I hate about Canada.

14. Being Mormon in Minnesota and being Minnesotan in Utah.

15. Running out of breath.

16. Winter hats.

17. Wet grass.

18. Sleeping bags.

19. My vacuum.

20. A spotless stove top.

21. Lip gloss.

22. Glitter.

23. The smell of paper.

24. Bright, solid fields of color.

25. Little kids who talk a lot and you can't understand a word they've said.

In a quaint little house in the Northwoods

2011-12-28T16:18:00.001-08:00

Sitting at the kitchen table playing with our electronics pretending not to be photographed.

Ticked Off

2011-10-13T11:57:00.000-07:00

I spend most days ticked off for at least 5 minutes.

Someone needs an attitude adjustment.

...and it's not me.

Running

2011-10-09T09:47:00.000-07:00

Did I really just practically run 10 miles?

No--9.73.

Running is a Brain Thing

2011-09-04T09:37:00.000-07:00

I ran 5 miles yesterday. It was the first time in a long time--since high school. I graduated 7 years ago.

Often I find my brain is a problem. I'm a little Monkish.

When I run I like to finish any distance on a solid number (9:00, 45:00, 45:30, 45:45). I use solid as an adjective referring to the inner strength of the number--the quality of it's soul, if you will. I like the seconds to progress in increments of 5. I especially prefer a number often rounded to on a clock (00:15, 00:30, 00:45). Although I get confused, noting the mileage in clock talk as I run. For instance, for a distance that reads 2.45, I instinctively believe I'm 3/4 of the way done with the 3rd mile, when in fact, I am not yet quite to the half way mark. I do this with money. If something costs $5.50, I believe that it costs nearly $6. As 5:50 on a clock is nearly 6:00 (And when typing I type h for 4 and vice versa).

Nothing delights me more than to finish a run (let's say it is a 3 mile run) on a solid number (27:00 minutes) which corresponds with all the other data displayed by the treadmill (Time: 27:00 minutes, Distance 3:00 miles, Calories: 300)--especially when the minutes per one mile calculate to a solid number likewise (9:00/mile), and if that number is less than 10.

While I'm calculating the percentage of the run that I've finished, and the percentage of each mile that I have left to go, while converting percentages to fractions, and the opposite, I am also now managing my thoughts. If I allow only happy thoughts to enter my mind as I run, then the run is quite successful, and the math aligns. The result is pleasing. If I do not--I am doomed.

This is especially difficult running on a treadmill in a public area where the TV's find themselves on preset stations. If I am running to a sports station, it does not serve as a proper distraction for me. If I am running to an infomercial, it is a fate worse than death. The hollow repetition grates the mind as repetitive thoughts are the number one cause of boredom, and the first sign of insanity. "Just shoot me now" is often one that places itself in my mind, if I have to hear about the magic melon in the south of France as Cindy Crawford saves the world. Although I prefer the super model and the game to trashy TV such as rich kids swear when they steal each others' soul mates (Jersey Shore) or scary men commit crimes for crazy reasons (Criminal Minds). I do not perform well panicked or put off.

Yesterday, I tried something new. I repeated to myself a simple thought, and was floored by the results.

"One mile at a time."

I especially appreciated how the phrase can be thought to the beat of my stride.

"One mile at a time."

I find I begin to convince myself that the last mile should be my last mile, so I repeated the phrase to the beat of my stride as I finished up a mile, and pressed through the start of another (and occasionally when I thought that I was finishing up a mile, and realized that again I was reading mileage as an analog clock).

I wish that I had footage of my run, because I noticed by the end of the 3rd mile and the start of the 4th that repeating "one mile at a time" had a particularly friendly connotation that compelled me to smile. At the end of the 4th and the start of the 5th, the phrase was almost funny.

Funk

2011-09-04T00:32:00.001-07:00

I'm not feeling social. I didn't think that it was obvious. Everyone keeps asking me if I'm OK, or if today's my quiet day.

Can't a girl just take a week to sit alone and think?

The Summer Is Over

2011-08-22T22:02:00.001-07:00

C says you just have to step back and look at the bigger picture.

I do get attention. I just don't get married. Who really has time for that right now anyway?

Let's Do The Math

2011-08-07T10:11:00.000-07:00

I've been test-driving this new and improved dating policy--Keep your options open!--hoping that it would alleviate unwarranted hearthurt. As it turns out, allowing yourself to consider dating more than the boy who interested you first, sometimes leads to triple action hearthurt (quadruple if you've considered four, and so on). Sometimes all three (or four) options fall out of reach in one night. If your lucky a replacement presents itself. If you're luckier, the replacement is not a smooth-talking, shifty-eyed scary guy. If you're luckiest you realize that nobody every really actually leaves the list unless they're married. It's like I always say, "Girlfriends come and go--Jordan is forever."

Here's the math:
J - (options A, B, and C) + (D, E, F, G, and H)
Where D, E, and F = S^3, G and H = surprisingly charming, and C is not a real number, B is my favorite number, and A may not actually have been on a date with that girl anyhow.

Always an Adventure

2011-08-06T10:43:00.000-07:00

Back to square one.

Race Results

2011-07-23T10:55:00.000-07:00

Boy Crazy

2011-07-21T11:04:00.000-07:00

I was feeling...distracted. So I took the Boy Crazy Quiz. I was surprised by the results:

Your score is 55. Your stuck in the middle, you like boys but they don't haunt your every breathing moment. You can do things without thinking about boys, you feel good about yourself whether a boy is around or not and you don't let everything boys do, say or don't do stress you out. Bravo, you have achieved balance!

Jordan Reasor is not a crayon.

2011-07-20T13:43:00.001-07:00

You know how the internet has this magical ability to perceive what ads are relevant to your life and fills the margins of your blog, facebook page, and google searches with enticing distractions? Not for me.

Apparently the internet is not really animate, and cannot, though it may try, tell gender or whatever else comes along with it.

Lucky for me, I'm confident in my femininity, thanks to a friend a who said he wants a woman who knows she's a woman. I've tried to know it and show it ever since.

If not, I'd be awfully confused by the pretty women who want to meet me everywhere I venture on the internet. Men have got it bad.

As a freshman at BYU, I tried to sell a book online, I spoke with perspective buyers via msn chat. One of them apparently could not separate business from pleasure, and struck a flirtatious tone with me. "This girl is flirting with me!" I thought, "That's weird." But, I didn't feel the need to say, "I'm selling a book, not a date, and I'm a girl by the way."

Finally she asked me who the girl was in my profile picture. It was me, but too embarrassed to embarrass her (boy I really should have), I told her it was my girlfriend. "What's her name?"

"Jordan."

"You have the same name?"

"Cool, huh?"

I deleted her from my contact list.

When I applied for housing and received a list of roommate names, I discovered that once again, I'd been man listed, I had to make some phone calls, to get a room with girls, because I'd be kicked out of the school for living with whom they assigned me.

Years later, even today, I'm approached by men who say, "You know you have a boy name?"

I am shocked.

Where have these people been? What do they know? And since when has telling a girl she's a boy have any social benefit?

Jordan has become increasingly popular as a girl's name since it first appeared in the top 1000 names in 1960. While the name was 5 times more popular for it's male appearance 100 years earlier, it is has been increasingly less popular as a boy name than as a girl name since it's feminine debut. Today 1 in 4 Jordan's are female. Get the picture?

From ThinkBabyNames.com
Jordan \j(o)-rdan, jor-dan\ as a girl's name (also used as boy's name Jordan), is pronounced JOR-dan. It is of Hebrew origin, and the meaning of Jordan is "down-flowing. Name of the major river in Palestine, used as a given name since the Crusades."

"Jordan \j(o)-rdan, jor-dan\ as a boy's name (also used as girl's name Jordan), is pronounced JOR-dan. It is of Hebrew origin, and the meaning of Jordan is "down-flowing". Name of the major river in Palestine, used as a given name since the Crusades. The name is influenced by the fame of basketball celebrity Michael Jordan and Nike's line of Air Jordan athletic shoes."

It is interesting to note that parents of boy Jordan's wish to evoke the powers of the basketball gods upon their child, and parents of girl Jordan's are sports illiterate.

YahooAnswerites do not agree.

Would you consider 'jordan' a girl name or a boy?

floyd04--Could go either way, but boy popped into my head first.
CherryB--for a boy. im sorry but if i think of it as a girls name i think of white trash. hmmmm idk why.
Christy_R--YES! I love it even more on a girl that is one of my top 5 names!
Kittysue--No matter how many girls use the name, I still think of it as a boys name

While the name is ill thought of elsewhere--

This name is awful. It's tacky and what we would describe here in Scotland as a "ned" name!
-- natalie11181 8/3/2005

and teenybopper Jordan's experiment with alternative names--

Jordan Leigh is my name, but I just like to be called Jordan. Sometimes I like my name to be spelled Jordyn instead of Jordan (sometimes). I love to be called Electra though. And Natalie the name isn't tacky. Take that opinion somewhere else.
-- Jorbor103 9/8/2005

Female Jordan's around the globe unite in cyberspace--

I used to hate my name. I thought that it was very embarrising to have a "boy name." And I used to get embarrassed when the substitute teacher would say, "Jordan, is he here today?" when they would take attendance. But now I realize what a cool name it is. I have had a lot of people comment on it. Every time I introduce myself to someone they always say that it is such a pretty name. I think it is cool that not very many girls are named Jordan. So to all you girl Jordans out there, don't ever wish your name was something else! You are beautiful and unique. Leave the names Ashley and Megan to all the other regular girls out there. Be the confident and unique one! And take the rude comments that others say about you as a grain of salt.
-- Jordan992 6/21/2005

Because--

This is the best name ever. Whoever has this name is super Cool!
-- BOB HINEY 9/18/2006

A bunch of nonsense to sooth my troubled mind

2011-07-19T22:08:00.000-07:00

Has it really been one year since I've written? I suppose it has. What a pity. My life has just become too personal for the world to see. So instead of writing here, I write on my private family blog--the important things: lists of boys I'd like to date...

That's about it.

Here is an excerpt from today's post:

"P.S. I may have lost What's His Face, and I know I lost What's His Other Face but I'm not taking it personal. Losing the game for a minute does not mean failure. You see, dating is just like soccer. You've got to get in the way of whoever is going to score--so they can't. And when they do anyway, you just have to knock people over until someone gets a foul."

I've taken up flirting. And by "flirting" I mean, not backing down when everyone else wants the same man that I want. It's turning out to be slightly more tricky than I expected. Clouds of discouragement waft when you least expect them, stealing your spotlight.

I was not funny at all today. Not at all, and it sucked. But, hey! Can a guy really expect a girl to be hilarious 24-7? I think not. I've got to have time for the finer things in life like work and school and play. Come on! I've finally become the girl that every guy dreams of...the athlete. No really, if the chart says it, he means it. I'm an athlete. I used to joke that now I just have to pick a sport. Now I have. I haven't narrowed it down, but who needs to keep things simple--Softball, Soccer, Kick Boxing, Hip Hop, White Water Rafting, Canasta, Pool, Cricket, Croquet.

When I go to bed I look forward to getting up and getting tired. It's fun. But in all the fuss, I lost my touch. I forgot how to flirt to win and I don't know what to do about it.

Please advise. Be sure to include the following:
Code Name
Relationship Status
A twenty dollar bill
The first verse of the national anthem of your choice

Can you handle that? Yes. Yes you can. And so can I.

Barney Five

2011-06-08T22:42:00.001-07:00

Or is it Barney Fife? Whatever he's called I met him tonight--back from the crypt. Well, he looked an awful lot like That One Inspirational Speaker Guy That Everyone Knows and Loves who lives Bytheway.

His Barney impression was the highlight of the evening. He spoke about making goals and working towards them--the value of work. I know now, that in six months time I WILL be Reba McEntire in the produce section of the Wal-mart that isn't even super just up the street (Who would have thought they made plain Wal-marts anymore).

...

This morning I set out to be a real person, again, by milling through the grocery adds for five different grocery stores in the neighborhood. I wrote a list of desired products, and located the best place to buy the item. Then I wrote a detailed list of stores to visit, grocery items to purchase at each store, and items to pick up anywhere along the way. It took all of 2 hours. Then my mom contacted me on Gchat for my sister who was on the freeway nearing the exit toward my place to inquire as to whether or not she should take it to pick me up and take me shopping with her today. Life without a phone is horrible disappointing and inconvenient. Life without a phone that has been found but not retrieved is somewhat exhilarating and inconvenient for everyone else around you. I gave the thumbs up and ran to the bathroom to splash water in my face.

After hours of shopping, I gunned it to the gym to meet my trainer (ten minutes late), weighed in (at 155.2--.2 from my goal weight), checked out after 40 minutes, slugged through the rest of it, and ran to Sam's club to purchase the four items I had designated were best buys in their grocery.

After 30 minutes of making the rounds, I soon realized that just about everything was a better price at Sam's. So I filled my cart and was on my way.

So--I tried saving money, and DID! Sam's club is the way to go (especially if you eat the same exact thing every day). I won't have to go back for at least a month.

...

I cut my hair so short my neighbor came over and exclaimed, "Who are you?"

So, I told him I was Reba.

Creeped Out

2011-06-07T19:50:00.000-07:00

I dreamt that some kid tried to kiss me. I was ticked. The result: Off of men for a couple months I think.

Black and Blue

2011-06-05T15:56:00.000-07:00

I've been excessively shy the past three weeks. But I think I've finally gotten over it.

On another note: I spoke with the freelance illustrator in my ward. He gave me his card, and said he'd be willing to answer any questions I have.

P.S. I may have broken my toe.

2011-05-23T07:09:00.001-07:00

What the heck am I doing?!

On another note:
I have a season pass to Seven Peaks Salt Lake, and I don't have a swimsuit.

I think I grew up

2011-05-09T07:02:00.000-07:00

I used to sit around and wait for boys to talk to me; to think the cute boys were for someone else; to only flirt with boys that didn't really matter.

Now...I don't.

Eat My Dust

2011-04-27T07:01:00.000-07:00

I stopped running when I got a personal trainer in September 2010. Since then I've lost 30 pounds and learned that mass exercise is way more exciting to me than running by yourself. But, yesterday, I had 55 minutes to squeeze in 60 minutes of cardio, and I was miles away from the gym. So, I revisited my routes. I ran across the street and did ten laps around the baseball stadium. I was pretty surprised to discover that I can run at a steady pace for an hour without thinking I'm going to die. Nearly 5 miles down and it was a breeze. This is good news, as I have to waste my sister Talyn in a 5K in May. She'll be running in Georgia. I'll be running in Utah. Same day. Same time.

Eat my dust girly-girl.

This made me laugh (My students are hilarious)

2011-03-16T15:12:00.000-07:00

My Heart Hurts A Little

2011-03-15T17:03:00.003-07:00

I need a cuddle from a gigantic fluffy puppy.

Redefining me.

2011-02-20T17:17:00.000-08:00

I got contacts and lost 30 pounds. Neat eh?

I met a cute boy who asked me out.

Must be the jeans B told me to buy. Wait--I was wearing a skirt.

Adding to my list of hobbies: Trying on old clothes and discovering how huge they are.

my week (in a sugar coated nutshell)

2011-02-17T07:08:00.000-08:00

I woke up Sunday morning at 10:15 am on the couch in the living room at my sister's house...wearing a snuggie. The snuggie made me highly suspicious. I had a horrible cold and 30 minutes to get dressed and be somewhere. I grabbed my things and dashed out the door--What? No car?

I dashed back in, crept up the stairs, peaked in my sister's bedroom, and asked for a ride home.

I ran up the stairs, threw my things on the floor, jumped in the shower, freshened up, jumped out, put my glasses in my wet hair--then they were gone.

I drove to my meeting ten minutes late with wet hair and a pair of old broken glasses balanced on my nose.

Monday: Valentine's Day. My favorite day of the year. I called in sick, stayed home from work. I was awake for two hours--to drink some orange juice, write lesson plans for Tuesday, and watch an TVO'ed episode of Bones.

Tuesday: I called in sick, stayed home from work. I was awake for four hours--to drink some orange juice, write lesson plans for Wednesday, watch 2 episodes of TVO'ed Bones, and talk to my sister on the phone. Went back to sleep at 10 pm.

Wednesday: Called in not sick. Got up. Got dressed. 20 minute nose bleed...twice. Called in late to work. Showed up. Stayed all day...even through parent/teacher conferences. Talked to a grand total of one parent.

Thursday: Slept in. Called not work. Got up. Raced around the room. Got dressed. Grabbed my keys. Ran down the stairs. Discovered I was blind. Ran up the stairs. Reached for my glasses. They were gone. Began to pray. As I say the opening lines, "Dear Heavenly Father...Please help me..." CRUNCH! Step on my glasses. Bust them. Now I own two pairs of broken glasses. Find the pair I wore on Sunday to look for the pair I haven't seen since this summer. Pray again. Find the camera cord I forgot I needed and the old glasses in the same box. Funny how that happens. Drove to work. Arrived late. Prep period. SIGH!

Maybe next week will be better.

Yearbook makes me sick.

2011-02-07T21:40:00.000-08:00

Or is it, I am sick, and still I have to stay up late to meet yearbook deadlines.

Good night.

Life Lessons

2011-02-06T08:34:00.000-08:00

My friend Chris was killed in a car accident on Sunday as he was leaving church.

I hope to someday record the things that I've learned from this experience in greater detail, but this is not the place, and now is not the time. A summary follows so that I don't forget:

Be in the right place at the right time.
Some things are more important than a bad hair day--baptism
Record your positive thoughts about people. Review them--a crush
Serve others-Be there when you know they need you.
Do it now.
Do it even though you don't know what it is that you are doing--extra flowers
Be positive--Christmas Caroling
Be a missionary--Christmas caroling, RS Newsletters
Laugh--"you guys are healthy", happy new year
Be a friend
Listen--technology
People first--business later--off work early to help me, moose
Say what you mean--eh...what for?
Little things are big things--water at Arctic Circle
Keep your eyes open--Step Up 3D, Fish Bowl
Do things even if you look like an idiot--Dance
Heavenly Father gives second chances--game night, nice notes
Heavenly Father has got your back--sick on Sunday, nice notes
Every meeting is important

The Green Hornet

2011-01-18T14:26:00.000-08:00

The Green Hornet is the first worst movie of the year.

The bad guy was more likable than the good guy. The good guy is a violent, illiterate pig. The Asian guy probably ruined his once ultra-promising career. The other characters are unbelievable.

The bad guy was more likable than the good guy.
This villain is reeking of class. He's calm, collected, and educated. He wears a nice suit. So maybe you see him violently take the lives of a handful of people (I lost count when I walked out of the theater). I like him still. He doesn't swear or engage in disgusting, chauvinist behavior.

The good guy is a violent, illiterate pig.
Filmmakers allow you to think for a split second that maybe the chubby, curly-haired kid might have one redeeming quality. When you realize the only thing the kid had going for him was that he was a kid for thirty seconds at the start of the film, the show is over.

Er...I wished it was. The audience was then delighted by the wreckless havock reeked on men who hadn't yet done anything to deserve it. The Green Hornet just might benefit from a lesson or two on killing with class from the bad guy, who at least had "good" reason to kill the men he did.

If the actor was sane, he might consider, next time (there won't be a next time), suggesting the writers include a word or two that does not begin with s and end with it. Sit. That's a good word. No, not very big--even Rogen might be able to handle it. I would sit through a film that wasn't as stupid as this one.

Pig. Another short word. But very descriptive. The Green Hornet is a pig. Say that ten times fast.

The Asian guy probably ruined his ultra-promising career.
Enough said.

The other characters are unbelievable
I don't know what possessed Cameron Diaz to agree to play the role of the smart, submissive, sexually harassed secretary. No one of her caliber would put up with that crap (remind my writer to insert a few words that do not start with c and end with ap. Cap. That's right. We'll put a cap on the number of indecent words that can be used in a PG-13 film review).

Why on earth are we supposed to believe that a man who fought for honesty in the media would not get to the bottom of things in his personal life? That kind of man doesn't exist. He's a fantastic character created to conjure the deception that it's OK to be an idiot if you think your dad was mean. I don't buy it.

I haven't decided yet who wins the award for single-handedly destroying American society: Ashton Kutcher or The Green Hornet gang? I'll let you know when I have a verdict.

Best Class Party Ever

2011-01-14T13:43:00.001-08:00

Blew up a ton of balloons...then we popped them all.

Cool.

I lost 20 pounds

2010-12-18T07:55:00.000-08:00

I put it somewhere, and I cannot seem to find it.

Dang, girl. I am lookin' fine!

Uptight

2010-12-12T09:25:00.000-08:00

Remember that one time, when I wasn't so uptight. I can't remember why not, or if it really happened. But, it was the best day of my life.

I'm going to make today that day...again...for the first time.

Surrealism

2010-12-12T09:18:00.000-08:00

Isn't great that the surrealists were just a bunch of crazies, and that life doesn't really have to be a dream, or controlled by the uncontrollable?

Over and out.

Single

2010-11-17T08:16:00.001-08:00

The best part about single is that you're single.

Nighttime in the day

2010-11-16T20:41:00.001-08:00

The best part about being tired is that you get to go to sleep at night.

Valentine's Day In July

2010-11-15T15:41:00.001-08:00

The best part about being single is that someday you can fall in love again.

Aren't you proud?

2010-11-04T15:43:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid, my mom was really involved in education politics. She wasn't the sit back and moan and groan type, or the scream and shout type. She was proactive type. She was the kind of mom who wanted her kids to have art, so she taught them art.

Today, my mom would be proud of me.

As a teacher, I have the opportunity to stand up for what I believe is right. I had several opportunities to do so in the past two days.

I defended a student's religious beliefs.
I broke up bible bashing session that erupted in my classroom this afternoon. I told them if they had well meaning questions they should ask me, because I'm Mormon, but I will not tolerate disrespect for anyone's beliefs in my classroom.
And, then, I was asked to chaperone a co-ed sleepover service project tomorrow evening.

It is no secret that I do not condone sleepovers of any type. Even when you are absolutely positive that everyone in attendance is well-meaning, you cannot be positive that everyone in attendance is well-meaning. Nothing good ever comes from sending your children to sleep away from home. After an hour or so of thought, I decided to stand up for something I feel very strongly about, in a small way. I informed the powers that be that I could not participate because I cannot promote nor condone sleepovers. In, true L.W.R. fashion pointed out that if I had children they would not be in attendance past ten tomorrow evening, and that if there were children whose parents believed they should be out longer, their parents should watch them. I offered to call parents to ask for volunteers.

Those of you who know me at all, will realize that as a Reasor, I feel speaking on the phone to strangers is the equivalent of having surgery with your eyes open.

Aren't you proud?

Sometimes you say real things that didn't come from you. But they were written for a reason, so you'd visit them when they really meant something.

2010-10-16T23:49:00.000-07:00

I haven't written anything regarding G because I had not yet felt that whatever it was that should be written had come to the fore of my mind and been approved by my heart.

The truth is, I don't want to lose him. I have begun to recognize what I had once forgot concerning the heartbreak I felt as a result of my inability to love. I had recorded on numerous occasions my concern that I did not know how to be loved. I realize now that knowing how to be loved is loving in return.

When A and I stood in the rain on the curbside waiting for J to pick us up from the library many years ago, and he fought his desire to give me his sweater, and I fought his desire to give me his sweater, I didn't know that if I had desired that night to show him that I loved him, all I had to do was take his sweater.

I'm worried tonight that I have not done enough to show G I care for him, because I didn't know that I did. I hope it isn't too late. I hope he hasn't given up on me.

Who's Bear?

2010-10-16T23:44:00.001-07:00

Good night, Bear.

Woof. I'm Not Going to Get This Done, Am I?

2010-10-16T19:46:00.000-07:00

I can't work on a laptop. I need paper. I need a pencil, a crayon, something. I need a printer, so I can get something done the way God intended.

Enough with technology.

I saw a commercial today, for an interactive game for kids. The get-you-to-buy-it line was this:

Once there were books, now, there's [insert name of crappy new age product here].

It's getting cold outside

2010-10-16T18:36:00.000-07:00

I tried to buy a sweater, but, I couldn't find one that I liked.

The unedited ramblings of some girl who's winning...at everything.

2010-10-14T10:13:00.001-07:00

It's been one month. Working with a personal trainer is probably the best thing that has ever happened to me. At the end of the long sluggish, I've got nothing to do but be a girlfriend, summer, I realized that the one thing that got me into, through, and out of a pretty strenuous university, had almost nearly been beaten absolutely positively out of me.

I used to think that I could do anything.

Maybe it was a long school year of perfectionist meets 75 wound-up alien children, or the move to a new location--or the, etc., so forth, and forever. Sure, maybe those things did me in. But do they really matter? Nah!

I've got the worst behind me.

I just needed someone to tell me what to do so I would do it.

We had a lock down drill during fourth period yesterday--you know, when you pretend there's an impostor with a machine gun roaming the building, so you lock the door, cover the window, stow the students in the corner, and pray to heaven they don't make a sound.

They were silent.

Victory!

I'm dressed like a little kid who bought her clothes one size too big because she's going to grow. I'm always short a safety pin.

It's pleasant, really.

I put on the dress that Uncle R bought for me to wear to the opera. No date? I'm going anyway. I'm going to wear that dress, and the red heels R bought me.

I once applied for a position with an online journal as the Salt Lake Single Ladies Representative. I'd taken on too much already, and opted out of the final stages of interviewing. Maybe I'll look into that again.

At Pilates I thought I feel great!

I looked in the mirror and said:

Dang girl. You're looking good. Look at that waist.

2010-10-07T21:55:00.000-07:00

Student: Miss Reasor do you know that little paper they give you that tells you your future? My mom's says that she will be blessed with two special boys. Pause. I haven't figured out why my brother is special but I know why I am--because I can read auras. Did you know that everyone has an aura? My mother doesn't know that I can read auras yet. I haven't told her. You see, I can read your aura. I know that you are nice.

Teacher: Well, that's nice.

Student 2: I know why she's nice. Because I know her religion. All of them are nice.

Student: That isn't necessarily true. There are a bunch in my ward who are sticklers.

I feel fine

2010-10-06T21:34:00.000-07:00

Its been a month or two, and I feel fine--Except for once a week on Sunday night.

Joe and Joey: Woah!

2010-09-05T16:56:00.000-07:00

Today's teenage heartthrob Joe Jonas is a remake of yester-years' Joey Lawrence. Woah!

I have to say I'm pleased that Joey's finally got a gig again to boost his popularity with none other than our favorite teenage witch...or those of us who are especially Melissa Joan Hart savvy...our favorite, desperate, artist, fiance' thief (You've gotta love those ABC Family original Christmas Specials).

While it can't replace the thrill of teenage witch meets AC Slater (or Kelli marries white collar FBI agent), Jonas LA comes fairly close.

I just can't keep my eyes off Joe. I'm convinced he's actually Joey Lawrence reincarnate. The hair, the pomp, the brotherly love--it's all too much.

I wonder if, someday, Joe will shave his head? I hope so. Let's keep this metaphor rolling.

forever

2010-08-30T14:14:00.001-07:00

I'm going to grade papers. And then, I'm going to run...forever.

Just this once

2010-08-29T00:18:00.000-07:00

For the record, I'm not ready for anybody to follow me around to find out why my shoes are worn. So...just stand back. I need some space; some time. I'm only going to say it nicely once.

Who knows?

2010-08-27T22:00:00.000-07:00

I just never really believe that the person who is supposed to care about me cares about me. I think I do, and then, when I step back, I realize that I've been holding out. You know that fairy tale-whatever when the prince has to discover why the women's shoes are worn to get the girl? My life is something like that, but, I'm the girl and my shoes are worn, and even I don't know why. The story's not nearly as delightful as gallivanting all night in a land of silver or gold. Did I just make that story up? Who knows?

The end

2010-08-21T12:27:00.000-07:00

"He said, 'Sometimes life throws you a curve ball.' I think he was calling me a curve ball."

In C's case, he caught it, and couldn't throw it back. In my case, the metaphor doesn't really apply, so I'm not going to go there.

But I will delight you with a little tale:
Once upon a time there was little girl in a fairytale, and then she got to the part in the movie where the viewer is supposed to have no idea what happens next, and switched rolls from the Princess to the viewer, and had no idea what was going to happen next.

I've always said I liked the movies that kept you guessing--the ones that addressed morals so perplexing they wouldn't leave you alone for the next couple weeks.

I've got plenty to think about. So, for the record, I don't like those movies anymore. They stink.

That was pretty nice

2010-07-17T22:17:00.000-07:00

"And plus, I'll bet you're a devil with a chalk."

Someone said this to me. That was pretty nice.

That was pretty nice

2010-07-17T21:55:00.001-07:00

"intelligent, witty girls, who have their own lives under control and don't depend on a man to run it for them"

Someone said this to me. Said I was one of them. That was pretty nice.

All Sanity Gone, with the Wind

2010-07-01T05:29:00.000-07:00

Ashley is an insult. Are there really men THAT stupid? I know, I know, we should address the fact that Scarlet is the most evil woman ever seen on screen, but mirrored by Melanie--a saint. Some may argue Melanie as ignorant. I don't believe it. And then, there is Red. Is it terrible to report that I know exactly who I'd cast to play the role of Red in real life? I know a couple Red's--they must be a common breed. I've never seen a character so accurately portrayed. Perhaps it's his multilevel personality--brave but weak, sweet but hurtful; and perhaps his complete disregard for all rules of civil society.

The point? There is none, except to say, "Who on earth would have thought that Gone with the Wind would have been all that?"

Together Again for the First Time

2010-06-27T09:11:00.000-07:00

I'm leaving on a jet plane on Tuesday to meet up with the fam' at our old place in da' hood--where my parents still reside--where we will be together again for the first time. However, hopefully, without the super embarrassing TV debut and the drug addictions. I could, however, deal with a cameo appearance from Blossom's classic Joey Lawrence and Saints and Soldiers Brit, Kirby Heybourne (Who knows what his character name was...I only care for Kirby).

You see, Kirby Heybourne and I go long back, to my sophomore year in college. I cut through the bookstore to get to the library from the Cougareat, and there he was--sitting there, signing autographs. I would have married him then, had I not discovered immediately following the event that he was already married. I would have to settle for the blonde jerk boy from Napolean Dynamite I discovered in the Wilkinson Center dining area a year later.

Then there was the time, we went to the Kirby Heybourne concert live at the Wilk as a joke, and Kirby gave a shout out to my soon to be famous brother-in-law, when his baby participated in some unnecessary baby sound production between sets. He knew Justin like the back of his hand because, he starred in a made for TV movie that Justin worked on--Together Again for the First Time.

There I am with Kirby.

Although its been great to say I knew the star before he fell off the face of the Mormon fan planet as a result of THIS, the crowning moment of my film debut WAS NOT, in fact, my association with Kirby, or my picture perfect, moviesque meeting with hairless Joey Lawrence (There I was--sitting on the sidewalk with my head in my palm at 1 am waiting. I looked up, and there he was, standing four feet in front of me in a suede sport jacket and tight fit jeans. "Joey Lawrence!" I thought. I could almost touch him, or at least toss a stone in his direction, and probably miss. He swung around, looked at me square in the eyes, and did the "I'm a cool boy" nod right at me. It was magic.)--or even the two hour search for a VHS and/or television set to watch the sketchy TV recording of the final film years later (we ended up watching it at a super open TV console by the forbidden "rent a camera" room of doom at the HBLL Library--of course that's another story.)--

The crowning moment of my film debut is that I am now two steps from Bob Saget and Reba McIntyre, and THAT has made all the difference.

I will die young to not die young

2010-06-09T12:41:00.000-07:00

I can't believe how tired I am...seriously...out. of. shape. But, I've got this boy who hangs around and smiles a lot. Apparently he's going to whip me into shape. We'll see.

The Absent Minded Professor

2010-06-02T12:22:00.000-07:00

In true Miss Reasor fashion. I drove all the way to work on memorial day to load the kiln to fire some clay. But I forgot the code that deactivates the alarm. So I found myself outside the building waiting for the police to come. Except, they didn't.

Wet With Tears

2010-05-13T16:13:00.000-07:00

"Teddy will you pose like a soldier so David can draw you?" I inquired carelessly. I took another look and saw his eyes were red.

"He's sad," Sarah informed me, "Because he's thinking about his cat."

He hung his head and began to weep.

"He is," I answered and turned to him, "If you need anything, let us know." He didn't look up.

I almost cried myself.

I hadn't really expected any of them to take this project seriously. I'd thrown it together last minute, because I'm required to teach it.

War memorials.

We're creating proposals for memorials to something important to us as individuals in our past, present, or future.

At the end of class, I collected the art from each table. I picked up his drawing--
a careful rendition of a fluffy little cat--wet with tears.

Mother's Day

2010-05-09T19:13:00.000-07:00

Slightly more sophisticated paper junk this year.
I love you, Ma.

This is nothin'

2010-05-06T21:05:00.000-07:00

Really. This is nothing. I could have shrimp for eyes. I could be a little boy who didn't have no mother and he didn't have no eyes. Now THAT would be bad news.

I guess

2010-05-06T18:41:00.001-07:00

It's not as easy as I thought it would be. I just wanted him to say it. Because if he doesn't, I can still hope. I don't want to hope. It's hope that hurts the most.

I can pretend it doesn't hurt when I'm in public, but when I get back home, alone with myself, I can't hide it. I can't hide it from me.

But then, I've been strong. Stronger than I've ever been. When it's important I can be strong. And that confuses me. Why doesn't it hurt when I begin to realize how much it hurts? The one time when I lost the one person I cared about most it wasn't painful. My heart was broken, my world was over, and I had done it to myself, but even now as I am writing this the things I want to say about how it's too hard and it doesn't make sense, and I can't understand it, become lies.

It's fine. It's OK. It doesn't really matter, because I guess I'll realize in a little while that I've learned something. So, maybe I've grown up. Maybe I'm not so self centered. Maybe it's important, somehow. I guess. OK. Alright then. Have I really said anything? No. I haven't. But, at least I feel pleasant about not having said it.

Chinese Dragon Acrostic

2010-05-05T07:38:00.000-07:00

A poem my fourth grader composed. It's really quite lovely:

Crazy and so
Hypnotizing and also
Impossible, Ironic,
Not at all boring and
Easy to tame.
Sensible Creatures [whose] lives are
Ending each day.

Dumb birds
Raged the dragon
And also make him crazy they love
Gum and
Octopus so now it's the end?
No more.

Booyah!

2010-05-04T22:18:00.000-07:00

I'm getting really good at life. I called yet another boy that I've been crushing on and told him, after six long months of misery (really just three weeks), that "I like you. Now repeat that back to me so I know that you understand what I am saying." It had taken him a couple of tries to get it, so I dropped the metaphors and went straight for the sixth grade vocab(Check Yes or No) After a lengthy discussion on dating and marriage he asked if I felt any better. "Nope. Well, I don't feel like I have to vomit anymore." (I really felt nauseous last night. It was surprising.) "What? After an hour of this you don't feel any better?"

"I'll feel better when I get an objective statement from you, either "yay" or "nay." Repeat after me. I will not ever want to date you Jordan."

The moral of the story is we are exactly where we started off. He refused to close the window of opportunity; So, I'm going to close it for him, because I have a date this weekend and that's just rude.

This is Jordan. Over and out.

What I Wish I Could Be Doing

2010-04-27T16:48:00.000-07:00

I keep thinking, why am I not doing what I wish I was doing? Chances are the answer is, I never really have allowed myself to agree upon what it is I wish I was doing. If my relationship with B has taught me anything it has taught me this: Life happens one day at a time.

I notice more everyday that I have an extreme personality. I may be conservatively dressed, I may have never touched a man in my life (really, not even his arm), and darn it, I may have never even sworn (except for once). I have never spoken the words poo or pea out loud, never believed crude was akin to amusing, never watched an R rated movie, never had a drink of alcohol or coffee or tea, never went shopping on a Sunday...

I am an extremely conservative individual. And, as such, I have believed for all this time that I am definitely NOT extreme. But here I have subconsciously included extreme as the modifier for the brand of conservatism to which I subscribe.

...

"I have to go law school. I've always felt like I had to go to law school, until I realized that the life of a lawyer was not conducive to the life of a mother, and so I resigned to marry a politician. When things did not work out with A, I assumed I had given up my role as the wife of the President..."

"There you go again."

"What?"

"You're so extreme."

"How?"

"You think you have to go to law school or marry a lawyer to be involved--to know something about the government...Why don't you just read a book or something?"

I'm reading 5000 Year Leap. I enjoy it, however, I find that it's not exactly what I had hoped. I find I prefer primary sources to convoluted spinning. It's a simple read. I just despise it because Glenn Beck is an advocate. I hate Glenn Beck really.

But that is beside the point, look at me...I'm reading.

...

I quit my job (not the one you're thinking). Let me restate that: I quit my secondary job. I did it months ago really, but just now they've found a replacement. They're letting me go, but, of course, before they did officially, they asked me one last time if I would reconsider. I did. And, then I realized that the job was not going to bring me any closer to doing what I wish I could be doing.

So, I'll occupy my time with something a little more suitable. I have a few ideas, as to what that something will be. I'll take things one day at a time, and then, I'll let you know if someday, I find I'm doing it--what I wish I could be doing.

A Messy Room

2010-04-22T18:17:00.000-07:00

My internet failed in the middle of The Big Sleep starring Humphrey Bogart and some woman I've never seen before. When I got things up and running, my Netflix instant streaming said "You have reached your limit for this month." So now I have to wait two lousy days to see it resolve. The AGONY!

And I no longer have any motivation to clean my room.

How neat.

2010-04-19T16:33:00.000-07:00

I've had to stop myself from reactivating my Facebook Account twice in the last 24 hours. AND, I've called a friend that I would naturally just message. How neat.

Yikes.

2010-04-18T17:51:00.001-07:00

I deactivated my Facebook Account. I just need a minute to step back and learn how to live life again--maybe make a few real friends. Yikes.

My dad likes to say that Paul Simon was prophetic when he penned the lyrics to Call Me Al--you know with the whole Bill Clinton-Monica Lewinski Scandal. I painted this in college. This is what my life has become.

Another Batch of Fifth Grade Poetry

2010-04-14T14:09:00.000-07:00

Love At First Sight

His smile lights
up the night. His eyes
are as blue as the
sea. His hair is like
sun on it's last look
at earth and me.
His personality is too
extraordinary no one
can describe. He
Lives for me and I
live for him. We will
always stand on high.

Hatred Voices

My life is a pit of despair,
But I know no one will ever care,
I'll go as far as I need to go,
Who I am I will show.

Hollow Inside

The swings are still with no one.
The house is quiet with no laughter
about. The school is
still with no
screaming on high.
My best friend is
gone with my soul
and my heart.

Pollution

The world is polluted.
The government doesn't care.
There are still beautiful sites in the world--
Like the one in front of me.

If There Weren't

If there weren't any drag races
dog fights, guns, ammo, and knofes,
If there weren't prisons, foster homes,
pounds, and crooks. If there weren't
any...

weapons, hospitals, jails, crooks,
police, war,
stabbing, policing,
kicking, pushing, shoving, name
calling, biting, spilling, stealing,
shoplifting, and fighting...

the world would be a happy place
birds singing, kids playing,
and happiness fills the air;
if only...

Random Things

I came outside
because I'm wide
And I didn't fit through
the door
I ate a bean
because it's mean
because I sat on the
floor.

Alone

Alone in the mist wanders
the heart. Neglect by the
warmth of love. As the
dove flies toward its roost,
death comes and turns
her loose, but her spirit
shall not fade for before
she flies to the valley of
death, she whispers in her
child's ear, "have no fear my darling,
for I will always be near," And
to the valley of death she flew.

Who knows?

2010-04-12T16:32:00.000-07:00

Man. Why can't I just get it right?

When I Was Young and Stupid: Yearbook Shout-outs

2010-04-10T16:13:00.000-07:00

Jordan-
Wow!! You are awesome, thank you so much for making anatomy so much fun. And trust me, if I ever need help removing baby rats from my armpit you are for sure the first on I'm calling. Whatever you do keep smiling and laughing, I don't know what I'd do without it. Have a great summer and have fun at college (not toooo much).

G.P

Memory Lane

2010-04-10T09:11:00.000-07:00

Pulling that old painting out of the closet initiated an onslaught of exploration down memory lane. I pulled out my old sketchbooks from college, high school, jr. high, and elementary school, and this is what I discovered:

Other than an overabundance of girls in bikinis and sleeping students (they were easy targets for figure drawing in the library at school--not the bikini girls), I've been creating characters since my earliest recollection of drawing--

A mermaid carefully construed and cut out on thick, beige card stock. She had pink hair. This is my earliest recollection of art making (other than scrubbing the wall above the stairs in the old house, because of an innate interest in crayon and marker graffiti).

I went to see How To Train Your Dragon last night, and for the third, maybe even fourth, forgotten time, I realized there is something I WANT to do with my life. That has been my biggest life struggle--deciding what I WANT to do, not what everyone else wants me to do, or what life says I should do, or what I think, naturally I should end up doing.

I'm not going to write it here, because I'm superstitious.

So, I'll simply state, that now I know, and I will patiently work my way toward this goal.

A Forgotten Painting

2010-04-10T08:13:00.000-07:00

This was the first and only painting that I created specifically for a show--A World Without Art. I can't even remember how it applies to the theme. It doesn't help that I painted over sections of the painting to change it up for another show--some religion scholarship show. While it was accepted into the show, I didn't receive a scholarship, nor do I remember the scripture that I changed the painting for, or it's title. Funny how that works. I guess it wasn't that important to me--only because I've never been completely satisfied with this work, I am however, satisfied with that hair.

I remember now why I tucked it away never to be seen for 3+ years. I just dug it out of storage. It's just that I don't like the changes I made to the painting. I prefer the original version. But, the painting, does make me want to get back into oil painting. I'd just need a place.

Positive

2010-04-09T15:53:00.000-07:00

The best part about the poetry is that the kids begged to share their work, and several students came to school with three or four more poems. Some rewrote their work in class. I was a little surprised at how thoughtful these ten year olds can be. One student wrote a poem about suicide and another from a pretty rough neighborhood about staying out of gangs. K didn't know where to go with her poem about the "silent killer" (sadness), I told her she ought to find a weapon to fight the silent killer and write about it in the last stanza. She came back with a beautiful closing line about love.

I raised my voice with a colleague the other day. We were discussing a victim of some serious bullying and I said we ought to include a positive blurb for parents to discuss with their children at home about the effects of bullying. He said the parents would whine and complain about us addressing such a negative topic. I said, "You can address a negative topic in a positive way." He interrupted me in utter disbelief. I got the impression he didn't believe what he was saying, he was just being negative. I interrupted him back and sternly, "There's ALWAYS A POSITIVE WAY TO DISCUSS THINGS!"

There were more than one pair of eyebrows raised in response to my response. "You've never seen me raise my voice," I said and continued,"I guess I'm just a little sensitive because..."

Fifth Grade Free Verse

2010-04-07T15:51:00.000-07:00

I decided to spout sonnets with the fifth grade today. We learned about the Hudson River School and talked about the word "ineffable" which means "unable to be described with words. We talked about how the painters felt the American Landscapes of the early 19th century were ineffable, but skilled writers did not. We learned the difference between traditional types of poetry that follow a specific rhyme or meter, and went exploring outside to find inspiration for poems of our own. These are a few of the poems my fifth graders produced--they begged to share their work with the class. So we had an impromptu poetry reading at the end of class--Aren't they beautiful:

1.
Oh great mountain, what secrets do you
hide? Is there a treasure of treasures?
Or a creature beyond belief?
Oh great mountain, reveal your secrets to me.

2.
All across the world's green field
little people will run and play, all
time seems to pass in a swipe of
my small hands, and, with it, my life and soul.
But my life does not change at
all. There's an edge, maybe a border
of my trust, now I must, at
all costs, live a long life, with
gold, silver, and bronze on the walls of
shame that I have visited in my
life, to go on the road to
Heaven and to relive my life in
secret. All I need is one small
fish, and my best friend. We
will need one ball, and I shoot
for a hoop and I always miss.

3.
The Small Creek of Life
This small little creek full of hidden treasures.
Though it is small it is important it gives life to many plants and animals such
as the tall milk weed plants. So many plants so little water so many plants
so many animals all because of one little creek. Now that I feel
I am done I leave this poem here to remember.

4.
Oh! For jolly joy spring has come!
The kids outside, the Dads at work;
Oh! fell the sunshine bear down upon you,
And when rain comes, everyone goes home
Just to get coats and boots
And when you think it is gloomy
everyone's splashing in puddles;
So for jolly joy come outside and,
enjoy spring, Cause it's shorter
than you think.

A Pretty Face

2010-04-06T16:20:00.001-07:00

I went swimming with a couple of boys. We were at a Mormon swimming party. At first I didn't notice that I was one of four girls in a one piece suit, and only two of those were modest.

I didn't notice the women were all skin, because I'm a woman--a woman and an art major. But the boys sure did.

"All the girls are in bikinis," they told me. I was surprised.

"Well, I guess they are, aren't they?" I replied.

I was impressed they had noticed and just as equally disappointed to find that noticing the girls were immodest didn't mean anything more than the boys had eyes.

"I almost got her number."

"The girl in the bikini?"

"Yah. I thought she was cute."

"Yah?"

"Her face, I mean..."

...

Once upon a time there was a girl who liked a boy and a boy who liked a girl after years of being acquainted. Then there was a new girl--a girl the boy had never seen before. Her clothes were tight and...but she was friendly. He fell for her. The girl who liked the boy was hurt because the boy who liked her had liked her because he knew her, and the girl he quickly settled for--well, he couldn't have known her, so he must have been attracted to...her face.

Moral: Some women make it difficult for the rest of us.

The End

Well, I guess it's not really the end. It's not the end because none of this really matters. None of it matters, because the people who matter--the really smart ones--well, they're really smart.

Prom Queen 2004

2010-04-05T20:57:00.001-07:00

Oh, don't get me wrong. I had a fabulous dress at prom that one time I went, and a pretty fabulous dress that other time I went. But this time was slightly more fabulous because I envisioned this bad boy and made it happen.

Take a look at this: Me and somebody else's husband.

P.S. I wasn't the prom queen, but some really nice stranger boy told me I looked beautiful ("Gee, that dress is beautiful"--same thing), and that was all I really needed, because the only girl in sleeves (at least when she's 17 at prom) is a little worried about what everyone else is thinking.

Prom Queen

2010-03-30T23:17:00.000-07:00

The next time I go to prom I'm definitely going to wear this dress.

Howling

2010-03-29T22:14:00.001-07:00

The wind is howling down the alley where my bedroom window lay.

Kindness Begins With Me

2010-03-28T08:52:00.000-07:00

Oh hey.

It'd be pretty nice if I wrote anything ever anymore. But I don't. I mean I do--but what I write is meant for me and no one else. So, there you have it.

Writing for an audience just doesn't allow me to meet the minimum requirement for self reflection. And, I really need to self reflect.

Just this last month I experienced a whirlwind of events that took a serious toll on my morale, and while I worked through things OK, I developed a couple of bad habits on the side.

I blame myself really. I was just putzing along wishing I knew why I was here (West Jordan) and what I was doing (What am I doing?), so I prayed to start learning the lessons I needed to learn so I can move on.

Then it all happened: the broken car, the one-sided relationship, the hospital visits, the disrespectful students, the sister moving across the country, the Blind Side (OK, not really on the list, but a good movie), the internet blunders, the mean boy, the other mean boy, the little old lady, the good for nothing son of the little old lady, etc.

I guess, I don't have lessons learned quite yet. But, here's a few ideas as to what may be on the test I'm taking: Kindness begins with me.

Hmmm--I guess that's only one. Kindness begins with me.

I've supplemented my scripture study with a search on lds.org: kindness. I've found some really neat conference talks. My favorite so far is Elder Wirthlin's. I keep it up on my lap top at work, and when some kid is rude or dishonest, I quietly walk to my laptop, sit down, read the title (just the title), and remember that when you're a kid (are we all kids?) you're allowed to be stupid, because you're just beginning to learn how not to be.

This will make my parents proud--one step closer to singing (rather than grunting) our family theme song with a smile (not a scowl). And, I might even consider the tune a thoughtful melody (Not an excruciating punishment). Because, I want to be kind to everyone, for that is right, you see. So, I say to myself, "Remember this: Kindness begins with me."

A step in the right direction

2010-03-23T21:41:00.000-07:00

Honesty is empowering.

But, maybe I should be more careful. I'm on a feminist power trip. Girl power this. Girl power that. Maybe I'm just fed up with being pushed around.

At least, at best, it's a step in the right direction.

Lace

2010-03-20T09:01:00.000-07:00

I hope to get married before I change my mind about lace.

Feeling Bad

2010-03-16T21:18:00.000-07:00

Now that I am past the angry, I need to skip the feeling bad--Because it's not even worth it.

I'm angry

2010-03-14T21:06:00.000-07:00

Anger is really debilitating.

I've tried it all

2010-03-13T17:33:00.001-08:00

I've decided to have long hair again.

My head is pounding

2010-03-05T21:44:00.000-08:00

I'm sick.

My head is pounding. I feel nauseous and I still don't have any food.

Let's add this to the list.

Pod People

2010-03-02T20:07:00.000-08:00

I've started to think of my body as a vehicle for my head--thinking that my entire body doesn't need an education; just my brain. I think that might be where I got off wrong.

Fifth Graders

2010-03-01T16:13:00.000-08:00

One of the reasons I like fifth graders: They put their heart into their work, and, sometimes it's pretty funny.

...

frogie was a super smart frog that could make a ship out of matter.
everyone loved him everyone but bob.Bob hated frogs he knew frogs cant talk.he was waching Funny cats on you tube when he had a evil idea...

...

The cowboy looked over the canyon as he drove the cattle into the corral. It had been a long and hard day.He left the rest of the work to his brothers and rode to the saddle shed.He took his saddle of his horse and led him to the pasture.He stretched,yawned and wandered to the bunkhouse.When he got there he started supper.He was clanging around with the pans when he heard gunshots.As he dropped the pan,he grabbed his gun and ran outside.Cattle rustlers had attacked and were driving off a few cows.He shot at them and wounded one,but the rest got away unharmed...

...

Once opon a time there was a girl named Anabelle and a boy named Issac after 3 or 4 years . Then they decied to get married on march 21,2010 and then 2 years later they had a baby and its name was Izabelle and she looked much like anabell best friend why would it look like her ?? anabell was mad.

...

They arrived to the city of Ghostywa. "What do you want?" said a deep low creepy voice, it was the king. "All we want is you to stop destroying our villages and our land!"said the queen. "Very well, we will stop if you stay and become my wife, to combine kingdoms, intermarry, and create a new breed of pixie...
..

Once upon a time there was a William that sold an invention.The man liked it so much he gave William a $BILLION.With the $BILLION he bought a mancion.He also bought a car making bissnes.AND HE LIVED LONG AND HAPPY FOR EVER AFTER.FIN [THE END]

Completely Unexpected

2010-02-28T09:14:00.001-08:00

And he dropped off the face of the planet.

Patience

2010-02-23T19:14:00.001-08:00

Just a little patience--that's all it takes. So, why don't I have it?

This is why I like him

2010-02-21T18:32:00.000-08:00

9) He laughs at the stories I tell about the stupid things I do, like he likes me because I’m an idiot--not because I’m smooth.

I've got nothing

2010-02-10T17:15:00.000-08:00

If I had something to say, I'd say it.
Unfortunately, I don't.
I wish I did.
But I don't.

Really.

When I Was Young and Stupid

2010-02-02T21:08:00.000-08:00

Kent and Kenji and I had the ultimate restaurant experience. Kent and I shared a bowl of soup and the best bread pudding I've ever had. The waiter was foreign and so polite--setting aside the fact that we were kids and Kent was in a swimsuit and had no shoes. That, I must say, was pretty funny; one of the high lights of my weekend-- Dining in a high class restaurant with Kent dressed as he was.

When I Was Young and Stupid

2010-02-01T21:49:00.000-08:00

December 6, 2003
I was in the h'orderve room waiting around watching them make h'orderves with my back to the door. Along came Alex to scare me. I screamed. He was startled and threw the plate of pickles he was carrying. We needed the pickles though so Angela and I picked them up off the floor to wash them...we washed them in the bathroom.

Group Flirtation Is Not A Sport

2010-01-31T21:20:00.000-08:00

Some people have no shame.
Too bad for them.

You Can't

2010-01-31T08:35:00.000-08:00

After the first few calls to cancel my mind reverted to that one time when I was a kid when that one girl I knew had a party and invited the entire school and only her best friend showed. That might make me happier. I don't like big groups of people. But how would I explain that I had said there would more of us.

First to show up were a bunch of boys. I had invited one and he said he'd bring friends. I assumed that meant girls. It didn't. Second to show up was another boy who brought a friend--another boy again. Third? Boy. Ah, man!
So there we were...me and the boys.

Should I say anything I thought.

Should I say that I'm really not a boy crazy lunatic--that I really invited just as many girls but the boys all came with more boys and the girls all called and canceled?

Can you say that and not sound like it's just some extravagant cover up?

It turns out you can't.

I've Got Curtains: Now I'm home

2010-01-30T09:21:00.000-08:00

A list of beautiful things:
Glitter rushing through water.
Chance. A field of flowers--untouched, untamed.
Cast shadows.
Natural light penetrating translucent material.
Metaphor: The Tale of Desperaux. Chiaroscuro. A symbol of all humanity...He witnessed the lighting of a match and his "soul was set afire."

Light.
Beautiful, refreshing, awful, pleasant, healing.

Aesthetic pleasure. Light. Gentle light. Diffused light--softly rushing, penetrating translucence. White wonder. Illuminating.

...It's a wonder what curtains can do for a room.

Baby Names

2010-01-25T19:56:00.000-08:00

I was the type of little girl who made lists of potential girl and boy baby names. The names I included on the list were never very popular. I made up half of them.

My sister just named her baby boy Reasor. That's her maiden name. It's mine too. I mean, it would be mine if I were married. It's unusual for a first name, but it sounds OK. It's a family name, and one that's dying out.

My grandpa had one son. His name was Michael. His son had no sons, and so, our line of Reasor dies with me on my wedding day (Assuming my little sister marries first). And then there is the random Reasor I met on Facebook. She doesn't really work into all of this.

So, what's the point? While everyone in Utah names their children something bogus, I think I'll skip out. There is one name I really like. It's plain and simple. But it's a name I know I can trust.

You thought I would reveal it? You'll have to wait ten years to hear. I don't want my sisters to steal it.

Recognition of a Simple Truth

2010-01-24T22:00:00.000-08:00

Some people are stupid.
Too bad for them.

My Neighbor--The Murderer

2010-01-19T20:36:00.000-08:00

He was a murderer.

Who else would drive a ghostly gray pick up that purred across the way every morning in the eery pre-dawn darkness. I wasn't sure of many things. But, of this I was sure.

I had suspected it for some time. I mentioned it once to my roommate.

“I think our neighbor is a murderer.”

“That’s nice," she said.

That was the end of it--until tonight.

I had gone out after dark to get a few mindless things done. Nothing really--I filled the tank, went to the bank, bought some stamps and breakfast cereal. Then I returned.

I parked in the driveway, unbuckled my belt, got out of the car, reached for the groceries, and juMPED.

WOAH WOOOOO!!!!

I whipped back to locate the source of the sound.

Nothing.

I looked up.

Out of an upstairs window, in the house across the street, through the open blinds, poured an eery, yellow incandescent light around his silhouette.

He peered at me.

I scowled.

I turned around, and then looked back.

He shut the blinds, all except for a narrow slit.

I thrust open the door threw the groceries on the floor, flipped around to secure the bolt, and bolted into the living room.

“Our neighbor’s a murderer!” I declared.

The TV hmmmed.

“That’s nice,” she replied.

Why Are Friends So Hard to Come By?

2010-01-18T21:31:00.000-08:00

Then there is Stewart.

When we spoke on the phone I felt like I was home. I felt like I was speaking with a real friend…Can I just tell him that? He was awfully quiet on Sunday—even morose. He didn’t say much, but I was gutsy. I left the piano after the sacrament hymn and walked across the congregation to ask if I could sit beside him. He was just sitting there alone. I can’t imagine why no one else would rush to sit beside him.

I am going to be his friend.

I’m going to call him tomorrow and tell him that. I’m going to say, “Stewart, I wish we were friends. I’ve tried making friends for months now and still you’re the only person I've met who is any fun. Why can’t we be friends?”

And he’ll say, “I thought we WERE friends." They always do.

I will roll my eyes, which he will not see, and I will respond hesitantly, “The kind of friends who speaks to each other outside of Sunday School; The kind who support one another, and entertain one another, and know something about one another.”

He’ll pause for a moment, and breath in, as he processes the craziness I've presented. Then he'll answer, “OK?”

And I’ll continue,“But I'm paranoid. You know why I'm paranoid. It’s just that there’s a severe shortage of anyone remotely entertaining around. And it HAS to be a real waste to purposefully ignore anyone you actually get along with, because you don’t find people like that very often--at least I don’t.”

Then the awkward silence that should exist at this point will not exist, because there are no awkward silences with him, and he’ll say, "Let me think about it," and we’ll say our goodbyes, and I will never hear from him again. BUT, at least I will have told him.

Squealing

2010-01-12T15:11:00.001-08:00

You know your life should be a movie when you send home notes like these to parents:

[Student] received several warnings for making distracting, high-pitched squeals in class today.

Diary of a Frenzied Mind

2010-01-09T11:04:00.001-08:00

You wish you had video footage of my morning.

I Will Survive

2010-01-08T14:21:00.000-08:00

It's days like these that really get'ya.