Working with kids (mainly ages 12 to 20 months) is a huge eye-opening experience on multiple levels. Its amazing to watch how much and how quickly they learn, but on the flipside, the fact that they are learning the majority of it while I'm not paying attention is scary. This week merited a huge wake up call on my part. Let me illustrate -

I was picking up a child to set her on my lap, when suddenly I bumped a hangnail that was on my thumb, and it hurt like CRAZY. I made a little yelp, and immediately stuck my thumb in my mouth. Lali (the girl on my lap, about one and a half years old) didn't notice anything, but to my surprise Tavin (who'll be two in a few months) came running over to me at full speed with a look of concern in his eyes. He asked, "She bite? (translation: Did she bite you?)" while patting my arm. I smiled and said no. It really touched me that his reaction was probably a very close imitation of how he saw me and my fellow teachers respond to an 'owie.'

Later on in the week, complete pandemonium was ensuing during lunchtime. There was food everywhere, and many of the children were dumping their sippy cups out onto their plates and smushing the concoctions around, art-sculpture style. The ones who weren't engaged in that pursuit were either crying or running around the room.

Lunchtime is usually hectic, since all of the kids are tired and hungry. That day was worse than usual, however. In a last ditch attempt to establish some kind of order, I asked Ben to sit in his chair. He did, but when I turned around again, he was up on it again, and jumping. I was startled, a bit scared, and alot irritated when I blurted out, "Benedict!!" (That's his real first name.) It wasn't loud, but it wasn't kind, either. He was a little agast, and sat down. As he did, Rory (one of the older toddlers), looked in Ben's direction and said in the same tone that I had used, "Ben-nih-nid!" He scowled as he said it, and Ben's little expression fell when his friend berated him.

I can assure you that I have no desire to ever use the full-name-treatment again. Working with my babies is like holding up a very honest mirror to my own disposition and actions, and it helps me to get some kind of taste of what having my own children and being a parent is going to be like someday. Beautiful, but also occasionally terrifying.


I've finally gotten a blogspot of my own!

Hurray! I'm already pumped about it. Just so I can have all of my blogs/ramblings in one spot, my first post here will be a collection of all the myspace blogs I want to keep 'for posterity'.

I had to fight myself pretty hard not to correct/edit/add to each individual blog, because there's so much about each one I'd love to change. But, instead, here they are, in all their grammatical error and glory.


[11 Nov 2007 Sunday] 12:50 AM - Dear poopyface.

You don't get to know how I'm doing, and what I've been up to. You don't get to tell me about how in love you are with her, and how your life is wonderful. You don't get to know what my life has been like the past year. You don't really even have a right to send me a polite email, like we're friends. We're not. We're not even technically exes, which makes this even weirder. You've never held my hand. We've never eaten dinner together and caught a movie. You've never kissed me. You've never even looked in my eyes and told me you loved me.You did a good job of ending it all - and when you did, you surrendered your right to know how I'm really doing. Last time I let you in, you broke me... So you're not allowed back in my life. Ever. Even as a distant friend. As much as I dislike sounding like a cheesy teen movie, I wish I could hate you. I wish that I could physically purge myself of all the memories that have you in them, so that when you drop random emails my way they don't come rushing back like you never did me dirty.But you did. And I hate that I sent you a reply the moment I opened it. I hate that I sat for an hour and read all of the old letters we had sent back and forth when I had first moved away from The Bay. I hate that it made me cry. I hate that I can't hate you for it. Please leave me alone, and let me be happy.


[10 Aug 2007 Friday] 8:09 PM - Karma Points.

I know it probably reduces the effectiveness of my positive-karma-juju when I show off my good deeds. Whatever. I'm very pleased with myself for not betchslapping anyone today.It's been one of those days. Er, one of those weeks. Gah. Scenario One: I pulled into the parking lot at the gas station down the street from my work. I was stoked it was so close, because that way I could fill up on my break, and not waste a whole lot of time. And I was uber-excited that it was only 2.63 a gallon. I noticed a car that was just about to pull out and free up a pump right in front of me. I stationed myself behind him, wanting to high-five myself on how time-efficient this trip was going to be.Out of nowhere, some grizzly looking hick with a boat rigged behind his truck comes running towards me, waving his arms. He goes, "No way! I was waiting here, for this pump! Uh-uh! I have to pull in from the other side, that's why I was parked way over here ....(bla bla bla)."For half a second, I wanted to roll up to the pump, politely tell him to brush his teeth(they were brown), and proceed to fill up my tank.But, I didn't. I smiled and said, "No problem!" I waved, and since I had to be back at work, I just drove back to the daycare. Scenario two(same day): I was driving home, and I was extremely glad my day was about to be over. Two teachers had asked for the day off. It had been "Splash Day" for my class, which meant I was now flying solo in getting 19 four year olds in and out of bathing suits, putting on SPF, locating towels, and not losing anyone's socks, underwear, or fairy princess skirts. So, to say the least, it had been a long day. I'm driving down a street next to DHS, and out of nowhere there's these three kids on skateboards, who's pants were too WAY TOO TIGHT, and who could have been -at most- 11 or 12 years old. They were playing chicken, and the fattest, stupidest one was literally rolling exactly down the middle of the street. Barely moving. The car in front of me just honked and went around them, and the hoodlums laughed.I wanted to roll down my window, and using a few choice 4 letter words, tell them I was going to follow them home and tell their mothers what they were doing. Or, just hit them. Not hard, just enough to scare them.(Just kidding. Mostly.)Instead, I drove around and gave them a medium-intensity deathstare.I can practically hear the karma points adding up. Cha-ching.Note to my friends: feel free in using my comment space to brag about your good deeds. It feels great.


[23 Oct 2007 Tuesday] 8:03 PM - Why being a preschool teacher ROCKS.

Quotes....from my students. Enjoy.

(Matthew, 4) "If my mom was ugly, I'd throw her in the trash."

(Kiley, 5) "MISS TAMI! Cutter just called me a poopy ASS."

(Gaven, 4) "Oh, man! I love rootbeer. My dad loves real beer. It helps him grow his beard. That's why they call it BEER."

(Dillon, 4) "Oh my gosh guys, Britney Spears, she shaved her head all the way bald. And she is a girl!"(Gretchen, 5) "I know. Bwitney Spears is a pwetty girl, but she doesn't know vewy much about life."(Dillon) "I KNOW!! She doesn't even know spanish!"

(Kiley, 5) "Um, teacher. Chuckie the doll came into Jaymee's house and knocked over her table, then bit her on the knee. Then, he came to my house and killed my dog."(Me) "Wow, you have such a big imagination!"(Kiley)"EXCEPT, It's real. And scary."(Me) "Okay."

"Your brain will pop open if a witch stabs you in the head, you know." - Audrey, 5

(While staring at a friend in amazement) "I have never seen a human eat a popsicle that fast." - Dillon

Andrew, 5, is really intelligent for his age and is also obsessed with fireworks. He brings in pyrotechnic catalogs all the time, and tells me everything he learns. One day, I asked, "Andrew, why do you know so much about fireworks?"Matter of factly, he goes, "That's just the way God made me."


[11 Jun 2007 Monday] 11:26 PM - Nanner, Nanner, Nanner.

So, I was in 7-11 today before work, grabbing a Dr. Pepper and some energy bars for breakfast. I walked in and there were these three guys wearing dirty white shirts milling around… not really buying anything, just hanging out. When I came in they all looked up. I stared at my shoes - not embarrassed- but because I generally hate being the center of attention, especially in a situation that I have no control over. They started mumbling stuff and then one of them whistled. Okay, timeout for a sec.…..SO – it's almost flattering to get attention in that form. Even from dirty-shirted mongrel men ....Almost. Because when a guy whistles at you, he's not really complimenting YOU – he's wordlessly admiring whatever body parts of yours that he digs. It's nice to know that he likes what he sees, but then on the flipside, to be seen as nothing more than a jumble of pleasing body parts is incredibly demeaning... Because if he thought of you as more than that, he would actually speak to you like a human being. Instead, he feels that only your body merits some kind of attention - not you as a person. HENCE - the whistle. Okay, back to my story.So, my plan was to run a marathon to the drink fridge, buy my stuff,and get out of there as fast as I could. I knew they were harmless - but it's always so awkward and irritating to feel out numbered and semi-harassed. BUT... Then I decided I was done. Done being worried that on my way out, one of them might try to grab my butt. Done worrying that what I was wearing, how I did my hair, how I walked, etc. sent a signal that made me somehow responsible for what they said, did, or the greedy way they looked at me. I'm totally done looking at the ground, feeling embarrassed and oddly ashamed when I'm in a situation like that one. Being in charge of 18+ wiggly, opinionated five year olds everyday has really does wonders for my assertiveness.I spun around at the second whistle. I crossed my arms, raised my eyebrows – and gave them the nastiest 'angry teacher' look I could manage. It's fairly terrifying."Can I help you?" Silence. Then, the best part - their slightly shocked, vacant expressions. "That's what I thought." I thanked the cashier and walked out. When I was in my car, they came outside -and I stared at them. Hard. They looked away. I had a great day.


[18 Apr 2007 Wednesday] 7:45 PM - Don't you dare put his picture on the front page. Current

School shootings scare the crap out of me - and in an instant, afer the initial numbness and shock, there's this strange familiar chill, a deadness, that comes. It's the same cold that i felt on 4-20, aftter school my 8th grade year. I was sitting stock still on my couch for hours, watching Columbine unfold on the news. My leg fell asleep and I still couldn't move - shocked and scared and sad and mad all at once. It does alot to you. It pissed me off to the point of tears the next day when a few of the obnoxious yet usually harmless anti-establishment punks donned trenchcoats, and thought that they were funny. I wasn't the same for weeks. I can't wrap my head around it - all the warnings, all the safeties and precautions that could have been set in place on so many levels - for all the shootings. Trolley Square. Columbine. VT. Why didn't anyone think it was odd that the fringe kids talked constantly about violence? Why didn't anyone just tackle them an take them down? How can human beings feel justified in deeming anyone elses life (let alone dozens of lives) as just another bullet? That level of selfishness and hatred - as repulsive as it is - is never brought about in the heat of the moment. These kids never just 'snap'. And don't even get me started on call those anti- depressant theories. No. The signs are visible - painfully so - and not just in hindsight. If onlookers had just seen outside of themselves for a moment they could have seen - and helped - indviduals who were so consumed with pain, anger, illness, and desperation that they would do anything to be listened to. There was this kid at WHS my sophmore year. He ate lunch about 50 yards away from where my friends and I ate. His name was Sam. The jocks would throw stuff at him when he walked by them, and I'd always hear the people in his group loudly giving him grief - over dumb stuff. Day in, day out, Sam was the butt of the joke, the scapegoat, the loner, the kid you laughed at to let others know that you were cool. It was sick. He was a year ahead of me in school - so for at least 2 years that I know of, his life was daily hell. The details might be a little mixed up in my memory, but I remember (I can't forget, actually) that one rainy morning, Sam came to school, and was approached by a friend of his. She walked up, and there were a few people surrounding them (not a whole lot, since it was early in the morning, and classes hadn't started.) He pulled a knife out of his jacket - a huge kitchen knife - and held it to her throat. Just like that . It was rainy, and as the raindrops started gathering on the knife, and he'd occasionally wipe the beads of water off on her shirt. A crowd started to gather, a teacher was called over, and they eventually talked him down. The girl was ok. Obviously, Sam was not.What if that morning, he'd chosen a gun instead of a knife to get his desperate point across? To be finally seen as a person, with feelings and pain and loneliness? Everyone knew Sam was being taunted, having garbage thrown at him, being publicly humiliated daily. Why did it take a violent act to make me REALLY see him? I can't look at anyone the same since. Not all shooters are tormented by peers. They're all fixated on and affected by something - rage, control, selfishness, vanity, the quest to see their picture on the cover of Time magazine, finally having their 'mein kampf' sounded from the rooftops as the public reels from the news, an obsession with the glamorization of violence and killing and carnage.But beyond all that, what always haunts me is who they were one day earlier. Who they were, the 'WHY?' of the whole puzzle. It's a mystery who's solution could help cure the epidemic of gun weilding serial killers bent on destruction. They make me furious. Thinking about them, and people like them, makes me physically ill. I wish I could be there, the day before - and just shake their shoulders, and scream in their faces that their intended victims are not just characters in their twisted fantasy on how the world appears. They're people. They have lives, that go way beyond his experience of them - that the grief and pain and anger and loss and sorrow will echo through thousands of people for dozens of years for each victim.And then I start noticing people at restaurants, in stores, walking down the street, or driving - and the world, with all it's goodness, seems a little darker and more dangerous because we truly don't know the capabilities of that one sullen stranger that we pass every day, and never notice. I hate it. It sucks.


[29 Mar 2007 Thursday] 1:39 PM - For all you warm-fuzzy emailing, Mormon folklore telling folks...

....Here's a page for you to check out. http://www.snopes.com/glurge/glurge.aspI don't know why LDS urban legends, mass email 'Chicken Soup for the Soul' letters, and tall tales irritate me so much....probably because I'm gullible. So before you hit the 'send' button or get up in Sacrament meeting to tell that familiar story that ends, "Because of the two huge guys standing behind her!!!", get your facts straight. And for the record Steve Martin is NOT Mormon.


[19 Jan 2007 Friday] 10:19 PM - Jeepers.

I just got done watching a 3-hour marathon of "To Catch a Predator." It was so satisfying to watch, (although the language could get to be NC-17) because the basic premise of the show is this: They set up decoys from the online watchdog service PervertedJustice.com to pose as a 13-year-old boy or girl. When the predator begins to chat with the decoy, and sends messages and pictures of an inappropriate nature, the decoy (after telling the predator more than once that they are only 13) then tells the predator they are home alone, and provides them with an address.Waiting at that address is a MSNBC news anchor, a bunch of cameras, and police officers. yay.I guess why the show is so satisfying/terrifying to watch is that although the freak of nature gets caught, he honestly appears to be totally normal - and repeatedly denies any wrongdoing when confronted by the authorities and the camera.The perpatrators range from ALOT of computer software geekophiles to respected doctors, husbands, and teachers. It scares me to death that they are just out there, walking around like they are good upstanding members of society, and would have never gotten caught if the sting operation hadn't been there.But, it was there. And they went to jail. Yikes.


[28 Dec 2006 Thursday] 11:57 PM - DREAMS

So, for an awful long time I've been trying to remember to write my dreams down on a day by day basis. As soon as I wake up, I find myself either a little disappointed to have discovered my lovely night-time adventures were just a dream, or extremely relieved - my nightmares usually involve very, very stressful situations as opposed to the crypt-keeper-like fabrications that they were when I was young.OR- (this is the most frequent occurance) I wake up and feel very amused and a little puzzled. My dreams - more often than not - are so bizzare, random and intense that I could write a freakin book about it - and Freud himself would have a tough time figguring them out. I'd love a little perspective on them.Here they are, unembellished, and complete with all the details I can remember. So....here we go, down the freakin' rabbit hole.12-26-07: The fist snippet of the dream that I could remember was me hearing a ruckus around the corner from where I was (which just happened to be my childhood elementary school playground) in the bathroom that I used to always cover in spit-balls, (and become giddy from the disciplinary danger that it put me in). I ran to see what the hubbub was all about. Ashlee simpson (sans haircut and nose job) was in the bathroom, looking very upset about something. I noticed that the bathroom was covered in phrases like "RIP" and "We love you MacDre" and other lines of rememberance for those that have died in the battle of the streets. I also noticed that she had a can of paint in her hand.She looked away from me, and began furiously spray-painting again, muttering things about how she needed to express her feelings.I was like, "ASHLEE! Knock it off! They're all gonna think I'M the one defacing public property, and I am for sure NOT going to jail for you."She scoffed at me, and then continued on. I woke up really annoyed...>..> 6-8-07 : Me, my mother, my sisters, plus Jackie and her friend Chrissy were in a really expensive hotel room. My mom had found these little baby lion and tiger cubs, and had kept them a secret from us. She had been keeping them in this hotel closet and they had grown up to be these humongous, feral jungle cats , and I thought it was way dangerous, so I told the manager. my mom got way pissed and was like, Tami! after all I've done for you!.... then the manager turned off the lights, and I was like, Guys, we better get some weapons. And jackie looks at me with this disdain and goes, Tam. They probably already have weapons.... it was so stressful and confusing and cryptic. BLA.


[23 Nov 2006 Thursday] 9:51 PM - Lucky girl.

Wow. So, I'm cheesy. I freely and openly admit it. This Thanksgiving though, I really gotta say....I'm alive. I live in a free country. I have a family who loves eachother - AND we like eachother, to boot. I'm healthy- a luxury that I haven't always been able to count as mine. I have God, friends, and a family who have not only always been there for me, but who never gave up on me. Not through my tantrums, my anti-social binges into solitude, and my weakest days. There's so much more, too.....I'm just a really lucky girl.


[05 Nov 2006 Sunday] 1:17 AM - Knock it off.

Things that need to stop:
* Customers who assume that the fitting rooms at my PacSun are free-fart-zones. They're not. And you're sick.
*Political commercials that have nothing to do with the issues, which feature pictures of opposing candidates in bad light, so their wrinkles show. Its rude.
*Cyclists who feel that having blinking accessories, really tight spandex, rudimentary knowlege of hand-signals, and headlights on their bikes somehow makes them cars, and gives them the right to RIDE IN THE STREET, going 17 mph on a 40 mph road. I will ram you one of these days. Its not a threat - it's a warning.
*Lastly...People who make any one of my sisters cry-For any amount of time, for any reason. You suck buttcakes. I am 100% LADY...however, please note that I WILL whip out my angry-ghetto-woman-attitude, take out my earrings while muttering to myself, and fight you (should we ever come face to face). This family has no older brothers, so needless to say I'm trying to fill the shoes as best I can. Watch yourself, BETCH.Peaceout.


[01 Oct 2006 Sunday] 1:25 AM - Made my day. Yeeeah.

So, even though I have been icky sick the past two nights, and have spent about half of that time trying not to puke, and spent the other half seething about certain men I've encountered in my life that left me all the worse for knowing them.... I still know, and understand that the entire male race is not all the same. And I want to thank the few studs I've met over the past years,(and the ones who I don't even know, who just impress me from afar) who consistently and firmly convince me of that, and that chivalry is not entirely dead. Why the turnaround? As I was rehearsing over and over in my head what I'd love to hiss at "Mr. I-only-call-you-when-i'm-wasted", "Mr. I-can't-even-look-you-in-the-eyes(they're up here, buddy!)-while-addressing-you", "Mr. I-took-advantage-of-one-of-your-best-friends-and-rubbed-her-face-in-it-over-Myspace", "Mr. I-finally-gained-your-trust-right-before-I-broke-your-sister's-heart", and my new personal fave, "Mr. I'm-so-holy-on-sunday-but-i-become-a-predatorial-horndog-when-we're-alone"....I was flipping through the channels and being angry. I stopped on Vh1, and it was some random show called "I married..." and the couple featured in it was Carnie Wilson and her Hubby. I love Carnie. She used to be humongous, and her weight loss was really inspirational. So, there I was, hating most men, and i thought to myself..."SURE, he likes her now that she's all skinny. What a D-bag." Then, to my surprise (and embarassment for my pessimism), the show back tracked to when they met, how they did, their first kiss, etc. He met her at a show - her show- when she was about 350 pounds(at least). It showed a picture of him enthusiastically cheering her on from the crowd - this attractive, non-weird, genuine guy, cheering for his new 350- pound girlfriend. The present-tense interviewer asked him what it was like being with Carnie when she was her biggest, and he goes (matter-of-factly), "You know, it was just so easy to see past her size." I started to cry. Yes, I was sick and tired and PMS-ing, but you know what? That will touch me till the day I die. It reminded me of the few guys i know who are not like all the other ones, who choose to be something better.It made my day.


[30 Aug 2006 Wednesday] 11:05 PM - Thanks alot, Warren FREAKING Jeffs.

Category: Religion and Philosophy

When extremists started carrying out terrorist plots against the US on 9-11, after being shocked and horrified and emotional about the pain human beings can cause one another, after all crying for the victims families had been done, after all the obvious questions and concerns had been voiced, one of the first rational thoughts that came to my mind was how our country was going to handle the imminent threat of racial profiling and bigotry against Muslims, and people of middle eastern descent. I recalled from a social studies class in the third grade (yes, i remember social studies classes from the third grade- I remember it because it disturbed me so much) that during WW2, the American people suddenly disowned and socially rejected all those who were of Japanese origin or descent - we even had camps that we felt it necessary to pen them (human beings, and US citizens no less) up in, until the time that they were considered "dangerous" had passed. I remember it mainly because even at that age, i could draw conclusions about how people should and shouldn't treat each other. I grew up in a very, very culturally diverse community - I always joked that being caucasion meant being in the minority. So when the subject was broached to my little 8-year-old mind that we, as a country, had committed such a gross act of injustice and prejudice against a huge group of people in the relatively recent past, i honestly felt sick, and angry to boot. I still remember how the unfairness of it all resonated inside of me.I thought, after over 50 years of learning, living, and tolerating one another's differences in the USA we had come to some kind of collective understanding of our past mistakes during wartime hysteria, against cultural and racial minorities.I was wrong. I couldn't believe how quickly the accusatory "Terrorist Radar" mindsets were setting in. It was insane. And, without going into more detail than I could fit into one blog, we have, as a nation, once again committed collective judgements and condemnations upon a isolated group of individuals, namely, all of Islam and those who are from the middle east, or look as though they could be. It sickens me. I lived in Utah, a much less diverse area than the CA bay area that I grew up in; I expected some kind of explosive backlash against Muslims here. I didn't really find any, other than harsh, untrue accusations and gross generalizations. Not that those aren't hanus in and of themselves, but I felt relieved that the ignorant backlash didn't go further. I learned, though, that at my old high school in the bay area, that TONS of kids, my age, who were Muslim, or looked middle eastern, or wore a turban or anything like that - they had gotten attacked, spit on, and their lockers had been spray painted with slurs. These were good, religious, passive people - just ordinary kids that believed a certain way, looked a certain way, and were persecuted for it. It sickened me. I know that I probably knew some of the perpatrators, and some of the victims as well. I couldn't, and still can't, wrap my head around why we must lump in an entire people with the radical group that just happens to reside within their ranks. That would be alot like saying all north-american Christians are part of the KKK, or that all Mormons are polygamist cultists. Which brings me to my main point...I am so glad that Warren Jeffs, the CRAZY-A polygamist cult leader, got captured. I'm thrilled he can no longer abuse little girls, brainwash adults, and create a gestapo-esque police force that ensures his 'religious rights' are maintained. I am not, however, glad that with all the publicity that is being shined on his capture, there is also alot of mention of his cult's basic roots being within the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. (otherwise know as 'the mormons'.) Like any fundamentalist/ extremist group, like the KKK, or fundamentalist Muslim terrorists, the cult of Warren Jeffs is just that - a cult, a breakoff from a mainstream and otherwise peaceful religious group of people. I am one of those people; I'm Mormon. I don't appreciate Warren Jeff's muddying my church's name with his perverse and unlawful practices.... And now, I'm gaining a whole new level of empathy for my Muslim friends, who's religious views are being dragged through the mud by a SMALL group of feverishly misguided souls. Our public image as a church hasn't been as badly and as unjustly tarnished as Islam's. However, I can now relate better to the pain that devout Muslims feel, seeing their beliefs twisted, and then paraded around in an atmosphere that only causes confusion about who believes what.It just makes me sad. Please - if you ever have questions about anything, anywhere, educate yourself. If the whole world did that, in a really sincere and earnest desire to simply learn about each other - I'm pretty convinced that it would be a much better place to live.


[27 Aug 2006 Sunday] 9:15 PM - ...but for reals.

I love hearing a song that puts into words what hurts so bad, that you can't even say, and it says it in a way that's true to the point, and real - without being patronizing. (even if it is an alanis morissette song.)All I really need is this - Wrapped up in a handsome, intelligent, compassionate package - stat.


I can be an asshole of the grandest kind

I can withhold like it's going out of style.

I can be the moodiest baby and you've never met anyone

Who is as negative as I am sometimes

I am the wisest woman you've ever met

I am the kindest soul with whom you've connected

I have the bravest heart that you've ever seen

And you've never met anyone

Who's as positive as I am -sometimes.

I blame everyone else, not my own partaking

My passive-aggressiveness can be devastating

I'm TERRIFIED and ...mistrusting

And you've never met anyone as,

As closed down as I am sometimes.

You see EVERYTHING, you see every part

-You see all my light, and you love my dark

You dig everything of which I'm ashamed

There's not anything to which you can't relate - And you're still here.


[05 Aug 2006 Saturday] 11:36 PM - Summer Lightning Storms are Perfect.

They're perfect for alot of reasons, too many to list - but mostly, tonight, they are perfect to sit back, and drink in. They're perfect to drive up to my thinking spot in the hills, park, and mull over absolutely everything - and nothing in particular. I watched the lights dance all around me, and felt alive, and especially greatful to be alive. Not many people get a second lease on life, and I thank my Heavenly Father every day in my prayers for the second shot I've gotten. Its so strange that something as dwarfing as watching the lightning shoot across the sky helps me feel important. Helps me put things in perspective - and oddly enough, as perfect of a moment that it would have been, to share with some boy who I adored - I didn't feel lonely. I'm happily single. I let my mind drift to every relationship, pseudo- relationship, crush, obsession, and guilty-pleasure guy I've come across in my romantic adventures. I found it so strange that among all the sweethearts, jerks, indifferent horndogs, thoughtful friends and old pals, that the only things I truly regretted were the "what if's?" Even with the uncommon occurence of love, and love unrequited, betrayals, insensitive brush-offs, and even deaths - the things that haunt me, that kill me really, are those wrenching situations where I really don't know what could have happened. Where I didn't take a chance, where I didn't put my all into what could have been something awesome- those are what kill me. I can get over Allen becoming an a**face. (I have no qualms with putting that in writing - I mean it. I know he doesn't think of me half as much as I still think of him from time to time. He won't read this.) I can get over that other jerk that led me on. I can get over being used and discarded. I can even get over Ry being gone for now - because I can say that I really tried my best. Thats what i'm gonna shoot for, from now on. I'm not gonna leave any room for question or doubt - I'm taking my heart off the shelf. Watch out.


[31 Jul 2006 Monday] 10:40 PM - Silly, Hopeless, Romantic Girl. Right Here.

This is a list of songs that I would love to have been written for me. This list is gonna be an ongoing thing. Hey- a girl can dream, can't she?

*The Minstrels Prayer - Cartel
*Hey There Delilah - Plain White Tees
*The Tension And The Terror - Straylight Run
*I'll Be - Edwin McCain
*We Belong Together - Gavin DeGraw
*You Don't Know Me - Michael Buble
*Stay With Me - Josh Gracin
*I Miss You - Incubus
*Teenage Dirtbag - Wheatus
*Fools Rush In - Elvis Presley
*Collide - Howie Day
*When A Man Loves A Woman - Percy Sledge
*After All - Brett James
*When You Love Someone - Brian Adams
*Songs About Rain - Gary Allen
*Best of Me - The Starting Line
*Seasons - Good Charlotte


[24 Jun 2006 Saturday] 12:15 AM - I have come to a conclusion.

My driveway is haunted. Laugh if you must. Its the only explaination I could fathom. Exhibit A: After I had just purchased my car Delilah, I sat down in my drive way, about to start her up. Suddenly, BOTH DOOR'S locks clicked twice, simotaneously. So what, you ask? I could have bumped the button with my elbow, you say? Think again. My car does NOT have automatic door locks. (makes eerie noise)Exhibit B: A few nights ago, my little sister kris was sitting in the Saturn, keys out of the ignition, at about 2am. Out of nowhere, the car shook back and forth violently, and Kris saw a weird, tall shape move back and forth across her rear view mirror. She had my dad come out to make sure there were no boogie men present (naturally). He came out, looked up and down the street - thats right, he saw no one, I tell you. No one. My mom suggested that a cat jumped on the bumper, and made all the ruckus. Two problems - 1) there were no cat prints on the vehicle, and 2) cats never weigh 70 pounds and are heavy enough to shake a TWO TON CAR. Not even Jackie's cat, Louie. Even though he does have an abnormally large belly. Spooky. Yikes.


[26 May 2006 Friday] 10:30 PM - Stupidness.

Can I vent for a second? Thanks. I was going to anyways. As a crazy - a feminist, I have realized something startling and bothersome about the female species - we like to act stupid. I don't mean all of us, and I don't mean all the time, either. Let me illustrate. I consider myself a reasonably deep, intelligent girl. But when I'm around guys ( generally really, really attractive guys) I get this inexplicable urge to act, well, dumb. I catch myself widening my eyes, laughing louder, and pretending to hang onto every word they say, like I may not grasp it all. Its ridiculous. Once the stupid spell passes, I am left wondering. Why did I do that? Is there a scientific explaination for this? Or am I really a (gasp) 'dumb blond' (so to speak)!? I've noticed it among other girls, as well. I don't know if they notice it themselves like I do, or if they're in total oblivion about it - but it doesn't matter. It happens to the best of us. And it bugs me. This isn't something that I can pin on men, either. I've never met a man who encourages women to be dumb. I've never been flirting with a guy when he suddenly stops and says, "Man, I'd find you way more attractive if you were stupider." I don't know if the cause is that once upon a time men were the only ones who could recieve an education ( i'm talking wayyyyyy back in the day), and to make them feel macho women downplayed their own intelligence; maybe it doesn't even have to do with men and their perceptions. (contrary to popular belief, i don't hate the entire male race; that kind of feminism is just as idiotic as surpressing a group just because of gender. I call it like i see it.) All I know is, that on some subconscious level, women think men like stupid girls. It bothers me. Another thing, while I'm on the topic. Who the heck invented the idea that successful, intelligent, independant women can't also be attractive physically? Its kind of the opposite idea as my previous rant. There was a study done a little bit ago, about women in the workplace. People were shown first a picture of a business woman in conservative attire, hair up, makeup-less, glasses. Then, a different group of people were shown THE SAME WOMAN, this time with makeup, pretty hair, stylish clothes. Which one do you think they voted to be more intelligent AND a better executive? The "ugly" one. The one who toned her beauty down in order to fit into a male- dominated feild. Would it be too much for mankind to handle if a woman was *gasp* beautiful and smart? Or would the world implode? I hate being judged. I hate having to choose one side or the other of the parts of my personality, of WHO I AM, that are entwined: My femininity, or my intellect. My independence or the security and comfort that comes from being taken care of. Anyone who can shed some light on these topics would be greatly appreciated. <3 Tami


[19 May 2006 Friday] 12:32 AM - Boyfriend?

So, I have a problem. I want a boyfriend. Don't get me wrong - I'm totally cool just chilling and being single and independant. But from time to time-like this summer for instance, which is busting at the seams with my friends' weddings- I just see how much fun it would be to have someone to be with. I get all reminded of how long its been since I've actually been on a date, let alone in a relationship, and I feel kind of lonely. Okay, really lonely. The thing is though - I don't really want to get married, like, tomorrow. And I live in Utah. And I'm 20. See, if you're not from here, you probably wouldln't understand, but just hear me out. My friends that are gettin married are MY AGE - and younger. And that really is the norm here. And seeing how happy they are makes me ... just want to inch outside my comfort zone, and see what the water's like. I'm not unhappy with who I am, or where I am in life - just curious about how much richer my life would be with a relationship in it. I don't know. Seein all these happy couples is sort of a stinging reminder of how long its been - and how little of the romance arena I've even experienced. I've never technically been in a real, commited relationship. I'd like to know how it feels, to have someone care specifically and especially about me... to have someone's hand to hold, to smile at for no reason, to keep me warm. I'm practically VL kids. I'm not bitter, seriously, just .... curious. And hopeful, that it could be something I stumble upon in the near future. Cross your fingers for me.


[28 Apr 2006 Friday] 11:47 AM - Grief.

Do you ever hear a song, and think....man, that song was written for me. Then you see the video, and think - no, this song was made ABOUT me. Its insane.

"Probably wouldn't be this way" - LeAnn Rhimes

Got a date a week from friday with the preacher's son

Everybody says he's crazy

I'll have to see

I finally moved to Jackson when the summer came

I won't have to pay that boy to rake my leaves

I'm probably going on and on

It seems I'm doing more of that these days

I probably wouldn't be this way

I probably wouldn't hurt so bad

I never pictured every minute without you in it

Oh you left so fast

Sometimes I see you standing there

Sometimes it's like I'm losing touch

Sometimes I feel that I'm so lucky to have had the chance to love this much

God gave me a moment's grace

'Cause if I'd never seen your face

I probably wouldn't be this way

Mama says that I just shouldn't speak to you

Susan says that I should just move on

You oughta see the way these people look at me

When they see me 'round here talking to this stone

Everybody thinks I've lost my mind

But I just take it day by day

Probably wouldn't be this way

Got A Date a week from Friday with a preacher's son

Everybody says I'm crazy

Guess I'll have to see


[15 Apr 2006 Saturday] 3:03 PM - I had plans.

Big plans, in fact. Pay off my car. go to a little of school at weber. Go to San Diego. Be independant. Do you ever want to throw yourself on the floor, and pound your fists and kick and scream? I do. Right now. I quit my job... I had to. I didn't even give them two weeks, and right now i'm just sick of being me. Sick of being too sick to understand why I can't get out of bed some days, why lying there, sleeping is so much more appealing than getting up and having a life. I'm sick of feeling the scum on my teeth and really wondering, REALLY, when the last time was that I actually showered and brushed my teeth. Actually took care of myself. Here's the most confusing part of it all: when i'd see children at the day care who were being neglected, not even half as badly as I neglect myself, I'd get infuriated. I'd want to walk right up to their parents, shake them, and tell them how much their kids need to really be taken care of. I'm 20 years old, and i don't even know how to take care of myself. Or, rather, i know how; I just don't care. What I hate the most is people that don't understand, who aren't mentally and emotionally ill in some way, who try to tell you to 'shake it off'. Its stupid. Its like trying to tell a diabetic to raise their insulin production through sheer will power. It doesn't work that way. Then why do I still resent being on an aresenal of pills? When I need them just as much as a diabetic would need their injections? I don't know. Intellectually, I know I don't need to resent my illness. But its not my intellect that is impaired right now. Its my brain. They are different. Its like being trapped inside a prison that you realize isn't your fault, with people telling you all the while that the barriers, the prison that has become your body and mind and emotions, doesn't even exist. That psychiatry is a pseudo-science. That the best thing for you would be to pull yourself up by your bootstraps and get on with life. You know what? they can bite me. They don't know squat about what i'm going through, and whatever level of intellect they've acheived that causes them to feel they have a right to tell me how I 'ought' to feel does not qualify them to judge my situation. They are not me. They don't know how it is. I guess the whole point of me trying to somehow get the smallest inkling of how I've felt for the good part of my 20 years on earth out onto the expanse of the internet is this: If I havent' seemed like myself lately, its because i'm not. If i'm a total witch to you, please don't take it personally. My actions are still mine to own up to; no amount of illness, of any sort, can take away our agency and it's consequences. I'm just saying... please be patient with me. I'm trying to get the 'old me' back, and to figure out just who she is. <3 Tam


[10 Feb 2006 Friday] 8:26 PM - How ridiculous.

Coming up is the first Valentine's Day in .... i don't know, a DECADE (!), where I don't absolutely loathe all the happy, kissy-face couples who sort of magically come out of the woodwork around February 14th each year. I'd watch them, year after year, hating the cloud of sugar-coated sweetness they'd leave in their wake. I'd try to convince myself it was all for show; no one could be that blissfully unaware of all the dismal things going on in the world, in this country. Year after year I'd ceremoniously have a chick-flick marathon, without fail, complete with comfy pajamas and handfuls of chocolate candy. I almost had myself convinced, too. I was all geared up to be angry and dismissive at any signs of lovey-doveyness (I swear, thats a real word) this year, too.That's what is so ridiculous- I am looking forward to this V-day... despite the fact that I'm single... Still. And even though I'm comparitively the size of an orca whale in relation to how fierce i used to look, I'm simply content with being alone... kind of greatful for it, come to think of it. I'm getting to know myself, my strengths, my weaknesses, so much better than I beleive I'd be able to if i was 'attached'...I love that. I'm so glad I didn't hop on the bandwagon of finding a really serious relationship right after I got my HS diploma. Not that my married friends (yes, I have MARRIED friends) got hitched just cause 'thats what everyone's doing', or anything like that! I admire them for being so brave. Its just that the more I think about it, the more I realize I am no where NEAR where I want to be when it comes to stability, and I truly want to be a whole person when my time comes to commit another entire human being to my life. This V-day, I'm just celebrating love. The little kids in my class are the basic reason behind this whole 'non-angry-at-couples' thing. In celebrating Valentines Day, I've had to explain the basics about what it is, why we have it, etc. to my kids. None of them are angry that they don't have romantic interests in their lives. They are just happy for the only love they've encountered: their families. When I asked them who they would want to give a valentine to, none of them talked about boyfriends or girlfriends; just mommies and daddies. I love my job. It always gives me the sweet and simple reminders I need in life to stay on track, to just take it all in, & savor the moment. I'm so greatful for all the love I have in my life, that I sometimes take for granted. Happy V-day everybody!


[05 Dec 2005 Monday] 11:33 PM - Annoyed doesn't even begin to describe it.

Its more like hurt, betrayed, degraded, disgusted. Its the helpless feeling that its going on all around me, and there is very little I can do to change it, and even less I can do to stop it. I've been so disturbed and bothered lately by something, but I didn't know how to say it, or describe it in a way that accurately portrayed my feelings. I was reading through blogs, (as I often do, i know, i'm a freakin lurker) and a friend of mine had somehow typed out my precise feelings. She said, "so I've noticed this pattern in advertisements featuring "hot chicks". (or at least the body of a "hot chick") the photos often are a torso shot, cutting off at the neck or eyes. oh please, Dear God, don't make me look into her eyes. please don't let the realization that I am supporting the objectification of a human being retard my pleasure! just let her be a body- without a name, without a face or eyes or a soul. just let me get it up and crank one out."I hate how true it is. I hate being looked at like a peice of meat. I hate the fact that women knowingly and willingly subject themselves (and all women, worldwide) to being objectified, degraded until they are no more to those who greedily stare at them than a form of entertainment. No longer a peice of exquisite artwork, but a low-end cheapened waste of potential. If you are a respectful man, thanks. You're a dying breed.


[11 Oct 2005 Tuesday] 7:26 PM - [F]abulous [A]nd [T]hick

I am not going to hide it or deny it any more: I've gotten a little ... fat. I'm pudgy. I miss not feeling myself jiggle in strange little ways when I walk. I miss not thinking about my food intake. But, I've come to a conclusion, today.... maybe even a proclaimation: I am going to work it. Yes, it may not be as cute as it used to be, but it is still my body. While I work off pounds and tone up, there is no reason for me to be beating myself up over it. I don't like how I look, so i'm going to do something about it. But until then, I refuse to keep berating myself for not being a rail thin runway model. It's not realistic. Yay for fat girls.


[19 Oct 2006 Sunday] 1:38 AM - It's been two years.

Just saying it shocks me. I'm shocked for alot of reasons - first being, I can't believe that over two full years have gone by. Two years of falling apart to find out who I really am. Two years that were a rollercoaster of shock, then pain, then anger, then that most horrible emotion of all - the overwhelming sadness, and emptiness from the hole his leaving left in my life. Ryan and I weren't even dating anymore when he got into that accident, but still, we had shared a closeness that has yet to be duplicated. I'm shocked, most of all though, because of how okay I am. October 19 marked the second anniversary of Ryan Hill's death, one of my best friends, and I felt a strange sort of peace, when I realized what day it was, that morning. I smiled, because I finally felt closure, and happy - not that he was gone, of course, but I just felt so blessed to have had him in my life, even if it was for such a short time. That's how he would have wanted me to feel, and its amazing to finally be content. I promised him, on his grave that I'd be able to come back to his headstone one day, and not cry - I've finally kept my promise. Live life to the fullest, friends ... and please always buckle up. <3 Tami