Two-Jog Day

A harshly-difficult month or couple of weeks calls for a jog. One jog. Today alone was a two-jog day.
Perhaps tomorrow will be better. I doubt it.

Living Prophet

I talked to the prophet of the Lord today. Face to face. We were on our way out of the temple and he came walking down the hall. President Gordon B. Hinckley, with a cane in one hand and a security guard in the other. I smiled at them and said, "Happy Saturday!" This girl was trying to squeeze through since we had stopped to see him. I said, "President Hinckley is behind you. Turn around!" President Hinckley asked us how we were and if we were going to the sealing. We told him we had just done baptisms and he said, "It's a great work." We smiled at each other for a minute, then he lumbered off to seal someone.

Perhaps It Will All Catch Up Some Day

Another generation gap?:

My neighbor offered to buy us "a snack" at McDonald's. I said I'd have a pie. She said, "Really?" as if that was surprising.

Then she told us it would be more like lunch, so I asked for a cheeseburger in addition to one of those pies. She asked me how I stayed so thin, and I was shocked that an incomplete meal seemed like a lot to her.

As she was ordering, she turned and asked me what I wanted to drink.
I said, "Chocolate milk," feeling proud that she could see that I ordered healthy drinks. She exclaimed out loud at that. "Wow, Michelle!"

Is that a lot? I didn't think it was. She ordered a water and a tiny filet sandwich and took off the top bun to reduce calories. The girl in back got a water and a parfait. I wonder what they'd do if they saw what we just had for Sunday dinner.

Orange and White=Creamsicles

I had to laugh to myself in Relief Society. The teacher told a story about how she bought a brand new white bedspread

(PAUSE: Who buys a white bedspread? And what's with all those people with fancy houses who have white towels in their bathrooms? Are they rich enough to buy new white towels every time theirs get stained and old? Anyway . . .)

to show off a quilt that was given to her. She wouldn't let her grandkids touch it or sit on it or go near it, even though it had been the bed they used to use as a trampoline. Anyway, her granddaughter had found an orange marker (her favorite color) and drawn all over the white bedspread. As she said this while holding up the offending marker, a gasp of true horror swept through the room. You would have thought someone had run in and told us the bishop died in priesthood, it was so tragic. A room of women who care a little too much about white bedspreads and untouched quilts . . . it just made me giggle a little. I tried to think of what my reaction would be, but I couldn't imagine ever even buying a white bedspread, so it kind of stopped there.

P.S. Tanya and I went to a cabinized pre-wedding party last night. We ate all the carrots and celery, then took seconds of creamies on our way out the door to the creepy woods where her car was parked.

Shower Music

What does choice of music while in the shower say about a person? Mike has what I would dub a fairly good music preference, but River Dance type music?

I prefer Rachmaninov, or Ben Kweller, or Howie (Day), or Gavin DeGraw, or Better Than Ezra for shower music.

Today I invited myself to a senior piano recital. Oh, it was wonderful. I was surprised to find that Lindsey played a piece that I played this very morning as my family snoozed on the couch after scriptures. The piano is, out of every instrument, my favorite. It is so versatile and lovely.

I think I will go practice.

Super Wide Screen

When I bought my laptop, I didn't realize that 17 inches was wide. (Yeah, I did some really good consumer research . . .) I don't want something so bulky, but I'm stuck with it. Favorite photographs become taffy to the desktop background. Websites are unusually wide. Best of all, my Mozilla has decided to go crazy. My shortcuts, Google toolbar, and other fancy options have disappeared (including the mood ring), and a long, gray box fills a portion of the bottom of the window.

Unfortunately, this gray box makes everything yet wider. The shape of each page is more like a panorama picture--you know, one of those long skinny ones they took of your high school class that fits no where and that you wonder what to do with. I'll measure it to give you an idea. The window is as high as my pinky to my pointer finger and as wide as two hand spans.

Fix my Mozilla and receive a free three-minute look at a burned-up piece of nylon. Or, a log of marzipan. Or, just my appreciation. I already tried re-installing (thanks, Bryce.).

Bathroom Boy

It is quite obvious to me that my bathroom has been taken over by a boy. One might argue that girls are ones to hog bathrooms, but not in this case. Suddenly, bags of bottles have shown up in the corner. My favorite soap given to me by visiting teachers that smells really good is dissolved in a matter of days. A shaver and its charger fill precious counter space. Mini slices of hair show up in the sink. My michemily towels are laid out on the potentially spidery floor, soggy. It seems that every moment that I could possibly think I might be ready to take a shower or brush my teeth or get some lotion, the bathroom boy suddenly appears out of nowhere and locks himself in, leaving me to other plans (such as chewing gum instead of brushing) as I flee from the river dance-type music. Hours later I come back to find the bathroom messy and wet.

Is this what it would be like with a husband?

Nylons' Flammability

They burn. And burn. And burn.

Am I the only one whose "add image" button hasn't been working for the last few days? I guess these posts will have to be edited later. They aren't nearly as interesting without the pictures.

Edited!:

Tights Under Fire

From the time that I was six until the time that I was hired at the FHL, I refused to wear tights and did not even own a pair. That's thirteen years, more than half my life.

Since I had been out of that loop for so long, I definitely did not know about the difference between tights and nylons. No styles occurred to me. I just knew I didn't like wearing them. I finally realized there were more colors than just white after two years at the Library.

Unfortunately, just because there were more colors and thicknesses and patterns and other awful options like those squeezey tops (I can't remember what they're called, nylons were obviously invented by men) doesn't mean that my enjoyment increased at all. I felt it unfair that we were required to wear thin, ugly, uncomfortable, itchy things that easily got holes and cost a fortune.

(Here's a side story: one of the girls I recruited to work there said that one day she forgot to wear nylons and hoped no one would notice. She took a mini-nap during her break and heard a sister missionary say loudly enough for her to hear, "Why do these young girls have bare legs? Do they think it's SEXY or something?" As if that wasn't enough, she went on to say, "And why don't they sit up straight? It makes their stomachs poke out!" Ha ha.)

To the point of this whole thing: I have not worn nylons or tights since the day I left the Library, and I love it. I pulled all those awful old pairs out of my drawer today, intending to throw them away. I couldn't help setting them aside to find out the answer to my question, "Do nylons burn?"

I'll report back on that. See this post on nylons' flammability.

Idiosyncrasies in My Room

Do you ever find old to-do lists and feel satisfaction knowing some of those things got done? Better yet, do you cross them off before throwing away the list? I do.

I also find it a good idea to have neatly organized piles of things to do. Unfortunately, they can be overwhelming. Especially when whatever is on top is something you really don't feel like doing. Like sewing a new button on a favorite pair of pants.

Amy laughs at the fact that my clothes are hung in order by color. Whites to greys to tans and yellows to greens to blues to michemilies to purples to pinks to reds to oranges to golds and browns to blacks . . .

Amy and I do share our tendency to start throwing things away frantically when we get maxed out in our stuff allowance. We also share to the related strong feelings caused by seeing people's car radio presets not in numerical order. What's with that? The first time I saw presets not in numerical order, I was shocked to find that it was even possible. I guess somewhere in my brain I just knew that was how they had to be. Logically, I knew that you set them and no computer chip was involved in re-ordering them, however, I found the revelation disturbing.

Ever since I hung the shoe holder on the back of my door, the door does not close all the way. It drifts open if any doors are slammed in the house, or if someone rushes down the stairs. Because I don't like to sleep with my door open, I always put a flip flop under the door before sleeping. Interestingly enough, I have a pair of flip flops I do not like (one of those things you buy because it was buy one pair get one pair free, and they didn't have any other colors you liked), and they get used as door stops and spider killers.

I always have a stack of currently-being-read or currently-intending-to-be-read books on the edge of my book shelf, whether they've been there for a year or a few days . . . library books get preference because they have to be returned or I have to pay.

I have paintings leaning against things because I am afraid of driving nails into the walls. What if I move things and then I have to move them and then I have holes in the walls? I did finally hang up the painting of Christ, because I figured it was high enough that none of the furniture that might go there is high enough to require it to move.

The blinds in my room are rarely opened. Window wells freak me out. My dad kindly painted my window well blue and put fish on it when I moved into that room, but that doesn't mean spiders and other gross things won't crawl in there. Since I've been home in the mornings, I've been twisting them open a little to enjoy the sunlight.

My laptop does not quite fit on my desk when it's open. It is too tall for the roll top part. I either have to balance the computer on the edge, teetering as I type, or lean back the computer so it fits under the rolling part, which hides some of the screen.

BYU's Commencement

Today I heard Dick Cheney speak. His speech was wonderful enough that the filled-to-the-max Marriott Center gave him a standing ovation. I leaned over to my brother's girlfriend and said, "Now he's thinking, 'I've got to remember to send some roses to my speech writer.'"

He talked about how set backs can do just that--set us back, or they can inspire you to move forward. We get second chances and should give them. Everyone has someone who helps them just when they need it, and for that we should be grateful. He said, "Gratitude in general is usually a correct attitude."

I was surprised to see that the three or four protesters on the edge of campus were fogies. They had signs that accused Cheney of things I'd never even heard of. One of them kindly asked Mike what he had studied. I wished they had gotten to hear Cheney's speech. There will always be someone who doesn't agree with something you did. But that doesn't mean you don't have something good to say now and then.

The student who spoke also did well. I think his name was Chris Pierson (sp?).

Overall, the commencement was quite enjoyable, especially the kifing of other people's brownies as Lauren's sidekick.

Grandma Erma White

I don't know who "Grandma Erma White" is, but apparently she wrote this poem, because I found it written in my dad's writing and neither of us remember where it came from:

Each night when I undress myself
Before I get in bed,
I don't feel right if I get in
Before my prayers are said.
So, I kneel beside my bed.
Yes, every single night.
I ask my Heavenly Father's help
To always choose the right.

Grandma Erma White

Dyed Hair is Vranka

Yesterday I was so desperate for some kind of change that I bought four boxes of hair dye. Today, my hair is a different color. Cocoa, to be exact. I don't know what it looks like yet, it's still wet as I type this.

Sica and I are coming up with our own argot. Unfortunately, our first two words were labeled as racist by Mom. So, we're trying to come up with some new ones.

That's so vranka.

"Then go to the moon, you selfish dreamer."

I just watched The Glass Menagerie, with Katharine Hepburn. Tennessee Williams did a good job writing, and the actors did a good job acting. I was curiously drawn to the mixture of hopes, expectations, disappointment, as well as the ways to escape it all: the movies, the music, the glass animals, the DAR . . .

Interesting. Look at the meanings of "menagerie."

me·nag·er·ie /məˈnædʒəri, -ˈnæʒ-/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[muh-naj-uh-ree, -nazh-] -noun

1.	a collection of wild or unusual animals, esp. for exhibition.

2.	a place where they are kept or exhibited.

3.	an unusual and varied group of people.

[Origin: 1705–15; < class="sc">ménage, -ery]

Don't worry, I'll save the essay forming in my head for my own personal enjoyment. But here are some favorite lines from the play:

"Blue is wrong for roses." "But it's good for you."
"Hold him over the light. He loves the light."
"He must feel kinda lonesome." "If he does, he doesn't complain about it."
"They all like a change of scenery once in a while."
"Now he's just like all the other horses." "Maybe it's a blessing in disguise."
"Glass breaks so easily, no matter how careful you are."
"Did anyone ever tell you you were pretty? Well you are, and in a different way from anyone else. And a whole lot nicer because of the difference."
"I know all about the tyranny of women."
"Then go to the moon, you selfish dreamer."

Milch

The only thing worse than milk by itself is warm milk by itself.

It's About Time

I realized that a lot of my thoughts have been about time recently.

1. I do not usually look at the hour hand on clocks. Think about it. Most of the time, you know what hour it is. You just need to know what minute it is. I thought this was a normal habit, but I assume that the laughter I've received when explaining, the people wondering what I mean when I say, "Pick me up at 19," and my family making fun of my watch that I never turned back to MST after I returned from Germany means that most people actually look at the hour. Only once have I misjudged the hour, and it was on the first day of a new term. I forgot to go to my institute class and went to work instead. Fabiola told me that I was an hour early, so that was that.

2. Although my prepotency includes knowing the hour at most times, it does not extend to days. Or months, sometimes. How many times have I accidentally missed deadlines? Wow. Just today, I discovered that there was one on April 16th. Oh bother.

3. The word "timing." I don't like it. People tend to use it as a polite way to give an excuse, or as a way to avoid giving the real reason (similar, but not the same!). In Mormon culture, "timing" usually refers to marriage, but I've noticed it's usually when they've skipped to thinking about marriage too early. They forget about the dating part. After my failed engagement, every person I talked to said, "Oh, the timing must be bad." Yeah, but that didn't mean I should wait around for him until the timing got better. I learned to just smile and nod. So, now. Three years later. A lot of time has passed. Timing may look like it's bad, or inconvenient. But perhaps it is really absolutely perfect. Perhaps you are going to miss your chance if you don't act.

4. Time flies when you're doing nothing. And when you're doing a lot. In short, it just flies. Except, of course, when you want it to pass. Such as if you were waiting for a cruise to come around before you moved in a new direction.

5. It's time for a nap.

Documentation of Bryce

Yes, for those of you who have heard little whisperings, Bryce does exist. Unfortunately, there are few pictures to document that he knows me, and those that do are, in short, not the most professional of quality . . .

However, for the sake of documenting happenings in my life, here is a fun one that, although blurry, shows the difference between a good BYU fan and a good Ute fan: one can tie a tie and one can't. Yet.

The Garage, Garbage, and Smudges

Although this may be a subject uninteresting to most people, I spent a lot of hours on it, so deal with it, folks. I cleaned out the garage. Not only was it disorganized, it was DIRTY. And here's proof of both:

While cleaning the garage, I found many lost treasures: burlap bags falling to smitherines ("They're for potato races!" Mom yelled when asked), a hole where that creature that scrabbles around in my ceiling must have gotten in, Mom's wedding flowers, and an unopened box of Girl Scout cookies (garage fuzzies included) that was obviously hidden at one time to avoid them being eaten before someone's chance arrived. Among other things.




So, in order for you to see the benefits of Mom's new, full-time maid, here is the "after" picture:

Crotchety Old Guys at the Pharmacy

Sica and I walk into the pharmacy and see two people working there who are family of one of Jeff's baseball friends. We make gregarious remarks about the amazing writing on this sign and how it must have been written for crotchety old guys, because it says, "We are pharmacists, not insurance agents."

After a short wait, the girl calls my name. She says, "Well, your insurance isn't very good," and tells me the total. Yikes-o-rama! I said, "Would you mind if I'd rather die from allergies?" Yeah, I turned into the crotchety old guy, but who wouldn't? The total was $210! She said she'd leave the prescriptions on the shelf and I could come in to get the other one tomorrow. Ya. I don't think I'll be going. Chlortab, save me!

"Thou shalt have no other gods before me."

The Deseret News is doing a series on the ten commandments in their religion section. The idea of monotheism, according to the first article (about "Thou shalt have no other gods before me"), was radical at the time the first commandment was given to Moses. Most cultures had gods for all sorts of things.

Leonard Shlain has written several books that sound quite interesting to me. In the article by the Des News, his book The Alphabet Versus the Goddess is claimed to argue that monotheism might be dangerous. "People who believed in many gods, he argues, respected the gods of other people and expected their gods to be respected in return. But to believe that only one God exists, an abstract God that different people might perceive in different was, 'loosed into the world an odious impulse,' the question of whose perception of the one deity is the correct one 'has goaded monotheists to wage war with an intensity and purpose never witnessed in polytheistic cultures.'"

It sounds to me that Shlain thinks diversity is not appreciated by monotheists. Interestingly, Elder Marlin K. Jensen spoke about this at the institute a few weeks ago. He said that we should allow people their agency, that we should celebrate diversity, but not to the point where we allow moral truths to be overrun. He read an article by a Harvard student wherein the girl almost gets to the point of saying that the happenings on September 11, 2001 were morally wrong, but she gives up at the very end and says that we can't judge between our religious opinion and others'. My notes from Elder Jensen say, "In modern newspapers, anyone's opinion is as good as anyone else's. We stress tolerance. This doesn't work in physics or medicine. Our responsibility is not to overlook our flaws, but to overcome them. Draw the line where it belongs. Don't be afraid to judge (morally). As Mormons, we won't have to believe anything that isn't true, because we have personal revelation."

I admit, the tolerance that is stressed in the world today has had an effect on me. I tend to give others the benefit of the doubt instead of sharing my own known moral truths.

The article also states, "The First Commandment, then, is a reminder: Don't take morality into your own hands. 'The one who defines what is right from what is wrong is only God and nobody else other than God,' Rabbi Zippel says." It sounds like the rabbi pretty much agrees with Elder Jensen.

Comments?

Prolix

I'm sorry for the prolix of my blog entries. But not really. More to follow. :)

15 Blocks of Contrast

This morning I scooted 15 blocks on my razor. This afternoon I left Spectra Symbol, never to work there again, and happy about it.

Costa Rica: here we come, May 11th!

This evening I saw Meet the Robinsons in place of Gillian Weir's organ concert, because no one could go (a bit disappointing). An unconventional movie, I felt embarrassed when I was touched by Louis's realization that he had talent and he was lovable.

Watching the news just now, I ache for people who are suffering. What brings some to withdraw from life and some to react aggressively by hurting others? The end of the Proclamation to the Family says that the disintegration of the family will bring upon the world the calamities foretold by prophets.

If you can figure out where the following words are coming from, you must be a Glauser. Or maybe the Glausers are not as funny as I think: "Whoa! Look at that! I heard a pop! Can you believe how big it is? I'm so glad that we're getting enough to make a difference. Dave, take a look at that."

Nellie H.'s Song

“Fall Away” by the Fray

(The theme song of post-Felix Nellie H., as claimed by Michelle G.)

You swear you recall nothing at all
That could make you come back down
You made up your mind to leave it all behind
Now you're forced to fight it out

You fall away from your past
But it's following you

You left something undone, it's now your rerun
It's the one you can't erase
You should have made it right, so you wouldn't have to fight
To put a smile back on your face

You fall away from your past
But it's following you
You fall away

Something I've done that I can't outrun
Maybe you should wait maybe you should run
But there's something you've said that can't be undone

And you fall away from your past
But It's following you

You fall away
It's following you

The Ballad of Nellie H.

Let’s suppose for a minute that you knew a girl named N. Hauser. Wait, wait, no, Nellie H. Now let’s suppose that she didn’t have much time three years ago, but she started dating a guy named Felix. At first, she just liked the benefits Felix offered, such as a sense of security, somewhere to go after school, and some cultural prestige. Over time, she loved him more and more. Some of her previous commitments were freed up and Felix offered to deepen the commitment. Nellie put her all into the relationship. She gave up everyone and everything else in the sense that even if she was away from Felix, she was thinking about Felix. She would plan their next big date and how to make their time together more worthwhile. She made and received phone calls and emails at all times of day or night as long as they had to do with Felix. Never in the history of this man’s life had someone been so dedicated to him, who would spend so much time on him. Nellie H. made him her life. From dawn to dusk, she did what she could to make everything he did shine. She made awkward phone calls, she ran from project to project, always in hopes of making Felix better and better. Exciting offers were made to her for better relationships, but she turned them down because she was on a mission—a mission to do everything she could to help Felix. She never minded hearing about him or from him when the day was over. She liked to solve problems for him and never slowed down, figuring there was too much of too much importance to be done. She rejoiced in setting and reaching new goals. After a while, friends and family of Felix began to be jealous. They saw how dedicated Nellie was to Felix. They saw her never stopping to rest and secretly felt bad that they didn’t work harder to be good friends to Felix. Behind Nellie’s back, little whisperings began. Every now and then, Nellie would make mistakes that she heard about. Moving on, she vowed to do better and she did. Each day, her energy was renewed and she knew she could accomplish something great for the relationship. She knew that Felix’s friends and family were important as well in her relationship with him, so she did what she could to work on those relationships too. Unfortunately, they did not want to work as hard as she did at being friends. They began to look for things to point out. They criticized her every move, built up mistakes, and stacked them one on top of another without forgetting a few first. Still, Nellie knew that she had chosen to make Felix her life and she would continue to do her best with him and others despite the lack of support. Before long, things from Nellie’s hairstyle to the book she wrote for Felix were black listed. Nellie began to feel that everyone disliked her. Indeed, she realized that Felix himself had never done anything for her. In return for her dedication and love, she received harsh looks and constant undermining. Her energetic service and studied expertise in her relationship with Felix were rewarded with complaints reported to her by Felix himself. Characteristics claimed precious by society were abhorred when Nellie used them to build up Felix. She began to wonder if it was wrong to be dedicated and selfless and hard-working. Everyone who felt themselves above Nellie had traits more popular: they could find fault in the tiniest action, they could hold grudges like a drowning man could hold a piece of driftwood. Indeed, they had talents in every area that Nellie had been taught to avoid. She tried to stand tall, but she felt that her sense of values had been tricked. Felix began to discuss interviewing everyone else about how they felt about Nellie. She could not understand why people would talk to Felix about her, but never talk to her. He thought that maybe Nellie should move to a different part of his life. He told her about all the concerns that had been voiced to him. He continued to look past the wonderful things Nellie was accomplishing. Hadn’t he seen them blossom together? Hadn’t he seen his own quality grow? None of that mattered now, for she had become the minority. She may be wonderfully right, but the voice of the people must be listened to. Nellie felt alone and knew she had never been loved back. She knew that she had not made the difference she had wanted to, despite her every effort. Still, Nellie’s life was Felix and she would not let him go easily. She would do all she could to make this the best relationship ever, even as she felt the sun setting. She still kept the long hours, she still thought of new innovations. She saw others who dropped away from Felix without having done anything they had promised. Her heart tore within her and she recommitted to herself that she would finish everything she had promised for Felix. If she had committed herself before, it was nothing like now. Her phone, her sleep, her travel, her writing, her emails, her reading, her music: all revolved around Felix. Nellie was a gold-medal winner—one who learned from the bruises left by the swinging gold that winning was evil. She began running, running as hard as she could just so she could let out the pain and cry alone in gasps. Criticism came openly now. Looks were not sensed or discovered, they were expressly delivered. She slept long and heavy sleeps that left her feeling tired. Day after day, Nellie reminded herself that she couldn’t let Felix go until she’d followed through on her commitments to the best of her ability, even as she sat through a why-we-hate-Nellie-with-Felix conversation where she gave up on all diplomacy and hung her head. She shrunk from the replays of that conversation. She agonized over what she had been beaten to. Her pulped confidence betrayed painful truths. All that was left was . . . Nellie. But she had made Felix herself and all he had given her was hurt beyond any she had felt. Hurt that squeezed her insides and pulled at her temples. Nellie’s heart closed. Her neck and shoulders ached and kept her from sleeping peacefully. She dreaded waking up in the morning and longed to lie down on the floor and never get up again. Nothing mattered now. She knew what she had to do. She knew who, besides herself, would be the best for Felix. It was not an option to stay and teach her successor, so she prepared the role so it would be easy to fall into. She did all she promised. Then she told Felix she wasn’t coming back.

Now imagine that Nellie H. was really Michelle G., and that Felix was the Family History Library. Can you see, in some way, what adverse effects this experience would have on someone? Loving something and making it your life, only to have it thrown back at you until you are a withered pulp . . .

I suppose one could reasonably say that Nellie H. would need a lot of recup time, perhaps even counseling. Now what if Nellie were to jump into the arms of Victor Thimble too soon just to feel some sense of accomplishment and dedication and security again? What if she so wanted to please someone, anyone, that she forgot to think about it first? Do you think there would be more adverse effects because of the avoidance of feelings?

Nellie doesn’t know if she can ever be as dedicated as she once was. Her confidence is shot. Her options are endless, her potential soars above those who have not endured similar trials, but all she craves is peace and quiet and love. She avoids thinking about anything. With her self-love gone and her heart shriveled, where can she turn?

Today marks three years.

Warm Fuzzies

This is the email I received today from the sister missionary who caused quite a bit of heartache for me at the Library:

Michelle, I just have to tell you how much I have missed you. I know we have "fussed" several times, but there have been several times after you left that I caught myself saying "I will have to go and ask Michelle. She has the answers." I have even gone so far as to get to the phone before reminding myself that you are not there. I had no idea it would be so difficult without you. I didn't recognize what a rock you were for me. I had to tell you this. I have thought about it a lot and realized that I needed to say this. I got the Flash today and your e-mail address was there and I needed to tell you this. I wish you all the best. I will be released on May 25th and I can't believe how fast the time has gone by. Hope things go well for you. You have such great talent and gift. You will set the world on fire. Than! ks for everything. I am sorry that it took me so long to tell you how much I have appreciated you.

This is the paragraph I have been instructed to delete from the sales invoices:

WE APPRECIATE YOUR BUSINESS AND WE ARE COMMITTED TO PROVIDING YOU WITH LAVISH CUSTOMER SERVICE.

Apparently we don't appreciate their business and we can't commit ourselves to providing lavish customer service.

Chip On Your Shoulder vs. Chipper

Isn't it funny how little things at the start of the day can sometimes affect whether you are chipper or if you have a chip on your shoulder for the rest of the day? The last three days have been the latter.

When I went to catch the connecting bus this morning, I missed it again. Just barely! I swear the bus driver saw me and just pulled away anyway. I thought, "Well, good thing I brought the scooter," and I proceeded to scoot down the road. The bus got stopped at the next light, and there were a whole bunch of people waiting at the stop, so while they were boarding, I raced up to it and got on. The last guy in line was nice enough to see me and wait so that the doors wouldn't close. Ha! Ha ha! I was cheerful the rest of the ride. I caught up to the mean bus driver on my scooter!

Then when I got to work, I told Daniel that I felt really bad, but the dates for the trip had been moved up and extended, and he should probably find someone to be trained while Nate was still around. I also told him that I liked the people here (which I do), and that I felt like I could do a good job (which I could), but the transportation was wearing on me. I do feel bad, but I think it will be the best for everyone. Daniel said he emailed Bryce a sarcastic email. Bryce's reply made me laugh and even more excited about the trip.

Utah Symphony at the Tabernacle

Tanya went with me to the Utah Symphony tribute to the Tabernacle reopening. The first part was the musical story of Job, really interesting. The second and last part was a symphony by Saint Saens. I was rather disappointed. Elementary scales and tasteless organ belches following lovely measures of violins, flutes, and trumpets. Each instrument had its turn, then they played together nicely, and then the organ would BWUUUUUUG the same chord that all those instruments had played.

Something about the symphony really threw me off. I thought a lot about the FHL. I knew that there had to be at least twenty missionaries from the Library there. I wondered about all the FHL stuff and how I felt like I now had something to get past. I considered that maybe the reason all those people were stalled in their lives and messed up at the Library was because they work there. I thought about how even the people who were really great were hard to talk to because they were connected to the Library. I had this desire to be able to look at it and appreciate the lessons I learned, to realize how much I loved my job, to know that I made some kind of difference and no longer have connected negative feelings.

Torn

My Google toolbar mood ring currently is black. It says, "Tense, stressed, working too hard." I may not be working too hard (I don't know enough to work the kind of hard that I like), but I feel like I'm working too hard in the wrong area. Here I am, trying to move on with my career, my life, and emotional damage done at the FHL, and somehow I got way off course. What am I doing? I left the FHL so I could move on, but I stepped back instead! I think what I need right now includes:

-sleep
-sun
-random jobs that require no long commitment
-no more long bus rides
-travel
-music
-family time
-plans outside of Utah
-reading and writing time

The reasons I'm having trouble just quitting are:

-I don't want to disappoint the guy (and his family) who gave it to me.
-I don't want to be a quitter.
-Amy's theory is that all jobs suck the first two weeks, so maybe I should just stick it out.
-It's only going to be a few weeks. I need to stop being a wuss.
-I would probably be mad if someone had done that to me after I got them a job.
-The employees there are really nice.
-I want to show the nice people at the company that I can do better than anyone previously in that position.
-Notes: if it were three years ago and the place was closer, I might be feeling better. The pay is good, but I don't like sales stuff.

But what if I miss all the things I need to really get myself back to . . . myself? What about all the time I'm spending walking to bus stops, waiting for buses, and riding buses? Could I be seeing my family and friends instead?

Bah!

Michelle and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Today.

Spring Hay Fever

Do you think anyone has ever committed suicide because of hay fever? Or killed their allergy doctor?

Freedom of religion vs. public safety?

Freedom of religion vs. public safety?

Have you heard about the Muslim lady who is suing . . . correction: whose husband is suing because he doesn't want her to lift her veil for her license photograph? If not, click here before reading further.

I think the whole reason we have photos on our licenses is so we can be tracked if we do something bad or if we're missing or . . . something. A mostly-covered face with just some eyes isn't going to help when we're looking for you after you've been kidnapped. Unless, that is, you still have most of your face covered. But then we'd be grabbing random Muslim women and asking them if they are the kidnappee.

On the other hand, if someone asked me to do something that I was religiously connected to, I would also have a problem with it. Such as if I were asked by the CIA to kill someone, I probably wouldn't want to. That might be a little extreme, but I wanted an example having to do with a government-sanctioned activity. A less extreme and non-governmental example might be if I were in a beauty pageant and I was told to wear a bikini. Hmm. Maybe that doesn't work anyway, because it's not religious. It has to do with my amazing aversion to showing skin. How about a really short, really strapless dress? Here's one: if the government wanted me to get a big tattoo with a citizen number on it or a map of where an enemy is, I think I'd plead religious aversion. That is, of course, if the government was American. (Because if I were under Nazi rule, I wouldn't have any choice about the number.)

So, in other words, I haven't quite figured out what I think about this debate yet. I do think one person who is sincere in pleading religious aversion is fine, but what if others use it to their advantage? What if we suddenly have a lot of people wanting to not show their face and we couldn't do anything about it? Let me clarify one thing here: I am not, in any way, inferring that Muslims are all terrorists. But terrorists (American, Latvian, Hungarian, Brazilian, any type) could use that case to claim their own religious aversion. So, maybe the judge made the right decision and the next judge up should also say that the veil must be lifted.

One more thing: over my dad's shoulder tonight, I listened to a guy talk to a bunch of Muslim kids about being Muslim in America. I thought what they said was really interesting. They were individually diverse. Some wore the hijab, some didn't. One girl remarked how she was called a nasty name by a really distinguished-looking man on the subway. Another said her teacher had said, "You must be aggressive." Anyway, two of the girls talked about why they wore the hijab (only two of a group of 12 or so did). Neither of them said anything about it having to do with their beliefs or religion. One said that it was just her style. The other said she wanted to show others that she wasn't afraid of being different. Of course, no Mormon would claim that garments are their style, but I really was surprised that no link to religion was made. I would link even the smallest thing to my belief, such as not piercing my nose.

Time for Another Tribute

Well, it's that time again. What, two days later? Tonight I was able to go and help my friend with a fund-raising dance concert that she organized and choreographed. I was so impressed with what she had done, and I started thinking about what a good friend she's been. So, here's to Tanya:

Admittedly, I practically forced my way into friendship with Tanya. I remember her as the quiet but confident-looking girl who always dressed in a stylish manner. It was not until we spent some time together in San Francisco during our AP Art History class trip that I realized how cool she was. I decided then that I wanted to get to know her. She seemed really reserved, but I talked to her more at school, found out about where she worked, invited her to a few things, etc., and we graduated two months later. For most people in high school, that was the end of contact with me.

I left a note on Tanya's car one morning during the following summer. She thought it was weird, but we kept in touch and continued hanging out. So, in short, we went to the same high school but we weren't really friends until later. We started really hanging out as students at the U. I think that half the things we went to, she only went because of my peer pressure, but she was nice enough to go. In return, I've gotten to go to some really cool events, such as dance concerts, lollicup runs, dim sum dinners, eating soup made by her mom, art shows, and more.

The coolest thing about our friendship is that we can go for what might be considered a long time without talking, but our friendship is just as good when we do talk again.

Tanya is very talented. She tries to downplay her dancing skills, but she is fabulous. Every time I've seen her dance, I was impressed. As my mom put it, "she has clean lines!" I don't know much about dance, but I know she's way good and that she puts her heart into it. I marvel that someone who is so reserved can dance like that. I am really outgoing, but I feel so stupid dancing. (Tanya can testify to this from when she convinced me to go to a hip hop class with her.) I was especially impressed with how professional Tanya seemed with the dance concert put on tonight. Not only did she arrange the whole thing, she started the club that danced in it--"The Contemporary Movement" (the only dance club that is open to non-ballet majors)--and figured out how to secure funding from the U of U.

Another talent of Tanya's is her ability to stay calm and work things out. We can disagree about things or be disappointed with one another, but somehow we aren't afraid to talk about it and work it out. Some people might just say yes to going somewhere because they don't want to offend someone, but either of us can turn down an offer to go somewhere and be understood without having to apologize or explain to the lame extent some require. We're also not afraid to ask each other to do favors, such as saving jpgs of every page of a long article and emailing it to China so a paper can be in on time (although I could only get it sideways). I didn't mind doing it, because I knew she would do the same for me.

Tanya always knows the latest styles. I swear she can pull off anything. Sometimes I wish I could be like that (although once I laughed my head off when she told me her stillettos were sinking into the grass). I know that when I'm not sure if something's cute and acceptable or not, she will know and tell me.

She likes really cool music that I don't even know about until she plays it for me.

Tanya drives us places, since she has a car. I always love to get in her car, because she always has a new story about why it supposedly smells funny (I can't always smell whatever she's talking about, but some of them have been pleasant, like the lotion that melted on the seatbelt). I try to borrow the parentals' cars now and then to give her a break, but I definitely feel torn between guilt for always having Tanya drive, and guilt for borrowing "The Exploder" or the Sequoioa (heaven forbid). So, it's really nice of Tanya to be so generous.

For some reason, Tanya and I like to go to firesides on Sundays (usually at the U Institute). The reason I say "for some reason" is because we always laugh at people there and at weird things that were said. We like to analyze stereotypical Mormon culture and make big plans to leave Utah. One time we drove up to the 'Tute, but both chapels were packed (it was a big-time Mormon celebrity, like Sherri Dew, or a GA, I can't remember). We had a meeting afterwards, so we decided to wait, but waiting got boring. So, we went upstairs to the hall that has windows overlooking the chapel overflow areas. In other words, walking in that hall makes you very visible to people in the darkened gym below. We did c-razy things, such as making rowing motions past the first window, crawling under the second window, and leaping across the third window.

Tanya and I both like traveling, and have made it a goal to do some traveling once per year for the rest of our lives, even if it includes things like our road trip from Virginia to Utah where we slept in the cars in parking lots, ran into racist backwoods Virginians who took a few hours with their family to change our oil in their garage, walked through D.C. at 10 o'clock at night to see anything that was still open, parked in downtown Chicago for 14 bucks, drove through cornfields in the hardest rain we've ever seen, finagled our way into an after-hours tour of Carthage Jail, gave ourselves a tour of Nauvoo with the help of a borrowed guide book and the headlights, risked our health by eating nasty salad and hamburgers that had been bought the day before in order to avoid making a purchase on the Sabbath, and pulled into Salt Lake in time for Tanya to go straight to school without a shower. How many people are willing to travel like that? It was awesome! Think of the story that I would have just told if we had taken our time and stayed in hotels and pulled over in the rain and gone to Jiffy Lube . . .

Tanya and I also share a love of art and culture, whether it be attending a free Rachmaninov concert, or listening to Keane belting at Abravanel Hall, or going to an exhibit of unusual book binding, etc. We have long, interesting conversations about all sorts of things. I can tell her things that I would never dream of telling others.

Well, now I kind of feel bad because my writing in this tribute has been a lot better than the others. So, sorry to the others. (Amy's didn't do her justice.) Also, sorry to Bryce for the long posting. :) On to other things:

Tanya is very intelligent in a broad spectrum of areas. I especially love to talk to her about hot debates going on and hot debates that we think should go on. :) She keeps up with the news. She has very altruistic goals of serving between countries with her international studies experience. I always just wanted to enjoy what I was doing and make money, but she admirably sees needs around the world and wants to do what she can to help.

Tanya is as consistent to me as my family is.

New Job

I was just offered a job for seven weeks (with a week-long break in the middle). It just fell into my lap. I'm quite excited, I start Monday. The only thing that's got me a bit scared is I have no idea what I'll be doing. I looked at the company's website, and I had no idea what it was talking about, so I looked up some of the stuff I read about in wikipedia, and this is what I found:

"Depending on its processing and thermal history, it may exist both as an amorphous (transparent) and as a semi-crystalline (opaque and white) material. Its monomer can be synthesized by the esterification reaction between terephthalic acid and ethylene glycol with water as a byproduct or the transesterification reaction between ethylene glycol and dimethyl terephthalate with methanol as a byproduct. Polymerization is through a polycondensation reaction of the monomers (done immediately after esterification/transesterification) with ethylene glycol as the byproduct (the ethylene glycol is recycled in production)."

Whoa. This making process of PET is in a different language completely. I do understand what a membrane switch is now, though. Pretty nifty. That's what we've got on our new oven. Sometimes they have tactile snaps and sometimes they don't. (I can imagine older customers wanting the feel that the button has been pushed.)

The Last FHL Limerick For Me

So I got an email from a regular patron at the FHL! He was always helpful with research (he's a professional genealogist--any big researcher would recognize his name), supportive of Access Services, good at giving advice, and fun to talk to. He liked to read the newsletter that I wrote. A lot of people know him as "the guy who wears the headphones," because he doesn't like noise while working. Every now and then he'd bring these comics about library-related stuff to each window so we could have a laugh. He was the one who taught me about consanguinity. It's really good to hear from someone. He even included my last limerick (we were talking about the Deseret News limerick contest once, and he wrote one about me writing the newsletter). Here is the email (I didn't put his name in case he wants to remain anonymous on here).

Access Services Michelle
Has left the FHL
without saying goodbye
and it's made us all cry
but we surely do wish her well!

Michelle,

Thanks for getting that last copy of the FHLASH to me! I have been noticing
people disappear lately, but since you were behind the scenes so much, just
thought that I hadn't seen you when you were on the floor.

Thanks for brightening my experiences (and that of many others) at the FHL!

With very best wishes,

The Patron

Vacuum Dorks

Mom just got back from the vacuum store. She got a new beater bar. Yesterday she took the vacuum apart, got out gobs of nasty gunk, and put it back together (she's braver than I am, dead spiders galore, probably). She's talented like that.

Anyway, she mentioned to the guy at the store that our vacuum is the best she's ever had. She was surprised that he knew exactly which kind she was talking about. Then she mentioned that she loves the red and green lights that show when an area of carpet is done. He said, "You are the first one to ever pay any attention to those!"

I like the red and green lights too.

Princeton Pride

So I just was driving to my credit union and ended up behind a real junker of a car. I noticed that it had a big Princeton sticker on the back windshield. My thought process:

"If they went to Princeton, where'd they end up to get a car like that?"

"Maybe they're just a fan of Princeton."

"I hope if I went to Princeton that I'd make enough to have at least a newer car than that."

"I had a professor who went there. She was crazy, but I learned a lot."

"What if that person is just a cheapskate? Am I going to end up in a car like that since I'm a cheapskate, too?"

My Sister Amy

Every now and then I write a tribute to someone I really admire (okay, so I've only done it once before). I think it's way past time for my sister Amy to be admired for her good qualities.

Everyone in my family loves Amy. She is a peacemaker and she loves everyone. This week, I was thinking about how Amy would react to dumb things that annoy me. I got mad because someone did not do something I asked them to do, so I did it and threw out a sarcastic comment about it. Then I realized Amy would have said, "Don't worry about that, I took care of it already." Someone else might just do it and not say anything, but she would tell you. And you would know that she wasn't doing it spitefully. Wow. That is talent.

Amy is the best example of a person living a balanced life. I don't even know how to explain this other than to give examples. She doesn't buy a lot of clothes, but she mixes and matches to look nice. She has learned to incorporate all kinds of international foods into her diet. She figures out how much of each food group James needs for each meal. She has a list of the cost per ounce of items at Costco so she can compare them at other stores. She walks anywhere within a mile and a half of her house to not pollute.

Everything she does is precise and methodical, but you can tell from talking to her it's because she has tried out several ways and proven that that way works the best for her.

Amy reads all sorts of things, from political news and novels to scientific discoveries and philosophy. She can analyze any writing and give good input. She reads her scriptures regularly and is so humble.

The most impressive things to me are Amy's abilities to balance logic and emotion. (I remember studying the Age of Reason and how they had to react to it by balancing science, art, logic, and emotion) Amy can also balance women's rights and men's rights. I recognize that the best advocate of women's rights doesn't reject men's rights, but I don't always have the best view of ascribed women's roles. Amy, a beautiful, intelligent, and kind person can stand up for women's rights and also be a married mother. She enjoys it, too.

Talking to Amy on the phone is always enjoyable, uplifting, and helpful. I'm so glad she's my sister and I hope I can become more like her.

Here is a cute picture of Amy with James. As you can see, even James wants to be like her.

Cali Trip April 2007 Highlights

I never posted about the trip to Cali. Here are a few highlights. Pictures therefrom can be seen on my picasaweb. Get them while they're hot, because I'll probably take most of them off to make room for more later.

-We stopped at and walked on the Bonneville salt flats.


-Heidi and I watched all the episodes I had never seen of The Office season 1 and 2.

-We played with James every hour that he was awake.


-We stayed in the nicest hotel I've ever been to, and it was only 89/night, but it had no free breakfast. (It was in Sunnyvale. Or was it Mountain View? They're so close!) I gave up after three nights, because the snoring was interrupting my sleep too much. Amy and Paul's wool couch is really quite comfortable, and it's nice to wake up to James.

-All the girls and James went shopping at Target and Ross. I got some bermuda shorts, a couple of cute shirts, and a dress.

-Amy made amazing food every day. My favorite was the Greek meatball with cucumber yogurt sauce. Mmmmmm.

-We went to Amy's ward's Easter brunch. I decorated a paper egg. Sica and I snacked on all the peanut butter M&Ms, even though we'd eaten a whole bag on the way to Cali. Paul and Sica tied for first in the water-balloon-tossing competition. I impressed this brother because I could pick up four chairs (kinda weird).

-We watched model airplanes and walked around the Rancho San Antonio Open Space Preserve, where we also learned from a sign what to do if we encountered a mountain lion. (How do you pick up children without bending? "Jump!")


-We hot tubbed at the hotel. Paul enjoyed it so much, he was plotting ways to have year-round access to the tub.

-James sat in the corner of the shallow part of the hotel pool and laughed his head off. He rarely laughs out loud, so it was hilarious to see him giggle at Heidi splashing.

-Somehow Sica convinced all of us to watch two of the LOTR movies. Wow. They are long. The second one was kind of pointless, because you have to watch the third one to see what happens. Oh well. I actually quite enjoyed them, I just felt like I could be doing other things in California with Amy and Paul and James. I do not like the really violent parts, though.

-I won at Settlers, which upset Paul, because he was about to win. I had just offered Amy my soldiers because I wanted someone to hurry and end the game. That didn't work, and neither did doing a trade just so she'd win. So, I just finished it up instead. (I remember the first time I played that game and I beat Uncle Rick at the Bear Trap Lodge. He was so mad, he stood up and said, "I'm gonna run you over with my car!" Ha ha.)

-I drove 95 through Nevada. What a bland state. Like Wyoming. (Except for Yellowstone, thank you for pointing that out senior year, Vande.)

RealAge the RealWay

You know, that RealAge test never asks, "Do you eat abnormally large amounts of ice cream, Reese's peanut butter cups, mint candies, girl scout cookies, candy bars, toaster strudels, peanut butter M&Ms and other potentially harmful foods?"

It did, however, tell me to eat more of other things, but I think if I ate all that is required, my bladder would explode (guess the movie, win points). What I had today was fairly normal: a bowl of cereal for breakfast and the last few bites of boysenberry pie, a piece of bread with pizza sauce and provolone on it for lunch, and a bowl of mom's soup that redeemed all the nasty vegetables her sisters brought over. I feel just fine with having that much.

Well, actually, for those of you who haven't heard my theory about me and eating, here it is: I think college ruined my recognition of hunger. I didn't have time to eat breakfast or make a lunch in the morning, I went to school all day and worked in the afternoon and evening, so I ate a big meal when I got home late at night. I don't know when I'm hungry. I'm pretty much always ready to eat if food is put in front of me, but that doesn't mean I will eat, because I find other things too important. Like working. So maybe I am hungry, I just don't know it.

I wonder if I started eating those prescribed things if I really would have more energy. With more iron, certainly. But you don't just say, "I need leafy green vegetables. Let me take a bite of this broccoli tree." At least I don't. But I'm not a fan of eating things like leaves. "Leave the leaves on the trees!" I say.

I promised Bryce I would shorten my blog entries, so here you go.

D is for Delirium

I'm sorry. I just can't help laughing. "Delirium." During institute today, that is what the institute stalker boy's response was for "What are things that might cause problems in a marriage?" Our teacher remarked that a lot of the problems start with D, like debt, and depression, and decisions. The infamous member of our class called out, "Delirium!" I had to hand it to the teacher. He said, "Yeah, I could add that. You know, never in my ten years of teaching this class has anyone said that one."

This was after I was passed my third note from this kid. A note that every person who passed it had the enjoyment of reading. An elementary-type note. A note that said, "Michelle, two questions: 1. Why do you act so indifferent/cold towards me? 2. I am going to Fashion Place after class. May I please give you a ride? Your friend, Soandso."

For your information, the first definition of "delirium" in my handy spelling bee prize Webster's New World Dictionary (1996) is "a temporary mental disturbance, as during a fever, marked by confused speech and hallucinations."

Could you handle delirium in a marriage?

RealAge

Apparently I am currently 16.4 years old. Wow. That's weird. And if I start taking vitamins and doing more stretching and a few other easy things, I will be 14.9 by July 11th. Hmmm.

"The Mormons"

Take a look at this site: http://www.pbs.org/mormons/

Dad and I watched the six-minute trailer for this new PBS special called "The Mormons." Apparently the lady who has worked for years on the project was pressured to make it more critical and expose-like. The music that accompanies the trailer makes it sound like they are exposing an evil, dangerous thing.

I hope to actually like the documentary.

Carpe Diem: Marvell vs. Snow Patrol

Carpe diem poems, a.k.a "let's do it before it's too late" poems: I think I found a modern example. I'll post both the classic example (Andrew Marvell's "To His Coy Mistress") and the modern find (Snow Patrol's "Chasing Cars") if you will but discuss your thoughts on the similarities and differences. Read on:

To his Coy Mistress

by Andrew Marvell

Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love's day;
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood;
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow.
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.

But at my back I always hear
Time's winged chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song; then worms shall try
That long preserv'd virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust.
The grave's a fine and private place,
But none I think do there embrace.

Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may;
And now, like am'rous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour,
Than languish in his slow-chapp'd power.
Let us roll all our strength, and all
Our sweetness, up into one ball;
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life.
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.


Chasing Cars

by Snow Patrol

We'll do it all
Everything
On our own

We don't need
Anything
Or anyone

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

I don't quite know
How to say
How I feel

Those three words
Are said too much
They're not enough

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Forget what we're told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's bursting into life

Let's waste time
Chasing cars
Around our heads

I need your grace
To remind me
To find my own

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Forget what we're told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's bursting into life

All that I am
All that I ever was
Is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see

I don't know where
Confused about how as well
Just know that these things will never change for us at all

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

I looked out the window

I just looked out the window, and what did I see? A totally sunshiny, spring day: the grass was a fresh green, the sky was blue as could be, flowers were blooming, and trees were flourishing. So what was with the light, almost imperceptible snow flakes?

Happy Birthday to Jesus Christ

Happy Birthday to the Savior of the World, our brother, Jesus Christ. I am grateful for what he did and does for me. Click here to learn more about Him.

Satisfied with my interview: I did my best

Whew. I did everything I could to prepare and I feel quite satisfied. I think I really did my best. The guy who called from Google to interview me was named Christian. He was very nice, obviously intelligent, and Danish. We had a fabulous discussion about genealogy.

Anyway, the basics were:

1. Tell me about the training manual, style guide, and glossary you did at the Family History Library (I did--perfect to show initiative, editing skills, leadership, etc.)

2. Tell me about having twelve direct reports. What sort of things did you have them do? (We were over standards. So, all customer/staff interactions, up-to-date technology, refresher and initial training were ours. I would assign people to create and review and train.)

3. Did you have to solve some problems? (Yes, worked first with individuals, then with others, and, if needed, with management. Example: young coworkers without proactive attitudes.)

4. What did you learn/enjoy at the Library? (Great coworkers, leadership, working together, editing, working fast, making things look nice, etc.)

5. Was there anything you didn't like? (People giving input was more like discouraged boundary-crossing than teamwork!)

6. How did you organize records at the Library? (Database, microfilm, Dewey Decimal, assigned shelf reading. He kept coming back to this one in different ways, he really thought it was fascinating.)

7. So you studied in Germany. What were some cultural differences you noticed? (Privacy, hours of stores, etc.)

8. What are some challenges you would see with localization? (Languages, culture differences, colors, measurements, dialects, knowing if the product really is good, Americanized translators, etc.)


9. What is something you've seen or thought of that Google should explore? (I had the perfect answer for this one . . . well, several, but I focused on one: genealogy. I said, "If anyone has the computing power to gather the billions of genealogical records around the world, it would be Google." He said, "Yes, and it fits with Google's goal to get the world's information to everyone for free." Wahoo! I also said that older users would be more drawn to try Google search and its products, even those who are afraid to touch computers.)

I felt like I really knew what I was talking about, like I actually read and did all the studying for an exam. I should hear something in a couple of weeks . . . about the same time I hear from Columbia. Grandpa asked me all sorts of questions about Google, and as I was telling him, he said, "Those are big words! Did you really know all those answers?" I realized that I really have enjoyed learning all about Google and I would love to work for such a fast-growing, fast-paced, unique company.

Googley Glogs on my Blog

I found these fun items on Google Blogoscoped:

Thursday, March 29, 2007

Google Maps Recommends a Long Swim

When you ask Google Maps for the direction from Harvard, Cambridge, Massachusetts, to Kings College, Cambridge, England, in step 12 they suggest you “Swim across the Atlantic Ocean.” Don’t be a sissy!

Search Engine Quiz Game

At the Flash-based Search Engine Smackdown game, you are entering a fight as one of the big figures in search – like Larry Page or Sergey Brin – and need to answer a series of search-related questions to score hits. A highscore table track the best winning times... [Via Barry Schwartz.]

You can find this game at: http://www.pronetadvertising.com/searchenginesmackdown/