this post is for you

if someone is funny, i like them.
if someone makes me feel like i'm funny, i like them even more.
it's all about this goal i have in my life: all I ever want to do is be hilarious.

Nail-cutting obsession.

I used to wear my nails long all the time, but it really bothers me when I have pretty much any nails at all these days. Sometimes I cut them as I'm walking to school, even.

This may be carrying my obsession too far. Katy, my friend at work, was talking about how she saw someone cutting their nails as they walked across campus. Her reaction was one of slight disgust and incomprehensibility (?). In English, she thought it was weird. Secretly, I was happy that she had witnessed such a scene, because it made me think, "That means I'm not the only one!"

Today, I took a short break at work and had to eat something, so I went to the break room and bought a frozen burrito. As I looked at the nutrition facts, I scoffed at myself...the "usually pretty healthy eater" (I only say that because I own soy milk, I guess). But that was a tangent. What I wanted to say is that I decided that the two minutes that my burrito was heating up would be prime time for fingernail cutting, so I went over to the garbage can and clipped away.

A couple of other people came over to use the microwave. This whole scenario made me feel like a little kid. First of all, the lady referred to the fact that I was using one of the microwaves and that they needed to use all 3 of the microwaves indirectly. That wouldn't normally be significant at all, but the guy that she was with started making a big deal out of how one of the microwaves was not cleaned well by the previous user. And apparently they had made a mess. "Don't their mothers teach them anything? Don't they know that they are decreasing the efficiency of the technology?" (He might not have said the word "technology," but I'm sure he said "efficiency.") I thought to myself that my mother certainly did not teach me to clean out microwaves after each use, and even though I knew that I had not used that microwave, I felt almost guilty, because I questioned whether I could have been the microwave mess culprit.

And if he was disgusted by the microwave, I can't imagine what he must've been saying about the fact that I was clipping my fingernails in an area where food is prepared (after I left, of course).

"I am the Ambassador of Awkward."

I went to my friend Sara's wedding reception this weekend. I am actually friends with her whole family, so I gave her dad a hug, and he joked with me about my chopsticks (in the hair) poking him the eye. I was actually concerned that they had, and I said, "I wouldn't be surprised...because I am the master of awkward things like that." Except he didn't hear me and thought I said "ambassador of awkward," and he thought it was funny. I thought I may as well have said that, because it was better than what I did say. So I didn't correct him.
Actually, sometimes awkward situations make me laugh, a lot. For example, today I got out my computer at the library and opened it only to realize, to my horror, that music was playing and there was nothing I could do about it. I couldn't adjust the volume or anything because I wasn't actually logged in. So The Cranberries "No Need to Argue" was blasting across the 4th floor of the library, to my dismay. And then it was just hilarious.
In class today, a girl's cell phone went off and she kind of freaked out because, I suppose, she didn't realize that it wasn't on silent, or whatever. So it really sounded like she said "shit" in response to that, and I thought that was hilarious and awkward too. You just don't expect people to announce that in a classroom at BYU. Harhar. But I am not going to lie, one time a patron at the library actually did swear. No mistaking that.

Memory makes my day.

A weird moment occurred the other day, but it gave me the impression that I was a genius, so I feel boasting is in order.

Someone came into the LRC and needed a video. He had to check it out for a professor, I think, but didn't have a proxy card. So he went to get the proxy card and come back to check it out. There were other patrons in between the time he left and came back. He returned, and I saw him, and immediately, almost unconsciously, said, "VC 8740, right?"

I have to say, he was surprised and impressed. And so was I.

I wish I could remember useful things that well.

So maybe I should feel a little bit bad about this. Maybe an attitude change is in order. But I have a bit of a problem with made-up callings in student wards. Just because auxiliaries are missing does not mean that they should be imagined. Honestly. Sunshine committee? What's next, people?

Sometimes I really wonder about BYU and what it would be like to be at a different school. I mean, it's really a great place, and I love it, but I think a lot of ridiculous things originate here--maybe because of the unusually concentrated Mormon culture.

I got a calling on Sunday in my ward as the Relief Society Literacy Specialist. I don't have a clue what that means and neither did any of the bishopric. But I will try to do my best to get the job (whatever it entails) done.

Feelin' the love.

A couple of things have made happy at work today, even though I have been here for nearly four hours and will be here for six and a half more later on this evening (not exciting. . .but not bad, either):

1. A student who could be old enough to be my mother, plus some. She just made me think of young women's leaders when I looked at her. She had to take the library audio tour, which is this ridiculous requirement in freshman composition classes where students have to check out a CD with an even more ridiculous recording. I was helping her more than I would for a more usual student. She had to make sure she could operate the CD player, and she seemed really grateful that I offered her a locker to put her stuff in. Actually, seeing her cute little backpack that is definitely not modern made me so happy. I don't know why, but I really loved her in that moment.

2. Another unusual student--a Chinese girl who spoke pretty bad English. She wanted some Disney movies but she didn't know how to look them up, or even which ones she wanted. Again, I'm not really sure why, but it makes me so happy to have helped her.

College is already difficult enough without being a 'typical student.' I can't imagine studying at this level in another language and country, or as a technologically-impaired middle-aged married woman with children. Good for them!

It made me think of a talk from Elder Eyring's devotional address, which is good:

"The Holy Ghost came to comfort and to guide you. As that recurred again and again, you may have noticed a change in yourself. The temptations that once troubled you seemed to fade. People who once seemed difficult began to appear more lovable. You began to see almost unreasonable potential in very humble people. You came to care more about their happiness than about your own."

That happens sometimes.

A prideful jab.

I designed a flyer for my print publishing class, and I'm proud of it. I think I should sell it to the Student Activities Board. But they probably employ people to do stuff like this, so it wouldn't work. Why don't I have that job?

Appreciating the wit of a professor.

My professor for semantics supplies laughs often. If for nothing else, I go to that class to be amused.

After drawing a triangle on the board one day, he said, "Those of you who have graduated from high school recognize this as a triangle."

I really appreciated that.

Lack Wit.

If it were possible that there were people reading my blog who didn't know me in person, upon meeting me (which is not possible, because no one reads my blog anyway), I think they may be disappointed. I imagine myself in a movie like You've Got Mail or something, carrying on blissfully in some kind of electronic romance, and after the long-awaited-for meeting in person, great disillusionment resulting. There would be this idea of me that is not completely appropriate because it is not consistent with my absolute lameness in reality.

The other day in our Writing Fellows 300 course, I was spotlighted. We fill out a small questionnaire and then someone else gets up and reads it, and everyone else tries to figure out who it is. I was pretty self-satisfied with the way I had filled out the paper, honestly. I thought I was pretty funny. And sure enough, afterward, someone told me that they appreciated its (the spotlight's) wittiness. And with some degree of what seemed like surprise, she expressed her bafflement about who it could be.

Stumped them.

My basic hypothesis is that my writing is quite another thing from how I am in general. I don't like that. In fact, it's rather unfortunate--I want to be wittier in person. But somehow I'm only able to accomplish it on paper. . .as it were.