Being Shallow Makes for a Very Dull World

In recent weeks I've been reading the many blog posts of my best friends and experiencing with them the things they care about and love the most in their lives. They talk about their families, their children, their pets and their hobbies. They ponder their motives, their faith, their goals and their futures. And by reading about their lives I'm noticing a few things about my own. And two of the most poignant things I've discovered is that I live a very shallow and boring life. I've kept everything up to this point - on the surface. I've never posted anything about anything that actually mattered. There's never been anything meaningful or insightful or even really that thoughtful on my blog or even in any of my recent conversations for that matter. I'm random, off the wall and, well . . . shallow. Other people share with me and I listen and tell them what I think about the situation but rarely do I share anything with them unless it's just a silly punchline or the latest story about something stupid I did.

It's not that I don't think the "deep thoughts" or over-analyze things when I'm not making jokes. It's more like I'd rather just keep everything at arms length as long as other people are involved. If I don't put myself out there and go to activities or date or even just hang out with friends then I don't ever have to worry about getting hurt. Don't get me wrong, I have my closest friends and those few people probably know me better than anyone. And while I've opened up to each of them individually on separate occasions, I've found that it's become more and more rare.

I don't think I've always been this way. . . well, not totally. I have always been guarded and I've ALWAYS hated talking about myself but not usually with those that matter most. I guess with broken hearts and broken promises comes strong and thick walls. So that being said I think I may just try to let some people in. Now don't get too excited. (MJ, I can see you doing your happy dance and I want you to tone it down a little bit) I still don't want to be set up on dates. I'm not going to suddenly change my mind and try internet dating. I'm not going to make friends with people in the grocery store and I'm not going to get close to my visiting teacher. I'm not going to start going to ward activities (they're so totally lame) and I'm still not a fan of being tagged via blog and forced to make lists about me and only me because as I've said, I find my life boring and I don't have much of a one to talk about. But in an effort to become closer to those people that matter most I've decided to start using my blog to let them get into my mind a little more (as scary as that may be to some of you).

And, I've decided to start with this new goal tonight. So here goes. A couple of nights ago I was out with my Yaya's and we were discussing the whole personality color thing and what everyone leans toward and what catagory they fit into. MJ and MS both insisted that I was a blue. Meaning that I allow my life to be run by my emotions. Without knowing anything about the colors or what they stood for I disagreed. And as usual, I thought (and did not say) that I felt that while I had emotional reactions to everything, (I am female, after all) I believe I am pretty good at compartmentalizing and not taking the emotions of one situation and infusing them into another. i.e. I don't let family stress dictate what's happening at work and I don't let work stuff change what's going on in my personal realtionships.

So in this quest for self acutulization, if you will, I searched out this test online just to see if anyone really knows the "real me". And I've discovered that I am not the only one still looking for myself. According to the Color Code, here is my personality:

36% White: (Motive: PEACE)—These are the peacekeepers. Peace, or the absence of conflict, is what motivates and drives these people. They bring great gifts of clarity and tolerance and are generally kind, adaptable, good-listeners.

28% Yellow: (Motive: Fun)—These are the fun lovers. Fun, or the joy of doing something just for the sake of doing it, is what motivates and drives these people. They bring great gifts of enthusiasm and optimism and are generally charismatic, spontaneous, and sociable.

20% Blue: (Motive: INTIMACY)—These are the do-gooders. Intimacy, connecting, creating quality relationships and having purpose is what motivates and drives these people. They bring great gifts of quality and service and are generally loyal, sincere, and thoughtful.

16% Red: (Motive: POWER)—These are the power wielders. Power, the ability to move from point A to point B, and get things done is what motivates and drives these people. They bring great gifts of vision and leadership and generally are responsible, decisive, proactive and assertive.

Honestly, after reading these descriptions and seeing my percentages - I feel even more confused about who I am and what motivates me. Maybe one day, with the help of my friends, I'll get it all figured out.

Bad Luck With Chuck (thanks for the title, Marion)

I think the title says it all. I love my dog but he tends to be a weaver when we're running. Even when on a path or a sidewalk he weaves all over the place trying to mark his territory as a four mile radius around my house. Plus, it's in his breed to run in front of me at all times. He's part Alaskan Malamute and they're pulling dogs. He'll be trotting along at a decent speed but if he realized that I'm next to him or catching up he'll sprint a few steps to get in front of me and we'll do this over and over again for a good 3 or 4 miles run.

Anyway, back to the point of my story. I came home from work last night with the intention of taking him for at least a two mile run (on my sprained ankle - again an accident that happened with him in tow) and then grabbing a quick dinner and heading to a late yoga class. I was less than 50 yards from my front door, actually just coming into the driveway where Chuck and I were just finishing up a quarter mile sprint when, as expected, we weaved in front of me. So I was paying attention to what he was doing, trying not to trip over or kick him as I ran and missed the point were the sidewalk raised up above the lawn. So my toe just barely caught on it and I went down on the sidewalk. Graceful, huh? The best part is that I had his leash in my right hand and my iPod in my left because I was tracking my sprint so I didn't have a hand free to catch myself. I landed on my left side and bruised my shoulder and ribs. I also scrapped up my left hand and my arm pretty good. But here's the weirdest part . . I've got a scrape on each knee . . but not on the lower part of my knee where one would usually land when falling. Nope, these scrapes are both ABOVE my kneecaps. How on earth did I land above my knees?? I guess there is one bright side to my story - I was wearing dark colors and it was dark outside so it's doubtful that many people saw my runway momen. Of course, now I've written about it on my blog so I guess I'm just setting myself up anyway, huh? Oh well. I'm sure I'll survive. However, I was feeling the pain and took a Tylenol PM and skipped the yoga class.

Rocking the High Heels

So about a week and a half ago I was out running on a trail in East Kaysville with my dog, Chuck. We'd been going for about a half mile when I came around a corner to find there was a bunch of loose rock. And lucky me, I twisted my ankle. It didn't really hurt so I didn't think much of it and continued on my run. The next day, I went out again. This time I did about three miles with a quarter mile sprint at the end. No problem. So on Sunday I put on heels to go to church and that just about killed me! My ankle started to swell and eventually it was no longer an ankle . . it was a cankle (for those of you that don't know, a cankle is when your calf just blends into your ankle, making your leg the same diameter all the way down to the top of your foot). But it really didn't hurt to walk on - unless in heels - so I didn't let it stop me. I went to St. George on the following Monday afternoon to go rock climbing in Crawdad Canyon for a couple days. And then I came back and continued running, doing yoga, going to spin classes etc etc. Nothing stopped me until I went to church again the next Sunday and again, the heels made for a very long three hours. So at the pushing of my friends I went to the doctor on Monday and because of where it was tender he was concerned and took xrays. Luckily, nothing is broken and it's just a bad sprain, which is was I suspected. So he gave me this very sexy ankle brace to wear (since I plan on hiking to the summit of Mount Timpanogas on Saturday). But don't think for one second that I allowed the brace to stop me from rocking the heels. See attached photo.

Have you ever wondered . .

about directions on food packages that say things like, "please tear along line"? Really, why so polite? Are they afraid people might be insulted and feel like they're being forced into doing things they don't want to do if they aren't asked nicely? Did they receive one too many comment emails saying that people felt their directions were too forceful and 'direct'? Or maybe they're afraid of renegade patrons running a muck and tearing the packet vertically rather than horizontally and spilling their ramen noodle flavor packet all over the counter instead of in the noodles . . . I've really got no direction with this. I'm just saying that I find it a little strange . .

Awkward Dude

So I had to go to the post office yesterday to send a package. It was virtually empty except for the woman working there, the woman she was helping and myself. I'd been standing there for about a minute holding some bills and a very small package that I was mailing when a man in his late 40's walked in. At first I didn't think anything about him until he got into earshot. He wasn't humming, he wasn't whistling, he wasn't mumbling lyrics under his breath like most of us do. Nope - he was singing! Full out singing a song and it wasn't one of those things where he was listening to his iPod and singing along, he was just giving us all an up close and personal concert. Everyone turned to look at him but then tried desperately to not actually stare. It's funny the details you notice when you try to avoid eye contact with someone else. For instance, were you aware of the fact that the post office is selling Frank Sinatra commemorative stamps? The best part of the awkward dude was the fact that he didn't stop singing when we all looked at him, he finished the last two verses of his song. He actually looked at me like he expected me to sing along - maybe even do a little dance, High School Musical style.

When he finish (with a flourish, I might add) he turned to me, with a sly smile and a very unsubtle up and down, and said, "Looks like you've got your hands full." To which I could only respond with, "It's a tough job." And the whole thing made me wonder, was that really a performance or more of a serenade?

The Road Trip P.S.

After a week on the road with my bro and his family I got back to my car in the long term parking and found that I was missing a hubcap. Guess we didn't get it back on tight and I lost it along the way. It's going to cost me about $50 to replace it but it must be done . . . driving around without a hubcap is like walking around with only one shoe. It's really hard to act cool when you look lopsided.

The Road Trip

My mom is nothing if not supportive. She once said to me, “I’ve never met anyone in my entire life that has the luck that you do. In your world, if something can go wrong, inevitably it will.” Thanks for the encouragement, Mom. And the bad luck continues . . .

I woke last Wednesday morning frazzled and hurried knowing that no matter how prepared I was I would be in a rush all day long. I was on my way to Seattle to help my brother and his family pack up their things and move to Denver where my brother is starting grad school. I was almost done packing the night before but it never seems to be enough. I watered the plants and put my dog out and put all of my luggage into the car and then headed off to the airport with plenty of time to spare. I was only about two miles from my house when something flipped up and hit my undercarriage. I was on the phone with my credit card making a payment for the month before I left town and didn’t do anything more than glance in my rear view mirror to see if I could tell what it was that hit me but I didn’t see anything so I just continued on my way. Less then ten seconds later my front drivers side tire didn’t blow – it just went flat. It was the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen. After a few choice four letter words I basically hung up on the credit card lady and pulled off to the side of highway 89. I started pulling all of the luggage out of my trunk and moving my camera equipment and laptop into the front so that it was sitting on the side of the highway. Just as I was pulling the cover off my spare tire a good Samaritan pulled up and offered to help, so I let him. He went to pull out my spare and realized that it too was totally flat. Good times. He offered to take my spare to the gas station up the road and fill it up while I made the phone calls I had to make to the airline and to my brother that was suppose to be picking me up at the airport in Seattle. He was back within a matter of minutes and said that there was nothing that he could do because there was a big hole in my spare (do you now understand what my mom was getting at?).

See, last November I ran over a piece of loose concrete in the drive thru at the back that had been left there from some recent construction. So I put on my spare and just bought all new tires because they were all getting pretty bald anyway. Anyway, turns out that they put on new tires and instead of putting my spare back in my trunk, they tossed it (brand new tire, by the way) and left the old one with the hole in it in my trunk.

So I called my friend Wendy to come pick me up so that I could take my spare back to Goodyear and get things figured out. We tossed it into the back of her mini-SUV and headed back into town. It took them about 15 minutes to figure things out because of course they didn’t want to take responsibility but eventually they fixed my tire and gave me back a new spare. Wendy called her husband to come change the tire so that we wouldn’t have to since he just worked up the road and he met us at my car on the side of the road. In a matter of minutes I was back on the road and headed to the airport. I still missed my flight but was able to hop the next one and still get to Seattle. But of course . . my sister-in-law got stuck in major construction traffic and was over 20 minutes late picking me up so I got to hangout in the Seattle airport with the other unwanted riffraff. One day I’m going go on a trip and not almost die. Sigh.