Total Eclipse

Heeey everybody,

So in case you didn't already hear from LITERALLY EVERYBODY, there was a solar eclipse yesterday.

Everybody else was all excited and chatty and making special plans.

And I'm just kind of in the corner like, "What? What is this? Why is this a thing and why does anyone care?"

Kind of an accurate representation of every social event I've ever attended, actually.

My workplace even held a party with ice cream and fruit salad. Granted, my workplace celebrates everything, but still. Still.

And then all the news outlets were like, "The solar eclipse is the only thing that can bring the divided nation together."

And I was like, "That's Fire Nation propaganda! The four nations are meant to be separate."

Speaking of the Fire Nation, I tried really hard to get someone to commit to invade with me.

First I hit up Little Sister and Little Brother. Little Sister seemed down with it but then I never heard back from her, probably because she's married so she can't commit to bringing down an empire and having a husband.

On the morning of the eclipse, I wished Best Friend Boy a happy half birthday. Then I lied and told him the eclipse was his half-birthday present and asked if he wanted to invade the Fire Nation. He said it was too late of notice to plan an invasion.

All I can say is that I hope everybody enjoyed staring at the sun when they could have been TOPPLING THE FIRELORD.

Rollercoaster

This post doesn't have anything to do with the Phineas and Ferb episode "Rollercoaster." Although now that I've said that, I'm having deep regrets about my choice of subject matter for the evening. Why do I blog about anything else when I could blog about Phineas and Ferb?! I need to sort out my priorities.

I don't have the hardest life, but I don't have the easiest life either. My life is sort of like that episode of Avatar: The Last Airbender when the fortune teller tells Sokka, "Your future is full of struggle and anguish, most of it self-inflicted." Many of my problems are self-inflicted. It comes of being the type of person my generation commonly refers to as Gryffindors. Gryffindors do things they're afraid of. They do things they know might not turn out well. If anything, they do them because they're afraid of them and know they might not turn out well. If they were more passive, if they tried a little less and cared a little less, Gryffindors' lives would be so much easier.

I know someone who, when I'm wrestling with one ongoing problem or another, advises me to give up. This person says that it's easier to be happy when you don't try or hope for anything because then you never have to be disappointed.

While I understand the logic behind the thought, it's not something I agree with. Life is for being sad just as much as it's for being happy. I don't necessarily like being down, but I do like the sensation of having gone down and then back up again. Like on a rollercoaster (now you understand the post title). On a rollercoaster, you often go down before going back up. And if you embrace the bumps instead of bracing against the bumps, things may go better for you.

In closing, here's another Avatar: The Last Airbender quote.

"I know sometimes it hurts more to hope and it hurts more to care, but you have to promise me that you won't stop caring."

-Katara
Oh, and since I brought it up...

ACTUAL FOOTAGE OF PHINEAS AND FERB ON A ROLLERCOASTER!

The Fanfiction Life

For my birthday, I put together a trivia game about my life. As soon as I invited my loved ones to play, things got crazy. First Viola declared a determination to win, then Little Sister. They both asked me for study guides. I was gratified by their interest, amused by their competitiveness, and a little taken aback by the whole thing.

Baby Brother and I had a conversation about it along these lines:

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (to Baby Brother) Viola and Little Sister asked me for study guides for the game.

BABY BROTHER::I need a study guide!

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (now completely taken aback) You don't need a study guide! You know me.

BABY BROTHER: (practically in tears) No, I don't! I don't know you!

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Yes, you do!

BABY BROTHER: I know you, but I don't know stuff about you! What's your favorite color? I think it's blue, but I don't know!

And so on and so forth.

One trivia question was loosely related to fanfiction.

Yes, that's right.

I was a fanfiction writer.

I published a few fanfictions on fanfiction.net. Fanfiction.net is like self-publishing. Anyone can post anything they want there. Viola and I published a joint Harry Potter fanfiction there. I also posted half a Tokka fanfiction there.

The real prestige, though, came from publishing fanfictions on sites like mugglenet. mugglenet.com's fanfiction site is heavily moderated. Nothing gets posted there without the okay of a mugglenet employee. I submitted several fanfictions but only ever published one. I still remember the comments from the moderator who okayed my humor fanfiction. She said that my writing was "bubbly and effervescent" and that my style reminded her of Lemony Snicket.

Please note that at mugglenet, you only had to be 13 to publish a fanfiction. The moderator had no idea how old I was. Nor did she have any clue of my educational background or lack thereof. My work was judged solely on my writing skills. It was a proud day that mugglenet finally published one of the five or six fanfictions I'd submitted to the site. I published seven of eight chapters of the fic on the site. Unfortunately, I got severe writer's block for chapter eight and didn't update the fic for about a year. Right around that time, the site made a rule that unfinished fanfictions that hadn't been updated for over a year would start getting deleted. All seven chapters of my fic, the 300+ reviews, and the many, many views all disappeared in the blink of an eye.

It was a sad day.

I'm not much for fanfiction anymore, although occasionally I will still read a good Harry Potter or Avatar the Last Airbender one. However, I do see a lot of value in fanfiction, especially for amateur writers. It's great to practice your writing skills using previously established worlds and characters.

Promote Promote

As some of you might know, Little Brother is a YouTube star. Sort of. Kind of. A little bit.

For the past few years, he's run a YouTube channel called Helga von Eggwitz. Helga is a sarcastic chicken who has very specific views about the world around her. She has become pretty popular with Little Brother's middle school- and high school-aged friends as well as among some of my own friends.

I've alluded to Helga before. Little Brother asked me several times to promote her on the blog. I told him it would be easier to promote if I could tell people that he was the one behind Helga. The people who read this blog are presumably interested in me, not in random YouTube videos, so it seemed unlikely they would appreciate having videos of a chicken recommended to them unless they understood my personal connection to said videos.

However, Little Brother resisted because he didn't want people to connect him to Helga.

Finally, though, Little Brother has given me permission to reveal him as Helga's puppeteer. Because when I say Helga is a chicken, I mean Helga is a chicken puppet. A live-hand chicken puppet, to be exact. I don't know if it's all the Fraggle Rock that Little Brother has seen or what, but he's a naturally talented puppeteer. He does little nuances and expressions that he clearly learned from observing the works of Jim Henson. And the kid has a crackin' sense of humor (which he obviously gets from me).

What else can I say? If what I've said about Helga interests you, check it out!

Confession: I've been dying to use this GIF since I first saw it on a tumblr called Avatar Parallels. I'm not sure where it originally came from, though. As far as I can tell, GIFs are one of the few things on the Internet whose origins you don't have to cite.

Meeting Luna Lovegood

I wasn't sure if I would ever have a reason to go to Comic Con.

In August, I told Porch that I might go to Comic Con if certain voice actors or Muppeteers ever came but that I couldn't think of any live-action actors I cared enough about to spend the money on. I've just never been that into movie stars. For example, I would consider going to Comic Con to see Elijah Wood, but only because he did such a fantastic job voicing Wirt in Over the Garden Wall, not because he played one of the leading characters in a critically acclaimed and financially successful film adaptation of one of my favorite book series.

Just days later, I texted Porch.

Awkward Mormon Girl: Looook. Somebody that I would go to Comic Con for: [and then I sent a link to the Comic Con website but I'm not including it here because it will probably be obsolete soon]

If you read the title of the blog post, you might have an inkling of who this person was. If that inkling is any good, then it's pointing you in the direction of Evanna Lynch, Luna Lovegood herself.

Luna Lovegood is my favorite female Harry Potter character. Why? First of all, when I read through the first through fourth books as a child, I found that there weren't many blonde characters that I liked. Petunia Dursley, Dudley Dursley, Gilderoy Lockhart, Rita Skeeter, Draco Malfoy, Fleur Delacour—they weren't exactly sympathetic. I really wanted a character who looked like me but was likable. Lo and behold, the fifth book came out! And Luna was not only blonde, but dirty blonde—the kind that nobody wants to be but most people actually are. By the time the fifth book came out, the white-blonde hair of my childhood had darkened considerably and only got darker from that point. I cherished that similarity between myself and Luna.

Second of all, apart from the looks, I identified with Luna personality-wise. Over the years, a few people have told me, unprompted by me, that I remind them of the book version of Luna Lovegood because I march to the beat of my own drum and don't make decisions based on what everyone else does. And, as I've gotten older and refined aspects of my personality, I find that I, like Luna, am a little too honest and a little too intense.

Last but not least, Luna adds so much to Harry Potter. Before I read the fifth book, I couldn't imagine how another main character could possibly fit into the story. It seemed like it was too late in the game to introduce anyone very significant. I was wrong, obviously. Now when I reread, I wonder how the first four books are as good as they are without Luna.

Having sufficiently proven my love for Luna Lovegood, I have to warn you that I'm no huge Evanna Lynch fan. Not that there's anything wrong with her, personally. It's just that when I saw the first photo of her ten or eleven years ago, I was disappointed. Luna Lovegood, champion of dirty blondes, was going to be played by someone with white-blonde hair? I told Viola that I thought she looked too much like Tom Felton, that people who hadn't read the books were going to think that Luna and Draco were secretly related, and that everyone would be confused.

I believe this was the first photo of her that I saw.

When I saw the movie, I found that the variation of vague and serene that the director had chosen for Luna was not the same variation that I'd pictured in my head. However, Evanna did a really good job of portraying what they'd decided to go with. I had to respect that. And, in later years, I followed her on Twitter, and she seemed cool and everything, but I cared more about the fact that she was the face of Luna than about her personally.

After that initial text to Porch, I spent a few weeks in debate.

On the one hand, it seemed like it would be cool to meet her.

On the other hand, it would be expensive.

On the other other hand, I have money to spare.

On the other other other hand, I try to save a lot of that money for the future.

On the other other other other hand, nobody is financially reliant on me but me. I can spend my money on whatever the huckleberry I want.

On another hand, I had no one to go with.

On another another hand, Favorite Cousin showed an interest in going when asked.

Round and round I went in my decision making. Finally, two things decided the question for me.

The first is the connections game. In the connections game, you pick a person and try to connect yourself to them through association. For example, Jim Henson. Here's my connection to him: I know my grandmother. As a child, my grandmother met Walt Disney. Walt Disney worked with Julie Andrews on Mary Poppins. Julie Andrews appeared on The Muppet Show, which meant that she would have met Jim Henson. Or we could do it this way: Runner Bean and his family once appeared on Extreme Home Makeover. The host of Extreme Home Makeover, Ty Pennington, later appeared in a Sesame Street video with Count von Count. At the time, Count von Count was played by none other than the incomparable Muppeteer Jerry Nelson, who worked for years with Jim Henson. Bonus: no matter how you connect me to Jim Henson—and this may be the best part—from Jim Henson it's just one connection to my favorite Muppeteer, Steve Whitmire!!!

Now, I already had a fairly direct connection to J. K. Rowling. A classmate of mine from college has a cousin who is married to Broadway star Audra McDonald, who is playing the wardrobe in the upcoming adaptation of Beauty and the Beast. As all humans and maybe some inhumans know, Emma Watson is playing Belle in said adaptation, and obviously Emma Watson knows J. K. Rowling. So I can trace myself to J. K. Rowling easily. Yet the idea of meeting someone who was just one connection away from one of my favorite writers—well. That was even better.

And the second deciding factor? It seemed like maybe I should live a little. Meet Evanna Lynch? Why the heck not? Why not do something expensive and unnecessary and oh-so-cool every now and again? Ya know? There are so many things that I want to do with my life that I haven't been able to. I hope that they will come, in time, but I can't put off living a fun and rewarding life until then.

And thus it was decided. And thus Favorite Cousin and I bought tickets to the last day of Comic Con and to the Evanna Lynch photo op.

On the day we were going, I was bouncing off the walls. I wore my Gryffindor/Mulan t-shirt and golden teacup earrings. I'd brought my Luna Lovegood wand and a notebook to take notes at panels. I was rearing to go!

Here are some impressions of Comic Con:

1. There were so many creative costumes! I saw Pacha, Chicha, and Kuzco. I saw Disney princesses galore and Meg from Hercules. I saw Bert and Mary Poppins. I saw Finn the Human. I saw so many Avatar: The Last Airbender characters:Toph, Aang, Katara, Ty Lee, Azula, and Sokka. I saw Wirt and Greg, Astrid and Hiccup, and Schmendrick and Amalthea from The Last Unicorn.

2. Comic Con needs more pens. I usually carry a pen in my purse, but when I arrived at the convention I realized I didn't have one. Favorite Cousin and I scoured the booths, looking for pens for sale. We saw some specialty pens that cost $65, $35, but nothing at a more...reasonable price. Get rich quick scheme: bring a box of Bic pens to Comic Con, sell them for a buck apiece to people who want to take notes at the panels.

3. It was really cool to see so many famous people! I saw the girls from The Hillywood Show. They had a booth selling merchandise, and they were actually selling the merchandise themselves rather than having others do it. Favorite Cousin and I did a walk-by of Billy Boyd's autograph booth and were able to see him from afar! I tried to catch glimpses of Jeremy Shada and Jess Harnell, too, but was unable to.

Now here's the thing. I found the atmosphere at Comic Con to be very strange. Overall, it just...wasn't uplifting. I don't know why that was, because I've heard nothing but good things about it in the past. Yet the overall spiritual impression I got from Comic Con was a dark one.

When we saw Billy Boyd, I was drawn to him immediately. He just...he really stood out, and not just because he's famous. It's hard to describe, but he was really...full of light.

I had a similar experience with Evanna Lynch. We waited in line for a long time for our photo op. Favorite Cousin and I were exhausted at that point; we left shortly after, even though we'd been planning to stay longer.

Now, Evanna's photo op was running late. We always knew that we weren't going to get much of a chance to talk to her, but Favorite Cousin's experience at conventions in the past was that during a photo op, you got to shake hands and at least say hello. As we drew near to the photo area, however, the security people announced that Evanna had to catch a plane. They instructed us to dash up as soon as the flash for the photo before us went off and get into place quickly. We'd take the photo and exit immediately. No talking, no handshakes, no nothing.

As we drew closer, I studied Evanna. She was wearing a Mickey Mouse shirt and a pencil skirt. I noticed that she was even shorter than I am, and (with some amusement) that her white-blonde hair was showing dirty blonde at the roots. She looked exhausted, but she was still smiling for every picture.

It was almost time for our photo. The girl before us stepped forward swiftly. The flash went off. Favorite Cousin and I, tensed to move, started towards Evanna, but she cried, "Stop! Stop! Can we do that again? I wasn't looking at the camera."

It was a little thing, but it impressed me deeply. It told me that she really cared about her fans getting their money's worth. I was drawn to her the same way that I was drawn to Billy Boyd. Even in just a few seconds, I got the feeling that she was a good person worth admiring. Which was so strange...because I'm usually not the kind of person who takes to people instantly.

They did the photo over. Then it was our turn. We said a quick hello as we got into place for the picture. The cameraman snapped the photo; the light flashed. And I said, "Thank you!" to Evanna, and she said, "Thank you," back, and now I have an experience that I will always remember.

The photo turned out great. I was practically crying, I was so happy. Favorite Cousin seemed to share the deep thumbprint that had been pressed in my heart by the brief experience, because he, too, was nothing but giddy as we rehashed it through conversation over sushi.

Later, I went to visit Porch. I tried to explain how great Evanna was, but it was difficult. I felt like I sounded completely ridiculous; after all, I'd only been in her presence for a few seconds. However, Porch's face lit up, and he started gushing about Evanna. He'd gone to her panel the day before, and he seemed to share my sentiments exactly.

So that was my experience meeting Luna Lovegood. I'm not sorry I did it, in fact I'm very very glad, but I don't think Comic Con is going to become a regular haunt of mine. Unless Steve Whitmire comes. In which case I am going to buy all the tickets and go all the days and follow Steve Whitmire around and probably get arrested.

Over the Garden Wall

I'm in love, I'm in love, and I don't care who knows it!

I saw Over the Garden Wall on a Sunday night. By the next Sunday night, I had purchased it on DVD.

I know, I know, it's crazy! It's like those people who suddenly become engaged after dating for only like five minutes. I'm never like that. I don't just buy DVDs willy-nilly. I don't really buy DVDs at all. I don't own my favorite movie (How to Train Your Dragon) or my second-favorite movie (Muppet Treasure Island). And don't even get me started on how long it takes me to to become invested in people. I usually know people for months, sometimes even years, before I decide I want to invest any time or emotions or stuff in them.

But I looked on Over the Garden Wall, and I loved it. I loved everything about it. It has a fascinating premise, and great characters, and even some fun musical numbers. So I bought it, and it is mine, and someday I shall show it to my children and force them to hope that they love it, too.

*plays the clarinet and recites poetry*

Now I'll tell you about this thing which I love so much. Over the Garden Wall is a miniseries by Cartoon Network. The premise is that two brothers, Wirt and Gregory, find themselves lost in the woods. In the first episode, they meet a depressed woodsman who warns them to beware the Beast. What does this mean? They don't know. And I can't tell you without giving everything away (yes, it's one of those shows). But it suffices me to say that shenanigans ensue, songs are sung, and black turtles are seen everywhere.

I mentioned that the characters are great. They are so great. I am particularly fond of Wirt, who is played by Elijah Wood. While Greg is an incurable optimist who would make a Shirley Temple character look like Oscar the Grouch, Wirt is a passive, insecure realist. If you're wondering what that combination looks like, I can only tell you that it involves playing the clarinet and reciting overwrought poetry and that it is hilarious.

Are you wondering why I'm telling you this? I'm telling you this because I believe you need to watch Over the Garden Wall. Yes, you. I have seriously spent the last several weeks trying to make everyone watch it. "Everyone" includes my roommates, people in my improv troupe, and an attractive coworker that I enjoy conversing with. It doesn't include Viola, but only because I'm in the process of forcing her to watch Avatar: The Last Airbender. After she's done with that, I'll probably force her to watch this, too.

Over the Garden Wall can be found on Hulu, iTunes, and DVDs that can be purchased via the internet. It's only ten ten-minute episodes, so I recommend watching it in one sitting, like a movie.

Go forth! Go find it! And enjoy.

The Care and Keeping of Cuckoo Birds

It's been far too long since the last Ask Awkward Mormon Girl post! So, without further ado, I will answer your questions.

• Does reaching for the stars ever leave battle wounds?

(I have open blisters from where the rocks pulled off skin rock climbing. Totally worth it, but reminder that I didn't always make a reach. Would reaching for stars be similar?

In all honesty, most stars don't like to be reached for. Miley Cyrus is probably okay with it, but George Clooney hates it. But as long as you're not paparazzi, you'll probably leave un-wounded.

• If the guardians of the galaxy have a bake off width the avatar team... what would everyone make, and who would win?

Peter Quill would make brownies. Aang would make egg custard pie. Gamora would refuse to create her own entry, but would help Katara make baklava after Katara asked her nicely. Sokka and Toph would make a rhubarb cactus tart, but Toph would spend like only five percent of the time helping and ninety-five percent of the time using her earth bending seeing skills to spy on Rocket and Groot making vegan bran muffins. Drax would accidentally insult Zuko, who in his stiff and humorless fashion would fly into a rage and burn both Drax's cupcakes and his own sugar cookies. Uncle Iroh would judge Momo's peach macarons to be the winning entry, and Appa would eat all the leftovers.

(Someone turn this into a fanfiction please.)

And now, Little Sister's questions.

Dear Awkward Mormon Bird,

• How is anyone expected to keep their pet cuckoo bird alive when they hardly ever come out of their clock?!?!? PLEASE REALLY TELL ME ITS A LIFE OR DEATH SITUATION'

First of all, for the record, I object to being called a bird unless you are trying to say that I am a penguin. In that case, it would be a compliment.

Second of all, generally speaking, living creatures need only a few things to survive: shelter, air, food, and water.

Your cuckoo bird has a clock to live in, therefore it has shelter. You hear it pop out and cry, "Cuckoo!" on the hour. Crying "Cuckoo!" is not possible without air, therefore your cuckoo bird has air. Clocks are full of gears and springs which your cuckoo can eat if it gets hungry, so I wouldn't worry too much about the food part.

What your cuckoo bird lacks is water. Pour a generous cupful of water into your cuckoo clock so that the poor thing doesn't die of dehydration.

• What came first, the rain or the cloud? And if the cloud came first, how did the chicken survive without any water. Because ya know...no rain.

I'm pretty sure that the cloud did, in fact, come first.

As we previously discussed, living things generally do need water to survive. But good news--clouds are made of water. Also good news--the first chicken lived alongside dinosaurs. So whenever the chicken was thirsty, its brontosaurus friend would let it climb its neck. And then from there the chicken would climb onto the back of an equally friendly pterodactyl. And they would fly into the clouds and drink their fill.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to call Pixar. I think I've found a premise for a sequel to The Good Dinosaur.

But before I go, two notes.

NOTE #1: Speaking of chickens, I recently lent my apartment and my Stitch Fix box to the making of this YouTube video. I am quite pleased with how it turned out.

NOTE #2: Please leave questions in the comments! I'd love to do Ask Awkward Mormon Girl posts more often, but I need your questions! K thx bye.

Blessed

Life is hard right now.

Life is usually hard, but right now it's more forcefully hard than usual.

But I can tell you that every time something hard has happened to me, I have received blessings greater than my hardships.

My junior year of high school, I sank into a deep clinical depression. I felt very sad, and very lonely. The quality of everything I did took a nose dive. And when I say everything, I mean my schoolwork, too.

I would not be able to go to college without a scholarship; my parents couldn't afford to help me. Every day, every night, whenever I had a moment where I could feel something other than apathy of depression, I was anxious about my future. I wanted to go to college. Would I be able to go?

But blessings were given to me. More than blessings--miracles. Provisions had been and continued to be made for me in a most wondrous way.

A few months before I became depressed, I took the PSAT, or NMSQT, test. I scored in the 98th percentile, which qualified me as a contender to be a National Merit Scholar. And although my individual grades were slipping, my overall GPA remained healthy enough and my portfolio of activities was impressive enough that in spite of the Cs, I was chosen a year later. And because schools with National Merit Scholars receive extra funding, suddenly all these colleges basically offered me a degree for free. At Nameless Utah College, I paid for my books and fees, but I didn't pay a red cent of the actual tuition. My education was assured without me having to do much of anything.

That was one amazing blessing. Another one was that one day, for no reason in particular, I felt promoted to seek out Best Friend Boy. But at the time, he was only Friend Boy. We weren't super close. I liked him, and Etch-a-Sketch, and Shutterbug a lot, but I was sort of a free agent at school. I didn't really have a "group." I felt like I had enough close friends outside of school and I didn't need any more.

However, I decided to confide in Best Friend Boy some of the difficulties of my depression. I can only attribute this weird decision to divine intervention, and I have been grateful for said divine intervention every day since. There is no doubt in my mind that the love of Best Friend Boy, Etch-a-Sketch, and Shutterbug changed my life. Without that depression, though, I never would have been humble enough to accept that love and friendship.

Life was difficult, but what I needed was provided to me...even when I didn't know that I needed it.

A year and a half ago, some other issues of great personal import which I cannot share here arose. And on top of that, I was in my last semester of college, and the pressure was mounting to do all the necessary things that must be done in the last year of college, like find a real job that was in my field which I could support myself with. And on top of that, the interim job that I had decided to take was in a city an hour away. And on top of that, I was in the Relief Society presidency, devoting much of my free time to serving Heavenly Father. We would go visit women in our ward at least one day a week, among other duties. And I couldn't just show up for these visits; to be effective, I had to really be present. And on top of that, I became very sick for seven weeks. I was always sick to my stomach and had no appetite, and what I did eat did not stay put. I went to doctors and specialists, but they had no idea what was wrong. And on top of that, I became an insomniac, lying awake at night and wondering how I could possibly get through all of this.

The obvious blessing here is that I did get through it. I scarcely remember doing homework, but somehow it got done. And things got better. I received a blessing of healing from my father, and my illness went away. I graduated successfully and found a job in my field, which I wasn't expecting. Creative writers don't get creative writing jobs. They either get rich writing novels or are forced to work in another field or starve to death while trying to live on freelance work and particularly vivid descriptions of food. My insomnia ceased. And best of all, after everything cleared up, I was able to go to the temple to be endowed. This has been the greatest blessing of all.

I said in a previous post that I hadn't yet received many blessings out of my current trials. But what I guess I really meant was that I haven't received the type of blessings that would mean my current trials are coming to an end. Because I have been so blessed. I have a family that I love so much. I have the knowledge of the true gospel in the end of days. I have good friends, supportive roommates, a good job that gives me what I need and more, a healthy body, wonderful church callings, yellow shoes, all three seasons of Avatar the Last Airbender, and so much more. At the moment, I don't have everything that I hope for, but I have so much to thank God for every day. I know that He loves me, and I know that in time, the deepest desires of my heart will surely come my way.

Needs vs. Wants

I do fear that I have kept you in suspense pertaining to what I ended up spending my $50 Amazon gift card on.

After getting your help with my super-difficult Valentine's Day dilemma (thanks for all the hints!), I remained indecisive about what I should purchase with my Amazon gift card.

I continued to pound the pavement. I spent some time looking online for Gryffindor accessories (because if I attended Hogwarts, I would be a Gryffindor) and earthbender paraphernalia (because if I were a bender, I would be an earthbender).

Then I remembered what my mother and Maslowe's Hierarchy of Needs had taught me, which is that some things are needs and some things are wants.

So instead of spending my gift card on something I merely wanted, I acquiesced to my adulthood and used it to buy things I needed more than wanted: a new spring shirt, a frying pan, and a Nancy Drew computer game.

I regret nothing.

Splash Mountain According to Me

There's something about Disneyland.

I know people whose attitude goes thusly: "Disneyland?! What's so great about Disneyland? All amusement parks are the same."

Ah, but no. Every other amusement park I've ever been to leaves me feeling tired, drained, and in serious need of a shower. When I leave Disneyland, I feel uplifted, peaceful, and fulfilled.

Why is that? I'm not sure. There's probably a nostalgia factor from my Disney-studded childhood, of course, but it goes far beyond that. Part of it is probably the exquisite design of the place. Everything, from the bathroom signs to the music playing throughout the park to the packaging of the food, is designed with the utmost care and a particular impression in mind.

Little Brother especially loves Disneyland.

Little Brother has been not-so-secretly annoyed with me for not writing any posts of which he is the star. I have done this not because I have nothing to say about Little Brother but because there's too much to say. He's Prince Zuko in Avatar: The Last Airbender; Sirius Black in Harry Potter; Loki in The Avengers. If there were an emo penguin in Scamper the Penguin, Little Brother would be that penguin. He's tall, dark, handsome, sensitive, brooding, and conflicted. Additionally, he is a fairly fanatical person; when he loves something, he really loves it. When he hates it, he very much hates it.

It so happens that Little Brother really loves Disneyland. And since he was small, he has specifically targeted an intense portion of that love on Splash Mountain.

Who doesn't love Splash Mountain? People who are scared of falling from heights, and getting wet, and seeing singing animatronic animals. But everybody else loves it. Which is odd when you consider that it was born of Disney's most controversial movie, but becomes less odd when you realize the ride has very little to do with the actual movie and more to do with its Academy Award-winning original songs.

I first went on Splash Mountain at age eight, and I was charmed. Little Brother first went on Splash Mountain in our mother's womb, and he's obsessed. He has literally watched YouTube videos that various people have taken of Splash Mountain while riding Splash Mountain at every Disney park with a version of Splash Mountain. I daresay he knows the ride better than he knows the depths of his own soul.

The last time I went on Splash Mountain was summer of 2013. I enjoyed it very much. Yet there was something...odd about it. It took me a few rides to realize that some of the animatronic animals weren't working. Some singing frogs...a fox or two...dancing chickens on the steamboat during the "Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah" section.

"I don't understand," I said when we got off the ride. "This is Disneyland, where everything is kept in tip-top condition. What about maintenance? Part replacement? Disney magic?"

"I don't know," scowled the upset Little Brother. He assumed his typical, peculiar mix of outrage and excitement at having something to be outraged about.

And Little Sister yelled, "Please don't throw me in the briar patch!" in a very accurate but somewhat offensive imitation of Brer Rabbit.

And then Little Brother's excitement won out and he began to assail us all with random Disney facts.

And I was all, "What is this family?"

A Very Muppet Christmas

I mentioned before that I write a family newspaper every Christmas. Here's the main article from today's issue.

Your intrepid reporter was at a Christmas choir practice when her sisters said to her, “Want to go to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir concert?”

“The Mormon Tabernacle Choir concert? You mean the Mormon Tabernacle Choir concert? The Christmas one? The one we couldn’t get tickets to? The one with Santino Fontana, Broadway star and voice of Prince Hans from Frozen?”

“SANtino FonTANa,” said Older Sister Obnoxious, one of your fearless reporter’s sisters, said bossily. “Not SAHNtino FonTAHNa. He’s American, not Spanish.”

“Santino Fontana,” the reporter continued fearlessly, “and the Muppets?” Your reporter breathed that last phrase like it was as precious as the last pure oxygen in a smoker’s lounge.

“Yes,” said the sisters, “the Sesame Street Muppets. We’re going a few hours early to be in standby for tickets.”

“Count me in,” said the reporter.

“Dress warm,” said her sisters.

“Okay,” said the reporter. She went home and put on 3,000 layers of warmth. She filled her pockets with tissues (because she was getting over an illness), an umbrella, and the recording of Steve Whitmire’s heartbeat she listens to when she falls asleep at night.

“I’m so excited to be in the same room with Muppeteers,” the reporter swooned. “Especially Steve Whitmire!!!”

“I know. I’m just so intimidated at the thought,” Little Sister Obnoxious, another of the reporter’s multiple sisters, exclaimed.

Then one Bonnaby, aka the crusher of all hopes and dreams, sent your reporter a screenshot of the program from the concert. Everyone from Sesame Street would be at the concert, except…

“William Barkhurst?” your intrepid reporter said blankly. “I have never heard of this man in my life. Who is he, and what did he do with Steve Whitmire???”

There was a moment of shamed silence for the lack of getting to be near Steve Whitmire.

“Oh well,” sighed the reporter. “The other Muppeteers will still be there. And I still think it will be really cool to hear Santino Fontana sing.”

“You’re still saying it wrong!” shouted Older Sister Obnoxious, harbinger of correct nomenclature pronunciation.

Siblings four and Carrot Top, a friend of Little Sister, trooped off together to the standby line for the concert. Would they get in to the concert? they wondered as they shivered in the rain. Would they be able to be personal witnesses to the glory of Sesame Street and Santino Fontana’s voice? Or would they be forced to instead watch the broadcast of the concert on the cramped benches of a tabernacle built in the much-smaller proportions of humans from a hundred years ago?

They wondered and they wondered. It was more suspenseful than The Woman in Black.

Slowly, people from the standby line were allowed into the concert. Your reporter and her companions were about the fifth hundred people in the standby line. First three hundred were let in…then another one hundred and seventy-five…and then there was a terrible pause. Would another twenty-five people be let into the concert? Would they get to go in? Would there be snow for Christmas? Would The Legend of Korra ever reveal Suyin’s father? And would he be someone cool, like Sokka, or some lame-o? These were some questions they wondered.

The man handing out the tickets paced up and down the aisles a few times. He talked to some people and listened to his headset. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a gun.

Just kidding. He pulled out a fat pack of tickets.

“There are seats for you in the balcony,” he told your committed reporter as he pressed tickets into her hand and the hands of her siblings. “But you’ll have to hurry before they close the doors.”

Quick as an Energizer bunny on caffeine, they dashed across Temple Square and to the conference center. They slid into their seats just as the opening number finished and the guest stars arrived onstage.

Muppets!

And Santino Fontana.

But also Muppets.

“Gee Bert,” said Ernie, “isn’t it great to be here with Fantino Sontana?”

“It’s SANTINO FONTANA,” said Bert, Older Sister’s best friend.

“Right. Bandino Bondana.”

There had never been more love in your gallant reporter’s heart for Muppets and Muppeteers than there was at that moment.

The Fate of the Known Universe or Actually Just This Blog

We did it.

One full year of blogging later, we have successfully transitioned from the first post to this one.

First order of business, please note this picture of Avatar Aang fist-bumping that I drew whilst at Etch-a-Sketch's place of residence.

 

Even I'm impressed.

Second order of business, I am hungry. I am hungry most of the time because I am a college student and I have a ridiculous schedule that doesn't allow time for little things like eating and sleeping. Please wait while I get myself a plate of cake.

Okay. Back. The cake is delicious.

Third order of business, the past year in review.

I knew in March 2013 that the upcoming year would be full of interestingness, but I never imagined it would turn out quite the way it has.

In March 2013, I was a distinctly frazzled college student in her third-to-last semester of college. Now I'm an even more distinctly frazzled college student in her last semester of college.

In March 2013, almost everyone I knew was on a mission. Now all of those people have come home, while a few others that used to be home are gone.

In March 2013, some of my friends were married. Now even more of my friends are married. Mazel tov.

In March 2013, none of my friends had babies. Now some of them do. Mazel tov again.

In March 2013, I was awaiting answers to many of life's most pressing questions. Now I'm still waiting. (Okay, to be fair like three of them have been answered. But apparently the answer to the other two billion and five is "You must learn more patience before you get this answer." Let's be honest--this would be a good thing for me to learn. I'm bad at patience.)

In March 2013, I had a pretty definitive picture of how things were going to play out in my life. And I was wrong. At least, I was wrong about the process. Whether I was wrong about the destination remains to be seen.

In March 2013, I was unsure what the future of this blog would be. Now I've gone through a year of distinctly frazzling college and missionary homecomings and farewells and friends' marriages and friends' babies and unanswered questions and three answered questions and no patience and a surprising process of arriving at an as yet-unknown destination--all of which have shaped me.

All of which have contributed to my decision to keep the blog.

I'm not saying that this blog will last forever. It won't. But I still feel like there's a lot more to be done with it. I've been really pleased with how things have gone so far, but I think they can get even better.

So stay tuned for danger. And by danger I mean more blog posts. But possibly also danger. Because around here, you just never know.

Happy anniversary, internet.

A Defense of Ron and Hermione

Shipping is the politics of internet fandoms.

I don’t mean this shipping:

Or this shipping:

I mean the promotion of a relationship from a series.

For example, I would like Toph from Avatar: The Last Airbender to end up with Sokka. So verily I ship Toph and Sokka aka Tokka.

I also ship Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase from Percy Jackson and the Olympians. Phineas Flynn and Isabella Garcia-Shapiro from Phineas and Ferb. And Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger from Harry Potter.

I don't like to get involved in big discussions about shipping much for the same reasons I don't like to get involved in big discussions about politics. Such discussions tend to make people focus on the wrong things.

However, out of all the fictional things I love, Ron and Hermione's relationship is one I particularly cherish. And so given the current turmoil over J. K. Rowling's statement that she regrets pairing them together, I decided that this time, I will throw in my two cents. Or Knuts, if you will.

People say, "Hermione is too good for Ron. Hermione deserves better."

People. How could you say that?!!!

There aren't any guys better than Ron Weasley. There are guys who are different than Ron, but not better.

I mean, look at the kid's qualities. He's funny. He's a loyal friend. He sticks up for others--Harry, Hermione, Neville. He's obviously brave--he puts his life on the line every June and sometimes more often. And no, Ron's not as academic as Hermione, but he certainly is smart. He's a chess prodigy, for crying out loud. Not to mention that he's tall and athletic.

I don't mean that Ron is flawless. My understanding is that out of the trio, Ron is the one most connected with his own emotions. Hermione filters her emotions through facts and logic. Harry constantly sacrifices his emotions to his noble spirit. Ron, however, does what he feels. That means he can be both incredibly selfish and incredibly selfless. He struggles with this pretty much every single book--but in the end, he always chooses to do the right thing. He always comes through for his friends.

This sums up Ron's character arch nicely:

"Dumbledore knew what he was doing when he gave me the Deluminator, didn’t he? He - well," Ron’s ears turned bright red and he became engrossed in a tuft of grass at his feet, which he prodded with his toe, "he must’ve known I’d run out on you."

"No," Harry corrected him. "He must’ve known you’d always want to come back."

We also must remember that Hermione is super annoying.

Yes, Hermione is brilliant. She's talented. She's a good and loyal friend who means well. And the icing on the cake--she's pretty.

But she's still annoying. She tends to be critical and uptight. Ron knows that. He makes fun of it in Book One especially. But he likes her anyways. He decides that he loves her anyways.

Let me repeat: He knows who she is, her faults as well as her good qualities, and he loves her anyways. And she sees his faults as well as his good qualities, and loves him anyways. Wow. What could be better than that?

Some people desire to pair Harry and Hermione. I understand why. Everyone should end up with someone who really cares about them, and Hermione definitely cares about Harry and vice versa.

Yet we'll never know whether a Harry/Hermione relationship would work out, because it isn't in the books. The books go out of their way to show how platonic Harry and Hermione's friendship is, while Ron and Hermione's is full of chemistry and spark.

That's how the books are written. And the books are over. And Ron and Hermione are together, and no controversial interview quotes can change that.

In another universe, in another version of Harry Potter, Ron and Hermione could have ended up with other people. But that's not the version J. K. Rowling wrote.

She wrote a version in which Ronald Bilius Weasley and Hermione Jean Granger were developed in such a way that it's unthinkable for them to end up with anyone else.

I for one am very happy about it.

ANNOUNCEMENT: I am planning to write a relationship Ask Awkward Mormon Girl for Valentine's Day. So please, leave your love-related questions in the comments, and I will give you splendid advice in return.

Halloween

Dude. It's, like, Halloween and it's not snowing.

For Utah, this is a small miracle.

The candy is bought, the costumes are prepared, and Baby Brother and I have hung the pumpkin lights on the stairs. Well, tried to hang the pumpkin lights on the stairs. The job is substandard at best. One of us is to blame more than the other.

...why are you looking at me?

Fun fact: Most of my Halloween costumes have been homemade. My mom used to make them for me. As I've gotten older, I've made them myself. We Obnoxiouses are the super-creative type. We can make something out of nothing. Out of paper clips. Out of lint.

A few years ago, the younger siblings and I decided to be the core cast of Avatar: The Last Airbender: Aang, Katara, Sokka, Toph, and Zuko. But not Suki, because no matter what people say, I refuse to accept Suki as a main character. SHE'S IN APPROXIMATELY TEN EPISODES, GUYS. Come on.

There were two problems with this choice. One) Have you ever seen an Avatar costume on sale at the supermarket? Yeah. Didn't think so.

The sibs and I spent $30 at Deseret Industries. We bought six or seven used pieces of clothing, cut them up/ripped them apart, and pieced them back together to make our very own, super-awesome homemade Avatar: The Last Airbender costumes. They were legit, I tell you.

The real problem was problem Two) We are three girls and two guys, whereas the cast of Avatar has three guys and two girls. Someone had to cross-dress. Guess who?

For the record, I made a very attractive Sokka.

Speaking of which, I would like to announce that this year, I will not be cross-dressing for Halloween.

This is also a small miracle. Apart from Sokka, in the past ten Halloweens, I've also dressed as Frodo Baggins and Wembley Fraggle. This year I seriously thought about being Peter Pan. But since I'm actually a girl, I suppose I should dress as a girl once in a while, too. For the occasion, I'm even going to wear makeup.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

On Hair

I told you that I'm deathly afraid of the telephone. Well, I'm also deathly afraid of hair stylists and other such people who cut my hair.

Okay, this is why. I go into a hair salon. I wait for my turn. Maybe I thumb through a magazine.

Eventually, my name is called, I walk behind the counter, and my assigned hair stylist starts asking me questions that I don't understand.

HAIR STYLIST: What kind of haircut do you want?

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: ...the kind where my hair gets cut?

HAIR STYLIST: How many inches do you want off? Do you like to swoop your bangs or wear them straight down? Blunt or feathery? Layers or one length? Should I thin your hair out? Should I shampoo it? Where does it naturally part? How often does it shed?

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL:...I just want a haircut.

But there's no such thing as "just a haircut," so a rather exhaustive and exhausting effort to approximate my idea of "just a haircut" follows. In the end, I fake answers to most of the questions and hope for the best.

Once that torture is done, the haircutting part starts. And this part is really awkward.

Because apparently, it's not okay to just sit in silence and muse while my hair is being cut. Nope. I've got to make small talk. With someone I don't know. And there's no chance of escape until my hair is finished.

It's thirty minutes of torture, I tell you.

A few years ago, I learned to escape the majority of the awkwardness by going to the same hair stylist for every single haircut. This worked like a charm. Within a few haircuts, she learned what I like and stopped asking me confusing questions. AND I got to know her well enough that she didn't always force me to talk while she cut my hair. When we did talk, we didn't have to make small talk, but rather could ask informed questions about each other's lives.

It was a beautiful thing. Except last year she had a baby. And she QUIT. And now I'm once again at the mercy of whatever stylist I'm randomly assigned.

Just the thought strikes fear into my heart.

So I try to avoid getting haircuts as often as possible. Unfortunately, I have a lot of hair. That grows really fast. And I have to go get haircuts ALL. THE TIME. If I don't, I look like Toph Bei Fong. Or a yak.

On Wednesday, after much time apart, I finally ventured into a nearby hair salon.

The receptionist was perceptive enough to see that I was not a yak but a human being. She asked me to take a seat. I did. And I waited. And I thumbed through a magazine until I was called behind the counter to meet my assigned stylist.

HAIR STYLIST: Hi! What kind of haircut do you want?

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: ...the kind where my hair gets cut.

Happiness Enchiladas

Let's be honest here. My life shouldn't be that hard.

My immediate family is all alive and around and relatively (ba-dum-ching!) healthy.

My friends are many, and mostly accessible, and enormously blessed at this time in their lives.

I'm going to, and haven't been kicked out of, and am almost finished with that institution of higher learning known as college. I'm healthy. I have opportunities to grow and to help others grow. I'm flourishing. I'm happy.

Despite how swimmingly it goes, for some reason my life is still challenging.

Life isn't meant to be easy. Life is meant to be hard. Seems like once we admit life is hard, it should become easy. But nope. Life is still hard.

Just now I'm facing a series of personal tasks that are all a) difficult, b) difficult and unlikely, or c) difficult and possibly impossible.

It's a bit disheartening, really.

One of the reasons I'm fond of theatre is because theatre has scripts. I learn a script, I know what's coming, I know what I'm supposed to do. It's comfortable.

In real life, I don't always know what's coming, and I don't always know what I'm supposed to do. It's the opposite of comfortable. It stretches me. And stresses me.

I'd often like to curl up in my closet and refuse to come out. Or spend the rest of my life eating Chinese takeout and watching episodes of Avatar: The Last Airbender on repeat. That would make me reasonably happy. Unfortunately, I'm not okay with reasonably happy. I want the whole happiness enchilada.

Happiness enchiladas do not come to a girl who is hyperventilating in her bedroom closet. Happiness enchiladas come to a girl who moves forward not knowing what's going to happen, but carrying the faith that she will be guided and directed and blessed every step of the way.

Bring it on.

I (Don't) Wanna Hold Your Hand

Baby Brother is now a year older.

First off, I just want to take a moment and show off this amazing Perry the Platypus cake that Mom and Baby Sister made for him.

Second off, I'm proud to tell you that for his birthday Baby Brother received a Perry the Playpus t-shirt, a Perry the Platypus football, a Phineas and Ferb roller coaster set, and a stuffed platypus exactly like the stuffed platypus I wanted for my birthday two years ago except I asked for a blue one and he asked for a white. Clearly Baby Brother is a man after my own heart.

Lastly, I feel the need to express how much I hate it when Baby Brother gets older. Well, perhaps hate is the wrong word. I'm happy to celebrate each new year I've spent with him. I like him almost as much as I like Phineas and Ferb and/or hobbits.

I, however, very strongly dislike some of the things that stack up with each year that passes. Baby Brother gets taller. More sarcastic. He becomes more of a brother and less of a baby.

I don't feel entirely ready for that, but the metamorphosis is as inevitable as the tide. As inevitable as the end of summer. As inevitable as everything changing when the Fire Nation attacks.

I can try to fight it, though.

When I took Baby Brother to Target to look for a birthday present, he kept not holding my hand. Even a few months ago he held my hand all the time. At Disneyland he hardly let go of it. He would just step up beside me and grab my hand, and life was good. Just weeks later, however, not only would he not grab my hand, as soon as I tried to hold his he'd twist out of it within moments.

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Baby Brother. You have to hold my hand. Otherwise I might lose you in this Target. Then you'll be stuck here. Then the next time I come, I might have forgotten about you and I won't recognize you. And then you'll never get home.

BABY BROTHER: You go to Target, like, every week. You won't forget about me in a week.

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Well, maybe I won't go for a few months. It could happen.

BABY BROTHER: That seems unlikely.

My pride was severely wounded because a) What kind of genius-child says "that seems unlikely" at this age? Baby Brother, that's who, and with snarkiness while he's at it and b) He still didn't want to hold my hand.

Fine, genius-child I thought. I'll just hold my own hand!

It was not a fulfilling experience.

People Skillz or Lack Thereof

Some days are like a dream. On those days I go out somewhere with lots of people and I work the crowd flawlessly. I always know where I'm going. I always know what I'm saying. My words and my presence are as highly in demand as season two of Legend of Korra.

Then there are days like yesterday.

PERSON: So what did you think of today's lesson?

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Uh...

PERSON TWO: So where are you from?

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Uh...

PERSON THREE: So what's your name?

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: UH...

PERSON FOUR: We should do something sometime!

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Yeah, that would be really, uh, we could be, um, that should only... you know, I'm an English major, so you think I would be good with, uh, with--what are those things called again?

PERSON FOUR: ...

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Oh. Oh yeah. Words. They're called words.

PERSON FIVE: Did you do anything fun for your sister's birthday?

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: We went to the cemetery.

...yeah. If anybody needs me, I'll just be in my room, making no noise and pretending I don't exist.