Yo My Mormons

Have you seen this website? Look at the Church gettin' all fancy!

Fah Who Door Ay!

I love me some grinch. But tell me, dear people who own the rights to this, why must you block things from being posted on youtube? It does not stop me from wanting to buy it, or from watching it on tv. I just wanted the one eensy weensy song. I'm building viewership for you here.

Tips for Being an Effective Community Helper

I never used to understand WHY it takes a training to learn what it means to volunteer, or how to best do it. People will literally spend hours talking about this in my line of work. In some ways that makes me want to take my head and bang it soundly against a blunt object until blessed unconsciousness overcomes me. But here's the thing: a lot of people suck at planning service projects.

If there is one thing that you remember about planning a group service project/donation drive/we're going to fix the world fest, remember to ask this one question: Is this actually needed?

Silly, right? That's just common sense, right? Turns out not so much. I cannot tell you how many different groups I have worked with who have not asked this basic question. I've sat in both on the planning, and been the one they contacted. And often the planning goes like this:

You know what would be fun? We should knit a bunch of hats! That would be so fun! Okay, so, um, who wants to figure out where to donate them and call them to find out where to drop them off?

People. People. People. No one wants your hats. Or at least you don't know if that's what they want. They might want your hats a little bit. They might possibly just take them in hopes that you will go away, because, yes, eventually they will use them, along with all the other hats. But they might more desperately want spoons. And wouldn't a spoon drive be fun? But you wouldn't think of that right off the bat. Because who collects spoons? That's what makes it so brilliant, though!

Here's how you might want to think about starting the discussion:

What are some needs we see in our community? What organization that
addresses the problem can we contact to see how we can best contribute
resources? Let's call them and then reconvene to plan our project based on
what we learn.

It's crazy talk I know.

Why I'm the Best Friend You'll Ever Have Part Deux.

You know what's charmant? When people randomly use french words in sentences where all the other words are en englais.

One thing I've found fascinating that I've discovered more and more as I journey towards adulthood (any day now) is how different people think different qualities define what a good friend is.

Here's just a sampling of different rules I've heard named as The Rule of Friendship that Everyone Knows.

1. You must always tell your friend when they are doing something you feel is wrong. Expressing your opinion is paramount to being a Good Friend. This should supersede hurting their feelings, and don't stand on ceremony and wait to be asked for your input, because you care more about their Well-Being than their comfort.
2. You must never express your opinions in anger. A Good Friend only expresses opinions calmly, kindly, and rationally. Don't even think about being snarky to your friend. Friends don't Bite Friends Heads Off!
3. Never wear buy the same perfume your friend owns.

That last one is key, by the way.

Here's my idea of some friendship rules to live by:
1. Don't lie to your friends. Trust is cool, liars drool.
2. Be loyal. None of this talking behind the back stuff. If you talk about one friend to another, eventually it will occur to the listener that you could very possibly be sharing their deep dark secrets too.
3. Root for their happiness. Sometimes you have to tell a friend something that makes them sad, or mad, or sad and mad. But I like to weigh that against what I think I would want people to tell me instead of allowing things to fester and rot, and allowing them to do stupid embarrassing things and not realize it. Framing your actions with what you think will ultimately promote their happiness helps cut out some of the selfishness. Or so I hear.
4. Have their Six. That's like cop speak for having their back. If my underwear is showing and you judge instead of telling me, I will remember it forever. Also if I'm trying on jeans and they make my butt look big, tell me before I buy. Because if you tell me after I buy, I will be cursing your name all the way through the returns line.
5. Forgive. I had a friend in Junior High School that I was a serious snot to. I didn't speak to him much for about a year. Because I'm stupid, that's why. But he still speaks to me. To this day. He's even my MyFace friend. When I want to wring a friend's neck until their eyes bug out and their head flies clean off their head, I think of him. Because I want to be like him when I grow up. and he did not pluck my eyes from my head and feed them to the seagulls, however sorely he was tempted. So be sure to cut your friends some slack when The Crazy comes out. And do it quickly. Because being the Bigger Person makes you a very desirable friend.

I like the way it was summarized on CNN/Oprah here (Anderson and Oprah joining forces... talk about some world domination.):

Friendship is about being what a hero of mine described as "balcony people" instead of "basement people."

Basement people are those who live in our minds, telling us we will never amount to anything, that we are doomed to fail and that we are royal screw ups.

Balcony people are those who are consistently cheering us on. "Go for it," they say to our attempts to find our voice, to live in ever widening circles, to dare, to create, to break through our lives' sound barriers.

O-o-oh What a Friend!

Professor Oprah has a quiz on her site that I just took that I find thought provoking. It's all about the dynamics of your relationship with a close friend. Using criteria that some wise person in the Oprah building in Chicago deemed key components to a strong friendship, you can assess how well you friendship, and how well your friend friendships, and how well you friendship together. (See, if you're a drinking person, you could make a drinking game out of this and already be drunk right here. Or sick.)

So I took the quiz for me and my friend. Turns out I suck as a friend. Or we both do. Also apparently I give more than I get. But here's where I question these kinds of quizzes. Is it that I give more, or that I would like to think I give more, when really I'm a big selfish prat? 'Cause I might think I'm all self-sacrificing, when in reality that's just how I like to think I appear.

The quiz asks you to rank yourself and your friend on a series of statements. For instance, do I "Create a supportive atmosphere, making a point of being cheerful, encouraging, and caring enough to make the other person feel good?" Does my friend? I give myself a big fat Always, and Friendy McFrienderson gets a big fat Sometimes. But then in real life, I'm all scowly and face-making when Friendy tells me of plots to rule the universe and otherwise become independently wealthy. So in my head I'm supportive of the not-crack smoking. But in Friendy's mind, I'm not supportive of dreams near and dear to the McHeart. Which one of us is right? Maybe world domination is within Friendy's grasp, if only there is a supportive friend to offer words of encouragement. Who made me Queen? Well, besides me. 'Cause in my mind I'm Queen. With a tiara and jewels and a puffy ballgown and stuff.

You Know What's a Cool Word?

Progeny.

Also flabbergasted.

And hullabaloo.

Coolness

Seriously, how cool is Google this week. Happy, Happy Birthday Sesame Street!

And More Happy Thoughts.

I'm been following with horror the case of the 15 year old who was gang raped at her Homecoming Dance. I hesitated to post anything about it, just because it's so discouraging, and I try to avoid the "this world is rotten and the apocalypse must be approaching" kind of statements that sometimes consume us with stories like this. It was hard to think of it from a different angle, though. How could all those kids just stand there? How could this be the buzz that was passing around and no one called 911? What is wrong with teenagers?!? These are the questions that I kept asking myself, and it's hard not to when you read a story like this. But I am opposed to teenager hating. Hate on adults all you want, but don't hate on the kids! At least not as a big clump. Hate them in little clumps.

Anyways, I read this article today, and I had a revelatory moment. The writer was responding to a question that is often asked when something horrific happens in our schools: "what is wrong with our children?" He pointed out that often in situations like this, the youth may "not (be) educated on how to stop it." When I read that, I thought, how silly. Ya pick up the friggin' phone and dial 911. Duh. How dumb are these kids? But then he went on to talk about it, and there is some merit to what he says. These kids may not know who to call. They may doubt that anyone will take them seriously, given their age. In an area like the one where the crime was committed, I'm sure 911 gets a lot of hits. Also, who knows if the security guards would have listened to a kid, or if there was any trust established between the kids and the guards/officers on duty. And how do they know they wouldn't be publicly outed as the "narc." While the situation continues to infuriate me, and I 100% think there were kids who heard rumors or saw things that were not so dumb they couldn't have called 911, and kept calling until someone came, I have to think there are other layers and nuances to the situation.

And really, where were the adults? They had to have known the dark spots are good places to check on dance night. All sorts of illegal and inappropriate activities can be gotten up to at a high school dance when given a nice secluded, dark corner. At no point should the adults and security all just park themselves for a nice chitchat.

What this really comes down to, for me, is that we need to continually have a dialogue with the youth in our lives about right and wrong, and what their responsibilities are to the community around them. This sounds like an obvious idea. One girl understood her responsibility, and called 911. But not all kids are getting this basic education. There are some crazy parents out there. I've met them. Some of them need to be educated before they can educate their kids. So get on that, won't you?

Thanks, Dad! or Why I Have Odd, Unexplainable Opinions

My dad taught me lots of things:

1. How to change a tire. Because he apparently did not share the views of the mother of a lady from church, who taught her "if you have to change your own tire, you've lost it."

2. Air conditioning in an automobile is for sissies. He held that belief pretty much until the last kid left home, and up until their recent purchase of their nice, air condition equipped cars they have been taking road trips in rentals, to ensure that they have not only air conditioning, but also heated seats and a roomy trunk.

3. Wearing headphones while you run is dangerous because you could get hit by a car. Come to think of it, I think that stems from his personal experience of getting hit by a car while walking along a road... minus the headphones because they didn't have them way back when. Same goes for driving cars. You should not drive with headphones because you won't hear the car that's about to hit you... er something.

4. Look for the stud when mounting things to the wall. And generally that means knocking, not using those nifty little stud-finders they sell at the hardware store. Said stud finder is totally useless in finding studly men, by the way.

5. How to check the oil. Because, again, we were not to rely on "it" to ensure this got done.

6. Toyotas are true quality, and Fords are a piece of crap. I swear I grew up with that imprinted in my mind. Which is why I find this confusing and a little disturbing. Come to think of it, I think they may own a Ford now. I have no idea, not being one of those freaks of nature who notices make and model, or can tell it from the frame.

Now I feel inspired to make a list of things my mom taught me. Like, to always use the inside of your wrist to feel a person's forehead, because your hand is often cooler, being the outer extremity and whatnot.

Let's all Go to the Fair! Also internment.

I'm late in posting this, but it has been whirling around in my mind for a while. I went to the Puyallup Fair back in September (thanks, Dizzle for hooking me up with the tickets!). The Puyallup Fair, also known as the Western Washington State Fair, is a super fun fair, and I think it's the biggest in Washington. I could totally be making that up, but I can't find anything on the site that refutes that, so it must be true. I have great memories of the fair. I held a boy's hand there once. Also he let me hold his Harley Davidson bandanna while he went on the roller coaster. That's romance, my friends. And no, that wasn't last year, smarty pantses, it was when I was a young hoodlum. That was also the time my friend almost got kicked out of the fair for whapping one of those people in a big animal costume on the back of the head. Turns out they have little body guards that follow them around. Who knew? I think the dude was hanging back in hopes of entrapping teenagers in the act of fake animal abuse. Because you know at least one teenage boy would try something. Helloooo.

But enough reminiscing. Every year when I go to the fair, that is what I do. I remenisce. Also I ponder how you spell the word reminisce. You think you know, but try typing it in a blog. The other thing I ponder when I go to the fair, ever since I first discovered the existence of such a thing, is Japanese internment camps. I remember I was in my 9th grade Pacific Northwest History class, and in one of the sections, we talked about how the Puyallup Fair grounds were used to house Japanese-Americans during World War II. To which I said, "Wait, WHAT??? No one told me that. That's never in the movies."

I find it interesting that the fact that we had actual internment camps for US Citizens who had committed no crimes in the US is so seldom mentioned. It's mentioned so little that I couldn't remember any of the details I most likely learned at one point, and I had to go to my trusty Internet source. I love (and by love I mean hate) that they called the fairgrounds Camp Harmony during it's internment years. According to this trusted source, the Japanese Americans who settled on Bainbridge Island were given six days to register, sell or rent their homes and farms, pack, and surrender to travel under armed guard to California, where they would spend the next four years. I don't know about you, but I would be cranky. From everything I have read or heard, the Japanese Americans were cooperative, and were treated fairly respectfully. But they were still prisoners. For doing nothing. They lost years out of their lives, I'm sure many of them lost property and businesses and life experiences and all sorts of things. And yet, somehow, most of them have gone on to live their lives quietly, and continued to embrace the country that showed so little faith in them.