Thanks, Weezer. I used to listen this song so much that my freshmen roommate in college asked me if we could listen to something else. Portions of this song are really applicable right now.

I'm a lot like you, so please
Hello, I'm here, I'm waiting
I think I'd be good for you
and you'd be good for me

How stupid is it? I can't talk about it
I gotta sing about it and make a record of... my heart
(How stupid is it? Won't you give me a minute
Just come up to me and say hello... to my heart)

How stupid is it?
For all I know you want me too
and maybe you just don't know what to do
or maybe you're (I'm) scared to say, "I'm falling for you."

I wish I could get my head out of the sand
'cuz I think we'd make a good team
and you would keep my fingernails clean
but that's just a stupid dream that I won't realize
'cuz I can't even look in your eyes without shakin', and I ain't fakin'
I'll bring home the turkey if you bring home the bacon.

I'm a lot like you, so please
Hello, I'm here, I'm waiting
I think I'd be good for you
and you'd be good for me

I taught a writing lesson at one of the schools where I am working. The kids were in fourth grade, 11 out of 18 of them were in special ed, and nearly all of the students are English Language Learners. They are learning the alphabet. Like most things in life, it was challenging, but rewarding.

I've been listening to the Violent Femmes. They were my favorite band in eighth grade. Gordan Gano, man, you are awesome.

My mom said something noteworthy today. We were in the car, listening to Ben Folds. I forget which song was on, but she asked me who the artist was. "Ben Folds," I said.

She said, "Oh. I didn't think this sounded like BYU music."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because it's good," she said.

I'm not sure exactly what that means.

Amie and Corbin didn't get hurricaned this morning. That's always good news. But Corbin still had bedhead (pictured above). And Amie is still due to have the new baby any day.

Bethany, thank you for calling today, even if you were on a loud ferry ride... maybe especially because you were on a loud ferry ride. That's just our style. It was great to talk with you. I loved you since the first day I met you, when Hunsaker and I were sitting outside the temple and you were wearing that U2 shirt. Remember when Michael & Michael rocked Fargo? It all started with a dream... "We can be together forever someday." Hey, remember when we found all those weird CDs at Family D' in Keokuk? And when you & Wilson bought roller skates?

In other new, I got kicked out of a religion class I was taking at the LDS Institute. I missed one class, and I was also tardy once. Because there's a shortage of parking at the institute building, the instructor dropped me from the class. I understand the dire dog-eat-dog parking situation, but I was an active, participating member of the class... and I didn't even park there. I felt like using a Utah-style expletive.

Minda called and we spoke about... stuff... stuff that probably wouldn't be interesting to anyone besides us. I love Melinda! And Melinda and Colby like my T.B. song. So take that, Dave! Whose song sucks now? jk Other interesting topics included the chastity couch, Captain Amiable, and the news that the random LDS bookstore in Minda's Texas town is plastered with pictures of LDS pseudo-celebrity and former neighborhood pimp, "D." It's awesome. I also found it interesting that, all this time, Minda thought I lived in the neighborhood for a long time, when really I had just moved in that summer, because she thought I had "an established social network."

At the time, that place was such a great neighborhood. It was artsy and bohemian. People would hang out inside their open garages playing music and painting, neighbor Dave painted a piano, we used to project super8 movies on the side of the house, and people were just generally really cool. Okay, I realize this maybe sounds a little white trash. But it wasn't. The two and half years I spent living in that neighborhood, three miles away from BYU, was the only time I felt like a genuine college student. Unfortunately, when I came back from my mission, somehow my haven-from-BYU turned into a wanna-be frat neighborhood.

In other news, my brother, Dale, called today and we spoke for the first time in six years. To clarify, we didn't stop talking for any particular reason. It's just that there's a rather large age gap between us, and after our dad died, we really didn't see much of each other. Anyway, it was really great to talk with him. He's doing well and is playing music full-time. I'm glad to be following in the music career footsteps of my dad and other siblings. Dale said something interesting about music education. It was something to the effect that, of course we would be disappointed if we were training kids to be professional musicians. But music education is more about teaching students how to enjoy and appreciate music, while teaching them to express themselves.

Volume One:

Things that used to drive me nuts that I've now learned to smile at:
#1. ...when people take up more than one parking space in an already full parking lot.
#2. ...when not-so-attractive men demand physical perfection from women and insist on only dating women who look like supermodels. You know who you are. And you live in Las Vegas.
#3. ...when those same men complain about women being shallow.
#4. ...or when those same men complain about not being able to find cool women.
#5. ...when the CCSD sub services website is down for days at a time, but then they complain they cannot find substitutes.
#6. Freedom fries, etc.
#7. ...when the BYU Alumni Association calls for donations. I only graduated a year ago! That's just obnoxious.
#8. ... when people who are 19-20 years old and have been married for six weeks pat you on the arm and say things like, "it's okay, I know people even older than you who are single."

Chris named his baby Sebastian.

I had dinner tonight with some mission peeps. It was nice to enjoy their company. They also let me borrow a CD of over 800 mission pictures, which brought back all kinds of memories. Apparently our fellow Illinois Mission alumni, Elder D., who is currently serving right here in Vegas, is going home this week, and Zach (not the forementioned drunk Zack) got permission from his mission president for us to visit him. Zach invited me, but I may or may not go. I don't want to be late for my 7pm class, and I'm really not that anxious to see Elder D. Not in a mean way, but I just don't want to be weird. Keeping on a mission theme, Sister F. called all the way from London! She is so rad.

There are a number of mission-era pictures I could post featuring myself and others looking unattractive, sweaty, and frumpily dressed. However, for some reason, blogspot is not allowing me post a picture on this entry. I'm not sure why.

I swear I saw Richard Simmons at the gym today. There I was, listening to my iPod, minding my own business, when Richard (or his twin) got on the machine right next to me, in all his pink-tank-top-and-short-shorts-glory. Frizzy fro and all. But since I'm not a follower of his, I have no idea if he lives in or visits Vegas. And in the slight chance that it wasn't Mr. Simmons, I didn't want to say anything because people never react well to hearing they look like someone unattractive. Even if they take it with a chuckle, you can tell they go home and cry about it. It's kind of like telling someone they look like Napoleon Dynamite or Rosie O'Donnell. Or PeeWee Herman, for that matter.

I just got home from watching the Ohio State/Texas game with OSU alumni and fellow grad students, Colleen and Zack. I'm not really a big spectator sports person. Zack got drunk. After Ohio lost by one freaking point, we went out to eat. We traded stories about our students, and congratulated Zack for acing the Praxis.

I had to keep a blog for one of my classes over the summer. So now that's a thing of the past, and this seems to be the cool new blog site, with less pop-ups and advertisements.

This 40-something guy driving a powder blue convertible (new) VW Bug was next to me in freeway traffic this morning. He had his arm out the window, and I could see that he was wearing a wedding ring (I say this so as not to sound like an adulterer). I was going to roll down my window to tell him I liked his car, that I was thinking of getting one myself, but then decided not to do that. He probably wouldn't like a 20-something girl lusting after his chick-car. I wasn't hitting on him, just trying to share the car-love.