I got a new planner for 2009. I have a hard time with planners because the week always starts on Monday, and I just don't think that way. Back in the olden days, I used a weekly planner that was about the size of a credit card and about a quarter-inch thick. That line has since discontinued the little planner (since 2008) and I've been forced to use the monthly ones, which are larger and they're basically a calendar stretched across two pages.
So, the planner I got for 2009 is a lovely one, and I have been excited to use it. I have learned in the past that, if I choose to have a planner I like, I have to buy it early -- before December. Otherwise the planners I get to choose from are those that no one else wanted (and for good reason!).
When I got home from the store with my perfect new planner, I unwrapped the plastic wrapping that encased it, and I began to look at the first couple pages (the one where you put your name and all personal information in all the blank lines, so someone can find it and steal your identity; the page with a world map with different time zones that no one ever looks at except when they first buy the planner, like I did; all the conversions of measurements, where they have all the ones you know but never the ones you need; a list of "traditional" and "modern" wedding gifts, where I've always wondered if it's the spouse that's supposed to give the gift, or is it the neighbor or friend? and what kind of gift is "paper"??). I kept turning the pages until I got to April, so I could write "General Conference" where it goes. I realized this General Conference that I always have to request that Saturday off at the last moment, because until about Thursday of that week, I've forgotten that I should have asked for work off -- and then there I am, scrambling around, trying to convince my employer that "I have church on Saturday, but only this Saturday. It's a special Saturday where we Mormons have church . . ." and I just feel like a bumbling goon. Well, more so than usual.
Something was hideously wrong with the calendar part of the planner. The weeks started with MONDAY!! Good grief, there's an "S" and the beginning and an "S" at the end, and a "W" right in the center. How can anyone mess THAT up?? I couldn't take it back to the store, because I took the wrapping off it. Arrgh.
So, Sunday before Church, I sat in the chapel as folks wandered in, and I changed 365 days, one number back. By hand. In addition, I had to cross every "Monday," "Tuesday," "Wednesday," "Thursday," "Friday," "Saturday," and "Sunday" out and write above it, "Sunday," "Monday," "Tuesday," "Wednesday," "Thursday," "Friday," and "Saturday."
And the first weekends in April and October, I marked "General Conference."
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Sunday, October 12, 2008
I Am Beautiful
I saw a show a few weeks ago, where a gorgeous beautician from L.A. switched places for a week with a punk beautician from Vegas. The gorgeous beautician worked in a posh salon, where she had an assistant and lots of glamourous celebrities go to get beautified. The beautician in Vegas worked at a salon called "Curl Up & Dye," which was gross gross gross gross gross. Everyone had ugly tattoos and piercings on their bodies, and nasty hair, which looked like they poured a mixture of Wesson oil and Kool-Aid over. They were also dressed in shredded/dirty clothes and everyone smoked, even inside the salon. It was just dirty and slummy. The point of the show was to test what the beauticians knew, outside their respective elements.
Both of the beauticians had a really hard time; the punk one had a hard time making clients look pretty, and didn't even know what chemicals she was putting on the client's hair. She didn't take help from her assistant, and she had a super bad attitude -- which didn't help her look pretty, with piercings in her lip and cheek, and mismatched makeup on her washed-out skin and some orangey-red greasy hairdo. The glamourous beautician was really out of place making liberty spikes with some woman's pink hair (which she had to shave on the sides first, to make the mohawk). This woman was a tattoo artist, who had given tattoos to every employee at the Curl Up & Dye salon. The ambiance of this salon was really dark and dirty, and I could feel the cigarette smoke at the back of my throat, and it was making me sick.
Both girls were severely out of place, but I was amazed at how beautiful the glamourous beautician was. She probably wasn't anything out of the ordinary. She was a blonde girl with awesome skin, who obvously cared a lot about her body -- and it showed. Her teeth were white, her hair was perfect, and her clothes were clean and light-colored. I kept thinking, "Why doesn't everyone want to look like her? She may be an airhead, but she's a kind of person who makes you smile because she looks so clean." Maybe she looked too clean? I don't know. But it got me thinking, about beauty.
As I walked toward the glass door at my work, I saw my face in the reflection, and I thought how beautiful I really am. I wear makeup, but it's not overpowering; sometimes it looks like I'm not wearing it at all. I don't have any enhancements. I rarely even wear earrings, since my ears aren't even pierced and clip-on ones can sometimes pinch a little too hard. I'm not thin, so my body isn't anything to gawk at, either. But I'm beautiful -- not any more beautiful than anyone else, and not glamourously beautiful, either. No one is going to take photos of me and try to sell fragrances or magazines or fruit snacks with my picture. I'll never make a work-out video like some models do.
I started looking at other people, and noticing how beautiful they are, too. I started being happy when I saw some people smile or walk or think -- people are just beautiful! I notice that some people put lots of piercings in their bodies -- guaged holes in their ears or big rings in their noses -- and those things are so distracting. Those people are beautiful, but you have to use your imagination to see how they might look WITHOUT those things! This is hardly a revelation, I know. But I was just thinking about that.
At about the same time I was noticing that people are beautiful, I was approached by one of the hostesses at my work, who is bubbly and sweet. She pulled me aside to tell me that she noticed my "light," and that she had a hard time finding people with that "light" where she works. Having her tell me that was comforting, because I had also been in a cranky mood about then, trying to find another job to keep me afloat, so knowing that someone saw my "light" under that dark cloud really made me feel better.
When I worked at Safeway one summer, there was a cranky lady who I thought was ugly. There was also a sweet lady who I thought was most lovely. One day I looked at the cranky one and thought, "Wow, she's actually pretty. She just needs to wipe off that thick eyeliner and smile a little!" I then looked at the beautiful lady and it shocked me to notice how homely she actually was -- she just tricked me into thinking she was beautiful because she was so pleasant to be around!
Interesting.
Both of the beauticians had a really hard time; the punk one had a hard time making clients look pretty, and didn't even know what chemicals she was putting on the client's hair. She didn't take help from her assistant, and she had a super bad attitude -- which didn't help her look pretty, with piercings in her lip and cheek, and mismatched makeup on her washed-out skin and some orangey-red greasy hairdo. The glamourous beautician was really out of place making liberty spikes with some woman's pink hair (which she had to shave on the sides first, to make the mohawk). This woman was a tattoo artist, who had given tattoos to every employee at the Curl Up & Dye salon. The ambiance of this salon was really dark and dirty, and I could feel the cigarette smoke at the back of my throat, and it was making me sick.
Both girls were severely out of place, but I was amazed at how beautiful the glamourous beautician was. She probably wasn't anything out of the ordinary. She was a blonde girl with awesome skin, who obvously cared a lot about her body -- and it showed. Her teeth were white, her hair was perfect, and her clothes were clean and light-colored. I kept thinking, "Why doesn't everyone want to look like her? She may be an airhead, but she's a kind of person who makes you smile because she looks so clean." Maybe she looked too clean? I don't know. But it got me thinking, about beauty.
As I walked toward the glass door at my work, I saw my face in the reflection, and I thought how beautiful I really am. I wear makeup, but it's not overpowering; sometimes it looks like I'm not wearing it at all. I don't have any enhancements. I rarely even wear earrings, since my ears aren't even pierced and clip-on ones can sometimes pinch a little too hard. I'm not thin, so my body isn't anything to gawk at, either. But I'm beautiful -- not any more beautiful than anyone else, and not glamourously beautiful, either. No one is going to take photos of me and try to sell fragrances or magazines or fruit snacks with my picture. I'll never make a work-out video like some models do.
I started looking at other people, and noticing how beautiful they are, too. I started being happy when I saw some people smile or walk or think -- people are just beautiful! I notice that some people put lots of piercings in their bodies -- guaged holes in their ears or big rings in their noses -- and those things are so distracting. Those people are beautiful, but you have to use your imagination to see how they might look WITHOUT those things! This is hardly a revelation, I know. But I was just thinking about that.
At about the same time I was noticing that people are beautiful, I was approached by one of the hostesses at my work, who is bubbly and sweet. She pulled me aside to tell me that she noticed my "light," and that she had a hard time finding people with that "light" where she works. Having her tell me that was comforting, because I had also been in a cranky mood about then, trying to find another job to keep me afloat, so knowing that someone saw my "light" under that dark cloud really made me feel better.
When I worked at Safeway one summer, there was a cranky lady who I thought was ugly. There was also a sweet lady who I thought was most lovely. One day I looked at the cranky one and thought, "Wow, she's actually pretty. She just needs to wipe off that thick eyeliner and smile a little!" I then looked at the beautiful lady and it shocked me to notice how homely she actually was -- she just tricked me into thinking she was beautiful because she was so pleasant to be around!
Interesting.
La Lingua
There's a guy at the restaurant where I work. He's got a shaven head and lots of tattoos and piercings, and he struts around all tough-like. He has really strong language, too, which has made me shrink from him at times. I have thought, "I should say something . . . but he might just get mad at me for 'judging' him, and then things can get really tense. He's the kind of person who can make anyone miserable. So I'll just avoid him when he talks."
He's come back and eaten brownies made from "My Special Recipe," which is one my friend gave me in college. I even put it in the Orton cookbook for everyone to enjoy. I believe that good recipes should be shared, because in some small way, it's a form of immortality: Making people happy long after you're gone. The brownies we made at the restaurant when I started, were NAAAASTY!! They used a mix and didn't even follow the recipe, but used buttermilk -- so the brownies tasted more like buttermilk than chocolate! They smelled awesome but were really dry and sour. Now, THAT'S not a recipe I'd like to have immortalize me; I decided we needed something to make people happy.
I think that this brownie recipe is what endeared this frightening guy to me. He even told someone (in my presence) that my brownies are "puke-on-yourself good," which isn't a way I'd describe something I liked, but that's how I'm a little different, I guess.
I spoke to the owner of the restaurant one day, and he asked me if this guy (Ben) offended me by his speech; he'd had complaints over the years from employees who had to be around Ben and hear his bad language. I said that it bothered me, but I usually just avoided Ben for that reason. The owner then told me that Ben has been trying to make positive changes in his life: He's started going to church and going to school, and I even learned later that he's committed not to drink anymore. He has had a really harsh life, and he was really trying to make changes -- so be patient with his efforts.
Not long after my conversation with the owner, Ben was back in the bakery area, talking to someone else, and he said a bad word, and then corrected himself. It made me smile; he kept talking and again said more bad words, followed by his correcting himself. Then he said, "I'm sorry, Bethani -- I'm trying not to say those kinds of things around you, because you don't like it." I laughed -- it tickled me that he'd care enough (and to assume I didn't want to hear him say those things) to try to make my time there pleasant. I had figured it was ingrained in him for so long that the bad language was "just part of who he was," and that having him try to make efforts to "soften" his language would be too much to ask. And maybe it was. Maybe he just had to decide to do it. He probably started using language like that for the very purpose of offending people. But now he's trying to NOT offend people.
Last night I went next to the kitchen to get a bowl of soup, and I heard Ben speak very loudly to someone else, using a word that's hideously offensive. I just pretended not to hear (since he wasn't talking to me, and my back was even turned as I ladled soup into a teeny bowl, so I didn't even think anyone saw me), and suddenly, he edited his sentence and said, "I'm sorry Bethani -- I didn't see that you were there."
I know other people have had experiences like this, too. It's such a compliment when someone respects you enough to try not to offend you in one way or another -- especially when you didn't ASK them to, and also especially when you know it's not easy for them. It makes me have respect for them, too, and want to make THEM feel more comfortable and accepted.
He's come back and eaten brownies made from "My Special Recipe," which is one my friend gave me in college. I even put it in the Orton cookbook for everyone to enjoy. I believe that good recipes should be shared, because in some small way, it's a form of immortality: Making people happy long after you're gone. The brownies we made at the restaurant when I started, were NAAAASTY!! They used a mix and didn't even follow the recipe, but used buttermilk -- so the brownies tasted more like buttermilk than chocolate! They smelled awesome but were really dry and sour. Now, THAT'S not a recipe I'd like to have immortalize me; I decided we needed something to make people happy.
I think that this brownie recipe is what endeared this frightening guy to me. He even told someone (in my presence) that my brownies are "puke-on-yourself good," which isn't a way I'd describe something I liked, but that's how I'm a little different, I guess.
I spoke to the owner of the restaurant one day, and he asked me if this guy (Ben) offended me by his speech; he'd had complaints over the years from employees who had to be around Ben and hear his bad language. I said that it bothered me, but I usually just avoided Ben for that reason. The owner then told me that Ben has been trying to make positive changes in his life: He's started going to church and going to school, and I even learned later that he's committed not to drink anymore. He has had a really harsh life, and he was really trying to make changes -- so be patient with his efforts.
Not long after my conversation with the owner, Ben was back in the bakery area, talking to someone else, and he said a bad word, and then corrected himself. It made me smile; he kept talking and again said more bad words, followed by his correcting himself. Then he said, "I'm sorry, Bethani -- I'm trying not to say those kinds of things around you, because you don't like it." I laughed -- it tickled me that he'd care enough (and to assume I didn't want to hear him say those things) to try to make my time there pleasant. I had figured it was ingrained in him for so long that the bad language was "just part of who he was," and that having him try to make efforts to "soften" his language would be too much to ask. And maybe it was. Maybe he just had to decide to do it. He probably started using language like that for the very purpose of offending people. But now he's trying to NOT offend people.
Last night I went next to the kitchen to get a bowl of soup, and I heard Ben speak very loudly to someone else, using a word that's hideously offensive. I just pretended not to hear (since he wasn't talking to me, and my back was even turned as I ladled soup into a teeny bowl, so I didn't even think anyone saw me), and suddenly, he edited his sentence and said, "I'm sorry Bethani -- I didn't see that you were there."
I know other people have had experiences like this, too. It's such a compliment when someone respects you enough to try not to offend you in one way or another -- especially when you didn't ASK them to, and also especially when you know it's not easy for them. It makes me have respect for them, too, and want to make THEM feel more comfortable and accepted.
Thursday, October 09, 2008
Chocolate
Tuesday night I was at work, trying to get rolls done and work on pies with the other baker. I got a phone call and hurriedly wiped my hands and bolted for the back room (where there's not so much noise).
"Hello?"
"Hi, this is Joel. I'm just wondering what kind of chocolate you would like."
Wow.
About 15 minutes later, he came to my work in his biker jacket, and handed me a bag with my FAVORITE chocolate. I told a couple of the girls what he'd done (thought of bringing chocolate for me and then BRINGING it!), and with squealy voices and huge smiles and bendy knees, they said, "Cute!!!"
With the overtime he has been having to work the past few weeks, the only times we are sure to see each other are Sundays and Wednesdays (at institute). So it was such a sweet gesture for him to bring me chocolate, just because.
Furthermore, yesterday I had a misalignment in my back and neck, so he showed up to my work before institute and had me drive his car to my house while HE rode my pink bike there, so we could meet up for institute . . . he didn't want me uncomfortable on my bike!
"Hello?"
"Hi, this is Joel. I'm just wondering what kind of chocolate you would like."
Wow.
About 15 minutes later, he came to my work in his biker jacket, and handed me a bag with my FAVORITE chocolate. I told a couple of the girls what he'd done (thought of bringing chocolate for me and then BRINGING it!), and with squealy voices and huge smiles and bendy knees, they said, "Cute!!!"
With the overtime he has been having to work the past few weeks, the only times we are sure to see each other are Sundays and Wednesdays (at institute). So it was such a sweet gesture for him to bring me chocolate, just because.
Furthermore, yesterday I had a misalignment in my back and neck, so he showed up to my work before institute and had me drive his car to my house while HE rode my pink bike there, so we could meet up for institute . . . he didn't want me uncomfortable on my bike!
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