Miss Babylon's Babblings

Monday, August 01, 2005

Job Search

The other day my three year old niece definitively announced that when she grows up she wants to be a paleontologist. It blows my mind that she even knows what a paleontologist is--let alone that she has decided on it as her life long profession. Oh to be a kid again and to feel like anything is a possibility! Her decisive announcement made me think that maybe I could just let her decide what I should do with my life. No doubt that her suggestions will broaden my options--paleontologist, actress, princess, mermaid . . . Who knew that my "professional" options were so vast?

Thursday, July 07, 2005

Protective Parent

So today this lady calls into work and launches into all these random questions and lunatic rantings before I could even finish saying "hello." It turns out that her daughter is engaged to be married to some guy from Africa, and the "phone lady" is obviously less than pleased. According to the phone lady, her daughter is quite the "hot ticket" so why would her daughter settle for a guy who will probably end up being nothing more than a shoe salesman? Furthermore, the phone lady told me, she is not going to be able to attend her daughter's wedding because it's happening in Boston and she can't possibly leave Grantsville, Utah for a place as far away as Boston. And how is it that the African is supposedly a college graduate with an MBA--and yet he still doesn't know that he is supposed to capitalize the first letter of "Ithaca" (NY)?. . . and what, you might wonder, do any of these rantings and ravings have to do with BYU Admissions? I have no clue, but I sure got an earful. I wonder if that is how my mother will feel about my future husband . . . not likely.

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

Sweet Dreams

My mom hates it when people go into great detail about the dreams they have. I think this is because dreams are often extremely convoluted and confusing--with the mixture of times, places, experiences, and people that are completely unrelated. Usually the dream hardly makes sense to the person who had it--let alone all the unsuspecting listeners who get roped into hearing the detailed explanation of it. As a result, in our family we grew up with the "rule" that if you were going to tell about your dream, you had to do it in 2 sentences or less. Although I can understand the logic of the rule (and I am the first to admit that it has saved me from some pretty boring conversations)--I can't help but feel differently about the rule when it applies to my dreams--but then again, I'm pretty sure everyone feels that way. I occasionally have dreams that are so strange, awful, or wonderful that I wake up almost believing them. It is especially strange when they include people who I interact with constantly--and then when I see those people I have altered feelings towards them all because of a dream. Maybe I should adopt the tactic a guy I know used the other night: just come straight out and tell them. (He told me that he dreamt that we got married.) Usually in the telling of the dream, it sounds so ridiculous that it quickly brings you back to reality--which is what happened when this guy told me about his marriage dream. We were able to laugh and there were no weird feelings between us. But by using this tactic, I fear that I'm back to the problem at hand--how can I possibly describe a convoluted, confusing dream in two sentences or less?

Tuesday, June 28, 2005


My grandpa loved to sleep. He often referred to sleep as "beautiful, golden, delicious, eternal sleep." He loved sleeping so much that on one occasion when he was fighting in World War II, he lay fast asleep and undisturbed when one entire side of the building that he was sleeping in blew up. We teased him that experiences such as that prepared him so that later in life he was able to sleep comfortably in the middle of a busy room while many of his thirteen children (and later grandchildren) crawled all over him. I often think of my grandpa when I am lucky enough to be reveling in "beautiful, golden, delicious, eternal sleep."

I think my love for sleeping, napping, snuggling, slarming, or what have you must be partially genetic, and my grandpa isn't the only evidence I have of this. My grandma was notorious for falling asleep while reading her children bedtime stories--all the while claiming "I'm awake. I'm awake." Both my mom and dad admit that they struggle to keep their eyes open during their myriads of meetings. My cousin always talks about being "all groggy and tuckered out." as she hunkers down for a nap. My sister sleepily (and wisely, I might add) mumbled one morning as I was trying to wake her up "Oh. . . but my bed has been so good to me." Another one of my sisters used to love quoting one of the children books we grew up reading when she was tiredly eating breakfast--"It's back to bed for me said Fred" she would say. So as you can see it must be in my genes to need (and to crave) a lot of sleep. However, genetic or not--the world doesn't seem to understand people who need a lot of sleep. Like it or not (and I don't), the world caters to people who are "morning people." It seems like to be really and truly productive, you've got to be a morning person. Oh well . . . that is another "soap box" (or maybe just insecurity) of mine--and I think I've babbled long enough for one blog, so I'd better not even go there. Anyhow, I think I feel a "happy nappy," as Christie says, calling my name right about now, so I had better leave that blog for another day.

Friday, April 01, 2005

Queen of Productivity

Have you ever noticed that whenever you have something to do that seems particularly awful or insurmountable, you suddenly become very productive in all (or at least some) other areas of your life? I can think of almost nothing in the world that I hate doing more than writing papers--and for the next two weeks I am going to be bombarded by them. Consequently, I'm sure I'll get a lot of other REALLY important things done in the coming weeks--such as balancing my check book, organizing my closet, and possibly even blogging more frequently. Unfortunately, when the due date of the paper approaches (usually within a few hours of the final due date) and I can't procrastinate--or rather be "productive"--any more, I feel a familiar sensation come over me--an awful sensation that makes me feel like writhing around and "going to the floor." I have to admit that usually I succumb and from my position on the floor I actually wonder if I'm going to make it to see another day--and then somehow, I get up, finish the paper, and feel excited about life once again--at least until the next paper.

Friday, March 18, 2005

I am your candy girl

We have a bowl of candy sitting on the front desk in the office where I work. I, coincidentally, sit at the front desk exactly within an arm's reach of the candy bowl. My position in relation to the candy has made all the difference in my work experience--not because, as you may be thinking--it provides me with an endless supply of sugar to quell my cravings or my boredom (which purpose, I freely admit, it has filled at times)--but more importantly because of the hours of entertainment it provides. I mean think of the increase in visitors our office receivies merely as a result of the candy bowl's presence. When I first started to work at the office, I felt annoyed at the random visits we would get just so that people could raid the candy--I almost felt that my job description should have included something like "protector of the candy bowl." However, as my time here has increased, my attitude has undergone a complete change--now I welcome the visitors--and especially welcome the comments, explanations, and excuses people feel that they have to give me when they take a piece. It has become highly entertaining. We've even contemplated making a list of the superfluous comments we receive as people indulge . . . Although, at times, having candy sitting directly in front of me has created confusion (ie. "Is that cute boy checking me out or is he simply eyeing the candy?" or "Does such and such a person really want to visit me at the office or are they just lured by the candy") --I can freely say that despite my previous experiences and the intermittent confusion it may cause, I am still of the opinion that every office should have a candy bowl. So next time you get candy from an office, just think of the history behind it and the entertainment you are no doubt providing.

Thursday, February 24, 2005


Although some would argue that You've Got Mail is purely a "chick-flick," I think that in addition to all the parts that are oh so CUTE (in the romantic, chick-flick sort of way)--there are also some great lines that I find running through my head sometimes. For instance, at one point Kathleen Kelly says something to the effect of "People are always saying that change is a good thing, but all they are really saying is that something you didn't want to have happen has happened." I like that realistic definition of change. I can't tell you how many times people have tried to convince me that "change is a good thing" and I recognize that sometimes it is--but a lot of times it is just plain miserable. Yesterday my little sister went into the MTC-- and that is a change that is going to be pretty miserable for me for a little while! As I walked around campus this morning, I was surrounded by people--and yet I felt lonely. I guess only time will tell how I adjust to the change. I am probably just babbling, as I am wont to do, but--to borrow another line from You've Got Mail--I guess I just want to send these babblings out "into the cosmic void."