Two Television Shows and a Celebrity Crush

Confession: as I am not personally acquainted with any Hollywood actors, I find myself inclined to form my perception of their personalities based on the parts that they play. Excellent example: John Heder in "Napoleon Dynamite". I mean, seriously. Can you really watch that guy in anything else without picturing him in moon boots and giant glasses, saying things like "Why don't you get out of my life and shut up?" or "Just listen to your heart, Pedro. That's what I do." Of course, for this reason, John Heder has just so happened to play several very similar parts. This is called typecasting, and it makes life difficult for some of us. Think about it: any time I see Harrison Ford, I expect him to be a dashing hero. Colin Firth: the very picture of decorum. And Will Ferrell? Let me just say that watching "Stranger than Fiction" was a strange experience for me.

I'm facing a situation such as this as a result of two television shows that I've recently been watching. The first is "Chuck". As some of you are aware, I have a *bit* of a celebrity crush on Zachary Levi. It started when I heard him singing "Terrified" with Katharine McPhee, and increased as I watched the first three seasons of "Chuck". Having reached the end of available discs on Netflix, I began perusing the website for another show to try and discovered "Less Than Perfect". I remembered that I'd always wanted to watch the show when it was on, and since I love Sarah Rue and, bonus!, the cast included Zachary Levi, I decided to give it a go. As I watched the show, however, I realized something: Zachary Levi's character, Kipp, is not much like Chuck...at all. Kipp is narcissistic and arrogant, whereas Chuck is charming in a low-key kind of way. Worst of all, Kipp is mean! He is constantly mocking other characters on the show.

Herein, my friends, lies the danger of typecasting. No matter what Kipp said (or how ridiculous his haircut was), I found myself thinking, "But he's Chuck and we love him!". Sympathizing with Kipp led to other unlikely thoughts, such as initially disliking the characters that the audience is supposed to side with, and finding myself identifying with the mean girl because she's friends with Kipp. Crisis of conscience, people!

Fear not, dear readers, I eventually calmed the confused frenzy in my mind and managed to see things as they were. Having made this very important adjustment, I can now enjoy the show as an impartial viewer...except that I have secret hopes that Sarah Rue and Zachary Levi's characters will get together...pretty sure that won't happen, though.

On the other hand...

Confession: sometimes, I tend to be a tad unobservant. I don't know why that is; I guess that I get so caught up in my thoughts that I don't pay attention to everything that's going on around me.

Case in point: yesterday I somehow managed to get all the way to work without noticing that one of the lenses in my sunglasses had popped out. I guess there's a chance that the lens was in for part of the time...but that would mean that I missed it falling out, so still not good.

I discovered the sad state of my sunglasses on my way into the building. A co-worker happened to call out "hello" behind me just as I was passing the front doors, and as I turned to return the greeting, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the glass. There was only one lens remaining in my sunglasses! Shocked, I commented on it to my co-worker, who remarked that she had thought I was wearing an eye patch.

I guess this balances out the whole "smart kid" thing from my last post...

"Who would want to take pictures of ugly children?" "The UCTA, that's who!"

Confession: my younger brother and I were smart kids. I'm not bragging or anything; we just were. Some kids were good at sports, others were great musicians. Bret and I were smart. We imagined elaborate story-lines when playing Barbies and action figures (a clever boy-girl compromise) and thought up, and in one case typed up, complex rules for our own games.

What I share with you today is one of the glowing moments of growing up with my little brother: the Ugly Child Talent Agency, or UCTA (which can be spelled out or pronounced "ook-tuh", with the double "o" like in cook and a bit of a guttural sound on the "k"). The creation, or rather realization of the existence of, this infamous agency was on this wise: I'm not exactly sure how old we were at the time; my sister posits that she was about five, which would put Bret and myself at 8 and 10, respectively. Bret could not remember, and so fell back on case law lingo: "since time immemorial". Anyhow, my brother and I were discussing one day the proliferation of ugly children in movies. Think about it. "Mary Poppins", "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang", "Bedknobs and Broomsticks". All ugly children. (Also all British children. We believe the UCTA specializes in the representation of British children, though they are by no means the whole of their agency.)

It occurred to us that perhaps there was an agency of sorts that set these....aesthetically challenged children up with lucrative film roles. How else would children such as these make their way into such potentially endearing parts? The UCTA is the only solution. Throughout the years, whenever Bret or I see a less than attractive child featured in film or television, we feel compelled to remark to one another, "Looks like the UCTA is hard at work in this film". And so it is.

So here's to you, UCTA, and your continual promotion of the children that the world has looked over.

Back off, Lumberjack!

Confession: I apparently suffer from a slight case of masklophobia: fear of mascots.

I was reminded of this fact while having lunch with a friend on campus today. I noticed my friend glance behind me and turned to see what she was looking at. Pressed against the window (not right behind me, but across the room) was a giant lumberjack! Well, giant as in a regular-sized person dressed in khakis and a flannel shirt and wearing a giant lumberjack head, complete with scruffy faux-hair and a funky lumberjack hat. I felt a twinge of fear, but calmed myself, knowing that the mascot could not confront me from outside. A minute later, however, I heard heavy steps behind me, and my friend warning me not to look behind me, before the lumberjack walked by, holding a large poster. Grateful that I had not been accosted by the giant wood-cutter, I suggested to my friend that we get going before it made a round trip back to our table. We walked away, only to see another lumberjack further down the hall! They were ganging up on me! When we made a second pass on our way out, my friend graciously walked on the side of the hall closest to the terror. I found myself actually exhibiting physical signs of fear: my heart rate increased, my stomach flipped around, and I was very nearly visibly shuddering. Not good.

This was not my first experience in on-campus mascot terror. A few years back, while studying in one of the campus lounges, a giant red blood drop came up and grabbed my arm, using a gloved finger to tap the place where the blood-drivers would extract my blood donation. It freaked me out! I said something about how I had to go to class soon, and the blood drop left me alone. It's not like you can make much of an argument when you can't say anything.

This leads me to my first reason that mascots/people dressed in costumes covering their heads creep me out. They can't say anything for fear of "breaking character", they're always pantomiming, and, quite frankly, mimes creep me out too. I then find myself awkwardly wondering if I'm supposed to say anything to mascots. Their hearing is probably impaired by the giant plastic heads, and they can't answer anyway! And where do I look while talking? Their "eyes"? Where I suppose their actual eyes might be? Where?! And, speaking of eyes, where are they looking? I mean, are they secretly leering at me, thinking that since I can't see them it exempts them from social mores? Did the mascot get their job as a cover for their perverted ogling, staring at people all day while no one is the wiser? Do mascots have to submit to a background check before donning the mask to avoid such behavior? So many creepy things to consider.

On the other side of things.... I happen to love Disneyland, where costumed characters run amok through the park. I do admit to feeling slightly awkward around them, for sure, but I'm definitely not creeped out. I suppose it's because we expect them to be there, rather than them sneaking up on you, and because the Magical Kingdom isn't really the type of place at which you expect to be leered at...towards... Anyway...

So there it is: terrified of lumberjacks and blood drops. Friend of Mickey and Minnie.

The end.

Snow, Wheels, and a Pair of Heels

Today I present to you a tale of risk, a tale of adventure, a tale...of a journey to a job interview. Yesterday I left my home to find my car covered in snow from the storm the previous evening. Quickly, I swept the snow off my windshields, telling myself that the snow on top would most likely blow off on the road. Little did I know...

I arrived at a stop light and came to a complete stop. Suddenly, my vision was obscured, and then completely cut off, as the snow from the roof of my car came cascading down onto my windshield. Thoonk thoonk thoonk. Panicked, I quickly switched my wipers on to their highest speed in an attempt to clear my field of vision. The wiper blades were able to clear off the windshield, but there still remained a looming mound of snow on the hood of my car, denying me a clear view of the road. I made it through the intersection, but quickly realized that I wouldn't feel safe driving the remainder of the way with the vast amount of snow remaining on my car.

Reluctantly, I pulled my car over to the side of the road (enduring more cascading thoonks as I once again came to a stop) and exited the vehicle, ice scraper/snow brush in hand. I did pretty well on the driver's side, but as I moved to clear off the passenger side, I realized that I had a major problem: the side of the road that I was approaching was a tad slickish and sloped down into a ditch filled with gross, dirty water. I briefly considered getting back into my car and calling it good, but as the majority of the snow was, in fact, on the passenger side, I knew I had no choice but to brave the perils of slick road and muddy water. Did I mention I was in 4 inch heels?

Slowly, I made my way to the other side of my car, grasping to the front of my hood with one hand while brushing off all the snow that I could. Seeing that my car was nearly cleaned off, I dared to move a little further, but I slipped and nearly fell (my shoes weren't much in the way of traction), so the wise choice seemed to be getting back into my car. Having done this, I went on my merry way to the interview, to which I was still able to arrive on time.

"But How Can You Know What You Want 'Til You Get What You Want And You See If You Like It?"

Stephen Sondheim, you are a genius.

I've been thinking a lot recently about what I want. It seems that there's always an ideal in your head, or something that you at least think is ideal, but the ideal doesn't always turn out to be so...ideal. Know what I mean? I've had several possibilities rolling around in my head lately of what I think I want. Here are some of them (in no particular order):

1. I want a job where I get full time hours, make decent money, and have a set schedule (or one I set myself) that doesn't include Sundays that involves something I'm actually good at. I would love to have some job land in my lap that would involve proofreading textbooks at home or something. That's the ideal, but as soon as I find myself looking for a new job, I start panicking over everything that would change: I'd lose seniority and find myself the new person that knows nothing, without the benefit of being surrounded by close friends. I actually had an interview this past week for a job that I really do want, but I get scared and start thinking about running away. What if I'm no good at a new job? What if everyone hates me? What if I can't get time off for my trip to Nashville to see my brother graduate from law school? I know that it will be worth it in the end to have a good job that I'll grow to love, but since I notoriously over-think, it stresses me out anyway.

2. I want to get married. (Now, I know what you're thinking: it'll happen when it happens. Just read the entire post and you'll know that I'm aware of these things.) I'd almost like to say that I'd be cool if I ever even went on a date, but quite honestly, I'd like to just fall in love with a friend and have that be that (remember that these are ideals...which is sometimes synonymous with delusion). I don't want to deal with the stress of being shot down and not being liked back. At least when I don't date, I can't find myself in the middle of a relationship that isn't going anywhere no matter how much I want it to (that's just an example; not based in real life).

3. I want summer. This is less serious, but there it is. I'm tired of being cold and I'm tired of the sun going down so early. I want to wear shorts and short sleeves and wear summer scents and buy Jamba Juice (it's really not the same in the winter).


So here's the conclusion that I've come to: we never learn anything from ideals. Living paycheck to paycheck teaches me the value of money and to be wise in my spending. Staying single for a while gives me the opportunity to grow and progress myself before joining with someone for eternity. Winter is a necessary season, since that's when we get the majority of our precipitation for the year. Each of these non-ideal situations teach us things that we would never learn if we just waltzed our way through life. Besides, if we got everything we wanted as soon as we got it, we really wouldn't appreciate our ideals.

Here's all we can do: we take life a day at a time and we do the best we can. We learn from whatever situation we find ourselves in and, most importantly, we put our trust in the Lord. Sometimes I feel like I have absolutely no idea what's going on in my life, but I know that He knows exactly what's going on, and how and when it's going to happen. Sometimes I can almost hear Him say, "Just hold on, Michelle. It'll all work out in the end." And I listen to Him, because I know that no matter what I think I want, He knows exactly what I need, and what I need will be so much better than anything that I could ever think that I want.

"Involving My Olfactory Sense Makes It Real For Me"

Yesterday, while putting my clean sheets on my bed, I noticed a small snowman attached to the bottom corner of my bed frame, against the wall. Curiously, I removed the snowman and studied it, trying to decide its origins. I had never seen the snowman before. The snowman had a clip of sorts on the back, and a clear, squishy stomach which seemed to encase some sort of liquid. Here's what it looked like:

Upon closer investigation, I saw some explanation. Apparently, the snowman was some sort of portable scent...provider. I leaned in and sniffed, curious as to what it would smell like. It was vanilla, but not regular, happy vanilla. The vanilla smell I experienced was the same scent that comes with laughing gas at the dentist's office. One sniff, and I could practically feel my limbs numbing and my terrifying childhood dentist telling me to "Open" (hear it how I hear it, and start shaking in your boots).

It's funny how something as simple as a scent can transport you into the past. I have a perfume that I bought at the Disneyland Sephora last Spring Break. The scent is Malibu Lemon Blossom, and every time I smell it I think about the Indiana Jones ride, the sundeck of the Queen Mary, and the wind in my hair as we drove up the Pacific Coast Highway. It's great.

Of course, it goes the other way. I can't think of an instance right now, but it's also very possible to smell something that reminds you of a horrible memory, something that you'd totally forgotten and all of a sudden, it's there again.

Just some thoughts :)

Oh, and for those who wondered, the title comes from an episode from Big Bang Theory.