"That's the Island Greeting that We Send to You from the Land where Palm Trees Sway..."

I have an inexplicable love for the "Hawaii Five-O" theme song. I've never seen a single episode of the show (new or old version) and I've probably only heard the theme once or twice in my whole life; I just pick up things like that really quickly and they stay in my head. It's comparable to whistling that song at the beginning of the Disney "Robin Hood" cartoon, except I've seen that movie a million times (on account of it's totally awesome).

So there I was, going on with a life occasionally accented by a random TV theme song, when my mom started watching the new version of "Hawaii Five-O". She started an episode last night, and while I didn't feel like watching the whole thing, I decided to watch until the beginning credits rolled. As the song began to play, I got all excited and starting dancing in my seat (because we all know how much I love dancing like a fool). Of course, my mother starting laughing at me and said, "Haven't you ever seen this before?", to which I replied that I had not, which was when I started wondering why on earth I enjoyed it so much. I honestly don't know why I love that song so much; it could just be that I really like the tune. It's not like I have any sort of emotional connection with the show, or even Hawaii itself, for that matter.

I guess I really don't need a reason to like this particular theme song so much. If I look at it like it's any other song, it's not a stretch of the imagination to say that I just like the sound of it. I think that will now be my official position on my love of a random theme song.

Thanks for your help, friends.

P.S. The title of this post comes from the song "Mele Kalikimaka", sung by Bing Crosby.

Effect and Effect...and Effect

One of my friends and I have a tendency to name things that we find attractive in guys. In the past, we have come up with The Clark Kent Effect (guys with glasses) and The Hodgins Effect (based on Jack Hodgins on Bones and extended to include smart guys that you suddenly realize are hot). The theories are more detailed than that, but you get the idea. Today I present to you The Returned Missionary Effect. It would probably be good to point out that I'm not currently sway-able by the effects of this...Effect, but I came up with it today while discussing a returned missionary with said friend (who is in this particular phase of life). She mentioned that she had known this guy for her whole life, but now that he had returned from his mission she found him incredibly attractive and didn't know why. I think we all experienced this in our early early twenties, but why?

The answer, my friends, is two fold. One, boys grow up on their missions and come back men. The picture we see in our heads when we think of guys on missions is forcefully disrupted when we see their older, handsomer faces. We girls have missed an entire two years of gangliness and it's like someone hit the fast-forward button. BAM! Awkward, pimple-faced boy-next-door is suddenly confident, smooth-skinned and possibly taller. In addition to this, you often see this boy for the first time since his return at his homecoming (I mean missionary themed meeting...) where he is wearing a suit, which, let's face it ladies, just makes a guy that much more attractive. What's a twenty-ish year old girl to do?

I'm starting to feel that I'm sharing too much, so let's move on to the second aspect of returned-missionary-attractiveness: returned missionaries are now eligible for marriage. It's like there's a little switch in our heads that gets flipped and starts saying things (because switches say things, right?) like "Wow, I bet he's looking to get married now. Hey, I'm supposed to be at least looking for a serious relationship. Hmmmm...he's here, I'm here. Why not?" Okay, that sounds kind of creepy, but you know what I mean. These things happen.

So there you have it. Boy comes home. Boy re-meets girl. Girl finds boy extremely attractive and wonders how she might win his affections. I remember it well. I hope you've enjoyed this journey into my past as much as I have. Well, I don't know how much I enjoyed it, but maybe you can at least glean a little amusement from the way that girls think.

Until next time, friends.

The Title is the Hardest Part to Come up With

Having worked several years in retail, I'm used to the speech about customer service making more of a difference than other factors, even price, to a customer. On the other hand, I've been a poor college student for about 7 years, so I believe that sometimes you have to go on the cheap side. I don't often go much for customer service. I might be a bit annoyed if I am treated incredibly poorly, but it's usually not enough to drive me away, so I've never had much personal experience with that particular branch of customer service philosophy.

That all changed today. I wasn't sure if my parents' insurance was still covering my prescriptions, so I've had to contemplate various possibilities for a few days (I tend to procrastinate and worry about things, rather than just doing them). I thought about what I would do if my prescriptions were no longer covered and came to the conclusion that, unless the cost became ridiculously outrageous, I would pay the extra money to stay at my pharmacy. Why? Because I love my pharmacy!

My family has been filling prescriptions at one particular pharmacy for as long as I can remember. When I was a little kid, I loved going with my mom through the drive-through to pick up our medications (...my family has a variety of minor health issues...). The pharmacists would put Smarties in the bag for the kids, which we always looked forward to. There was a period in our insurance where we had to get all of our medications by mail, which was terrible. The prescriptions never arrived on time, and the company always found a problem with our credit card, even though the card was perfectly valid. Eventually....my dad got a new job and our insurance again allowed us to fill prescriptions locally, and I was so happy!

The people at my pharmacy know me, or at least my face, and are always so peppy and helpful. I guess I just really love my pharmacy :)

P.S. My prescriptions are still covered, and even if they weren't it wouldn't be way super expensive. Hurray!

General Conference = My New Year

I don't believe in New Year's resolutions. In the first place, I've been a student for the last 20 years of my life, and January 1st never seemed as much the beginning of the year as say, August 25th or so. In addition, January is in the middle of the winter. What about winter possibly symbolizes anything new? Besides, New Year's resolutions have always felt cliche to me. Everyone makes New Year's resolutions, and what for? Because everyone else does. I suppose there are a few people out there that are truly inspired to change by the beginning of the new year, but I think a lot of us just make something up so we have something to say when someone asks us what we have resolved for the new year.

I do, however, believe in General Conference resolutions. I absolutely love having the opportunity to listen to the leaders of the church as they speak on matters relevant to our day. I get to sit on my couch, notebook and pen in hand, and write down the words of the prophets and any inspiration that comes my way. As a result of the spiritual high that I get during General Conference, I feel a deep and genuine desire to be a better person and try a little bit harder in life. Mary N. Cook (of the General Young Women's Presidency) spoke about the birth of her granddaughter (I believe it was her granddaughter), Ruby, and how she encouraged Ruby's mother to teach her to be a virtuous woman. The mother replied "I am starting today." Obviously, I don't have a daughter to teach about virtue, but I was really struck by the words "I am starting today." It's really easy for me to get caught up in what I'm doing wrong and sometimes it feels really hard to change my habits and behaviors. From now on, I need to stop myself and just say "I am starting today". So what if I've had a hard time with whatever for days, weeks, or even months? Today is a new day, and I can start all over again. I heard somewhere that no matter what our pasts are, our futures are spotless. I am so grateful for a loving Heavenly Father that forgives me when I repent and gives me another chance to be the best person that I can be. I know that I would be very lost without the guidance of the Holy Ghost in my life to stay on the right path. I am grateful for the temple covenants that I have made and for the blessings I receive when I attend regularly.

There were so many wonderful talks during Conference, and I can't wait to get the Ensign next month and go over the talks all over again. I just love General Conference.

Godzilla Skin: Sentimental or Just Plain Ugly?

Once there was a green Godzilla handbag - oh, wait, maybe you need more background than that. When I was younger, we had a Godzilla...toy. He was too big for a figurine, yet too macho for a doll, so I guess toy fits the best. Anyway, this Godzilla toy was the spitting image of the infamous lizard. He had spikes going down his back and tail, menacing claws, and green scaly skin. Pretty awesome, right? Sadly, I haven't seen this toy for a good long while. I'm not sure that we even still have it. Anyway, I once saw this handbag at the JCP that, I swear, looked like it was made of Godzilla skin! I know this sounds rather odd, especially considering that Godzilla skin would be incredibly hard to come by, but there it was. Over the next few weeks, I studied that handbag again and again. I touched it, marveling at how much it felt like the Godzilla toy. I wanted that purse, and decided to buy it when it went on clearance.

One day, a couple of dear friends visited me at my place of employment. I ushered them over to the Godzilla purse, eagerly seeking their approval. To my dismay, they were far from impressed, sharing such thoughts as "That purse is ugly" and "We will not let you buy that purse". At first, I was a bit disappointed, but as I turned to look at the purse in defiance, I realized something: that purse WAS hideous! I don't know what happened, but it seems that my excitement over Godzilla skin clouded my usually trusty fashion sense.

I got to thinking about this today, and how this sort of thing happens a lot in life. Don't be concerned, I'm not thinking of anything in particular. Consider this an application of my English degree. It seems that sometimes we really only want something because of what it represents, or what it reminds us of. When we get it (or if it's something we already have), we hang to it, even if we realize that we have no use for it. The Godzilla purse was ugly; I realized this after my friends opened my eyes, but it reminded me of my childhood. I wanted to buy the purse as a reminder of what had been, but buying a dumb purse doesn't bring back the Godzilla toy or a simpler time of life. All it would have done would have left me with a dumb ugly purse.

So there you have it, one English graduate waxing philosophical about weird things. And who says you don't learn applicable skills in Literary Studies?

The Fuzzy Grey Area of Vigilante Punctuation Correction

Some of you may remember a picture I posted last year upon my return from my family reunion. It looked a little like this:

Actually, it looked exactly like that. Now, put aside the fact that this sign appeared inside a pit toilet; that point is irrelevant. Take a looksy at the punctuation choices made on this friendly and oh-so persuasive sign. What's that, you say? You don't see anything wrong with the punctuation? This is because you are a normal person. I, however, have been blessed/cursed with a little something called being an obsessive English major (graduate now- yay!). As such, my eyes instantly zeroed in on the comma splice. This is when a comma is inappropriately used, since the two clauses joined could stand on their own as sentences. This sign was in desperate need of a semi-colon.

To be honest, this sign wasn't the first thing I thought of when I heard that the reunion would be taking place at the same location this year (as in the beginning of August). I arrived at the reunion and, fittingly, was reunited with the offending sign. Since I was obliged to return to town for the middle of the week, it occurred to me that one could simply place a bottle of correction fluid in one's purse and, by strategically placing a dot above the comma, one could create the necessary semi-colon!

Now, I don't generally approve of such illegal-ery, but the facts of the case are these: a mysterious young woman arrived at the campground on Friday afternoon. Quietly, she sneaked up the road to the campground facilities. Looking around her for signs of the camp host (and joined by her mother to collect photographic evidence) she entered the small building. A short time later, both girl and mother emerged and disappeared into the night (okay, the later afternoon. The trees provided a lot of shade though). Close examination of the sign within proved that a change had been made:

Notice the difference? No? Perhaps a close-up shot, you ask? Here you go:
Ah-ha! The mysterious girl did, indeed, apply a dot of correction fluid! Brilliant! This produces a bit of a moral dilemma. On the one hand, this is vandalism. On the other hand, who is to judge vigilante action in the pursuit of correct punctuation? I'm sure this mysterious (and no doubt, lovely) young woman was only thinking about educating the public at large. Upon further reflection, I have made a decision. I applaud this girl, and I think you should, too.

The end.

Terror in the Night! Or not...

The tale I am about to relate took place in the wee small hours of the morning. As such, I am reluctant to definitively say whether it actually happened or if it was simply a dream. Either way, the story is still worth telling, so here it is:

I woke up in the middle of the night. As is my usual habit, I lifted my head from my pillow to check the time on my alarm clock and, having ascertained the time, laid my head back on the pillow. My return to slumber was interrupted, however, by a fluttering sound in my ear. I repositioned my head, but the fluttering sound continued. I sat up and looked at my pillow and noticed a small dark object, moving slowly across my pillow. I looked at the pillow, thought "Oh, that must be that moth that was downstairs earlier", and went back to sleep. I honestly don't remember what I did to get the moth off my pillow.

Fast forward to a couple of hours ago (whirrrrr). While preparing myself an after-work snack in the kitchen, I looked up and noticed a moth on the wall. Suddenly, the forgotten events of the early morning came back, crisp and clear. It was just like on television, when an amnesiac suddenly remembers what happened right before they got hit by that car, or whatever. Anyway, it occurred to me that I should have had a stronger reaction to a moth being on my pillow in the middle of the night. Some of you know of my intense fear of moths. It mainly stems from having one fly into my mouth when I was a child. Anyone who's had their mouth coated in moth dust knows what I mean. Ever since then, I've cowered in fear when a moth starts fluttering around the room. In the middle of the night, however, that did not occur. It seems that, in an incoherent state of sleepiness, I didn't fully comprehend the gravity of the situation. This is probably for the best, since I would have freaked out and might not have been able to get back to sleep.

Thank goodness for groggy incoherence, eh?