Thursday, March 24, 2011

but seriously...

Problem #1: I’m working in a very quiet computer lab and miss whitey over here is flirting with a Japanese guy. There’s nothing wrong with a little yellow fever, but she’s loud and she’s talking about how sushi makes her vomit.

Problem #2: I’m hungry again.

Problem #3: I’m trying to raise money for the American Cancer Society. It’s for my cousin who died of Pancreatic Cancer. The problem is that I’m poor and so are all of my friends.

Got any extra pennies?


Wednesday, March 23, 2011

What are today's specials?

Dr. BF cancelled our noon class today leaving me with 2 friends and 2 hours with which to eat lunch. As we were discussing our chronic indecision when it comes to picking restaurants, my friend and I realized that it's not that we don’t care but that we eat too much. It’s nearly impossible to decide because we could eat and enjoy almost anything. Within seconds, I subconsciously made a list of what I would order at almost every restaurant in Provo should we happen to go there.

Sensuous Sandwich: Spicy Enticer with cream cheese, hot.
Red Robin: Bonzai Burger with swiss.
Café Rio: Steak Burrito with black beans and medium sauce.
Panda Express: Half chow-mein/half fried rice with orange chicken and sweet and sour pork.
Burger Supreme: Guacamole bacon burger – no tomato.
Gandolfos: The Brooklyn Bridge.
Chilis: Southwestern chicken tacos.
Betos: 2 fish tacos.
Macaroni Grill: Penne Rustica.
Tucanos: EVERYTHING.

Name a restaurant and I will tell you what I would order in less than 2 seconds. I have a problem… a very hungry problem.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Smell ya later

Some people smell things. I understand that. I can’t resist the smells of fresh baked cookies, or anything edible for that matter. I love the smell of coffee. In any non-Mormon owned grocery store in Utah, I will walk down the coffee aisle multiple times taking deep breaths of that gratifying, earthy aroma. I’ll admit that I like the smell of gasoline. Whenever I start the dish washer, the ritual begins with a whiff of that sweet, clean Cascade detergent. I appreciate my sense of smell.

I just spent 10 minutes observing an elderly Asian woman at our printing station in the library. She opened the paper tray and removed a stack of blank paper. I assumed we had a thief on our hands, which I was perfectly willing to forgive. This tiny woman proceeded to gently lift the small stack of fresh paper to her nose and inhale the scent of bleached saw dust. She gave a silent nod of approval as she replaced the paper into the printer. She did the same thing with each tray of paper in each printer, silently approving of all in turn. Only then did she print the document that she had intended to, finally knowing how it would smell upon its completion.

I can only imagine the images conjured by the smell of a blank page. Perhaps she marveled at its surplus, having been an item of luxury in her childhood. Perhaps she was mourning the loss of a beloved tree she once encountered. Perhaps, with her tiny body, she was able to reach some sort of high due to the chemicals in the paper. I will never know. But I do know exactly how my face looked as I was watching her smell my paper: confused.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Rewards

As part of my long journey to independence, I have become aware of a parenting technique I use on myself: the reward system. Often parents reward the good behavior of their children. Though my siblings will say I was spoiled as a child, I don’t recall specific rewards for good behavior as it was generally expected and viewed as normal. Why reward somebody for exuding acceptable and civilized comportment? In my family, we didn’t reward the ordinary but recognized the extraordinary. If I had become addicted to pot brownies as a toddler (which I most likely would have, given the opportunity) I am sure I would have been rewarded somehow for showing signs of rehabilitation.

Occasionally in my adult life, I find myself somewhat… unmotivated. Subconsciously, I have taken to rewarding myself for my efforts:

Monday, I began training for the Wasatch Back relay by running and modifying my horrendous diet. Tuesday, I ate so well that I had to reward myself with a Philly Steak sandwich.

A few weeks ago, I stayed awake during Chemistry so I rewarded myself with a brownie hot fudge sundae.

At Costco, I stuck to my list and had only healthy things in my cart. I rewarded myself with a tray of Chicken Alfredo.

As a reward for attending church, I usually purchase a Choco Taco from the vending machine.

If I go to Guitar on Tuesday, I reward myself by skipping it Thursday.

I didn’t purchase the electronics I had been wanting, so I bought myself a coat.

I sat through an entire shift at work with a particularly gassy employee: chocolate milk.

I have been emanating productivity since I recognized my system of rewards. If I work hard for more than 30 seconds, I deserve to be rewarded for it. Anybody want milkshakes?