Moving Pains

Boy did we move a lot of stuff today.

I love Rachel's house because it's so elegantly designed and furnished. I admire a lot of her tastes and styles, and have enjoyed living in her beautiful home. But dang, she has a lot of stuff!

Apparently her unique style comes with a lot of fake plants and candle holders and table decorations and all sorts of stuff that is just crazy. So when we packed five boxes of dusty ornaments and wall frames I hadn't ever noticed before, we were absolutely exhausted. We had climbed all over the house, pulling down ornaments from all kinds of inaccessible areas, and sneezed our way through piles of stuff.

Now I'm sore all over and covered in dust, but there is a large pile of neatly stacked, ridiculously heavy jumbo boxes in the living room, and the house looks that much emptier. Congratulations to us. I'm taking a nap now.

The Only Sugar-coated, Dipped-in-chocolate Cereal That's Kid-Tested And Kid-Approved!

I just now ate my first ever bowl of Cookie Crisp. Do you remember those? The nasty-looking, impossibly-sweet mini cookie cereal from the 90s that had all mothers shaking their heads before the commercial could point out the "nutrition" facts? That cereal. I didn't even know they still made that cereal, and I've never had it before tonight. It's actually really gross. Tastes sickly sweet and slightly sour at the same time. I also probably shouldn't have eaten it at 2 in the morning, but I was hoping to crash from a sugar rush to make me sleepy and allow me to fall asleep. Thirty minutes later and I'm not feeling the effects yet, but I remain hopeful.

Anyhoo, eating that awful blast from the 90s made me think of all the cereal commercials I grew up watching, and I started wondering about which of those cereals are still around. Froot Loops and Lucky Charms are still kicking, even though they're impossibly sweet. But if Fruity Pebbles still sells, then those two cereals look like Oats and Bran by comparison. Remember the rice krispie treats cereal? Where there were chunks of rice krispie treats and you apparently just added milk and called it a cereal? Man, I wanted to try that cereal so badly as a kid. Now the very thought of it makes me want to throw up. Or maybe that's just the Cookie Crisp talking.

I loved the Apple Jacks commercials. Those are the ones where someone would always point out that it doesn't taste like apples. I guess the cinnamon flavor validated the title a little, but just because cinnamon and apples go well together (in a pretty decent pie, that is) doesn't mean you should point out what the cereal DOESN'T taste like to defend a pretty pathetic brand name. I love Honeycombs, too. Even though I think they still shoot commercials featuring that insane crazy hairy thing (what IS that thing?!) who really, really wants Honeycombs, the cereal itself isn't half bad. But I can't even buy Trix, because those mean, nasty kids who never shared their cereal even though the poor rabbit really wanted to taste it have ruined the taste for me forever. I feel like if I buy a box of Trix, I'm paying out to those mean, non-sharing kids and making the rabbit suffer more. I used to cry over that stupid commercial because I felt so bad for that stupid made-up character. Any product who airs a commercial that makes me cry is blacklisted forever. No Trix for me.

I just realized something. Maybe Trix uses a rabbit character because rabbits come out of hats as a magic trick. That kinda makes sense. But then why is the cereal shaped like different kinds of fruit? I don't know anything. I'm talking cereal at 2:30 in the morning. Maybe I should pick this up another time, when I've had a chance to sleep.

So moral of the story: Don't support the illegal hunting of endangered animals. Or something.

Sometimes Cliches Are Awesome

So I watched Avatar last night when I couldn't sleep. Man, is that a long movie. I heard a lot of things about that movie, mostly comments of derision about how similar it was to a plethora of movies. Having seen it, I can agree with a few of these comparisons:

-It is Dances With Wolves, except in space.

-It is Pocahontas, except in space.

-It is Atlantis, except in space.

And I liked it. Yes, it was cliche and the ending was predictable, but it was predictable in that the story line followed a natural order of progression in a way that I happened to be able to anticipate. So that's okay. And really, why is it such a scandal to make a movie that is similar to other stories? All fiction exaggerates the human experience so that the audience can see things from a different perspective. That's why fantasy is all one big cliche copied from Lord of the Rings. But we don't criticize new authors or screenwriters for writing a new version of Cinderella or whatever (well, we do, but they keep writing them anyway). And you know what? Ella Enchanted was great!

So yes, Avatar was yet one more version of true love for two impossible characters (except in space), but it was a new variation of the same story that has been around since before Romeo and Juliet and that will never ever die. And so I say, good job, James Cameron, for only putting a hint of non-pushy environmentalism in your story and keeping your screwed-up politics out of the story line. I appreciated your effort. And I appreciated the cliche.

Ann Barlow, I'm Talking To You!

Dear Ann,

I tried very hard to go to sleep tonight. I went to bed at a very reasonable hour, hoping to get a phone call that never happened. Then I decided I would try to get some sleep. Ha.

Instead, I found myself inexplicably reminiscing about our awesome spring together in Provo. Remember when I would pace around the room at night while we talked about how dumb France is and how awesome England is? And remember when I basically ate everything in the kitchen and you came out and had a bowl of ice cream while we looked through all your facebook London pictures? Remember when we went out to get frozen yogurt at the hippie place where you can chew on the biodegradable spoons?

You were by far my favorite roommate ever and each night as I lay here frustrated with my inability to rest, I keep thinking back on those nights of shared restlessness. Thanks for staying up with me. You're the best.

Sincerely,

Camilla

Why Does Every Blog Have To Have A Title?

So last night (in another fit of insomnia) I was desperately looking for things to do. I let the dogs outside to go play and sat on the swing in the dark for a little bit to enjoy the warm darkness. It got creepy, so I brought them inside and made me a graham cracker-with-nutella midnight snack (closer to 1 am, actually). Made me more awake. I watched a tv show. Nothing.

Then I dragged my computer out to the couch and started typing on it. Occasionally I work on these children's stories that I've been writing forever because writing is cathartic and children's stories are awesome. Maybe one day I'll really finish one and try to get it published (I feel like Family Guy's Brian all the time because of this). And the most amazing thing happened when I started writing. No, I didn't go to sleep. That would be silly. But I did have the most amazing brainstorm. I outlined four novels. Four. And proofread some fifty pages of an already started novel. And added more to it. It's so funny to me that I enjoy editing my work more than I do creating it.

So although I got virtually no sleep again and now have a dull headache, I did have a ton of fun writing and outlining for a few hours last night. Maybe I'll do that every night and not have to worry about tossing and turning in the dark, trying to get to sleep when clearly my body doesn't want to. I'm not even tired anymore. I don't remember what it's like to be tired, cause I'm always in this constant state of restlessness. Man, I miss working. At least then I knew how to be tired all the time.

...Sleeeeep...

So I don't know what's come over me, but I've been having the hardest time sleeping lately. This past week I haven't been able to go to sleep before 2 or 3 in the morning, and I am not happy about that fact. You see, I talk to Josh every night before he goes to sleep (at an old-man hour, naturally) and usually I can just fall asleep after we talk because I've got nothing else to do. Well lately my mind has been just buzzing with all kinds of thoughts and I can't make it shut up enough to slip into unconsciousness. For the past six days I've been sleeping in until ten or so every morning to make up for the late falling-asleep hour, but yesterday completely took the cake.

You see, last night I went and saw Glee Live with my sister (Rachel1) and we grabbed some In and Out (twss) afterwards. So it was around midnight when I finally got to talk to Josh while I ate my animal-style fries. That was all fine and dandy except that Josh was super tired (again, old man sleeping habits) so we didn't talk long. Then I was stuck with a body that was practically vibrating with energy from the sugar and grease I'd just consumed. Not. Awesome. I watched a LOT of tv last night.

I woke up at 7 this morning since we have church at 8. But I only fell asleep at 5:45 this morning. And I can't take a nap because my brain won't shut up. FML.

You know how zombies are supposedly really into eating brains or whatever? And how they wander around towns groaning, "Braaaaaainssss....braaaaainnnnssss..."? You know what I'm talking about? I'm pretty sure they became zombies because they couldn't get enough sleep and they wander around bemoaning the fact that they can't get their brains to shut up.

I think I'm a zombie.

The Real Manifest Destiny

When I was taking night classes at the community college and absolutely hating every single one of my political science professors (all lousy liberals) AND their bigoted grading curve, I'd come home every other night just exhausted and dejected. After a full day of work and then three hours of liberal politics, I was exhausted from work but mostly from arguing my viewpoints with my professors and fellow classmates. Nobody liked me in my classes, and that's not a big deal or anything, but it is disheartening to stand alone. I'm not saying I was right (although I felt I was) in what I said, but I thought it was crucial that the other students knew there was an alternative to the things (lies) my professors spouted in every class.

Well one night I came home especially weary and just about ready to give up. I felt like stupid John Adams during the second Continental Congress when nobody wanted to listen to his high-pitched whiny voice anymore because he opposed practically everything they addressed. I had just about made up my mind to shut my mouth for the rest of the semester and just let my teachers say what they felt like saying without fear of disagreement. I was just tired of it all.

That night I walked into my parents' bedroom where my dad was watching one of Ken Burns' amazing videos on the Civil War (titled The Civil War, I believe). My dad was on the bed, watching the TV and my mom was sitting in her rocking chair, reading. She put her book down when I came in and we exchanged a few words, probably me letting her know I was home and all that and her asking about my class that night. Well I wasn't about to confess that I was mentally defeated by my idiot teachers, so I just shrugged and tried to brush off the question when I caught a few of the words being read on the TV. I turned to listen and to my amazement (and my parents', who know how rarely I tear up) I started crying. This is what I heard on the TV:

"Our movement may be one of a few days duration and full of pleasure--and it may be one of severe conflict and death to me. Not my will, but thine O God, be done. If it is necessary that I should fall on the battlefield for my country, I am ready. I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in, the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how strongly American Civilization now leans upon the triumph of the Government, and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and suffering of the Revolution. And I am willing--perfectly willing--to lay down all my joys in this life, to help maintain this Government, and to pay that debt."

I have no idea how widely publicized the Sullivan Ballou letter is, but when I heard Ken Burns' narrator reading a passage from his letter to his wife, Sarah, I felt the reaffirmation I needed. In the clearest, most elegant language I have ever enjoyed, Major Ballou (a !!*lawyer*!! and public servant all his adult life) expressed his complete faith in the United States and his willingness to fight to the death to preserve its sacred mission. He understood that God's hand was in the War, and that those who struggled so willingly to create this nation during the Revolution deserved the justice of having that nation preserved at the hands of its descendants. This is exactly, one-hundred percent how I feel about America. I know this country is and always was given by God to those who would honor it and, to the best of their understanding and ability, keep it honorable.

Perhaps because of how dejected I was feeling that night and how ready to give up on everything with school and politics and my stupid, idiotic professors, I was more open to feel the words in Ballou's letter, and it has resonated with me ever since. Reading it again today I found myself still able to cry over his perfect, powerful testimony of patriotism. Sullivan Ballou understood what was expected of an American.

And I will never forget.