Future Pilgrimage Venue?

I found this little gem inscribed on the pulpit at church (Spanish Branch).

The Honduras/Harlem Connection

After my first semester in Honduras, I was walking through the Houston airport with one of my co-workers on our way home for Christmas. She turned to me and said, "Do you noticed anything weird?" I couldn't think of anything and then she asked, "Do you notice anyone staring at us?" It was a novel idea, to walk through a crowded room without being subjected to stares and comments from aficionados of the alabaster female form. Since I left Honduras for good, I have enjoyed my blessed anonymity. It's better to be considered mediocre looking than to pick up random suitors on every casual stroll. However, moving to Harlem proved to be the equivalent of a debutante ball.

This morning I was walking to the subway and an innocuous looking man said, "Good morning." That was innocent enough, so I replied in kind. I thought our relationship was over and continued walking. Suddenly I heard a voice behind me.

Foot Fetish Man: Can I have your number please, so we can get to know each other better?
Miss Jill: No thanks.
FFM: Wow! Your feet are really sexy. What size are they? 7? 8?
I should have remained silent at this point, but I have too much pride in my unusually small feet to let them be thus abused.
Miss Jill: No, they are size 6, have a nice day.
FFM: D@#$, that's so sexy! Give me your number and I'll give you a foot massage.
Miss Jill: No. Have a nice day, bye.
FFM: Can I give you my number then?
Miss Jill: No
FFM: But don't you want a foot massage while we get to know each other? I can use lotion.
Miss Jill: No. Please go way.
I thought about giving him my dad's number because he is always trying to get us to massage his feet, but I realized that there were some geographic impediments involved in that plan. I started to do what I should have done in the first place, to ignore him completely. He threatened, "See you tomorrow," and he walked folornly away, presumably to Payless of Harlem.

I hereby give, bequeath and devise...

In another strange career move, I used to write what my cousin dubbed "bootleg wills" for a law firm. People would fill out information packets and I would use them to create a Will. I actually really enjoyed it for the following reasons (don't worry, names and details have been changed):

Miss Jill: Good afternoon, Sir. I’m calling because I have some questions about your will. You have not named any beneficiaries.
Rusty: I don’t have anyone to put down. Everyone is dead except my brother and he is an idiot.
Miss Jill: Umm.. then I’m not sure that you need a will.
Rusty: Well, uhhh… (pauses). Oh! Wait! I’ve thought of someone.
Miss Jill: That’s great news. Who is it?
Rusty: Does it matter if they are in another country?
Miss Jill: No, of course not. Who is it?
Rusty: My girlfriend. I’ve been trying to bring her to the U.S.
Miss Jill: How nice!!! I’ll write her into your will. What is her name?
Rusty: Well give me a second, I need to go get it off my computer.

Miss Jill, please include my…
Do-rag collection
Duck calln
Wine glass from Prom 1994: A Night in Paris
Foot long rag doll
Confederate flag with “We ain’t comin’ down” embroidered on it
$1,000 to UFO research

Bending the Universe to Your Will

Maybe you hate your job. Maybe you receive non-sufficient funds letters from your bank everyday (not that that has ever happened to me). Maybe you shamelessly flirt with everyone in sight, but your relationship status on Facebook remains “single.” Leave those hopeless feelings behind and read on.

About a year ago, I was on the verge of applying for a government bailout. Broke. Depressed. Dark-rooted. Then I saw a movie on the shelf: The Secret. I laughed the entire time that I watched it. The premise is that if you tell the Universe that you want something, and that if you believe enough, you will receive. One segment showed a man who painted pictures to control his love life. When he wanted lots of ladies, he drew himself with a harem. When he was ready to settle down, he drew himself a wife. I believe in the power of positive thinking, but seriously?

A few days later, when I realized that my net worth was -$435.78, things weren’t quite so funny. I had to take matters into my own hands, so I drew a picture of myself with money surrounding me and covering my body. I also drew a friend with money coming out of her pants. I put the pictures on the fridge so that I could stay focused on my goal.

One week later, I received a check from my old job for $800. The next week, I received a tax return of $1400 (after working for only three months). A few weeks after that, my salary doubled. And a creepy guy offered my friend with the money in her pants $600 to start a relationship with him (sometimes the universe is quite literal). The results were undeniable. When I tried to spread the good news, people laughed. My co-worker asked if I would draw a picture of a clean house for her. But the mockers were the first in line when the drawing materials were handed out. Here is a testimonial from my Facebook wall from a young law firm associate whose boss suddenly gave her the weekend off:

“I'm so glad we're friends now and that I met you and you introduced me to the power of the drawing - it's changed my life. I'll say that on the infomercial, too. Just ask!”

This phenomenon has spread, and the true test of its validity will be the number of mid to late twenties girls who marry their crush in 2009. One such wedding is already scheduled for May 16, but I know that there will be more. Let me know if you need me to utilize my artistic talents on your behalf, but for now I will be busy waiting for my bilingual PhD with a copy of The Economist in his hand.

My Biological Clock

I used to play the piano for the Spanish children's group at my church in Arizona. I loved working with kids again and it was rewarding from time to time. However, I didn't realize how much of an impact I had made on the children until I received a thank you note of sorts. One Sunday I noticed that an 8 year old boy was absorbed in something that he was writing on a tithing slip. I thought that maybe he was trying to make a selfless donation to the Church. After class, he nervously walked up to me and shyly said, "I wrote something for you." Touched, I said, "Wow, thanks! That is so sweet of you." He scampered off and I opened the note: "I want to push you into a black hole so you will die."

Slumdog Millionaire

On New Years Day I was bored because none of the 4 people I knew in New York were here. It seemed like a good time to enjoy my favorite hobby, going to movies by myself. I first learned that I loved this when I was living in Mesa and I wanted to see Persepolis. Due to the nature of the population there, I knew that no one else was dying to see movies about the Middle East. So, one day after work I drove up to Scottsdale for my first solo movie experience. I felt a little lame at first, but I remembered that my sister had once enjoyed a full course meal at Red Lobster in Provo, UT (probably surrounded by people on dates) by herself, so I was comforted. As I entered the theater, I quickly realized that I was not the only one who couldn't find someone else who would enjoy a movie about Iran, because there were only three other people and they were also alone. And you know what? I was a fun movie companion.

As I was already a pro, I went down to Chelsea to see Slumdog Millionaire. Although in 3rd grade this girl Pooja Baga told me that my hair looked like a rat's nest, I've always loved reading about India, I love Bollywood and I grew up with tons of awesome Indians, so I was super excited. I sat down and was quickly joined by a middle aged couple from India. We started chatting and then the movie started. If you haven't seen it, the main character is a contestant in Indian "Who Wants to be a Millionaire?" As they started asking questions about Indian culture and literature, the man next to me got really excited and started yelling out "B!" or "C! I know it! I read that in school!" It was a great time.

After it ended, I quickly left and started speed walking towards the subway, because it was FREEZING. I heard someone running behind me and felt a tap on my shoulder. I got nervous, because it was dark and I was alone, but turned around and a man was staring at me. "Miss, I want to talk to you." I did my trademark nervous laugh, but was relieved when a woman joined him and I realized that they were the couple sitting next to me. He continued, "We were wondering how you felt about the movie." They smiled at me broadly. I told him that it was the best movie I had ever seen and they were very excited. "You should know," said his wife, "that that is the true India. That movie was very accurate. Have a great weekend!" And then they were gone.

B Level Celebrities in My Midst

As a devoted reader of Us Weekly, People and occasionally even Time Out and Ok!, I consider myself at at least a low advanced level of celebrity knowledge. However, before moving to New York, the only celebrities that I had seen in real life were George W. Bush (on a fateful day inside the Provo Airport), La Ley (a Chilean band) and Bill Cosby (through a window from really far away). I am not counting celebrities exclusively of the Mormon world, because I’ve been to conference a few times and I was the assistant of one of these guys when I was at BYU:



Anyway, I think that my contact list is going to get more prestigious pretty quickly, due to the events of last week. I was in a temple session and a man in the front row looked really familiar. I couldn't figure it out until we were in the elevator leaving and I realized that I was looking at:



As I was typing this I realized, that yes, he could qualify as a Mormon celebrity, but he is on mainstream tv, so I am counting it.

This would probably be enough for anyone to decide that they live a charmed life, but the very next day I got another intimate peek into the world of show business. I decided to go see Valkyrie, because my mother said that "not much happens," so she thought that I would like it. As we entered the theater, we realized that we were just in time for a movie premiere. I didn't recognize anyone on the red carpet, until we caught a glimpse of Brendan Fraser. I took this photo right before security told me to move:



I’m sure that after viewing my superb camera work, you are wondering why I have not found rewarding work as a paparazzi.
There were too many people in line at the box office, so we started looking for the self- service kiosks, but the ones on the first level were turned off. We went up the escalator to look for more, but failed yet again. I started to ask an employee where they were, when a random woman forced premiere tickets into our hands. She said, “I was supposed to give these to some Girl Scouts, so just pretend. You get free popcorn and drinks.” Then as quickly as she had come, our Good Samaritan was gone. We were rendered speechless and could not proceed. The employee urged us to appreciate our precipitous change of fortune and we did. However, after seeing the movie, I realized that I would have been furious if I had paid for it.

On the 6

Ok, my roommate used this blog title a few weeks ago, but it is an eventful place. A few weeks ago, I had the good luck to be going home on the 6 line. A group of frazzled teens ran on and one said to me, "ASDFASDFSDFDSFBNKNLSKFDNWLEKNFKNLSDKFNALKDNF." As I am not fluent in that language, I just stared at her, confused. Then she repeated emphatically, "ASDFASDFSDFDSFBNKNLSKFDNWLEKNFKNLSDKFNALKDNF." I felt like a nurse without hands. I wanted to help, probably knew how to help, but there was nothing that I could do. I shook my head, helplessly. Finally, her Latina friend (now that is a language that I understand!) translated. "Does this subway stop at 149th St. (in the Bronx)?" It was noon on a school day, but I'm not a truant officer, nor was I a very hardcore teacher (see my previous work in the controversial Central American Rhapsody: A Cautionary Tale) so I started talking to them.

Their leader explained that they had been on a school field trip to ice skate at Rockefeller Center. "We came with our teacher and we were all excited to be out of school. Then they asked for $20 when we got there, so we all ran away. Now we are trying to find our way home." I was more than happy to help in such a noble cause, but when they told me that they were 11 year-old 6th graders, it became my moral duty. Luckily, I had a map handy and we charted the course. When I had to get off on 125th, I was sad to say goodbye, but felt confident that they would eventually be greeted by parents who would be thrilled to suddenly greet them three hours before school was out.

My Life as a Harlemite (just one more thing not to tell Grandpa about my life)

Ok, dear friends, for those of you who aren't religious Facebook followers, I moved to New York. Considering the current economic climate and the fact that I moved without a job or job prospects, I decided that high rent was out of the question. Luckily, Harlem was there to help me out. The first day that I walked into Harlem, I was overwhelmed by the potent smell of incense and the wide variety of Obama merchandise and pirated dvds (let's be honest, that part made me feel at home). I started to question my good judgement (this happens often), until I walked by a furniture store and saw the quote on the front window:

"The most important work you and I will ever do will be within the walls of our own home." -Harold B. Lee (Mormon leader) I'm thinking that someone googled "home quotes" while creating their storefront.

I'm enjoying my new home (close to the intersection of Malcom X and Martin Luther King Blvd.), but there have been challenges. I went to the Harlem branch library a few weeks ago and I was looking for a book by the card catalogue number. I put my hat on the top of the shelf and bent over to look for something on the bottom row (time duration: 22.3 seconds). When I stood up, my hat was gone. I blame the teens using the library computers for Myspace, but I can't be sure. Now, each day I vigilantly scour the street for a teenager in a hat with ivory colored foundation on the brim.

I'm Back

Hi everyone!

I haven't blogged for a few years, especially because I didn't think that I could write about Mesa without making fun of people who would find out. But I think that I have more to say about this:



Than this:



or this: