The Lost Symbol and What's in a Name?

So I don't usually do book reviews but I'm a feelin' another one comin' on. lol.

Also: I need a name to call the readers of my blog. Aunt Becky has the Pranksters, The Queen of Everything has her Queefs (yes, yes we know...), Toy With Me has the Toy with Me'ers. It all works. My blog name does not lend itself to anything obvious.

And so while I mull over different ideas, I open my plea up to you, oh ye readers of this blog - what will ye be called?

But so, back to the book. I just finished Dan Brown's "The Lost Symbol". That man is a shameless pattern writer. I mean seriously. I haven't  seen one this bad since I discovered Mary Higgins Clark in high school. The underlying plot for all of his Robert Langdon books is practically identical.

And *SPOILER ALERT* really you can't pretend to kill your protagonist. The  dramatic tension there is SO contrived. I mean really. Shakespeare yes, he kills everybody off if its a tragedy. But dude, you've done three books in the exact same patterns so even though it really looks like you killed our valiant hero, you've still got a couple hundred pages of book left and well, it's a Robert Langdon book. I know you're not REALLY going to kill Robert Langdon.

So that was obnoxious and contrived and would have been completely dumb if I hadn't been a wee bit interested in the science of how you pulled it off. Cool but I'm still annoyed.

I would have chunked the book at the wall in disgust and refused to finish it except for one thing - the man does fantastic research. It makes my little nerd heart happy the way he goes into deep historical research, theory, etc. And while he might get creative with the current science parts, all of his historical crap is accurate and fascinating.

Particularly this time because I know very little about the Masons. I know more than most people but thats not really saying much. So that was interesting.

But what really got my attention was his stuff on the history, and span of Apotheosis. I had no idea it was such a common and repeated belief/theme through out history. Kinda seriously cool if you have any idea why I think this is cool (why exactly I think this is cool would take several novel length posts so we're going to be vague for now). But I loved it. The man is like right there. He's ALMOST got THE BIG picture. Its one of the closest examples I've yet seen to somebody having ALMOST all the puzzle pieces. He's not quite there, but he's got almost all the edges and a few big chunks in the middle. Doesn't have the whole picture though and so it throws off what he thinks its going to look like when its done.

But it's cool. And so, contrived story aside, I loved the intellectual stuff.

If you like pattern stories and you liked the last two Robert Langdon book then go for it, but if he writes another one and I decide to read it, it will be for the intellectual crap and not the story.

Companion

Before I went on my mission, I was reasonably confident that the whole "companion" aspect of the mission was going to be a .... special trial. As a Mormon missionary you have to stay with in sight and sound of your companion 24/7. The only time you should not be with in sight of your companion is when one of you is in the bathroom. The one exception to this is the rare "exchange" (aka each of you goes to an appointment with a different adult member of the church who serves as your companion for a few hours).

And before I left on my mission I was sure theres hardly anybody that I'd want to spend that much quality time with. I was moderately confident this was going to be an ordeal to be overcome. So what I was completely and totally unprepared for was how quickly and completely I loved having a companion.

With in a few days of my entering the MTC (Missionary Training Center) I discovered that I could almost feel when I had lost my companion before I was actually aware of it. It was like all of the sudden the little hairs on my neck would raise and I'd look around quickly and the bottom would drop out of my stomach and I'd realize, "Oh Crap! Where'd she go?!" lol. And the peace was restored the second I caught sight of her little blonde head again.

I think thats probably part of why I was so fond of my taller companions. They were so much easier to keep track of in a crowd. lol At one point I was in a threesome (get ur mind out of the gutter, is just when we have an odd number of missionaries so they put 3 of you together instead of two), and they were both little tiny, remarkably speedy girls and I nearly went crazy trying to keep track of them at all times. lol

Thats not to say that companions weren't a challenge. I quickly discovered the truth of one of my favorite companions statement: you love all your companions, but about every single one theres going to be one little thing that makes you crazy. And so often it was something completely and totally stupid, but it made you batty none the less.

On the list of "stupid things" probably the dumbest was the sister who every single morning would make a bowl of some organic concoction and sit and eat it during our hour of personal scripture study. This in itself was not at all unusual. What made me crazy was two things: 1. with every single bite she would bite the spoon and rake her teeth down it and SUCK the spoon clean with a smack. Doesn't sound bad but in the morning silence, it was LOUD. 2. And then, after listening to that for 10 plus minutes, she'd reach the bottom of the bowl. And every single morning, she'd try to scrape up every last molecule of her breakfast with that farking spoon.

*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*scrape*

I am SO not remotely exaggerating. It was like "SISTER! You're going to dig through the bottom of the friggin bowl! Just take your finger and wipe the bowl and suck it clean! Heck LICK the bowl clean for all I care BUT STOP WITH THE SCRAPING!!!"

I didn't say that, but thats what I thought.

I had another companion, who would not be rushed. if you rushed her, she'd take longer. That was just her thing. And what could be construed as "rushing" was rather ... goofy at times. For example, should I manage to get ready to go before she did in the morning (which was most of the time), I couldn't stand quietly by the door and wait for her. That was "rushing". I needed to put my bag down, and sit. Now this was obnoxious to me because I'm lazy and I don't want to put down my heavy bag and go sit my butt down in a chair for the minute that I have to wait because the bag is heavy and it takes effort to haul my butt back up out of the chair. But no, standing was unacceptable. So I'd sit, preferably in the other room for the minute or two that I waited. It was stupid but it kept the peace.

One of my more vexing situations was a companion, who was otherwise very articulate, but when she didn't like something or was bothered by something, was completely unable to express why. Now this was a problem because with companions you need to be able to sit and talk and discuss things so that you can always be in accord. And it was so amazingly frustrating to me, whens he couldn't tell me why she thought/felt the way she did. You couldn't discuss and be won over by "I don't like it but I don't know why". And its not like she's claiming its one of those "I have a gut feeling that this is a bad idea." That I can respect. It was more like her panties were in a twist and she didn't know why, she just did. Which was frustrating.

Now to be fair, I asked around, and apparently the consensus from my companions was that the thing you had to deal with when you were with Sister Davis was this: Apparently, I'm always right. I find this vexing because to me, no I am not always right and I admit when I am wrong. But, admittedly, it doesn't happen often and I am confident in the knowledge I do have. So I'm not always right, just... most of the time. lol *head desk*

But I did love having a companion and a partner far more than I would have ever given the idea credit in the beginning. In fact, when I came home from my mission one of the single hardest adjustments, that caused me the most anxiety, was being companionless. Don't get me wrong I can and do function perfectly well on my own, its just that for the most part I infinitely prefer to have a companion and partner.

Whoa....

I think I may have found the actual limit of my brain to process inspiration, epiphany, introspection, change and plotting in one day. *shakes head quickly from side to side* Bllllleeehhh! Whoa. I've got that brain melty kinda feeling you get after cramming for a week straight leading up to finals. When you know its time to go do something else.

My mood right now and my mood this morning are so dramatically opposite that its hard to believe its the same day. I was so completely lost, and hurt, and angry this morning. I'm still painfully missing my best friend but I had a long conversation with my Mom this afternoon that lead to several epiphanies that finally lead to my seeing the light and a path and a plan that I feel peaceful about.

I realized that I am broken. I thought that I had given up trying to control an uncontrollable situation and it turns out I hadn't. I'd been making myself insane trying to achieve the impossible - to fix somebody else. And I can't. And I shouldn't try. So I'm going to stop. Completely.

I am going to take care of myself and my baby. I'm going to focus on healing me. I need to remember what it is to feel comfortable and confident standing on my own two feet. I need to be okay with me again. It would be much easier to run to somebody who loves me and let them take care of me but I can't do that.

And so I will stay in the place that I am at for the time being and I will focus on myself. I'm going to work my "how not to be a codependent head case" program.

I also need to feel the pride and security of professional achievement once again. When the economy ate my job, I used my pregnancy as an excuse to not try to find something else. Mostly because I felt like I had some how failed, that I didn't try hard enough.

I have a dream now. I want to make and teach jewelry. I want to have a studio. I decided by the end of my first full day at Vintaj thats what I want to do more than anything else and I'll do whatever I have to do make it happen. My first priority will always be Caleb, but with in the next 6 months to a year he'll be plenty old enough to benefit from a half day preschool which will massively free up my time.

And so I think working towards that professional goal, and focusing on fixing me, will allow me to reach a clear headed peaceful place where I can see clearly to evaluate my situation and make wise decisions.

Kinda massively sucks that I had to completely strip myself of my mental security blankets so that I could clearly see just how much things really do suck and just plain fall to pieces to get to this place, but I'm here now and its a good place. I'm just going to have to work hard to break the habits that got me here and keep moving and I'll be okay.

Growing Up

Somedays I think being a grown up just means they've successfully taught you how to turn your own thumb screws (envision a medieval rack with me here....)

I laugh every time I hear a teenager talk with relish about how excited they'll be to be a grown up and "get to do what they want". ROFL Being a grown up just means you have to kick your own a** up between your ears. And believe me there are days when I really, really wish I had the threat of my mother's wrath to motivate me to do the things I should do.

And what really sucks is when you have to face your own dragons. Sure you can run and hide and stick your fingers in your ears and pretend they're not really out there. Or better yet sit and talk about what you'd do to those dang dragons if you ever got the chance to go toe to toe with them (while making sure you never. actually. do.).

And there are some people who live their whole lives this way.... huddled under the bed with their security blanket, afraid to move. Change sucks. Change hurts. Change is uncomfortable. You can substitute "growth" for "change" in all of those statements. And we humans are nothing if not lazy beast good at avoiding discomfort. We're big fans of trying to slap a band aid on a bullet wound and pretending its really not THAT bad.

But the ultimate truth of it is.... its killing you. Whether you want  to admit it or not, its killing you.

And then comes the decision time, do you stay holed up, hands clamped tight to your bandaid or your security blanket or do you stand, rip it off, see what there really is to see in the bold light of day and chose to fight?

Sometimes the hardest strongest thing is to admit when you've broken. To realize when you can't and shouldn't do it anymore.

And then you realize that what you have to do before you do anything else, is fix you.

All by yourself you have to find healing. You need to learn how to be okay with you again. And once you do that, then you'll take another look around and decide what path you need to take.

Still Breathing

I'm doing a bit better today. I think I managed to make myself believe the "I only get one day to mope" thing for most of the morning which was positive. I'm doing better for the most part with the self flagellation. Not perfect, but better than yesterday.

Doesn't mean everything else is magically better. Just that I'm not actively making it worse. So I'm just focusing on the whole "remember to breathe" thing.

I have managed to do 8 loads of laundry today, and a fair bit of cleaning and organizing so thats positive. Just still trying to wrap my mind around the difference between what I want at any given moment with what I know to be the right thing to do. Its quite obnoxious.

Now if I can just motivate myself to clean the train wreck that is my kitchen we might actually feel that we've made real progress on the house.

And I've been irked to discover that the little cheapy baby monitor that I use so I can keep tabs on the dryer (b/c its outside and I can't hear it when it dings and it annoys me when my clothes get wrinkled) has died. Apparently 3 summers of arizona heat was just too much for it. The receiver I keep in the house is still good but the transponder is dead. Which means I need to make the trek to the big Walmart and go buy another one. At least if I can find the same model then I'll have TWO receivers and can keep one in the bedroom and one in the living room so I don't have to migrate the stupid thing around with me. Thats positive right?

I've quit the online game that I play for various reasons and now I'm faced with this problem: when Caleb is awake and I'm EXTREMELY limited as to what I can do b/c the kid is forever inventing new ways to maim himself with out constant supervision, I'm BORED. Because the kid is adorable, but now I have a distinct lack of people to talk to. SO I'm working on it. I should probably just start reading a new series or something.

At least the kid is dang cute. Today he was playing with the remote for the fan. He usually pretends its a phone. Well he managed to push the right button and the fan beeped and turned on and he like jumped and then stared at it shocked for a minute. And then he carefully placed the remote down on the pillow next to me and backed away slowly. I about died laughing.

Also be warned that I'll probably be blogging too much for a while. Mostly because the boredom leads to thinking which leads to blogging.

Dinosaur Cookies

So I'm not usually a "recipe blogger" but I promised a friend that I would provide a recipe for these cookies and I don't want to forget so I'm just postin' them here.

That said, the cookies come with the following disclaimer: I cannot be held accountable for what happens to your waist line as a result of having this cookie recipe. My mother once banned us from making these cookies because she couldn't stop eating them (we made them anyways and hid them from her).

Dinosaur Cookies


2 cups Crushed Bones (Sugar)
1/2 cup Swamp Water (Milk)
1/2 cup Mud (cocoa powder)
1 Rock (3/4 stick Margarine)
1/2 cup Smashed Bugs (Peanut Butter - I endorse crunchy for this recipe)
1 teaspoon Tar (Vanilla)
3 cups Grass and Leaves (Old fashioned rolled oats)

Mix sugar, milk, cocoa, and margarine in large saucepan over high heat. Boil for 1 minute. Remove from heat and add peanut butter and vanilla. Mix well. Add oats and mix. Drop by spoonfuls (I love to use an ice cream scooper for this) on to wax paper. Allow to cool. Enjoy!

Twilight

I have such mixed feelings about the whole Twilight phenomenon.

On the one hand, I will admit that the first time I read the series, I loved it. I loved the raw emotional power of the writing, the way she grabs you by the throat and doesn't let go until its over. The way you feel what it is to fall in love through her words.

I was delighted and I was enraptured.

And then I started discussing the book with other people, and I met people who didn't like the books because they weren't terribly well written (I'm like this is young adult fic yo, get over it) and I met the crowds that FREAK over the whole "sparkly vampire" bit, to which I also respond "Get over it".

But then I hit the groups that can't stand Bella because to be honest Bella might just be a smidgen codependent. I mean the whole Edward leaves and she completely has a break down bit is definitely not going to win her any friends with the feminist crowd.

But by the same token, she's 18. Her reaction is very real. Is it the best and healthiest reaction? No. Should she get over it? Yes. BUT there is such a thing as "broken heart syndrome"; a person can in fact die from a broken heart. Is it pretty? No. Is it the kind of example you want set for your daughters? Probably not. But can you understand it? See it happening? Feel the pain of it? Absolutely.

Oh and theres the whole "She's deserting her friends, family, everything she loves for a guy" thing, which once again is not going to win friends with the women's lib crowd. Of course because this is fiction it all works out. She gets to have her cake and eat it too. She loses nothing and gains everything. Lets take a moment to remember that this book really is fantasy. Sure it comes at the fantasy from the "realistic fiction" angle but we're talking vampires and werewolves and happily ever after where you risk everything on a one in a million shot and of course it works out perfectly.

And I think the fourth and final book might cross the line from "Young Adult Fiction" to "Adult Fiction". I can tell you I don't want my kids reading it until they're at least 16. And also its been my experience that almost everybody I've talked to - if you are less than 20 years old you hated the last book or at the very least it weirded you out. If you're over 20 years old you loved the last book and thought it was absolutely perfect in every way.

So with regards to the books: Do I want Bella to do my parenting for me? No. But is it a fantastic piece of escapist literature? Definitely. Do I enjoy it just a little bit extra because the author is a Mormon woman? Oh yeah.

But then came The Movies.

And yes I know: Never, ever judge a book by its movie. And I know that with very few exceptions the movie is almost never any where near as good as the book. And the first time I saw the first movie I was okay with it. It was not as good as the book but did okay and was more or less as good as I think the movie could be... -ish.

Then came The Abomination (aka The Second Movie). They left out all the good parts, all the humor, all the character development etc. And all you were left with was pure, concentrated, teenage Emo Drama. *gag retch* It was like watching a bad soap opera. I don't do soap operas. It was just painful. And I swore that I'd never pay to see the next two movies in theaters on the grounds that I paid $9 for 2 hours of my life that I can never get back. I'll rent the next two on Netflix so I can shut them off if they're too painful.

I kept watching the The Abomination because it was a train wreck. I just couldn't look away and I kept hoping (vainly) that somehow it was going to get better. That it wasn't really as bad as I thought it was. And then it was over and I was left with the sure knowledge that yes it really was every bit as bad as I thought.

And so because of the lingering pain of The Abomination and the little twinges of my inner feminist weighing on my conscious I'm almost ashamed to admit it, but at the end of the day... Twilight books are still my dirty pleasure.