fish heads. and nineties nostalgia.

This post is brought to you by the collaborative magic of cranberry juice, limes, vodka, and triple sec. Lots and lots of triple sec.

So two days ago I encountered a fish. It was in my kitchen sink. Whole. Mouth open, eyes wide. So real looking that at any moment one would expect it to spontaneously commence violently flapping around. But alas, it was dead. I smiled to myself and moved along because that's standard fare where I live-- it's part of the magic of living with Chinese nationals. They served me a similar fish once, so I know the outcome is good, so I take it in stride. In the past, some of the cuisine thawing out in our kitchen has driven me to photography:

(dead fish twinsies)

(frog legs-- they smelled really good once cooked but it kind of made me want to wretch. And revert to "The Muppet Movie" state of consciousness.) (funny that that's the second time that movie comes up today) ("motorcycle cop")

but now I am more or less chill about the whole "whole fish dead in my sink" thing.

Thusly (is that a word?) you can imagine but shock and dismay to encounter the same fresh looking fish in a rather cooked state of being when I opened the microwave today. The difference today was the three quarters of his (or her's) body was gone, and really all that remained was his (or her's) skeleton and his head, which was presumably meant to be eaten. I couldn't really handle that, you know? Especially because it stank like re-cooked dead fish and he (or she) looked startlingly familiar. I left a passive-aggressive note on the microwave ("the microwave is not for food store--please use the refrigerator thanks :)") and I believe I exclaimed in an exasperated tone "WHAT THE HELL?!?!" and busted out the Saran Wrap. I swear, some days, it's like I just keep finding fish heads in the microwave. It's like the fucking theme for the day. Like when I went for my Netflix dvd to watch for class. Whatdoyaknow, it was CRACKED!!! And ya, there were seriously other fish heads throughout the day but I'm not going to get into it.

So after getting myself some serious groceries-- a supermegahappy fruit and veggie run, my friends) I came home and determined that there was simply no other option but to watch Empire Records for free on my Netflix internet player, because well fuck, The Longest Day and Seabuscuit (my last two movies to watch for class on Thursday) just weren't on there.

I admit, I own the Empire Records soundtrack, or at least at some point I think I burned my brother's copy onto my computer (it took me like eight times to spell "computer" right-- thank you, Mozilla spellcheck). And so of course the first thing that hits me about the movie is "this song's not on the soundtrack!!!" again and again. The second thing to get me was "Man, Renee Zellwellger used to be healthy looking!!!" and by like, five minutes in I'm completely immersed in like, complete nineties nostalgia. Like I swear, even though ER was made in 1995, me and my best friend J probably tried on outfits akin to Liv Tyler's when her mom used to drop us off at the Tacoma Mall in the old red Saturn (back when the Bon was not Macy's and The Cube occupied the Bon basement, not Menswear-- fuck, back when there was a fountain with stairs down into the Bon basement and NOT a fucking Thomas Kinkaid store-- yah, fellow-Tacomans, you remember dat).

Nineties nostaligia is the new eighties nostalgia, just you wait. But for serious! The music? not on the soundtrack? The Presidents doing "Video Killed The Radio Star". I was fucking moved, it was fucking epic. Like remember "Peaches"?! And "Kitty?!" And "Volcano", that dank tribute to our own magical Mt. Rainer?!?! They just don't make music like that any more? Or what about guys wearing Value Village-esque cardigans? The counter-culture kids today are just to hipster-esque for that shit, and it really causes me grief, because as the standard of living goes up, somehow-- and I don't really understand this-- the recession gains strength. Do not understand. Must stay in school through recession.

Another thing that kills me about this movie is that THEY WORK IN A RECORD STORE. Back when we got our music AT STORES. Pre-iTunes, hell, pre-DSL. This was circa-AOL-dialup! Back when I saved up my allowance to buy a polyester shirt at Rave and the new Bush album (the second one) (and for as shitty as it was, "Swallowed" was and is still a great song, no?). The world has changed so much! There was no 9-11 yet! There was no George W. Bush! There wasn't even an Iraq War! Obama? He was like, twelve years old! Oy. Such simple times were those. Dramatic eyeliner under the eyes, The Cranberries (so fitting!), brown lipstick, being in love with your best friend before there was no stupid Facebook "in a relationship" or whatever. Seriously. I'm pretty sure they just don't make teenage angst like this any more. Mark and his pot brownies (no, not that Mark.), dudes wearing necklaces? Can we please be transplanted back to the magical Clinton nineties? Pleeeease? Mock suicide funerals?! The nineties were so geniune!!! Arggggghhhh!

yay.

Today I learned that there is, in the budget for my work project, enough money for my project to pay for a graduate assistantship!!!

I can't tell you how relieved I am. My confidence had been in the toilet for the last week or two, but between a cool summer seminar opportunity I heard about yesterday (if I get accepted, my paper gets published in a book!) and this, I am feeling a lot better about the path I'm on. A lot less "wo to me, I might have to sell my ovaries to pay my student loans" and a lot more of the usual "behold the many innumerable opportunities before me!" (especially with significantly smaller student loans!) Yay!

I also found out that one of my work colleagues got funded at her top choice of the thirteen schools she applied to! It's possible! Dreams can be achieved! Yay!

So many good feelings today. Now I just have to get some work done (I need to milk this enthusiasm for all it's worth!) so I can go skiing tomorrow at Alta on a free pass! Yay for learning new things! For cheap! On the best snow in the world! Yay!

(excuse the absolutely off-the-hook exclamation points. I'm sure the misery laden somber ...'s will be back tomorrow :P )

finally, a great role model in the media.

Funny brilliantness: my girl Tina Fey in Entertainment Weekly.

''Tina really is the new woman who can have it all,'' says Langley. ''[On TV], she navigates a man's world but maintains her own sense of self, she never has to compromise her ideals to get what she wants — yet she's not manipulative or coquettish. In her personal life, she's married, she has a lovely baby, she was the first woman to be the head writer at SNL — she's crossed all these barriers and milestones as a woman, so it makes her a great role model.''

Yay! New women having at all! Yaaaaay!

It's my way of making up to you for puking links to protesting and polygamy all over you earlier. (What can I say? I couldn't help myself. You know I never can.)

yah, suck it. i do read the paper.*

Have you been reading the paper?! We are in the midst of a highly engaging and interesting news week, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the primaries!**

On the left, we have Violent protests during the Olympic torch run and the IOC finally rebuking China for all their dirty tricks; oh and by the way, the torch run is a vestage of Nazism. High five to the lady who references "invented traditions" in that story.

And on the right (waaaayyyy right), we have the fascinating and revealing coverage of the FLDS polygamy compound raid in Texas. It seems like every day something weirder comes out about what was going on their little world. Weirder and sad, anyways. There's also a very interesting story about the rampant fumarase deficiency amongst the inbred fundies.

I am so shamelessly sucked in.

*headline quote brought to you by the amazing Tina Fey on the best show ever... at least since Perfect Strangers went off the air. ;)

**although Elizabeth Edwards did have some nice things to say about Hillary on healthcare, and Sir Elton lurves her too.

distant music.

Last weekend was the first General Conference I've missed since before I knew there was anything to miss. It was strange not to go; it's one of those reflexes that I developed, like saying no to coffee. It was just something I did without thinking about it-- the first weekend of every October and ever April were to be given over to four two-hour sessions of sustained sitting and listening and notetaking-- I even got excited about it! I traveled to Utah for it not once, but twice! It was a big deal to me, I guess because I always went with the expectation that I would learn something new and that, even if it was just a rotation in leadership or some mild shift in policy, something would change. And even if nothing did, I would somehow feel reconnected to the love of God that I wasn't feeling at regular church.

So not going was kind of a big deal. There have been significant changes in leadership, I suppose, that increase the distance I feel from the establishment, but I doubt anything was said last weekend would be rendered unrecognizable by the fact that I haven't been to church since, well, the last Conference. I guess what I'm really saying is that I noticed not going because it was so deliberate. Even in my last push of faithfulness, at that point where I was on the verge of being done but didn't want to admit it, I went. I spent eight hours of my weekend sitting on those new (but still hard!) Tabernacle benches. I didn't even question doing it, even as I flew into a whispered rage about the justifications being used to keep women at home. It's just what I did, it was just how I lived.

I knew all last week that I wasn't going to conference, that I wasn't even going to turn on my TV to watch it, and as the weekend ran its course, I forgot about it. I forgot about it until, on Sunday afternoon, through my cracked open window, I heard music. I don't know whether it had wafted through the valley as they piped it into Temple Square, or just out another cracked window, but there it was. Glorious intermission music, my favorite one to sing part way through because we got to stand up and really belt it out-- How Firm a Foundation.

As the music snuck in, I couldn't help but pause. It was like it was just in the back of my head, and not really realizing it, I sang along.

Fear not, I am with thee, oh, be not dismayed,
For I am thy God and will still give thee aid;
I'll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand,
Upheld by My righteous, omnipotent hand.

I can't really describe what that song does to me. It's written in the first person-- it's not so much a song that we sing to God, but one that He sings to us. The imagery of God actually propping you up-- it's amazing, and despite everything, it's still true. It broke my heart, as it always did, that we didn't get to sing all the verses, as the powerful music gave way to words that faded into an inaudible nothing.

I've heard people say that the thing they missed the most was the music, but I'd never understood it. Sunday I did. Over a matter of years, it wove itself into the threads of my soul; it became a part of who I am. I sometimes forget how Mormon I was, instead looking back at those years as colored by a kind of anomalous, unrecognizable force that externally silenced who I was all along. It was so weird the way the music just showed up, like a fleeting scent in the air reminding me that I'm still getting over all of those years of sustained and diligent Mormanity.

Salt Lake is such a funny place to lose your faith.