Today began slightly productive. I slept in majorly, which was needed, and spent my first two hours of consciousness writing in the living room. After 3-hour-church got out, Kate brought Harold and Joseph (? or something. I was on the phone when he introduced himself) into our apartment. They were going to have dinner…at 2:00pm. That was fine and good, but I had just eaten breakfast and didn’t feel like being social. So I hermited in my room until I started feeling bleh.
It was raining, I was feeling boring and significantly less productive. I decided to go grocery shopping. I have an adventurous spirit, I know. I lost myself on my trip to Sprouts and then I found myself in a much needed spiritual-healing kind of way in a Starbucks. Where the theme song to Portlandia was playing. And it just felt so darn good.
From the first straw suck of coffee, my motivation leaped like a child trying to reach the taunting offer of a high-five from an NBA player. I did things. I answered the door in my somewhat immodest pajamas (oh, it was just the bishop and his councilor), I went to Ward Prayer, I even went to a Game Night.
Mormons are really into their Game Nights. There were a lot of young 20something gamers present. When we did introductions I blew my cover straight away and admitted that I wasn’t a member. It was a beautiful thing. And when we played press conference and somebody was assigned President Monson, I didn’t even have to pretend! I could just be my clueless self. It was such a grand old time that I even stayed after Kate left! We played another game called Signs, which I’m pretty sure is a drinking game. I tried to think of a good ASL sign. I ended up with the sign for hamster, so I’m sure that left an appealing impression. But whatever, squids will be squids.
1st grader: Teacher, teacher! Have you watched Chucky Chan?
Me: Chucky Chan? Do you mean Jackie Chan?
1st grader: No, Chackie Chan. It’s about a guy who knows karate.
2nd grader: Miss Darling…who’s she?
Other 2nd grader: You know her! Her face is…
Me: What is my face?
2nd grader: Your face is…your face is…white. You know, some people are white, some people are black, some people are brown. Some people are…peach, I think.
1st grader: Did you know if you put your pencil pointing up it means you hate God.
1st grade boy: I’m not wearing skin. [points to scrape on knee]
2nd grader [trying to read the name “Chloe.”] Kuh-low…Kuh-low. What a weird name.
Me: It’s actually pronounced Chloe.
Other 2nd grader: EL CHINO NIÑO.
2nd grader [to other 2nd grader]: Cholo!
Me: Don’t say that!
2nd grader: What? But he said he is one. Aren’t you?”
Other 2nd grader: Yes.
Me: Well, no name calling.
I have begun coordinating my outfit with a group of five 1st grade boys. It started when one day we dressed in an accidental rainbow. Yesterday we agreed that today’s color would be orange. I don’t know if it’s because of their little 8 year old memories, or because their hearts just weren’t in it like mine, but only one remembered. We agreed to wear rainbow tomorrow, so we’ll see.
I had a lovely Portland vacation for spring break and now I am back in How-to-Get-Married-and-Have-a-Cute-Family-Before-You’re-25 land, otherwise known as Provo. Home? Can I call it home? Visiting Portland made me realize that Utah gives me this sense of unbelonging. It could just be my hormones, but the minute I stepped off the plane, I realized: I DON’T LIKE UTAH.
In Portland I drank freely–coffee, alcohol, and other alcohol. Happy hours galore with sunshine patios and cutesy little $4 cocktails called huckleberry gimlets and juniper martinis. Somehow, I doubt that ABG’s on Center Street will be able to offer me the same. I said my goodbyes to alcohol at the PDX airport, while listening to a lesbian and her friend discussing her younger lover, the age difference of a 2nd grader. Not much of that happening in Provo either. Living in Provo made me forget that people could have same sex lovers! There were multiple times when I found myself people watching in Portland–he’s probably bringing flowers to his gf…oh two girls on a skateboard means friendship, how nice. My best friend Brittany had to call me out on it. The flowers could be for his boyfriend! Those girls could be on a date!
I am so used to pretending to be Mormon. When people talk about “Conference Saturday” and tithing and the temple, I’m just kind of like Yeah. Me too. Sure. When I coo over cute baby toys at work, people ask if I have a boyfriend. As if that is the logical timeline. Boyfriend…husband…baby…baby toys!
I guess I am just tired of this little bubble.
So now I am left with two questions. What will I do next (after Provo)?
And, will I ever live in a place that makes my hair look good??