Confessions of an Imaginative Commuter

The title of this post is misleading, because now you're thinking that what follows is purely my imagination. But that is false. Everything I'm about to tell you actually happened. I merely observe and report.

In case you haven't heard, I recently got myself a grownup job. (I'm working in the Digital Media Department of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.) That's right, people! I drive to an office building every day where I sit at a desk, look at a computer, and click the mouse. Sometimes I even type things.

They gave me two computers and four monitors, to optimize my clicking efficiency.

Because my job is super grownup and important. Like me.

Now, a lesson in geography:

I live in Provo. I work in Salt Lake City. They are not the same place.

This is a map that I drew myself, for your convenience:

Therefore, I drive. To Salt Lake. From Provo.




Once, I saw an over-sized load containing huge metal cylinders. I'm not saying they were headed for outer space, but they definitely weren't your regular building ingredients. Actually, I am saying they were headed for outer space. I'm sure of it.

What will they be used for in outer space, you ask? There are two options. The first is water storage. Which...would be lame. Granted, even a water barrel in outer space would be pretty cool, but of all the things you might find there, a giant canteen would not be the most exciting.

The second option is robot parts. HUGE robot parts for building HUGE robots to fight the space-dinos. Which I do not support, by the way. Leave those poor innocent space-dinos alone, government!

This is a real space-dino, literally moon-walking at a dance party in space.

Another time, a cartoon plumber on the side of a truck came to life and gave me life advice. In song form.

Don't judge me for the quality of this picture because I took it while I was driving. Safety first!

Imagine the following words set to music like this, which I made in GarageBand and is not quality music:

"Hey girl. I know you're doubting yourself, but there's no need. You're the bomb. You rock at life. You can do hard things.

"I look into your future and I see greatness. Don't you?

"Now dance. Dance like the old woman in the car next to you isn't watching.

"Just dance. Dance like you're driving down the freeway. Safety first!"

Speaking of dancing, I can't stop listening to this song.

Last week I took this picture:

The driver I intended to capture cannot be seen because I'm a good driver.

Buuuut he looked a little something like this:

Only older. And more Asian. And his tie-dye shirt had a white collar.

Anyway, I think he was maybe an alien that was doing a horrible job of blending into humanity. I think he was even driving a SPACE POD.

I have a theory about this. He was a spy. I think he was a space-dino actively hunting down the giant robot parts. I hope he succeeds. I can't support an intergalactic war against the space-dinos. But. I will not get into politics on my blog.

Instead, here is a picture I laughed at:

Also, if I hear that freaking Cool Kids song on the radio again, I will throw a rock through the window...of a building scheduled for demolition. Sheesh, I'm not a monster.

So anyway, I'll keep keeping an eye out for interesting things on my commute. I'm also going to start taking the train, which should provide additional observations.

Happy Tuesday!

1 Thing a Person Can Do to TRULY Be More Attractive

Disclaimer: I am biased. I am a nobody.

As I sit here examining the dark, thick hair on my arms, wearing my push-up bra, and binging on Netflix, I'm reminded of the one thing a man (or woman) can do to TRULY be more attractive.

1. Don't make a list of attributes for a person that does not exist. Instead, try getting to know a person and then learn to love them.

If you get to know a person and it doesn't work out, then awesome. Move on.

But don't go around trying to fill the mold of ideals that you think will make you happy. Because we don't know as much as we think we do.

I'm not trying to make excuses for selfish (or abusive) people that won't change. I just think that everyone should start things with an open mind and few expectations. You might will be surprised.

I'm not wise, but if I've learned two things in my young life, it's that people are never what they seem, and I am often wrong.

I've learned (the hard way) that people change your mind.

I've learned that the people who admit their mistakes are often the best people I know.

I've learned that, even when we're not pretending to be perfect, we're pretending that we're fine with it. It's ok to feel broken.

I've learned that I'm still learning.

It's ok to look for a kind, charitable, interesting person. But this isn't a thing that people need to be made aware of. Everyone is already trying to find/be a good person. Kindness isn't something that belongs on a list with something like "remove your disgusting and totally natural/normal body hair even though it's not really something you can control."

I could make a specific list of things I find attractive. But you know what? That changes as I get to know people. It really, really does. My list from 5 years ago would definitely not be my list now.

And that's normal. Because guess what, even if you found a person that completely embodies every item on your list, they aren't going to be that way forever. People change. People improve. They improve in ways you didn't know were possible or desirable.

Halloweeny Times

I LOVE HALLOWEEN.

It's my favorite holiday. (I usually say that about the Fourth of July, too. Maybe they're tied?)

I want to share things with you. But I also hate when people clog up my newsfeed, so I've condensed it into this easy peasy blog post! Aren't I just the best?

First. This:

So many bad jokes. I love it.

Also! Can't forget this classic:

Aaaand this playlist, which I made myself:

Next! A list of a-mazing Halloween/October/Scary/Fun movies. I've watched most of them this month. They're the best!

Hocus Pocus

Casper

Edward Scissorhands

Nightmare Before Christmas

Something Wicked This Way Comes

Psycho

Corpse Bride

Labyrinth

The Ghost and Mr. Chicken

Hellboy

Ghostbusters

OH MY GOODNESS. Halloween is the greatest.

Next! This one, from The Killers:

And we can't possibly forget this one:

What's this? A new one? What's that you say? I'm in it? Wow, looks like I am!

The following thing is one of my favorite things ever. My mother takes a walk most days during her lunch break, and there's a house on her route that decorates for Halloween in a very special way.

Skeleton Guy is outside doing something different every day in October.

This day he lassoed some pumpkins.

THEN. He got a sweetheart.

They went on bike rides.

They went camping.

He sawed wood for her.

(The next day they were roasting marshmallows.)

Yesterday, he proposed!

And today (HALLOWEEN) they got married!!!

Feeling the Halloween spirit yet? I SURE AM.

Enjoy the holiday. Make the most of it!!

Party hard.

Wait. A bonus:

Brain Poop

I think I might be a "creative" type.

This is my brain, basically.

Sometimes my creativity is super helpful and productive and I make or help make something cool.

Most of the time, however, my brain poops out super weird, terrible crap that I usually throw away forever without showing anyone.

But occasionally, without reason, I love the weird crap and I keep it, in spite of how bad it is.

What follows is some of my weirdest/dumbest brain poop. Please laugh at it with me.

GREG

MUSICAL LOOPS

I especially love/hate the second one because of its laser sounds.

NOTES

This one isn't actually so bad, except that it was supposed to be notes from a film history class:

...and so was this:

POETRY

Why am I posting these things again? It's embarrassing.

"Busy"

There is a constant buzzing

Within the lives of men.

And when the buzzing stops

They want to pick it up again.

"Recess"

There are buildings beneath

and between them.

But for now they are just trees

And I am flying above them.

LUCHADANCE

Hahahaha this is the worst one of them all.

(Also! That is...me. In this year's Halloween costume.)

Anyway. Art is making a ton of mistakes, right? I'm learning and enjoying myself and that's all that matters.

Happy Friday

Dear Football Fans

First of all, I'm crazy cool and I do really cool things like make movies and spend the summer in London and stuff. It's a fact, just accept it and move on.

Remember this kid from Jimmy Neutron and how cool he was and everyone loved him or whatever?  This is a great representation of...not me.

I'm more like Sheen, who was a nerd and a goof but everyone secretly liked him better than Nick, who was boring (right? RIGHT?? ...I need to feel better about my goofiness, I guess).

ANYWAY.

One of the cool things I recently did was get paid to go to the BYU/Houston Football game and run up and down the sideline behind a camera man frantically coiling the cord and then uncoiling the cord and then coiling the cord and then uncoiling the cord....

It was...exhausting. And stressful at first. But apart from wondering why technology has not invented totally wireless cameras, I couldn't find anything wrong with this amazing excuse to stand in the Houston's player box for 90% of the game.

Plus, you know, I was getting paid.

EXCEPT. 

We weren't the only camera team. We were stationed on the South end of the field and there was another camera team stationed (on the same sideline) on the North end of the field. And sometimes we would run to the North end to get and shot and they would run to the South end to get a shot and our cords would get tangled and we'd run into each other and someone would end up bleeding out under the bleachers.

It just...It...I don't...

It doesn't make any sense.

If they need a camera over there...and they need a camera over there...you'd think a walkie-talkie would save a whole lot of trouble.

WATCH THE PART ABOUT THE LOGS.

(It starts at 0:40)

...I feel ya, Brian Regan.

In addition to the two camera teams on foot, there was one riding a giant death-tractor. It would go up and down the sideline at 876 miles per hour without warning, leaving hundreds of dead people in their wake.

(Imma take a break for a minute to explain something. Normally on my blog I just tell boring stories and make embarrassing confessions. This post actually has a point, and I'm afraid it's already taken me too long to get to it. This parenthetical is actually a warning that I'm about to start making my point. Only after I have written it to I realize that it's further delaying the important stuff. Oh boy.)

(Also, sorry for being preachy. Sometimes I just feel passionate about stuff and I have to get it out. The same apology goes for my last post.)

Dear Football Fans,

Before I begin chewing you out, I want to make it very, very clear that I know I'm talking to a small portion of football fans. Trust me, I know. Regardless, I'm sharing my thoughts because there are psychos out there. Plus, who among us couldn't do with a reminder to be nice? I could!

Sports fans can be heartlessly mean to each other. They say truly hurtful things, and mean them. They actually get violent, on occasion. They destroy other people's things. People sometimes DIE because they get in fights about sports or...get trampled.

But you know what I learned as a BYU student in the Houston player's box? That it really is just. a. game.

Football, to some, is life. To the players, it actually is their whole life, and you know what? Even they are aware that it's just a game. (Again, I realize this isn't true across the board, I'm just making a point.)

Houston was losing, and they were very obviously passionate about the game and about football, but that didn't stop them from going out of their way (seriously) to be super nice to me, the obvious BYU student that I was.

Maybe we should take this bit of advice from players of the sports (movies, shows, whatever!) we worship. We should be straight-up, no-strings-attached, plain-old freaking nice to each other. Even (and especially) when we disagree.

Love,

Amy (a nobody)

P.S. I'll try to stop preaching now and get back to storytelling. SO, if you're still reading this (why?) keep reading, because it's about to get lighthearted again. KThanks!

So I was standing in the player's box massaging my very, very sore arm (cord wrangling is hard work, ok?), not noticing the death-tractor barreling straight towards me at a speed practically imperceptible by the human eye. BYU had just scored and this camera really needed to join the 8 others in the end zone, apparently.

Fear not, oh ye weary reader! It was not yet my time!

A smallish Houston kicker had just finished swearing and punching the air in an "I'm losing this football game" sort of way. He turned around just in time to see the camera tractor coming to claim my life. He quickly grabbed me by the shoulders and removed me from the dangerous situation, and followed it up with a very sincere smile.

He could have broken his kicking leg or something! But there was absolutely no hesitation. None at all.

I googled "nice guy" and there were only pictures of this person. Apparently he's the world's nicest guy?

This happened twice before I learned to stay out of the death-tractor's way.

There were two players that may or may not have been messing with me. I do not know their names or positions, just like I also don't know almost anything about football.

They were most likely just doing their jobs. But I'd like to think I had a part in this.

I didn't. Whatever, ok? I just want to feel visible and important sometimes.

Anyway, it seemed like anytime I was standing in a certain spot on the sideline, they'd decide that they needed to practice passing the ball to each other. And they had to ask me to move. Every. Time.

Granted, they were very nice about it. "Pardon us, miss, I know you're just doing your job, but we really don't want you to get hurt."

Whatever you say, giant football man.

Football players are large humans.

In the player box they have these nets so the kickers can practice kicking. They put that ball into those nets harder and faster than the death-tractor, which defies the laws of physics.

I happened to be standing right behind one of these nets once. One of the kickers (I'm pretty sure it was the same one that saved my life) suddenly decided that it was a good moment to practice kicking. (Again, are they messing with me or am I just unlucky?)

He was perfectly aware that I was there. He might have even tried to get my attention. I think this because I had the sudden urge to look to my left towards the net at the exact moment his foot made contact with the ball.

And then I saw death. Have you ever witnessed a ball flying at light speed towards your face (the thing that houses your brain)?? I hope for your sake you never have to.

My life flashed before my eyes. I saw my eighth birthday, my first kiss, the time I ate more pancakes than my father.

Naturally, I screamed, backed up, and covered my face.

The kicker laughed. He LAUGHED. And then he smiled and winked at me.

How often does he do this to innocent bystanders, I wonder.

It needs to be stopped, I say!

I looked like this, probably.

Possibly my favorite moment of the evening, however, happened just after another BYU touchdown. I was standing behind a bunch of Houston coaches and advisers, or whoever those old people on the sideline wearing team windbreakers are. One of the old men was particularly upset about the points scored against his team. He was using some very...interesting words.

Anyway. I guess he couldn't bear to look at his players any more, because he turned around and we were suddenly face to face. I was a lottle bit intimidated.

He immediately broke into a smile, however, and said (not in creepy old man way, more like a grandpa way), "Darlin' you have the most beautiful eyes."

Thank you, random angry old man! You have a nice...mustache.

He looked nothing like this, but isn't this picture of Mickey Rooney great?

I was wrangling cords and carrying camera boxes until almost 1 AM. My arm was so sore I could hardly drive my car to get home. When I did, though, I fell asleep in less time it takes the death tractor to travel from one side of the field to the other.

All in all, it was a good experience, but I don't think I ever want to do it again.

This story is crazy boring. I know.

I'm sorry.

I'm just trying to get back into blogging. For my posterity. And my mother.

The Real World

I've recently found myself in situations where unkindness is justified with an excuse like, "I'm just preparing you for the real world," or a sarcastic comment like, "Welcome to the real world." I am an incessantly happy person, but this makes me sad. I don't want to live in a world where people are anything but kind to one another, and I'm going to do something about it.

The world will tell you that to "make it in the real world" you need to be demanding and rude and self-centered. Nobody will say it directly like that, but we've all learned it at some point. And that obviously sounds horrible, but the problem is that the world is not wrong. To be successful, statistically speaking, you will need to spend an awful lot of time not helping others in order to help yourself. But I'm not talking about statistics, I'm talking about humans. Human beings with dreams and feelings.

I have a religious background, but this is not a religious argument. I'm not arguing for this, that, or the other belief. What I'm arguing for here is humanity, of which we are all a part.

Just be kind.

Some people will read this and dismiss it because they think I'm an ignorant fool. To that, I say this:  I wish I was. I wish I was blissfully unaware of all the awful happenings in the world. I wish I didn't have to hear the unkind words spoken between friends and strangers. I have plenty of reasons to be unhappy. But I choose not to be. I'm perfectly capable of being unkind. But I try not to be.

Just. be. kind.

There's a difference between nice and kind.  Nice is polite, nice is manners, and nice can be something you use to get what you want.  But kindness is selflessness fueled by a care and respect you have for another person.  It's genuinely showing interest and helping a person out.

Quit going into a conversation wondering if you'll get a date.  Stop listening to others' opinions and wondering when you'll get the chance to prove them wrong.  Don't assume anything.  Ever.

Please, please, please.  Be kind.

This isn't me trying to stand on a pedestal and shout and beg for world peace.  I can't change the world, and I don't intend to.

Worldwide kindness sounds all fine and dandy, but ranting on the internet and asking you to agree isn't going to get anyone anywhere.  This post isn't directed at the world, it's not directed at any country, profession, religion, race or age.  It's not even directed at you.

I'm talking to myself. Because I haven't been as kind as I'm capable of, and I need to fix that.

Thinking Allowed*

Rice

I don't eat rice with chopsticks. Heck, I don't even use a fork. I eat my rice with a spoon, and I know that's weird but it's the only thing that makes sense to me. Rice is just a bunch of tiny grains that jump at every opportunity to avoid my mouth and go missing in my kitchen. I just want to keep them contained in a spoon, you know?


Social Media

Sometimes people post things on Social Media I don't understand. For example, I keep seeing people post pictures of themselves wearing hideous clothes they found in a thrift store. Which doesn't make sense.  It's like, "These clothes are sooo ugly, I would never ever buy them, let alone be caught dead wearing them in public. Oh, but I MUST post this picture on the internet where it will last forever and more people will see me in the clothes than if I actually bought them and wore them to the gas station." Madness.


Birthday?

My whole life, I've wondered if my birthday is just a conspiracy. People tell me I was born at 4:05 PM on January 26, 1992, but for all I know it's a lie! I don't remember being born, people just tell me when it happened and I believe them.  What if I was actually born 2 days later? Or 3 weeks earlier? What if I wasn't actually born at all and my parents discovered me in a space craft in the forest? I may never know for sure.


Titles

Sometimes I click on an article purely because the title makes it sound ordinary, typical, average.  Because I'm sick of all the "this video of a man with his cat will make you want to kill yourself" and "it looks like this man is cheating on his wife but you have to click to find out he's actually super loyal" stuff.


Thinking

When I was a child, I would lay in my bed at night thinking instead of sleeping. Often, I would become aware that I was thinking, which in turn made me aware that I was thinking about thinking, and so on. I would find it difficult to pull myself out of the spiraling confusion that seemed to never end. I'm thinking about thinking about thinking about thinking about thinking about thinking about thinking about thinking about thinking....


Small World

When we discover commonalities, we say, "It's a small world," but I think what we should say is "We are human beings."  Because the world is big and human beings just have this unique capability to connect with each other and remember things and ask questions and use words and think about infinity and stuff.


Milk

Milk is weird. We drink milk from cows and it's a normal thing, but if someone were to drink milk from, like, a wolf, that wouldn't be normal.  Why?


Selfies

You know, I understand selfies. Because saying "excuse me can you take my picture" is just a hassle, right? Right?


Books

I love reading books, but sometimes when it's an assignment I don't read them all the way through. Because I am the most rebellious of all the rebels in the whole world.


Marriage
Some people get engaged after knowing each other for, like, a month.  I will never know how that feels because it takes me at least a month to decide on a haircut.


Faces

I don't understand the modern phrase "I miss your face!" It's usually found on social media, which makes the least sense of all, because the person using the phrase was probably looking at your face when they wrote it. It's called a profile picture. It is so easy to find and look at somebody's face on the internet. ...Perhaps I take the phrase too literally.


Love

I don't really like the phrase "fall in love" because it sounds like a dangerous thing that happens accidentally, like "fall in a pit" or "fall down and break your leg." Plus, and I'm getting religious here, we live in a fallen world, but love -- real love -- is of God. I think we should say "rise to love" instead because it's much more accurate. Love takes action and work and comes from God.


Colors

Why is off-white a color but not off-purple or off-green? What does off-white really even mean?




*I'm well aware that the correct term is "Thinking Aloud." I'm pretending to be clever. You know, "fake it until you make it."

I'm Dating Myself

I really must apologize to any one of my friends or family members who may not already know about my current relationship, but it's about time we made this thing public.  Of course by "we" I mean "me" because I am dating myself.  I've been on-and-off for over 22 years now.  I finally made a sort of commitment about three years ago, when I took myself on my very first real date.  I'll admit I was not my first choice, but when nobody else accepted my invitation to the movies, I settled for me.  I was a bit nervous about what people might think when they saw me with myself, but I ending up being quite proud to stroll into a theater full of middle-aged men with me on my arm.  I saw "Captain America: The First Avenger" and had a really good time.

 After the movie, I couldn't stop raving about how much I loved it.  I opened up quite a bit and told myself all about my fascination with WWII history and American culture of the 1940's.  I even went so far as to tell me that I am hopelessly, indescribably patriotic.  Surprisingly, I was not turned off by my passionate soliloquy about Jazz and super heroes.  In fact, I surprised myself by stopping at Walmart on the way home to buy a Captain America poster for my bedroom wall.  I held my hand for the first time in the juice aisle.  Small things like that are what keep my relationship so strong.

I'd be lying if I said it hasn't been a rocky road.  I've had a few crushes that really jeopardized the stability of my relationship.  I even broke up with myself once or twice to try dating other people, but it never worked out.  I’m just glad I was able to take myself back after what must have seemed like ultimate betrayal.  Me and myself have been exclusive for quite a while now, and my relationship is stronger than ever.

When “Captain America: The Winter Soldier” came to theaters a few weeks ago, I decided it would be the perfect thing to celebrate my first real anniversary since getting back together.  I planned it all in secret, buying the movie tickets the morning of opening day and canceling all of my evening plans.  I then spent the morning getting all spiffed up; I wanted to look nice.  Feeling great in my newest pair of overalls, I picked myself up from work, which was a real surprise. 

When I came out of work and saw my car sitting there waiting, it was all I could do to keep from breaking out my disco ball and channeling my inner Kevin Bacon into a dance of excitement.   It had been a while since I went on a real date.  I had been spending a lot of time in the library and calling it a date, but I knew it was a poor excuse.  I needed to get out and do something fun.  It was like I read my mind.

I took myself to the Wendy’s drive-through.  I know it sounds cheap, but I have a real history with myself at Wendy’s.  The first few times I really opened up to myself were over Junior Bacon Cheeseburgers, and some of my biggest arguments with myself were smoothed over with a famous relationship-mending chocolate Frosty.  This time, however, was all celebration.  I was not holding back and I wanted to let myself know.  I told myself I could order anything I wanted, even if it wasn't from the dollar menu.  I don’t like to spoil myself, but I think splurging occasionally is an important way of letting me know that I really am committed to the relationship.  I smiled at myself and ordered one of the fancy chicken sandwiches that Wendy’s is almost kind of known for.

I don’t know if you could call me superstitious, but I’ll admit that I believe in many things that most people don’t.  Sasquatch, for example, is something I’m convinced is completely real.  I think I saw one coming out of a Yellowstone bathroom once.  If I’m not mistaken, this was the subject of my first real argument with myself that led to sharing my first chocolate Frosty.  Maybe it’s because I’m too imaginative, but I totally believe in almost all things supernatural.  Maybe it’s because I watch a lot of the television show “Supernatural.”  At any rate, it was for this reason I got really nervous when I pulled up to the drive-through window and the cashier repeated my total, “$6.66.”

I thought about canceling the date and taking myself home.  It sounds silly now, but at the time I thought for sure this was a bad omen, and on my anniversary!  My mind was racing with thoughts of everything that could go wrong.  How could I enjoy “Captain America” if my chicken sandwich was somehow infected with a rare disease from the Amazon that rendered me incapable of seeing the color blue?  What if the Sasquatch was angry with me for ratting on him about the Yellowstone bathroom and he showed up at the theater intending to take me prisoner?  My head was spinning with fear and the Wendy’s cashier was getting ready to call for backup when I thought of a plan.  I handed her $6.67 and drove away, happily singing along to my favorite song that just happened to come on the radio.  The date was going to be okay.

I took the meal back to my apartment, where I could eat it in intimate privacy:  my roommates were gone for the night and I knew I could be alone.  I thought about turning on some mood music, but the moment passed when I surprised myself with a gift.  It was totally unexpected, and I felt a little guilty for not thinking to get myself a gift in return.  Regardless, I hastily opened the package.  Again, it was like I read my mind.  Inside was the cutest new swimsuit I had ever seen.  It was like I somehow knew that my old swimsuit was starting to wear out.  I’m just always on the same page as myself, which is how I know this relationship is more than just a fling.  It was the perfect surprise.

I thanked myself and we departed for the movie theater.  I remembered how seeing the first Captain America movie had been a major boost in my confidence about the relationship.  I had seen the first showing of the morning on opening day in a theater in a small suburban town.  The theater at that time was filled with nothing but middle-aged, overweight men that may or may not have quit their jobs to see the movie and most definitely smelled like cheap burritos.  I couldn't help being super proud of the fact that I was the only female there, not to mention my hot date.

The experience of the Captain America sequel was a bit of a different story.  I saw it in the evening on opening day in a college town.  The theater was filled with small groups of freshman girls gawking at Captain America’s perfectly styled hair and young, good-looking couples who were obviously on first dates.  I’ll admit I felt a little bit intimidated by the freshness of all the relationships compared to my long-lasting one.  I had grown increasingly afraid over the previous few weeks that what I had with myself was growing stale.  Just as I took my seat, however, I realized that the stand-alone group of attractive young men was staring at me with jealousy in their eyes.  They were jealous that I was on a date with myself, and I knew it.  I instantly felt confident in the relationship once again.  My date was a hot commodity.

Throughout the movie, I kept making attempts to hold my hand before chickening out.  It shouldn't have been hard, seeing as I had held my hand several times before, but something about the pressure of an anniversary made it difficult.  I was relieved when I was the one who took the initiative to hold my hand instead.  I enjoyed the movie through and through.  It couldn't have been a more perfect date.

            Since then, I've been getting a lot of questions from friends and family as to whether I think this relationship is the real deal.  I can’t say for sure yet, because I've decided to take things slow.  I can’t help but worry, however, that staying in a relationship with myself forever would ultimately make me unhappy.  I’ve forced myself to think through all the possible outcomes.  Not including the ones where the Sasquatch kills me or I go missing after hunting for the perfect chicken nugget, there are three scenarios I think are the most likely.

            The first scenario is that I stay with myself and it works out really well.  I go on to be the writer/producer of a successful television sitcom.  I’m super supportive of my career.  I don’t have any children, but I become good friends with the old Greek lady across the street that collects pictures of Sandra Bullock and clocks that tick backwards.  Eventually I move from television to film and fulfill my lifelong dream of being an editor for the next Steven Spielberg.  I grow old gracefully, and when I leave the film business I become a ranger at Glacier National Park, where I specialize in telling people to stay on the designated trails.

            The second scenario is a bit grimmer.  In this situation, I stay with myself, but things get stale quickly and I become unhappy.  I move into my grandparent's basement.  I live there long after they've sold their house to the successful lawyer/model and his blonde athlete wife.  I bang my broom on the ceiling when their three beautiful children are laughing too cheerfully.  I get hideously old and lose my sense of humor.  I start buying wombats and naming them all Harold.  Eventually, I wind up on the TV show “Hoarders” because I still have every sock I've ever worn.  I die old and alone.  Only Harold(s) come to my funeral.

            In the third scenario, I don’t stay with myself at all.  Some foreign scientist who shares my love for Otter Pops will sweep me off my feet, and we will get married in London after a good solid year of dating.  I’ll stay at home taking care of our children, who are better-looking than the lawyer/model’s and I’ll invent apps in my spare time.  My husband will find a way to put the cure for cancer into a taco and the world will be a better place.

Also, my husband will look like be Tom Hiddleston.

            I can’t know for sure what will happen, but I’m happy with where I’m at right now.  I don’t know whether I'll stay with myself forever or not, but I think it’s important that I’m taking the time to get to know and love myself.  It could really benefit Harold(s) someday.