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The Worst Thing I Ever Did

OK guys. Let's be serious here for a minute.

Today I want to talk about a couple things that everyone talks about, and I'm sure you've heard it a million times, but I'm going to say it all again, because I want everyone to know exactly how I feel. Most people are probably going to read this and kinda scoff and move on, but I hope that what I'm about to say can change some people's opinions for the better.

Today we're going to talk about not being a giant jerk.

As I'm sure all of you are aware, gay marriage recently became legal in Utah, which was hugely unexpected for everyone and has met with a LOT of media coverage and backlash. Utah is famous for being the "motherland" of the LDS religion, and is a notoriously red state. I myself have lived in Utah my whole life, and I was born and raised a Mormon. 

This is a story about how I learned an important lesson about morality.

It all started a long time ago when I was very young. I was in middle school, and I was probably in 6th or 7th grade, so I would have been about twelve-ish years old.

The nightmare began when a close friend of mine came out of the closet and announced that he was gay.

"Gasp!" thought my delicate pre-teen sensibilites, "But gay is wrong!"

Being the devout religious zealot that I was, I took it upon myself to set him straight, so to speak. That night, I went home and searched the most sketchy parts of the Old Testament to find the perfect scripture to show my good friend the error of his ways. My master plan was in motion.

The next morning, my friend came to school like any other day, and opened his locker...

...and out poured a bunch of tiny scraps of paper. Each tiny scrap of paper had a scripture reference written on it.

All the scraps of paper had the same reference, over and over again. In case any of you were curious, here is the full verse:

"22 Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination."

In my childish mind, I had done the right thing. I had shown this poor young man God's supposed opinion of him and his sinful ways, in the most passive aggressive way I could think of. I went about my day feeling all warm and fuzzy inside for having done the Right Thing. 

But after a little while, things started to go a little differently than I would have liked...

Throughout the day, people who I had thought were my friends came up to me and called me names, pushed me around.

"Bigot!" they said.

"You should be ashamed of yourself!" they shouted.

"How dare you!"

"Jerk! Mean! Heartless! Bad friend!"

...and a lot of other things I won't say here because this is a family-friendly blog.

I was upset, but not too terribly shocked. I was certain I had done the Right Thing, and now I was being persecuted for my religion. I knew it would happen. You heard stories about it all the time. It was all part of being a Mormon and standing up for your beliefs. 

...but all of a sudden I didn't feel so good about myself.

I left school that day crying, because it felt like the whole world had turned against me. I don't remember what time of year it was, but in my mind it was winter, because I felt so cold and sad inside. It felt like the whole school hated me, and I could feel their glares on my back and I ran for the bus.

That day, I felt like I truly knew what it was like to be bullied.

Now... let's take a moment to pause and examine this story. 

Years later, I looked back on this experience and remembered how terrible I had felt that day. But as I got older and smarter, I looked back and imagined how my poor friend must have felt.

...and I realized that I was the bully.

It's not easy to confess something like that, especially not in middle school. I recently watched a TED Talk by a woman who was lesbian, and she talked about coming out of the closet. She explained that for someone who is gay, coming out is one of the hardest things they will ever do. But she also said that gay, straight, black, white, brown, tall, or short, we all have closets. Maybe our closet is telling our parents we are dropping out of college. Maybe it's telling your boyfriend you're pregnant. Maybe it's telling your children you're getting a divorce. Maybe it's telling your friends and family you have cancer. Maybe it's joining another religion even though you know your family will reject you and you'll lose a lot of friends. Whatever it is, these things are HARD. They are so hard! And that young man had the courage to tell people when he was just a child, and I spit in his face. Not only that, I publicly humiliated him in the name of my religion. IN MIDDLE SCHOOL.

So, I hope that young man reads this, and knows how deeply, truly sorry I am that tweenage Jackie was such an idiot. I hope he can accept my hundreds of apologies and forgive me for the terrible stupidity of that act. I also hope he realizes how many people stood up for him that day, and defended him against such a mean, heartless little girl during that sensitive period of his life.

And I hope everyone else reads this and realizes that bullying is NEVER ACCEPTABLE, regardless of the cause, or whether you're right, or whether you've been taught that it's alright to do things like that.

IT.

IS.

NEVER.

OK.

And I'm not just talking atomic wedgies and swirlies. I'm not just referring to childish, hurtful nicknames or taunting jeers. 

I mean excluding, rejecting, or ridiculing someone because of their life choices. I mean grownup adults treating other adults with disdain or disgust because of the way they look or think or act. We are taught from a very young age to be a certain way, and those behaviors are perpetuated across generations, because people don't just stop and think about what they're doing. 

People always talk about what we can do to stop bullying, and about how it has become such a big problem in our society and for our children. 

To those people, I have the perfect solution:

STOP. BEING. BULLIES.

I'm going to say it again.

STOP BEING BULLIES!

I'm not saying I'm perfect, by any means. I am probably the worst about teasing people for fun. I pick on my poor husband, my sisters, my friends, my coworkers... But I've been thinking a lot about it lately, and with the whole gay marriage thing in the spotlight, bullies have been coming out of the woodworks like crazy. 

I don't want to be bullied, and I'm sure you don't either. But when we say things like "their lifestyle is disgusting" or "people like that shouldn't be allowed in public" or "God hates those people," we are being bullies just as much as that big kid at recess who hangs kids from the coat hooks by their underwear. Probably worse, because Indian burn goes away eventually, but those sorts of emotional scars drive kids to suicide. How would you feel knowing that something you said to someone, or even a look you gave them, drove that person to take their own life?

The absolute worst part is, if we act a certain way as adults, young children will see those things and then perpetuate them across another generation! We always hear stories of how mean and nasty kids are at school, but they certainly weren't born mean. We can blame it on the media and the decline of society, but it all starts in the home. I don't have children myself, but I have siblings and cousins, and I recently was called to be a leader of young women in my branch. I hope each and everyone one of those girls sees this and takes it to heart.

Let's go back to my story for a moment. A few years later, another, even closer friend of mine came to me one day. We had been inseparable for years, and we had stayed close even when we went away to different colleges. One night, we were sitting in his car, and he confessed to me that he too was gay. 

To be completely honest, it came as kind of a shock to me, but this time, all I said was "Okay?"

He told me that he had been so afraid to tell me because he thought I would hate him, or that I wouldn't want to be friends anymore. But I realized at that moment, that it didn't matter what I thought about homosexuality, or what was or was not sin, or even if it grossed me out. Because I loved him, and he was my friend, and that was all that mattered. The fact that he was gay didn't change the fact that he was still him, and we were still us, and that was that.

(Unrelated note, I screwed this situation up pretty hard core too, but it had nothing to do with bullying. But I'm still sorry about that, too.)

Anywho, that brings me to my final point:

It doesn't matter what you think.

Let me say that one more time in case you didn't get it.

IT. DOES. NOT. MATTER.

Do you think homosexuality is gross? That doesn't matter. Do you think all Muslims are terrorists? Screw you, dude, it doesn't matter what you think. Are you worried that that black man is going to steal your purse? Shut up, it doesn't matter.

I read another interesting article by a gentleman who was not Mormon about what Mormons believe. It was a surprisingly positive take on how we should approach issues of morality. You should definitely read it when you get a chance, but to summarize the author points out that the basic premise of all Mormon belief is agency. The whole reason we are here on this earth today, according to Mormon theology, is because we fought for our right to choose for ourselves, rather than be chosen for.

So why would we presume to make that choice for others?

We all have our own opinions and ideas and beliefs, and that's GREAT! That's what makes people who they are, and it's awesome! We should embrace our individuality, and focus on bettering ourselves in a positive way, rather than trying to make ourselves feel better by making others seem worse. 

If you think about it, making others feel worse to make yourself feel better is a great way to bring the societal average down. 

Here's a math lesson! 

If you feel 60% good, but another person feels a whopping 65% good, and then you tell them they're going to hell for voting Democrat and they feel 15% worse, that leaves them at only 50% good feelings. Hooray you, you're the best at 60% good! But if you think about it, now the average between the two of you is only 55%.

Now imagine you feel 60% good, and they feel 65% good, and you tell them that you like their shoes. Now they feel 5% better because of your nice complement, and you feel 5% better for having given a complement! On top of that, you get another 5% happiness bonus for having ignored something negative that you may have disagreed with, and instead focused on the positive. Now you're both at 70% good feelings, and the world is a slightly happier place!

It's New Year's this week, y'all. It's a time for making resolutions about weight loss that we all know we'll never keep, and celebrating the year that has passed without losing those 10 lbs you resolved to lose last year. I'm gonna go ahead and challenge everyone reading this to make a real resolution that we can all hopefully keep. I'll refer you to my earlier statements:

STOP BEING BULLIES.

And of course, remember:

IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT YOU THINK.

I want to be a better person this year. I wish I could have been a better person last year, and the year before that, and all those years ago when I acted like a douche and probably really hurt someone's feelings. Unfortunately, though, time is linear and I can't go back in time and change things. If I could, I would punch Younger Jackie in the face so hard.

And one more thing...

If I ever see or hear about someone I know or love bullying someone, I'm gonna be super pissed. It's hard, I know, but let's all make an effort to be a little better. If you slip up, realize where you went wrong and apologize. 

If it helps you, have someone else that you trust call you out on your BS. I said something kinda mean at work the other day and one of my coworkers was cool enough to pull me aside and say "Hey, I know you thought that was funny, but just be careful because you might hurt someone's feelings, and I know you wouldn't want to do that." And you know what? It was so embarrassing. I felt awful. But it was GREAT! Because now I know that the things I said may have been construed as mean, and I can be more sensitive to other people. We can all help each other be better. 

Finally, if I ever catch you bulling someone without remorse, or just for bullying' sake, I will punch you. 

Be afraid. 

But mostly be nice for niceness's sake. 

Love, Jackie.

Surprise!

So, as many of you well know, today is my birthday. On this day, 21 years ago, I was born. 

As most every oxygen-breathing American knows, birthdays are a time for cake and gift-giving. So everything was going according to tradition when Daniel went online to buy me a present for my impending birthday.

Now, not gonna lie. I love surprises as much as the next person. Daniel has to work pretty hard to surprise me though, because I'm kind of a supersleuth. For instance, as he was shopping online that day, he called from the other room, "Would a junior's medium be too small for you?" And then proceeded to hum the theme from the all-too-short-lived sci-fi series "Firefly."

"Are you buying me a Firefly themed T-shirt?" I asked.

"Whh... No! Shut up!" he replied.

Eventually he settled on the perfect super-secret gift for my birthday, and I resolved to try really hard not to spoil the surprise for myself.

Fast forward a few days...

I check my email several times a day because I sometimes get important work things there. And because it makes me feel important whenever I get an email. But that day, I pulled it up, and right there in front of me...

"Your Amazon Order of A Song of Ice and Fire (4 Book Boxed Set) and 1 More Item Has Shipped!"

...and all at once I find myself faced with a dilemma. 

Daniel had used my Amazon account to order my birthday present, but at no point in time had it crossed either of our minds that the confirmation emails would be sent to my email account, for some reason. I suppose neither of us is good at planning ahead.

So now, I feel bad for spoiling the surprise when in reality there was nothing I could do about it.

Do I tell him and make him feel bad for not surprising me, or do I keep it to myself and just act surprised? 

But then a thought came to my head...

It's called "Jackie's Birthday Curse."

I have developed a terrible habit over the last few years since I got a real-person job and became an independent woman. Let's flash back a couple of years to see what I mean...

And then the next year...

And now, here we are at the present year, when all I wanted was the books that Game of Thrones is based off. They seem really exciting, and I want to start reading more so I won't seem like such a moron!

Truth be told, had I not seen that email, I most likely would have bought the books on Kindle myself.

So now, flash forward to that day, the fateful email staring me in the face.

I came to the conclusion that I was going to keep it to myself and not tell Daniel, because he worked so hard to keep it a secret (although, apparently, not hard enough). 

And now, it's the present, and it's my birthday, and Daniel has given me my gift. And I honestly truly was excited! I'll probably start reading as soon as this is posted. But I came to the conclusion that I couldn't keep it secret from him forever, so I had to tell him one way or another.

So now, here's the surprise. As I type, he is still completely unaware of the situation. In a few mere moments, I shall post it, and he shall know the truth.

Wish me luck...

We Continue To Be Married

American Gothic, cartoon Jackie-and-Dan style

This day, Daniel and I have been married for half an entire year. 

So, two things...

First thing! Now that I'm a grown-up adult in a grown-up adult relationship with a... husband... I've learned a lot of things about what matters and what doesn't really.

Things that matter: Love, compassion, understanding, family, self-reliance, education, growing.

Things that don't matter: Material possessions, image, grudges, month-iversaries. 

For realsies though, now that I'm married and it's forever, rather than a high school boyfriend who may or may not be around in a week or a month or a year, months don't matter. Years barely matter. I mean, I can see why we would celebrate an ANNiversary every year. It's a commemoration of the event that began our marriage, much like a birthday or national holiday. Maybe it's a newlywed thing (actually I'm sure it is, because I haven't seen any old people celebrating their 604-month-iversaries) but I just can NOT understand it. Sure, it's nice to think about your marriage and how your life has changed for the better, but I don't think it necessarily warrants a Facebook post or even full on celebration.

Today, to celebrate our semi-anniversary, Daniel and I ate beef stew and hung out in our pajamas, like we do pretty much every day. Frankly, that's better to me than going out for a fancy dinner or taking a vacation or getting each other gifts for a day that doesn't even really mean more than other days.

I'm not saying there's anything wrong with celebrating your month-iversaries, I just can't understand it.

Would you celebrate your child's age in months?

Second thing! Congratulations.

Webster's Dictionary defines "congratulations" as follows:

con·grat·u·la·tion (n): a message telling someone that you are happy because of his or her success or good luck.

Now, let's look at some instances in which it is appropriate to congratulate someone...

"I finally got the promotion I've been waiting for!"

"Congratulations!"

(Success)

"My wife had the baby last week! It was a tough pregnancy but totally worth it."

"Oh, congratulations! That's great!"

(Success)

"You'll never believe what I just found out! The arrow missed all my vital organs!"

"Hooray, congratulations!"

(Good Luck)

"I became the most powerful plantation owner in all of Farmville!"

"...congratulations?"

(Success... I guess)

Here are some instances in which it would not be so appropriate to congratulate someone...

"I saw this weird dog on the way to work today. It was like a mastiff but with wiener dog legs."

"Congratulations!"

(Just an observation)

"Man, my mom is coming over this weekend and she always brings her stupid teenage boyfriend."

"Oh, wow, congratulations!"

(That doesn't mean anything. Unless maybe you're congratulating the mom. In which case, you're gross.)

"It's been six months since that horrible tornado destroyed our trailer park."

"Congratulations, bro!"

(Just marking the passing of time)

That last one there is how I feel about people congratulating people on their anniversaries... Like, I can understand congratulating someone on the wedding itself. Weddings are hard work, and they are the result of a lot of combined success and good luck. 

But, personally, I don't think it should be luck to stay married for a year, or ten years, or fifty years. I don't even really think it should be considered a success to just... stay married. Sure, these days lasting marriages are a bit of a rarity, and that's unfortunate. But I feel like we shouldn't be surprised when someone's marriage stands the test of time. At the very least, we should be relieved. But I think we should learn to start expecting marriages to last ten or twenty or a hundred years.

So perhaps a more appropriate response would be something along the lines of...

"My wife and I have been married for 25 years next week!"

"That's awesome, man. I hope you have many more wonderful years together."

"Today is our fifth anniversary!"

"That's sweet! I'm glad you guys are happy."

"It's our first anniversary today!"

"Happy anniversary, you two! It just gets better from here."

Anywho. Yes, I realize that technically it is acceptable to congratulate someone on their anniversary. This is just what I think, and you can take it or leave it. 

(steps off soapbox)

The Only Pets I Have

First off, let me preface this post by apologizing. I realize it's been a while since I posted, but stuff got in the way, you know? Stuff like... being lazy.

Anywho.

It's been a little over four months since Radagast tragically passed away for no good reason, and this is the longest I have ever gone without having a pet in my home. In order to make up for the gaping emptiness in my heart, I've tried to replace my beloved pets with borrowed pet store kittens, secretly pretending Daniel is my pet, and watching tons of YouTube videos of sugar gliders, kitties, and hamsters playing dead.

However, the best pets I've found to nurture and focus all my attention on are my vast collection of pet peeves. Everyone has them, as much as anyone might try to deny it. Here are just a few of the ones that bug me the most:

1. Fishy Handshakes

I've always prided myself on having a firm, authoritative handshake. I shake the hands of prominent businessmen, and they're like, "Man! This woman obviously is a confident, intelligent, successful person who deserves a position of leadership, if not just a raise!"

But there are people in this world who don't appreciate the value of a good, strong handshake. I think the worst example of this is a particular doctor (whom I shan't name), whose hands were not only limp and wiggly, but also cold and clammy. Erghhh. I actually made my next appointment with said doctor's office during a time she would be on vacation, just to avoid shaking her hand.

2. Those Idiots Who Do This Thing

The following diagram represents a particular traffic maneuver that I see FAR TOO OFTEN these days, and for which my own father was once given a ticket. 

The blue car is me, obeying the law. The red car is a representation of every jerk on the road that pulls this nonsense. If you do this... I hate you.

Sorry Dad.

Fig. 1: Waiting at the intersection to turn left. We both have to get to a place on the far right side of the road fairly soon after the intersection.

Fig. 2: See that?! See what he did there?! That's illegal, yeh jerk! Also, now I can't freaking get over because I obeyed the law. Thanks a lot, random stranger. Now I'm three seconds late for work because I had to flip a Uey.

3. Whoever Came Up With This Idea

Mmm, delicious Skittles. A tasty candy which I have long enjoyed. I like eating the purple ones and the green ones together, because it's like a lime rickey!

\

But what's this?! Something is terribly wrong here!

Not cool, bro.

4. Anyone Who Ever Says This

I can't tell you how many times A DAY I hear people use this phrase:

Why is this so widely accepted?! 

First of all, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder is a real and terrible thing, and it's like walking around telling people that you're bipolar when you're just a moody butthead. There are people out there, possibly people you know, that suffer from anxiety disorders, and I'm sure they don't appreciate people belittling something they struggle with on a daily basis. 

And secondly...

4. Walking Through Spiderwebs 

Now, I don't say this because I'm particularly afraid of spiders. Sure, I think they have an unnecessary number of eyeballs and limbs, but they can't help that. Like the great philosopher Lady Gaga once stated, they were born that way.

However.

I don't appreciate whatever evil ninja spiders sneakily jump in and build little invisible webs REAL FAST when you aren't looking for three seconds.

Seriously, spiders. What innocent human being deserves to be walking along the street, or down some stairs, or even through their own house and suddenly be seized by one or more invisible, undetectable threads that stick all on your face and hands and eyelashes and you CAN'T GET THEM OFF.  

To further my research into the things that bother us, I asked a couple of other people about their pet peeves, and these were some of the good ones that I got:

5. People That Chew Like Cows

This one hits close to home with me, because I have a sister who always did this when we were children. And by children, I mean... teenagers. She'd walk up behind you while you were on the computer and chew right in your ear, or at the dinner table she'd smack and snarf while people were trying to have a conversation. 

Or, worst of all... she'd...

(shudder)

...fill in the sound effects for your own chewing, regardless of how closed your mouth might be.

6. People Who Pick Their Teeth In Public

Mouths are gross, people. I know I, personally, don't like to think about them any more than I have to. 

Toothpicks, in my opinion, should be hidden away in the dark recesses of the restrooms, where people can go into private stalls to do their business and not foist their dental hygiene habits on innocent bystanders.

As healthy as it is for me to seek out these little annoyances that bug people, sadly, my tablet battery died as I was drawing pictures. I'm way too lazy to go track down the charging cable right now, so you'll just have to enjoy the few that I've listed above.

As usual, I'm always open to suggestions for future blog posts. Heck, 60% of the work is thinking of something to write about. 30% is drawing the pictures while I'm pretending to pay attention in church, and the other 10% is busting out some words late at night to glue them all together. The more you guys think of stuff, the less work I have to do, and the more likely I am to churn out more posts. 

Also, you will note that the poll on my sidebar has changed. Perhaps not on a neat 2-week schedule like I had originally intended, but... uh... the element of chaos keeps it interesting!

Sunday is mine and Daniel's six months...iversary, so expect great things from that. And soon it will be my birthday, and I'm sure it's going to be an exciting one, so yay for that too. 

Until next time, my friends!

Happy Hamster(less)ween!

Happy Halloween, everyone! 

To be totally honest, Halloween is one of my most favorite holidays, and I normally start thinking of my costume months in advance, and spend way more time and effort than is probably necessary. This year was sad because I didn't have any adorable hamsters to dress up, but now I have a spouse, which opens up the whole new world that is couples costumes.

So this year, Daniel and I are dressing up as... hermits! But really, we're just going to turn off all the lights and stay in, shunning trick-or-treaters and eating all of our candy ourselves. Daniel has a crapload of homework, so we're not going to go party. 

However, in order to show my Halloween spirit, here is a pumpkin I painted. That's me, dressed as Merida from the movie Brave, being mildly startled by a ghost.

Anywho.

This week has been super busy and I've slacked slightly on my picture drawing/word writing. I actually do have a post in the makings, but I wanted to get some input from y'all before I finished it.

So, to help me out, what are some of you biggest pet peeves?

Leave a comment here, send an email to hemustbehappy@gmail.com, comment on Faceook, or send a carrier bat (seriously, that would be adorable.)

Confessions

Here's the thing, you guys...

I have some deep, dark secrets that I have been holding back from the world for too long now, and it's starting to eat me up inside. 

Now, I know what you must be thinking. "Jackie? Dark secrets? Pshhh! She's far too adorable and awesome to have dark secrets. Besides, with how much she talks all the time, it's ridiculous to think that there are words that have not yet spilled out of her brain through her mouth."

And to you I say... ouch. But also, it's true. As multi-faceted as my personality may seem, it's actually extra extra SUPER multi-faceted, and some of those facets are shameful and appalling. 

So with no further ado, let's all get ready to be horrified!

Here are ten of my darkest secrets that come to mind right away: 

1. I don't believe in chinchillas.

"But Jackie, chinchillas are real!"

No they're not. You know nothing.

"Wh-- I've seen them! I had a pet chinchilla for like three years!"

That's just what they want you to think. Next you'll be trying to tell me that unicorns and jackalopes and platypuses are real. It's all part of the conspiracy. I've looked many a chinchilla in the eye and denounced their existence to their furry little faces.

I don't know what sort of scarring childhood experience I had that has caused my unshakable disbelief in a scientifically acknowledged reality, but so help me, I won't be convinced.

Sounds ridiculous, doesn't it?

That wasn't a political statement.

...or was it?

2. Sometimes (often), I think about drawing freckles on my face so that people will think I'm cuter. 

Okay, this one isn't even making a statement. This is just a true fact.

Truth is, I'm getting older. It happens to most people, but I never realized it could happen to me. Unfortunately, as I get older, it gets harder to be super adorable all the time. My baby-face is starting to look more mature, I sometimes get heartburn, I've even started to get terrible bags under my eyes and faint wrinkles on my forehead.

Ever since my smartness all burned up, I've had to get by on my sense of humor and cuteness. With my cuteness gone, all I would have left is my quick wit, and I don't know if that's enough to make everyone like me all the time.

Freckles are the obvious solution.

3. These days, I spend more time carefully arranging my clothing so that it squishes my fat roll into smaller, less noticeable fat rolls, than I do putting on makeup.

This comes with getting older, too.

Back in the day, I used to survive off a steady diet of ice cream and Doritos, and my weight had stayed within about a 5 or 6 pound range from the time I turned about 14. Sadly, now that I am no longer a teenager, my metabolism has apparently slowed to a screeching halt.

The problem is, I have no idea how to diet or exercise, and my regular routine of wandering the house searching for snacks just isn't cutting it anymore. And the other problem is, gaining weight means that all my clothes don't fit the same anymore. And the other other problem is that I refuse to go out and buy a whole new wardrobe just because I can't squeeze all my regular pants over my butt-fat.

So, I've developed a brilliant solution. If I carefully smush my fat in all the right directions, no one will notice that I've gotten kinda pudgy over the last little while!

4. I actually listen to a lot of Britney Spears.

Okay, I didn't even draw a picture for this one. Some of her music is really catchy! Stop judging me, you know you've done it too. You can't be an 18-24 year old and honestly tell me that you don't secretly jam to some Britney every now and then.

...hmm hmm taste of your lips, hmm hm hm hmmm, you're toxic, I'm slipping under...

5. I can't use the bathroom if it's at an unfamiliar place, or if anyone at all is in the bathroom or within like a five mile radius.

I know I'm not the only one that does this! I'm not weird, you're weird! One of these days I'm just going to die of... kidney failure or something. Honestly, Daniel and I started dating over a year ago, and I have used the bathroom at his parents' house exactly three times. And that was only when I had no other choice.

For some reason I'm mostly fine with using public restrooms, but people's houses really freak me out. In a public restroom, if you find some mysterious hair, you're like "Ew gross, a mysterious hair." But if you find a mysterious hair in the restroom of someone's house, you're like "This hair belongs to someone IN THIS HOUSEHOLD." And then it's weird.

Usually, the three places I can use the bathroom without freaking out are as follows: Home (but only if Daniel isn't lurking around somewhere), work (but only if I am certain there is no one else in the bathroom, and if someone does come in I'll abort the mission), and my parents' house. Seriously, the other day I was visiting an old friend from high school, and on the way back I stopped at my parents' house to use the bathroom, so I didn't have to hold it for the 20 minute drive back to our apartment. True story. I pretended like I was visiting them just to say hey.

6. Up until recently, I couldn't cook rice without starting a fire.

This one is really sad. I would consider myself a pretty awesome cook, frankly. I can make French Silk pie no problemo. I've made all manner of casseroles, soups, stews, stir fries, and pastas, all without a hitch. One time I helped my father make crème brûlée WITH A BLOWTORCH and didn't start a fire.

For some reason, though, there was a period of time in my life where me making one of the simplest dishes known to mankind resulted in something burning. And I'm not just talking about the rice, either.

Once I was making rice, and some melted butter caught fire. Being the competent kitchen safety technician I am, I threw water on it, but that's another story. I cleaned up all the smoke damage before my parents even got home.

Since I got married and moved into my own apartment, though, I haven't started a single fire, so maybe my curse is lifted. Maybe true love's kiss stopped me from randomly setting fired to my home, or some like that.

7. I think I may have backed into a mailbox one time, but it was dark and I panicked and drove away.

Once, when I was young and kinda newish to driving, I was dog-sitting for a friend of the family. This friend lived in a somewhat sketchy area of town, and sometimes I was a little nervous to be over there at night. He had some neighbors across the street that were often drunk and often yelling at each other, so I usually let the dog out and then skeedaddled as quickly as I could, so as to avoid... I don't even know. Maybe my irrational teenage mind thought I was going to get dragged in to mediate, and that would just be awkward.

Anywho.

One day I was over letting the dog out, and I had driven over in my dad's great big truck. I usually parked up the street and walked down to the house because it had a shared driveway and I really didn't want to accidentally block off the other neighbor, because that would also be awkward. This particular time, however, I pulled into the driveway because it was pretty late and I wanted to just be in and out of there.

I did my thing, fed the beast, and then jumped into the truck to drive away.

Now, this road was also quite narrow, and the truck was pretty long and monstrous. I pulled out of the driveway somewhat faster than I should have, and felt a little teeny tiny "bump."

It was probably just the tires hitting the curb, but when I pulled forward, I saw that there was a mailbox behind me. Not wanting to get shanked or yelled at by strangers, I pulled off and sped away.

I checked the next day and the mailbox seemed fine, but the guilt has been destroying me inside for years.

Phew. It's good to get that off my chest.

8. Once I and a couple of my friends threw some nerds under the proverbial bus for a terrible high school crime we committed. 

I can't say too much, for fear of being arrested or hanged or something, but let's just say...

Once upon a time, my friends and I were up to some mischief. I won't specify what sort of mischief, but we'll say... we were somewhere we weren't supposed to be at school, and something happened that was... uh... we'll call it "minor property damage." We didn't really know the extent of our crime at the time, but we knew we were in trouble when we heard footsteps behind us in the darkness of the Forbidden Place.

We scampered as fast as we could toward the nearest exit, and emerged into the hall just outside the band room at my high school.

This hall was notorious for hosting a menagerie of nerds at any given time. I can say that because I was one of the nerds, before y'all get on my back about stereotyping. It's our word.

Anyway, being the crafty rapscallions that we were, we decided that the only way to escape conviction was to give the authorities a scapegoat.

We showed the nerds into the secret... uh... place of mystery... just in time for the vice principal to come out and catch them in the act of illicit trespassing. They were sternly lectured in our place, and we got away clean as a whistle. And to this day, no one but us knows what we did.

And, you know, all those people that we told.

9. I'd rather get a kitty than another hamster.

Does that make me a terrible person? I mean, hamsters have kind of become my "thing" these days... I'm the resident authority on rodents and all the random trivia associated therewith.

But if I could get another pet... I don't know if it would be a hamster.

It's not because I don't love hamsters or don't think they're the cutest creatures ever to grace the face of this otherwise depressing planet, not at all. Mostly it's a result of the overpowering guilt left over from the untimely deaths of Walter and Radagast.

When Nigel died, it was incredibly sad and heartbreaking, but I was still comfortable getting another hamster, because I didn't feel responsible for Nigel's death. I had closure. He had cancer and he was getting old, it was just his time to go, and I did absolutely everything I could to make him better and to make sure he didn't suffer. But with the others, I have no idea to this day what killed them, and I constantly worry that it is a result of my negligence.

Kitties, on the other hand, are a lot harder to accidentally kill. I mean, the chances that you'll run over your kitty with your car are infinitely higher than with a hamster, but they aren't going to die if you don't feed them often enough, or you forget to refill their water, or if it's too hot or too cold in your house. Kitties are tough. They can more or less take care of themselves.

Hamsters, for all their cuteness, are helpless.

10. I sometimes read my own blog when I'm bored, because I think I'm really hilarious.

I'm not vain or anything like that. It's just that I don't have great long-term memory, so when I go back and read my own work, it's always a new experience. Plus I actually am pretty proud of some of the stuff I've done.

Unlike any other art I've ever done, I can still be proud of my blog after I've finished a post. Normally with any other drawing or design or whatever, I'm really excited about it while I'm working on it, and then when I'm done, I step back and look at it and think to myself, "This is a disgrace to the name of art and should never see the light of day again."

Not so with my blog, though. I am genuinely un-ashamed of my work here, and I want to continue sharing it with the world! Admittedly, sometimes Daniel has to go through and point out the embarrassing number of typos in every post after it's first published, but after a couple revisions every post is like a child to me.

Except better than a child, because none of my posts scream or puke or touch me with creepy tiny sticky hands.

***

On that note, I hope you like my blog too, and in order to make it easier for you to enjoy it, I want to hear more from you, the readers, so that it can become more of a conversation. A conversation with pictures! I'm sure you are all aware of the sweet poll I've got posted over there in the right sidebar. It seriously takes a total of like three seconds to take a poll, and it doesn't even hurt. If you look at my blog, just click an answer on the poll. It will make everyone's lives better, and I'll be updating the question bi-weekly, to keep things fresh. Your opinions will be heard, and your suggestions will be featured right here in the post-y section.

Don't you want to be a part of the action?

Yes. Say yes.

Good.

A Year and A Day

Hey everyone! As promised, today's blog post is a special spotlight on my relationship with my semi-newish husband spouse! Since we recently celebrated our anniversary yesterday, I decided this was a good time to reflect on the growth of our relationship over the last year, and I chose to open the conversation to the readers. 

By which I mean begged for input. 

Fortunately, a few people pulled through, and here are some of the questions I received this week...

Q: How did you two meet?

A: Well, good reader, that is an excellent question. Technically, I do know HOW we met, and approximately WHEN we met, but neither of us actually remembers MEETING. 

Daniel and I had been friendly acquaintances for about three years or so by the time we actually started dating. The reason we don't remember meeting is because it honestly wasn't that notable of an event at the time. 

Here is an actual real life photograph of us at band camp the week that we first met:

I assume we probably spoke at some point during this week, and we might have attended several festive gatherings over the years after this first encounter, but I honestly couldn't tell you about all of them. Or any of them, really. 

When we met, I was fresh out of high school and Daniel was fresh back from his mission. He was pretty freaking weird, and I was super cool and popular. HAHAHA just kidding, I've never been cool or popular. I was, however, the youngest person in the band that year, and therefore didn't even register on his radar. I ended up dating someone else in the band.

A couple years later, a group of our mutual friends were gathered at Betos enjoying delicious Mexican "food" and friendly banter, and Daniel started conversing with me and my BFF Arryn. At this point, it was Octoberish, and Arryn and I had been making plans to acquire boyfriends in time for Christmas, so that we would have someone to buy us presents. Arryn and I had determined beforehand that Daniel was destined to be my Christmastime boyfriend, so this was working well in my favor. 

So, anywho, after being friendzoned so hard, I had pretty much given up all hope for ever dating Daniel ever, so I ended up dating a guy from work. 

Another space of time later, I had decided that my life was going in a direction that was kind of a northerly one, so I announced to the general public at school that I had decided to attend another university, about an hour or so away. Most people reacted with mild interest, a few congratulated me on my life choices, and three or four people shouted "NOOOO!"

One of those people was Daniel, which was strange to me, because we weren't really super close at all. When I asked him about his exclamation, he said "You can't leave here! You're too much of a... uh... novelty."

"A novelty?" I said, "A novelty?! That's what I am to you? An interesting trinket for your grandmother's parlor?"

"No I... You just can't leave," he said. I ended up dating another guy from work.

After a few more months, we ended up at Betos once again, with pretty much the same group of friends. Being college kids, we decided it was a brilliant idea to have a party after the football game, and that party involved a hot tub. 

This is how we started dating:

And that leads us to our next question!

Q: What is your favorite thing to do together?

A: We like to do all the things together, but in all total and complete honesty, the time I enjoy most is when we can just chill on the couch and watch TV together. Sounds lame, I know, but it isn't exactly sit-in-silence TV enjoying.

I would also say that I enjoy cooking dinner together, although usually cooking together usually means me cooking and Daniel "helping."

But it's okay, he's cute enough to get away with it.

Next question!

Q: What is something you discovered about each other after you got married that made you love each other more?

A: Well, honestly I don't think I could narrow it down to specific "things" that we learned about each other. There are lots of things we have learned about each other, and we do love each other more all the time. I think what it really comes down to is learning to love the things that bugged me at first.

For example, one of the things that drove me insane about Daniel when we first got married was that he is insanely paranoid. When we were moving into our first apartment, he made me wait by his truck while he took in each and every thing himself, because he was worried someone would steal our stuff. At first, I wanted to punch him in the neck all the time, and I scolded him for his general mistrust of humanity. 

One day, I asked him why he locked the door every time he left for work in the morning when I was still in bed. It made me feel like a defenseless baby, and besides, who is going to randomly break into a second floor apartment in the morning? He responded with "I know, but if something ever happened to you, I would never forgive myself knowing that I could have made you a little safer."

From that day on, I've learned to appreciate his paranoia, because it doesn't really mean that he's a crazed lunatic who will spend the rest of his life in an underground bomb shelter filled with guns and ammunition, it just means that he cares.

Daniel's answer: This question makes my head hurt a little bit just because, like Jackie said, it's a little tough to narrow it down.  But as far as I can think of, I would have to say that I have really come to appreciate Jackie's capacity for service.  I love all the little things that she does for me.  Little chores that she does around the house suddenly mean a big deal to me because it means that A) I don't have to do it (living with only one other person means that there are fewer options for people to pawn chores off on to), and B) I feel like she does them specially for me.  I like the embarrassing sticky notes that she puts in with my lunch, and when she folds the laundry, and when she makes cookies while I'm at work.  They are little things that make a big difference.  I don't want to make it seem like Jackie has suddenly become my little wife/home maker (She would hate that).  I just mean to say that I appreciate the things she does as part of our equal partnership, and I especially love it when she does little things that go above and beyond anything I could have expected in an eternal companion.

Aaaaand, another very eloquently phrased question from a reader:

Q:  I wanna hear/see your story all put into picture form with clever words.

A: That's... not even a question. And secondly, there aren't enough clever words or pictures to describe all of the delightful adventures and superfuntimes we've experienced over the last year and a day, so instead I'll relate yet another amusing tale from our wedding day.

Once upon a time, I have a mostly functional brain that is almost pretty good at remembering things sometimes. On our wedding day, the functional parts of my brain must have been pretty worn out, because we had to turn around at least once on the way to our wedding because I had forgotten things.

When we finally arrived, I was whisked off to be married, and as the ceremony came to a close...

Being the excellent rememberer that I am, I had forgotten to bring Daniel's wedding ring TO OUR WEDDING, after spending the whole day before giving him crap about remembering the marriage license. I didn't want to look like an idiot at my own wedding, and you can't really exchange rings if only one of you has a ring. That's not an exchange, it's a... um... gift.

Anywho, fortunately at the very last minute, one of my aunts suggested that he borrow a ring from someone there, and fortunately my dear spouse has delicate tiny fingers, so my mother was able to lend him her gold wedding band for a little bit until we could go home and retrieve his actual ring.

Here is a very romantic picture of Daniel wearing the wrong ring:

And last but not least, here is a question directed specifically at Daniel, since it's is Spanish, and I am quite unilingual. 

P: ¿Cuando se dieron cuenta que pudieron estar juntos sin uno matar al otro?

Q: When did you realize that you could be together without killing each other?

A: Well here's how it went down.  We were hanging out one afternoon eating at Costa Vida. We were chatting and talking about relationshipy thingeys when I said to Jackie "You know, I think that I like you enough that we could probably make things work together forever." When I realized what words came out of my mouth, my stomach sank, and I made a face like this....

(See Jackie's version of this story HERE)

We were both quiet for a few seconds as we contemplated what I had just said and what it meant. For me it started off like "Oh [insert vulgarity here], what does this all mean?" to "Ok cool I guess.  It looks like I know where life is going now."  And then we both proceeded to freak out a little nigh unto self-defecation.

And the rest is history as they say.

(OK it's Jackie again.)

Thanks everyone, for reading and supporting Plans for Nigel, and thanks for the love and support y'all have provided for me and Daniel over the last year. This has certainly been one of the biggest adventures of my lifetime, and I'm glad I could share it with the entire internet all the time.

Here's another wedding picture.