Why I can like college football without really liking college football.

So, my Utes won. Again. Undefeated this season. Exhilerating, right?

For the first time in my fan career, I'm actually following the rankings. Gasp, you say, how can I call myself a true fan?

This business of attending football games began as a student over thirteen years ago. I would go to the games because my friends would, and within a quarter or two, the excitement and energy that comes from live sports would overcome my being, and I'd cheer til I was hoarse, and cry when we lost. Well, not literally, but would become disheartened, and it would be a very long, quiet ride home.

Then I had many many years of motherhood, oh, and Mormonhood, and I forgot about these games. The closest thing I had to live sporting events was the "Beez" (baseball....minor league....) or the "Buzz" or whatever the hell they were called, and the Grizzlies (which is hockey). Don't get me wrong, I LOVE hockey, but for some reason my heart just isn't the same as when I go support my Utes.

Several years ago, at least four or five, I began to go to the games again. I bought a group of four season tickets. The next season I bought a block of eight. I was there when Alex Smith led our Utes in an undefeated season (sometime have me tell you about chasing him down in San Francisco and getting him to sign his rookie jersey. He was in a car, I was on foot...), and I was also there the following year when we had to swallow defeat after defeat. I have been there in sun, I have been there when it's snowing so hard you have two inches gathered in your lap that melts on your snow pants and chills you literally to the bone.

Why do I do it? Why do I care?

I really don't know the answer to this. Perhaps it's believing in something other than myself. It's probably the feeling one gets in being in a group of thousands of people that (at least on the surface) are just like you. They're dressed like you, they cheer when you do, they gasp in unison.

Game day has become a religious holiday in our home. Whether home or away, we dress in red (I even have game day flip flops or sneakers, depending on the weather), and we always make sure to watch the game. When they are home, I pack up the "spirit bag" or "spirits bag" depending on if I smuggle....and it becomes an eight hour production. What with tailgating and such.

And I love every minute of it.

So don't judge me when I can't quote statistics, roster names, play by play recaps. To me it's not about the actual sport, it's about the community. Bolstered by the sport, for sure. And our love for these kids that are doing their best to represent their fans.

I'm proud to call myself one. I'll continue to be a Ute. Come rain, shine, drought, prohibition, snow, and BYU. Bring it.

Things about the "mom" in me.

I’ve discovered that I have some personality traits that are not intrinsic to my nature. I find this odd when I am sitting in class doing a little personal reflection (obviously NOT paying attention. It’s Saturday morning. Come on, now). Anyway, a couple quirks and things I do….

I eat my lunch in my car and watch the children at school on the playground. And when I say “children”, I mean my kids, and the neighborhood kids. Just want to see how my children are interacting, and if they have friends. And if they are wearing coats. Etc.

I have chickens.
I kiss other people’s kids. Well, the kids of my friends. I braid their hair. I buy them stuff.
I wipe butts. Pick noses, clean out ears.

I grocery shop. I freak out if we’re out of milk. I buy fruit snacks.
I do laundry every day.
I have a band (wii rockband, obviously) called momma’s minis.
I buy censored music, never the explicit.
I pee with the door open, cuz if I don’t someone is bound to come knocking.
I have anywhere from six to twelve children running around my house on school short days.
I camp. With four kids and two dogs.
I wear a helmet.
I’m in college. Still.
I have memberships to the Zoo, the museum of Natural History, the Planetarium, Thanksgiving

Point.

I google things about spiders, rodents, chickens, lizards….

I have lots of excess body fat. And wide hips.

I make themed birthday parties.
I cry.

I sometimes wake up with two kids, two dogs and two cats in my bed, and I can't move.

I’m not saying these are bad things. Just interesting, how much I have changed in the past ten years. I bet you can’t wait to have kids of your own….

It's 10:18.

I'm currently sitting in the Union Building at school, and while I really should be studying, there is just something in me that won't allow it. Many of you know I'm not exactly what you'd call a "morning person". So concentrating in the morning is not something I'm good at. Actually, I'm pretty sure my brain doesn't awaken until 10:18. But 10:32 if there is no coffee.

There is this concept that you can train yourself to become a morning person. I get this lecture almost daily from one of my friends. Theoretically, one should be able to retrain one's clock and adjust. I'm pretty sure I'm not buying what she's selling. The basis of her argument includes making sure I'm in bed by ten o'clock every evening. She concedes that I'll lay in bed awake for TWO HOURS, but that I'll feel refreshed when I awaken at 4:30 in the morning. Okay, first of all, WHO ever feels REFRESHED in the middle of the night (which the middle of the night includes any hour between 2:00 a.m. to 7:00 a.m. in my world). It's inconceivable. Secondly, if you are lying in bed AWAKE for two HOURS, isn't there really a better use of your time here?

I contend that you are either a morning person or a night owl. It's really not something you pick. Yes, you can force a night owl to get up in the morning, but the real question here is when are you most productive? When does it come more naturally for your brain to really function?

I have two children. Two boys. They are polar opposites. Zeke is my early bird. His clock functions best between 7:00 a.m.-8:00 p.m. When I put him to bed, his eyes literally roll to the back of his head and he is asleep within minutes. Doing his homework in the evening is a real chore, because his brain starts to shut down in preparation for sleep starting around 7:00 p.m.

Miles, on the otherhand, is definitely my night owl. Ever since he was a baby. He always gets a second wind starting around 7:30, and is definitely his funniest, his most inquisitive, and detail oriented at this time. I put him to bed at 8:30, and he's the one that is up and down, up and down. He absolutely can NOT fall asleep. I've been trying to train him HIS WHOLE LIFE to go down easily. He cannot.

Another observation I've had in is appetite. Zeke wakes up in the morning ravenous. He absolutely needs fuel immediately. But his last meal is typically no later than 5:30 or 6:00 in the evening. Miles does not eat breakfast. It's impossible to make him. He will, however, eat a second dinner around 8:00 or gets out of bed at 9:00 p.m. to eat again. It's just an indicator in when their bodies are at their most productive, therefore when they need more fuel.

My dad is asleep every night by 9:00 p.m. Whether he's in bed or not. But getting him to sleep past 4:00 a.m. is impossible. My mother has not been able to adjust to this schedule. She still putters around (and hops on the treadmill) until at least 11:30 p.m., and will sleep-in whenever possible. After decades of marriage, neither has been able to adjust to each other's schedule. They just are not biologically wired to do so.

So. When I stay up late, and I'm a bitch in the morning, cut me some slack. I try to change, but nature beats nurture in this scenario. Some animals are nocturnal. I don't think Pavlov could train them any other way. It's the way we're made.

And there is nothing wrong with that.

This "concept" of "political correctness"

I was in class today, and my instructor made a comment that he was a bad driver. Well, duh. Not a news flash…he’s Chinese. The class giggled, some more than others…and I immediately texted a few peeps, cuz it was so funny.

Why is it funny? Do you really need to ask? Asian drivers have a reputation for being horrible on the road. Come on, big boy, don’t pretend like you haven’t heard that before. Asians also have a tendency to take a lot of pictures, eat rice, gamble, and have small…..hands.

Don't get all offended, now. I'm Asian. Or haven't you noticed? We are taught not to see color, so even if I'm not colored, you may not comment on it. I think I am Asian, therefore I am. If you've ever watched me gamble or eat a bowl of rice, you will not argue my point. I'm a ninja. So because I am Asian, I am allowed to poke fun at my own race. But don't you try it. If you do, you are racist.

I do, however, have some bigot bones in my body. I'm stupidist, adultererist, and liarist. I definitely hold some strong opinions about these types of people. But they are not protected classes. Therefore society holds that I can make fun of them to my heart's content.

There are seven types of protected classes. They are race, religion, sex, disabled, familial origin, color, national origin. So if you were to call me a caucasian, christian, female, mentally incapacitated, single mom of two, white, and Irish, you are discriminating. I can be mortally offended. Just fillin ya in.

But why would I? Why would I care. Those are ALL descriptive adjectives of me and my personality. They perfectly describe me. What's wrong with that? If you’ve ever listened to children’s conversations with one another, they innocently use descriptive words that at some point in our lives become taboo. Like “fat” or “brown” or "with a limp". When did it become rude to use such descriptive terms? Once the kids say something like that, they know exactly who they are talking about.

Another example. If you were to ask me about my neighbors, this is what you'd get. Mr. Wilson, the Persians, the Mormons, the Old Biddy, and the gin-soaked Brits. I'm willing to bet you have a pretty decent mental image of exactly what's living here. Am I saying it with malice? It may sound that way to you because society has ingrained it in your head that I'm hating. But I'm not. I love all my neighbors. I'm just giving you an easier description. I could say, "an older gentleman who spends his day in his garden in a sunhat and yells at the kids," for example, or "a white haired man who hails from England that has a tendency to prefer gin and tonic." But really is this necessary? Do I have to carefully pick my words anytime I'm using descriptors?

Society says yes.

As a white, I've been on the other side of discrimination. I went to high school at a school that was 92% minority. How did I know the exact percentage? Because I was one of the 8%. I was very aware that I was "different". I was definitely subjected to racism. It was my lily white girl knees that gave me away. The funny thing is, I am not a racist. I come from a mixed family (see photo above). But I caught holy hell because I WAS WHITE. It was not okay for me to point out someone else's ethnicity, but it sure was okay to get made fun of (and occasionally the snot kicked out of) because I'm not protected. I'm one of the majority. Explain that one.

Other non-protected classes, besides the whites, include the trailer trashed, the nascars, the lawyers, the Polish (somehow they seem to not be protected. Don't blame me, blame the man), the inbreds and the illegals. They seem to take the ribbing in stride. Well, or they take out their shotgun. But either way, you can make fun of their stereotypes all you want. Just from a safe distance.

This begs the question of why can't we point out to someone their ethnicity? Is it a secret? Does my dealer in Vegas NOT know she's Asian? Should I not make a reference to her culture so she doesn't catch on? These are my questions.

So what is the rule. Is it okay to call someone stupid, or ugly, or hairy because that is more subjective?

But this isn't just about making fun. This is pointing out that WE HAVE DIFFERENCES. So. What.

But on the flip side, oftentimes one uses our protected class to our advantage. Such as a friend I have (let's call him "my dad") who got a Master's at Harvard without ever getting a bachelor's, thanks to affirmative action. Or, we want to get treated like equals, but will use it as an excuse to explain away personality traits and/or indiscretions. For instance, HYPOTHETICALLY one might say "I'm a drunk because I'm Irish." or "I got a ticket for a California roller at a stop sign because the cop doesn't like women." When really the first question out of said driver's mouth MAY have been "don't you have anything better to do with your day, officer?" But we use recognizable social bigotry to explain away our own indescretions.

I am Asian when I gamble. I'm German when I drive. I'm Irish when I drink. I'm Italian when I have sex, I'm Catholic when I sin. I'm deaf when I sing, and I'm Mormon when I justify. And that's just the way Jesus made me.

So I say forget societal viewpoints. Until we can completely remove the negative connotations associated with certain stereotypes (which, may I add here, there are REASONS groups have been stereotyped. Noone just up and one day decided to say that Asians can't drive...) and just embrace who we are, people are going to have unnecessary reactions to not being "politically correct". The only way to accomplish this notion is to use stereotypes in daily communication so as to reduce the "shock factor." Since I have decided to make this my personal mission, I hereby decree that I will be completely socially unacceptable and will make fun of anybody I feel like in any degree. By doing so, I'm being the opposite of racist. I'm being accepting. I'm showing that these differences don't mean anything. I really don't beleive they are differences at all. We all share these traits to a degree. Duh. Eventually people will learn that they shouldn't be so sensitive, and just laugh and tease back. Hopefully then this notion of "political correctness" will be burned at the stake.

I urge you to do the same.

Therapy at the Airport

Okay. I believe that keeping everything in is harmful to the soul. But I'm WAY too cheap for therapy. Granted, I'm a talker as it is...most of my friends can attest to that. But believe it or not, I do keep some things mostly to myself.

I'm a supporter of going to a therapist. Problem is, I don't want to be analyzed. I don't want your opinion, necessarily, that's what my girls and my witch are for. What I just need to do sometimes is flush all the toxic waste out of my soul and start with a clean slate.

Some of you go to church for this. Or confession. Or your bishop. If you are comfortable with this, then props to you. I, on the otherhand, do not feel like this is an option for me. These people KNOW me, for heaven's sake. I don't need them sniffing through my dirty laundry. I guess I could tell God directly, but again, let's be honest. He's kinda a judger. Plus, he already knows anyway, no need to rehash it with him.

My solution? I unload my secrets in the airport. Yes. The airport. I sit at the bar while waiting for my flight and tell the person next to me things I need to get off my chest. I unload everything that nags at my being, every stupid mistake or misjudgment I've had to a TOTAL STRANGER.

Why does this work? This person doesn't know me from Adam. She doesn't know my friends. She can't go tell someone else that knows me what I've just told her. Who cares what she thinks about me as a person. I'm not looking for a friendship. I don't need affirmation. I just need a human ear.

Interestingly enough, I've actually had some pretty amazing advice from said stranger. If you think about it, it's someone who lives in a completely different environment, was raised with completely different values, and looks at life differently than I or my friends do. Of course, sometimes I've had some pretty stupid advice (which I obviously discount and just smile knowingly). But regardless, it's nice to hear what someone else has to say.

The best part? When my flight is called, I stand up. Say goodbye. And WALK AWAY. Typically with a smile on my lips and a mending on my soul.