Karma's Got A Gun

This weekend Garett drove down from Idaho to spend the extended weekend with his sister, DeLana, in Lehi. I was the one who benefited from his trip, however, since Garett invited me to spend Saturday at his sister's house. The day's activities consisted of shooting and Guitar Hero (I know, it's pretty much the perfect day). Not to sound morbid, but shooting was by far my favorite part of the day. I had never fired a gun before (ever), but had always wanted to so I jumped at the chance. I don't remember the official caliber size and names of the three guns I got to use, so bear with me. The first gun I fired was the shotgun. You're never fully prepared for the reaction of actually firing off a gun until you experience it. Although the kickback wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be, it still startled me a bit. I didn't hit any of the targets until my second round with the shotgun and (not to toot my own horn) one of the bottles that I hit literally popped twenty feet into the air. It was pretty awesome. Then we started goofing off and firing at clay pigeons that were only about ten yards in front of us. That left a lot of pretty black gun powder marks in the snow.

The second gun was a hand pistol. I had assumed that the kickback would be considerably less than the shotgun (smaller gun, less power right?), so I was extremely surprised when, after firing, my arm went flying back causing me to nearly hit myself in the face (I hadn't locked my elbow. The result of my first shot is why you can see Garett's arm steadying me in the above picture.). The hand pistol was harder to aim with, but I got the hang of it and was able to hit a few targets.

Last was the semi-automatic. This gun was the easiest to aim with by far, so I had a lot more success with hitting the targets. However, by this point my arms were pretty tired (those guns are heavy!) so that affected my accuracy a bit. Anyways, by that point people were thoroughly numb and it was getting dark, so we packed it up.

Since Steve, DeLana's husband, was kind enough to let us play with his guns, we all pitched in with the cleaning process. I was given the job of reloading the magazines (apparently that's what they're called) for the semi-automatic while Garett and Elaina (Garett's friend from Idaho) helped Steve clean the guns. After finishing up with the magazines, I offered my limited cooking skills to DeLana by helping her make dinner. After a dinner of homemade pizza, we all played Guitar Hero on their projector in the living room for a few hours. Good times.

I Love Lucy

I’ve been meaning to post something concerning my New Year festivities for a while now. Although it is belated, here it is. On New Year’s eve I went to a single adult dance with Leanna, Ben, and Ryan. Nothing too exciting happened during that, so I’ll move on to the next event. On New Year’s day, I went with Mom, Dad, Kassie, and Garett to the Pacific Science Center to see the Lucy Legacy exhibit.

For all of you non-anthropology buffs (which includes every other sane person on this earth…anthropology people are a little eccentric), Lucy is an early hominid and her remains represent one of the most complete three-million-year-old fossils ever discovered. She is famous in the anthropology/archaeology world, so I was extremely excited when I heard that her fossil would be in Seattle during winter break.

The exhibit was great (and made me feel really smart because I knew a lot of what the exhibit was talking about), but I have to agree with Mom by saying that the two hours we dedicated to visiting the exhibit were not enough. I barely got five minutes to actually look at Lucy’s fossil (ok, that was partially my fault). So, here’s the story behind that; near the end of the exhibit, there’s a hallway with fossil replicas that represent Homo sapiens sapiens relatives and ancestors. Well, at the end of the hall there was a dark room through which you could see an illuminated ‘exit’ sign so I naturally assumed that this hallway was the last room in the exhibit. This kind of bummed me out because I hadn’t yet seen the famous fossil and had assumed that Lucy's remains were going to be there. I had been sitting on a bench discussing this frustration with Kassie when Mom came over and asked me if I had seen Lucy yet. At that point we only had a few minutes until the museum closed, so I had to rush through the last room. O well, it was still awesome. Plus, Mom bought me a human evolution poster that I promptly hung up in my BYU student dorm. It’s a great conversation piece.

That leads to another topic I would like to address. Being an anthropology major at a Christian university, I get a lot of weird looks when I tell people my major. Following the weird look is the inevitable "How does that work with you being Mormon?" question. Well, first of all, to quote a wise man, "Faith did not come to me through science and I will not permit science to destroy it." When it comes to questions such as, "how do neanderthals fit in with the Adam and Eve story," I give the only solution that I have come up with. "My knowledge and understanding of the universe is very limited. I don't know all of the answers right now, but I know that God is real and that's good enough for me." Secondly, in all of my studies of anthropology and evolution, one thing has become clear to me; evolution theories (in their purest sense) do not try to disprove the presence of a supreme creator. If anything, evolution theories such as natural selection, adaptation, mutation (which, despite popular belief, is a good thing in many cases), and so forth prove that there is an all knowing and loving being orchestrating everything because without delicate systems such as the ones previously mentioned, life would not be able to continue (if you are interested in modern day examples, click on the following link: Malaria and the Red Cells). So, here's my question; How, in studying any scientific field, can one not see God's influence?

The Search is Over!

Are you ready for this? I have fantastic news! The other day, while roaming the aisles of the local Wal-Mart, Becky (my roommate) and I made an exciting discovery. I have been waiting my entire life for something this monumental, so imagine my surprise when I finally found it. Seriously, this could change all of our lives...forever.

I know you're dying to know what we found. Well, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the world's most unhealthy and sugar-packed cereal ever conceived by man. 'Chocolate Marshmallow Mateys.' Not only is it chocolate-y, but it has marshmallows! I know, exciting, huh? But hey, in the cereal's defense, it does contain eight "essential" vitamins and minerals (we'll just ignore the fact that those vitamins and minerals are also found in pretty much everything else).

Verbal Vomit

I realized that I am not entirely aware of 'Blog manners' concerning what is and is not appropriate to post, so I apologize if I over step my bounds. I don't want to come across as one of those overly emotional teenagers who publishes their personal lives for the world to read, but this is significant to me (and is therapeutic if nothing else). Anyways, let the verbal vomit begin.

I broke up with my boyfriend on Thursday. Keep in mind, I'm not looking for sympathy (like I said, I "broke up" with him). In fact, we ended on very good terms and agreed to work on becoming better friends. And I can honestly say that I don't regret anything. Yes, the relationship didn't and couldn't lead anywhere and that has been hard for me, but I learned so much about myself and what I want out of a relationship in general these past few months (the last few days especially).

I never understood before why people would say that best friends make the best boyfriends. I always responded with, "but if you don't work out, you've lost a friend." I now see that all those people were right. You really do need that friendship foundation in place first. For example, near the end of the relationship I realized that I wasn't myself around him and wasn't comfortable speaking freely. Not only that, but I didn't like the person I became. It wasn't me. But if you are able to be friends with the person before all of the physical factors and tension come into the picture, I imagine that it would make everything that much easier because you'd already know that you can be yourself and that the potential-significant-other would still accept you. Another reason why forming a friendship first is such a good idea is because I've noticed that when you're so caught up in the moment and the thrill of it all, you don't see the person clearly. You subconsciously try so hard to make everything about the person perfect that you overlook the things about them that don't necessarily compliment your personality.

I always thought of myself as a mature person for my age. But looking back, I realize that my attitude towards relationships was very, very immature. I would see a cute boy and decide I liked him purely based on physical aspects. I always knew that relationships were deeper than that, but as someone who had never really gotten to that point in a relationship, it was hard to relate. I've discovered now that if there isn't any sort of mental, or rather intellectual, connection and if you can't bounce ideas off of each other or ever talk about anything of significance, it really doesn't matter how good-looking the person is. You reach a point where you crave something deeper that no amount of charming smiles can fulfill.

I probably sound extremely naive right now, but I don't mind because I know that I have learned so much. And don't worry, I realize that most of my comments were purely speculative. One day I'll look back and roll my eyes at what I've just written. I just feel the need to write this down because my perspective has been dramatically altered. I guess this post was more for me to vent and get all of my ideas out, so I apologize to all of you who sat through it. I also apologize if I divulged too much personal information.

Christmas with the Kerrs

I feel I should explain why I'm publishing two seperate posts within an hour of each other. These following paragraphs were originally going to be attached to the bottom of the previous post, but I decided that that would make the post too long. Also, I figured the moods of the posts were different enough that they warranted separate postings (goodness, how many times can I use variants of the word "post" in a paragraph?). Either way, I figured I should publish something concerning the events of my Christmas day, so here we go.

I've often heard that "Christmas in the northwest is a gift God wrapped in green." Well, this year He decided to go a little more monochromatic (maybe He was trying to save on wrapping paper, but I don't know). As a result, I officially experienced my first (to my recollection anyways) white Christmas...ever. It only took about nineteen years and probably would have been more awe-inspiring about a decade ago when I wasn't as concerned with the condition of the roads, but I thoroughly enjoyed it none the less.

Christmas Eve night, the four of us (Mom, Dad, Jadon, and myself) did the traditional Christmas Eve program despite our smaller-than-average numbers (with all the siblings, spouses, and grandchildren, we usually have a group of around 22 people, so four is a ridiculously small number in comparison). We told the story of the nativity, sang Christmas hymns, and even did a little pajama hunt. Afterwards, at my dad's request, we watched Mr. Kruger's Christmas starring James Stewart. Despite its great message and happy ending, that movie always makes me sad (why won't anyone wish him a "Merry Christmas" back and why won't the carolers stay and drink hot chocolate with him?!?). Anyways, Jenni, Dane, Nyah, and Aislynne arrived shortly afterwards and spent the night so they were here to celebrate Christmas morning with us. After the traditional Christmas breakfast and opening of presents, we had a great day lounging around the house in our Christmas pajamas. In the afternoon, Dane and I played Guitar Hero (a Christmas gift from my parents to “the family”) and then we all watched Fred Claus (one of my Christmas gifts and an awesome movie by the way. I highly recommend it to anyone who hasn't seen it). Throughout the course of the day, I also got to speak to Jeremy, TJ, Katie, Jon, Tara, Adalyn, Kelli, and Kassie, so that just made an already great Christmas even better. It was so nice to be home and to get to spend the holiday with family.

Merry Christ's Mass

I know the cliché of the season is to redirect attention from the gift receiving and focus it on the gift giving and other religious aspects, but bear with me (I have a few thoughts and what is the purpose of a blog if not to share them?).

Last year in my theatre history class, I discovered the origin of the term 'Christmas'. I had always realized that the key root word was Christ, but where the 'mas' part came from had always eluded me. Well, while studying medieval theatre (a time focused around religious works) I learned that Christmas was originally referred to as Christ's Mass in reference to the gathering of people for religious ceremonies, more specifically the nativity recreation, performed during the winter solstice.

Even though the holiday is coming to a close, I always think it's nice to use the final twilight hours to reflect on why these past few days were important in the first place. While the buzz fades and children calm, rather than fixating on the people who have been rude and harassed us this holiday season, remember the person we are suppose to be celebrating today and his sacrifice for us (and the sacrifice of His father). I know I've passed into the realm of corniness already and desperately need to step down from my soap box, but I would like to include the lyrics to one of my favorite Christmas hymns (the third and fourth verses more specifically).

'I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day'

And in despair I bowed my head
"There is no peace on Earth," I said
“For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on Earth, good will to men”

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep
"God is not dead nor doth he sleep
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail
With peace on Earth, good will to men"

No place like home...

Apparently all the promises of updating my blog on a semi-regular basis were worth "diddly-squat" because this is the second time I that went for a month in between posts. I blame it on my frantic life the last few weeks. O well, better late then never.

Finals ended yesterday, and I could not be more relieved. Honestly, I was ready for the semester to be over half way through September (which is never a good sign). It's hard for me to stay motivated when all of my classes are general requirements, have nothing to go with my major, and aren't extremely fascinating in the first place. Don't get me wrong, I love learning new things (it makes me feel accomplished), but there are days when I'd much rather stay in bed. At the beginning of finals, my roommate and I were discussing how attitudes change as the semester progresses. At the beginning, everyone is gun-ho, has a great attitude, and constantly talks about how this is going to be their best semester yet; they'll work hard and get +100% in all their classes. By the end of the semester, however, you see students, all of whom have dark circles under their eyes, walking across campus with their heads down and arms overflowing with thick textbooks (and I swear I saw one guy actually crying). The motto of choice among students changes from "I'm going to do my absolute best" to "I just want to pass the class and get it over and done with." College just does that to you I guess. Anyways, like I said before, I'm glad that finals are over, but I can't stop worrying about how I did and whether or not I'll get a satisfactory grade. I keep reviewing the week's assignments in my head (two tests and four papers which collectively equaled a total of thirty-five pages) and obsessing over what I could have and should have done differently to improve my scores. It's a good thing that I'm now home and have family to distract me.

The drive home was pretty exciting as well. My sister, Kassie, and her husband are moving to Seattle over the Christmas break, so I drove with her from Utah to Washington. It's been snowing in both states (and pretty much every state in between) the last few days, however, so my mom convinced my dad to fly to Utah and drive with my sister and myself back home (the poor guy ended up driving us the whole way despite our intention to switch off). We left Friday around one in the afternoon and made it home around two in the afternoon on Saturday. Luckily, the roads weren't too bad (despite the snow) and we thoroughly enjoyed our time together. Before we realized Dad would be joining us, Kassie and I had made plans to listen to music and sing along the whole way home. Not willing to part from the original plan, we simply informed Dad that he would have to put up with it. So, while driving through the mountain passes, we listened to the Carpenters, Christmas in the Northwest, and various Muse songs. Dad was such a trooper, and I secretly think he enjoyed it. I even got him to sing along with me and Kassie on a few Elvis songs. When we weren't listening to/singing along with music, Kassie read John Grisham's "The Summons" out loud to Dad and a sometimes conscious Karma (Kassie has a very soothing voice). I recommend it to anyone looking for a good book.

Anyways, I apologize for verbally vomiting all over the page. It really is amazing how therapeutic blogging is. I really should do it more often. Anyways, the long anticipated moral of the story is simply this: "It's good to be home."