Some enjoyable observations have come my way the past couple of days, so I thought I would break with the tradition of the rant and just share them.

First, I like people who have a positive image of me. These are the people who deserve my attention. Not because they revere me or make me feel like a diva, but because they make me realize I am a better person than some would give me credit for. I thank my first IMM for reminding me that one of my great qualities is that I really do care about people in my odd way. I also wish him lots of love and remind him that he does deserve to be happy. I also thank the one who told me I am never whiny. That meant more to me than I thought it would and far more than most people would believe. I may have to confess that again later.

Another of my fine observations was that truly sweet people do exist. I was walking through a parking lot yesterday, and a girl walking to her car had stopped another car. She informed the driver that she was about to leave, and they should follow her and take her spot. Now this meant the other driver wouldn't be circling like a vulture, which amuses me, but it was also somehow quite sweet.

Today I met our new Institute mascot (in my book). The rain was pouring down. It was dreary outside. I was shaking raindrops from my umbrella. Then I peeked through the glass doors and saw an adorable little girl smiling at me. She looked happy to see me though I had never seen her before. I love the innocence of children. Why do we ever let it go?

"Tell me whom you love, and I'll tell you who you are." ~Creole Proverb

"Love is an act of faith, and whoever is of little faith is also of little love." ~Erich Fromm

I look in the glass, for a moment I see
What I hope you have seen in me
I see a great beauty, whose very smile
Can make you forget for a little while
That this world can hold pain, agony too
I am smiling at me, thinking of you
I want to offer you something unknown
Give you an option no one has shown
But I fear to commit and lose my heart
Give me a sign, tear these walls apart...

Another Monday is slowly fading into the night. I am being observed by my overseers. The white one looks angry. I think he wants to beat my darling Déese to a pulp. Ziggy looks like she is about to discover the meaning of life. If she shares before this entry is done, I will share as well.

The middle of the day brought confirmation that President Monson and Presidents Eyring and Uchtdorf (may be spelled wrong) have accepted their callings into the presidency of the church. I think one the striking features of their press conference was how calm they were and how willing they were to share their personal feelings. I struggle with that, so I find it rather impressive. Another thing I noted was that despite being told up front that the church has no official standings on political matters, a few reporters still tried to slip in questions about their standings. It amazes me how unwilling people can be to listen.

I spent a little time bashing with my tax return this evening. I like to go through it once and then return to it again and check my work. This is how I avoid making some poor person at the IRS shake their head and go, "This Bella Ordena really isn't good at following directions." It is my small contribution to their happiness. After that, I made my way to where the Monday night party always is. We made some delicious marshmallowy treats with one of my other famous hobbits as our guide (he apparently believes I can cook, so I have decided to keep his friendship--hehehe). While enjoying those, we met a young lady who is studying at the great university. I think we'll have to meet again before I give her a spiffy nickname. If you have one, you know that a good nickname must be pondered. In the meantime, I better get some sleep.

And just so you know, someone out there does love you...

to go completely crazy?

It only takes one. Amazing how easy that question was. I am back on the brink of my insanity, peering out at the rest of the world and laughing again at how they perceive me. I laugh because I have the same problem. We view the world through our lens. This is why people question me incessantly about why I haven't done this or that and insist that I haven't even thought of it. I have thought of everything. I can't let my mind go numb and not think about things. I don't leave much to chance.

This is why I accomplished six things last night while squeezing in two hours of television and some time calling people obsessively. Okay, the calls aren't too obsessive. In fact, I still need to talk to those people. I am one of the rare birds that actually cares if my friends are doing well (even if I haven't seen them for years). Can we love someone we can not see? Isn't that what faith is?

Then I wake up in the morning and come to the wonderful world of inefficiency and books. *shakes heads* It amazes me how people make uneducated decisions and then wonder why it doesn't work the way it should. (No, I am not even touching on politics.) Yet it seems to work for those people. Maybe I should just skip over some traditional steps and see where that gets me. Please let me know if you want to know more about that one? Though you might know soon without any effort depending on how my month and motivation go.

Then I tackle the issue of sweet promises. I received an e-mail promising that this my last chance to commemorate my award-winning poem (not a cash award mind you). I can buy this special pin to tell people that my poem is fabulous. Have you read my poetry? I leave it up to you to make your own assessment. I just wish someone would support my poet by sending her some money. Feel free to do so. Maybe it will get her out of my head for a while. She needs to get out and party, too.

For those who didn't pass kindergarten magnum cum laud like myself, I shall briefly remind you of some important lessons we learned there. Actually, it is one lesson that I wish to address. I hope kindergarten has not changed so much that this lesson has been lost since I was a star pupil. The lesson is "Look both ways before you cross the street." How important is this piece of information? It is very important. It is even applicable to other aspects of life such as driving. Let me elaborate. (I know. I know. That's what you have been waiting for.)

I was driving to work today in the yodamobile. I was happily singing along to my music, much to the annoyance of my passenger (seriously, have you heard me sing? Anyway...). I was driving at the posted speed limit for the road or a little slower since that road is known to be rather slick. As I was nearing a driveway, someone decided they could make it out before my car reached that point in the road. To assess how wrong they were, I will illustrate how we ended up. I saw them, so I jerked the wheel to avoid getting slammed into. They apparently saw me at the last second and hit their brakes. I ended up slightly off the road, glaring at a telephone pole (which I did not hit) parallel to them in the other lane and about to enter my lane.

As if I wasn't annoyed enough, my room mate decided to announce, "Good job". Apparently, he was convinced I intended to ram the pole or drive all the way in the ditch. No, all my reflexes told me to give the other car enough space to stop their car without hitting me while not causing anguish to the yodamobile. I succeeded. Maybe I can drive after all. Isn't that a surprise?

I write of things I can not have,
Of requited love to melt the moon
Dragons born to weep for me
A nest of peace about my heart

I write of things I should not dream
Of a world torn asunder by man's deceit
Hearts that beat as one in the fires
Of a time that should not come to pass

I write of what I can not love
Of things unheard and things unsaid
That stem the flow to mortal veins
For we can not teach of things unknown

I write of things I can not speak
When the twilight comes and no bell calls
Me back from a far deeper sleep
And so I write when my eyes close...

I find myself realizing more and more that I am a strange individual. I spend a lot of time trying to maintain connections to people I care about. Why do I bother? It shouldn't be 100% effort on my part. If they were worth the effort, wouldn't they recognize that I am as well. It isn't like it is hard to stay in touch in modern times. I posit that it would be more difficult to be completely cut off (unless one has the special quality of people assuming that another chance is always just around that corner.) What if that chance doesn't exist? What if that car had hit me yesterday? Does any one but me think of this without having to read one of those stories about missing the last chance to say you care in this life?

Of course, we are all concerned with Valentine's Day. What should we buy to show people we care? As I asserted at lunch today, "If people don't know I love them, they just aren't paying attention." Of course, I also have the ones who take my smallest attention as a sign of undying love, giving over my kingdom to their rule, wanting them to remove my virtue, or other such foolishness.

I need me some big blue sugar cubes to jump into. More later?

Friday was a magical evening. One of my friends has left her teens. She is now all grown up. And I had the opportunity to join a bunch of other girls in helping her celebrate that transition. As Casey is a talented cheerleader, we held our ladies' only party in an awesome gym with a huge pit full of blue foam cubes. This means the more graceful ladies were tumbling into the pit. I jumped in a few times which resulted in getting to fight the cubes for my pantyhose and lots of pseudo swimming to get out again. We also ate and did a little karaoke. I did pretty lousy on the PS3 karaoke game, but it's okay because my friends still love me.

Saturday afternoon was spent in a slightly more calming atmosphere. Me and two other members of the Fab Four got together with a mini-fab-fourer and had some Chinese food. We also talked for a while as the wind gently rocked the Explorer.

In the evening, I tried my hand at karaoke again, but that didn't go so well. I sing too low. Who would have thought someone so loud could go unheard? Hmmm. I keep saying that. Maybe I have the wrong perception of my decibel level. I will have to go ponder this.

One of the flaws of being loved during cold and flu season is that one tends to get sick. A lot of the lovely ladies who helped make Friday night so exciting seem to have come down with something. Most of them have probably complained less than me. Of course, I would complain more if I was awake more, but every advantage has its disadvantage. My body has decided to cope with sickness by telling me to hide my head under the covers. Sometimes I think I would like to just stay hidden under the covers and let life pass me by.

Lately, I have found that people feel it is their right to pressure and bully each other unrighteously. One such person keeps attacking me on an online game, knowing I can't attack him back and hope to have an effect unless I use magic. He then tries to shame me into attacking him. I fear I will never understand why people always assume that I am that kind of stupid.

Reflecting on other such instances, I was taken back to a conversation with a dear friend a couple of weeks ago. The topic came up that I basically make it easy for people to take advantage of me. That is one of the flaws of being a good person. Everyone loves a good person, but so few want to be one. I've been called a cynic more times than I can count, but I don't think that I am nearly cynical enough. I still talk to strangers. I still try to help people. I still let people come crawling back into my life though I still have open wounds from our last attempts to co-exist. See what I mean about me being whiny when I am sick?

The cats have been keeping me company. Lil' Guy, in fact, keeps sitting outside my door looking in. He comes in from time to time, but Princess Ziggy quickly shoos him away. She's so charming in the morning when she has her angry face on. Speaking of morning, I think I shall try to accomplish something this morning before my body insists on powering down again.

The world needs more people like me. Why? The world needs more people who want to understand. We have many people who claim to understand, but they just don't get it. It is more of a status symbol to bully people into believing you know it all than just keeping your peace and watching the world go by. I don't know everything, but I want to understand it. I want to know more than I do. I want to experience everything.

This is a good quality to have even when much of what we will experience in this world will make us feel as if we have been gutted. I Don't enjoy watching my friends hurt and ache. I don't enjoy knowing that some of my friends doen't know how absolutely inspiring and wonderful they are. I don't like looking out on a pink and red sea for one day and realizing we feel no obligation to just love each other every moment of every day.

I don't understand a world that requires we give fancy gifts to prove our love. Can you not feel it in a few simple words of appreciation or praise? Can't you feel love washing over you when you stand in a warm breeze and feel it blowing through your hair? Can you not feel love in a sweet smile? Isn't love hidden in the touch of a hand on yours? Isn't love laced through a small act of kindness that is made in a moment and forgotten even faster?

A diva can talk to anyone. She can even talk to herself and people think it is quaint. She can talk to her cats. She can talk to her peers. She can talk to little children on the street. She can even talk to the sexy outfit she is wearing, but it is so much harder to talk with someone. That requires the ability of both parties to listen and process everything that is being said. I think we are training that out of people, but non one really wants to hear about thoughts. They want to hear about action, parties, sexy women, dancing, and even the joy and irony of tape.

Last night was the third annual Ward Valentine's Dinner and Dance. To review the basics, the ward provides a location, lasagna, plastic-ware, some candy, some decorations, and then asks everyone to wear something pretty and bring the fun. This year, our gala was held down in Fairmont. (Since I stopped driving the Omni, I don't seem to go there as much--the yodamobile is only beginning to open its traveling options.)

In fact, the yodamobile and I were so excited about festivities that we showed up a full hour too early to decorate. An hour after that, we began to worry. Half an hour after that, we were surrounded by other members of the set-up crew, but no one with a key had come to let us in. We eventually "broke in". I am not sure how this came to pass because I was busily wishing I had some nice bushes and no dignity. (In other words, some lovely bushes are growing around the Fairmont building.)

We began decorating and assembling food trays. I somehow ended up in charge of decorations. This proved a faulty plan since I would say, "Let's hang these lights here like this" and look over a couple of minutes later to find that the lights were being hung in the wrong place in a totally random way. My communication skills could use some work, or I have to work on making people understand that I am serious. I can't be a comedian all the time. (Saddest statement a girl who shares a birthday with Don Knotts and Robin Williams will ever have to make.)

Then people started filtering in and the party got under way. Each of us wrote our names on an envelope. We posted these envelopes in the wall in the hope of relieving grade school memories by filling everyone's envelopes with cards and love. Some people just resorted to splashing everyone's envelopes and clothes with heart-shaped stickers, but we each have our own way of expressing ourselves. At the end of the evening, I found that I had three envelopes. Apparently, my envelope was hard to find.

We also danced. This may be my most successful dance experience yet. I danced with a total of four guys. I had to ask three of them to dance with me, but they didn't actually run screaming (though I caught one with his coat on). The one who asked me to dance actually got a surprise because as we began our average slow dance, the music got switched and suddenly, we were doing our own style of Latin dancing, which involved me dancing toward him ("maybe I want to dance with you") and away again ("maybe I don't") and some twirling. People love to twirl a hobbit. I was told that the Cleopatra wig made this all very seductive, but I think it may have been the outfit. I shudder to think of some of the pictures that may be hitting the web today, but what else can a diva expect...

Today has proved less exciting. I have cleaned and crafted and now I feel I may need a nap before I tackle proofreading. Maybe I will have something to add after that....

(That's right, I am blogging about my cell phone. The world is coming to an end.)

So my cell phone is the only interesting story I have to offer in the moment. It has been many exotic places from my coat, to my hand, to near my mouth, to in my pocket, to not in my pocket because I have no pocket. It has done all of this with very little ringing and even less notice that I tend to leave the ringer off for personal reasons (I really hate pointless phone calls, particularly about what someone is watching on television or the fact that they are walking from A to B and felt I would want to share the journey).

On Friday, my cell phone followed me to the dance. I felt it might be nice if I made myself available to people getting lost on their way to Fairmont. I am a professional at finding my way to Fairmont even when I don't want to go there. Luckily, no one called as getting to my phone would have been awkward.

So the climax of this story is that I forgot my cell phone in the building. I have no keys to this building, and my magic powers couldn't create one. I decided to wait until Sunday and just claim it then. I also had the novel idea to call my mom and see how obsessions are in her world (yes, I get all my noticeable traits from her). As I was talking to her, she received another call. She hung up to answer it.

When she finally called me back, she informed me that some confused girl had called her. Apparently, this girl claimed that she had found my mother's number at her church in Fairmont. She was about to explain how silly this was when I interrupted, denying her a good rant.

"Actually, that's possible. I have to go call call my cell phone."

I left my mother confused, I fear, but I had a mission. I had to save my cell phone. I scrunched up my nose and squeezed my cell number out of my brain. I called. I waited. A timid male voice responded to the strange ringing.

"Hello?"

"Hi. Who is this?"

He gave me his name.

"Hmm. I don't know you. You have my cell phone."

We then worked out what I already knew. We resolved that my cell phone was in Fairmont. We resolved that he plays basketball. He agreed to leave my cell phone outside the door, and I agreed to drive like the wind to rescue it from any homeless cats who might want the cell phone of a cat lady for bargaining rights (okay, I didn't tell him the last part). I called my mom to tell her I would call back later. I put on my shoes. I drove really really close to the speed limit to Fairmont and back (what is it with people going 60mph on the interstate?)

On my return, I quizzed my mom about her phone call. I found it amusing that the girl who called her was surprised she didn't recognize my mom's name. It's so sweet when they assume they'd know the mom of someone who forgot their cell phone at the church. Maybe in a perfect world...

Is it sad when one knows without a doubt that they can not trust people that love them, simply because those people love them. Maybe I took that moving about shooting divas (with Jennifer Beals) too seriously. Maybe I think too often of singers and other artisans who are attacked verbally or physically by their number one fans for falling short of some unreachable goal.

So I have been ruminating on how to resolve some of our pressing problems. Sometimes we just have to go back to the basics. How many times have I heard that at church? Every time I hear the standard seminary solutions.

It is back again. The biting cold and fluffy white flakes of fear have resumed their dominion. I am not sure how much more of this I can take before I fill up with honey and berries and pass out for the next six weeks.

I defied winter on Sunday, and it allowed me to do so. I didn't wear a coat to church. I just slipped into my tye-dye dress and the pale blue top I like to wear with it, dug out my sandals, slapped on some jewelry and went out into the world. It was actually warm enough to get by with it. I had hope that I would not find myself freezing on Monday, standing next to my car in the snow while the missionaries and my co-hobbits launched snow missiles at each other. I guess I should just be thankful they cleaned the snow off my car for me. (This would be snow that covered my car while I was inside for an hour having my Jeopardy questions critiqued).

It seems like I sit down to write these days and get distracted. I can't seem to stay focused. I need to work on that focus. Part of my goal to make that easier is to finish up some craft projects. I already have about twenty pieces waiting to be sold to lucky buyers. I just don't have the means to take pictures of them so my customers can see what I am offering. I mean, they are made by me, so they are priceless, but I would like to give people a deal and let them pay a reasonable price for my "art". So I bounce between these goals and hope that I will finish at least one of them. I would pick just one, but divas are inclined to have moods, and some days my moods are more conducive to weaving words than weaving cloth...

Last night was another of those long nights. I did not spend it watching the eclipse as I did Wednesday evening. I invited a few people join me in my moon obsession over the phone and internet, but it was Rodney who got snuggle up to me as the red glowing orb was revealed among the patchy clouds.

Last night was the kind of long night where I woke up too often. I would wake up and listen, but no sound broke the stillness. I don't know what woke me. I just know that for a few moments, I felt some peace. Then I recognized the warmth of cats sharing body heat and went back to sleep. I wonder if I was supposed to learn something from those moments. Perhaps, it will come to me.

Okay, so she isn't my daughter, but I know people thought she was when I was walking her around with my brother yesterday. Take that as you will, but I maintain Madelyn is a cutie. She has her daddy's big blue eyes and the family's incredible good looks, so you know she is breaking hearts. She even shares my brother's talent for the sad little pout. She looks down with her lips dropping down and then she peeks up at you out from under her tiny lashes. How can you possibly say "no" to that? Only my brother has mastered that art, since he used to employ the same techniques, he is immune to the incredible power of cute.

Today, I had the opportunity to improve the life of a friend of mine. She informed me she was using Works. Indeed, she was using the most amusing oxymoron ever. I decided to direct her to my dear friend OpenOffice. It is free, fabulous, and fun. I even went so far as to download it and make sure it worked on the evil operating system. I can not type it here. The day has been far too good to me for typing dirty words.

And I say this despite the extreme embarassment of locking my keys in my car. They were retrieved safely, so no worries. I also say this despite the fact that someone in a white pick-up truck decided he needed to be at least a foot and a half in my lane on a road with no give. I have no idea how we avoided a collision. All I know is that I slammed on my brakes and lamented once more that I missed a perfect opportunity to try out the horn of the yodamobile.