The Christman Family Gene

Am I the only one who thinks that when people become "fans" of things on facebook it's hilarious? Because it says things like, "Jessica Wilson has become a fan of ICECREAM" or something. that's funny to me. Maybe I'm crazy.

I sweat. All the time. No matter the weather. It's cold in my office. My fingertips are cold. seriously. I keep having to curl my hands into fists to make my fingers a little warmer. it's cold outside. I can see my breath. But my armpits are just pumping out sweat. It's disgusting. It's stupid. It's nonsensical. It's just plain wrong.

I just wish it was an everywhere sweat. So that way I'd look like I just took a run. Or a shower. Or went for the Polar Bear plunge.

But I found a good online radio station. And some new music. So, that's good. And I have little to work on. At least, little that pressing. And I bought a 1 lb. bag of jerky. I'm doing pretty well.

Remember that one time?

I just remembered that one time we all decided to make the Union Kroger's parking lot our living room. Remember that? We drove around with a truck bed filled up with chairs and lights and tennis balls and stupid stuff and finally decided to sit in the middle of the Kroger's parking lot, eating bread and A-1 and playing night tennis.

Was that the same night we drove around stealing letters from the Triple Crown signs? Making things say, "sir farton place" and "chill states"?

Or was the night we went to Sarah Zwinklis' party and were there about 10 minutes before the cops started banging on the door and everybody crammed into rooms, and that kid and I went out into the apartment and started cleaning up bottles and flushing everybody else's pot down the sink? That was the night we waited half an hour on the floor, our hearts pounding, before we got up, looked at each other, put our shoes on, and said "screw this." and beat it out the door and down the block to the truck.

Dude. High school was awesome.

I can't wait

I can't wait for Kentucky. I can't wait to drive down the back roads and see all the hills and be warm with all those people I miss so much. I can't wait for Christmas morning and Christmas time, when everybody is wonderful to each other. I can't wait to see my sisters. I can't wait to bitch at Brady. I can't wait to stay up all night with people I haven't seen in months. It'll be the best moment of my life.

Oh yeah

I forgot to update this awhile ago. I went and saw Mamma Mia about two weeks ago...







Best tampon commercial I've ever seen.

I thought I told you...

"I'd like to ask your help. For all the people in the cheaper seats, please clap your hands And the rest of you, just rattle your jewelry."- John Lennon


I woke up today at every 9 minute interval starting between 7 and 10:30. I've always wondered why my peculiar alarm seems to think 9 minutes is the perfect snooze amount. 9 minutes. It's like it's trying to trick me by not giving me the full ten. And it's one that increases in volume until it's shrieking at you and you're awake. I love my alarm. I sleep through it every day.

I'm at work now. I like my job. I ended up writing about 1200 words yesterday. I track my daily progress based on words. It's like I get paid by wpm. I worked 5 hours yesterday. 1200 words, 300 minutes. I typed 4 words a minute. Based on actual work content, if I were to put that on a 100% scale and figure out how much money I should make based on my productivity, then I'd make .34 cents an hour. Which... maybe I deserve...

I put more time and thought into this post than into an entire shoot yesterday. All I can do anymore is dream about making my own movies or writing my own things. I want to take a screenplay class. Next semester.

I'm out of film. I have too many rolls of film to develop. I want to go home for christmas sooner. I'm Done-tello.

I need some new pants

These pants that I have, all of them. They don't fit anymore. Nothing I own fits me.

Writing things is hard. I used to write somewhere around 1700 words a day when I'd work on scripts. Now I can only hit around 800. I'm too used to documentaries. I've been working almost non-stop on one about Janice Kapp Perry. I now know more about her life than I do my own. I keep substituting her memories for mine. Like the time Doug and I lived in California for 15 months and we'd go to 50 cent movies on the boardwalk two blocks away. Then I got pregnant. Wait...

But I'm glad I have the faith, and I'm glad I'm going to school. I'm glad I'm not a bum. That was my main goal a few weeks ago. I never told anyone. Now that I'm over that stage, I'm telling you. I wanted to be a bum. But I think I'm over that. It's cold now.

Do I have any insights? No. I don't think I do. I signed up for my classes. I'm taking 17 hours.

Here's my schedule:

monday: on campus from 8-3
tuesday: on campus from 8-9. Work until 5
wednesday: on campus from 8-3
thursday: on campus from 8-9. Work until 5
friday: on campus from 9-1. work until 5.

8-5's everyday. It's like a real job. I can't wait until summer when I can work 80 hours every two weeks. It's like this most delicious dream. Because it means lots of money. Then I can take most of the summer off and pay off my car insurance and everybody is happy.

That's too far in the future. time to write some more. stay in the present.

This is a bullet from a gun called what the fu

I'm loving Mason Jennings anymore. He's perfect Utah music. Natalie and I drove up to Heber Valley on sunday and walked around abandoned neighborhoods and looked at mountains and yelled at deer. I like Heber a lot. It reminds me of home. Nothing there, but somehow pretty and wealthy and inhabitable. Plus. Cowboys.

I love "The Dude* Nod."

*dudes herein referred to
do not listen to jack johnson,
wear sandals, or play
ultimate frisbee. they're men


The dude nod. The universal sign of acknowledgement. This event, this phenomenon, is among the greatest social standards in the world. It's practically universal, and it is used to signify one thing:

"I see you and you see me. I'm a bad ass dude. You're a bad ass dude."

That's it. It serves simply to acknowledge the manliness of another man in a silent display of communication. It is an agreement. We will not say hello. We will not talk. If you do talk after a nod, you thereby break the nod and are not a man anymore. Women, when seeing each other, don't understand the dude nod and its complicated feelings. Women must shout and talk and hug and all other manner of reactions when they see their friends or even someone they don't know. Men however judge not when the nod is employed. They simply keep their mouths shut, tilt the head, and revel in the timeless tradition.

It's a mixture of pride and honor to exchange the nod. It's something our fathers, grandfathers, and forefathers employed as a means of manly communication. Scientists speculate that it originated in ancient Germany, coming from the Germanic tribe leaders. While the manliest, most barbaric men were chopping down trees, they often would also be skinning animals. At the same time. And walking back to their harem of women. It is told that the tradition began as one of these busy men was lumbering home, thinking about wood and women, when he met another like warrior on the path. They passed each other, yet too engrossed in all the bad ass stuff they were doing, they both, in a simultaneous display of awesome, nodded to each other in recognition.

Whether or not these highly scientific facts are true or not is irrelevant. The dude nod today exists in all its glory to remind men where they came from and who they are kindred souls with.

For those less informed, (perhaps you grew up in the north and don't truly understand this whole lesson), I've provided a few simple truths about the timeliness and necessity of the dude nod.

Rules:

-While walking or standing in a public place, or even at home, if another familiar or unfamiliar dude comes within your range of sight and you somehow, whether intentional or unintentional, make eye contact, you are to nod either up or down (depending on your ethnicity; multi-ethnic dudes may simply nod to the side if they are currently trying to "figure themselves out").

-If you are approached with a dude nod; if the dude nod is not given by you first, but is indeed prooffered; you must return said nod.

-Do not display emotion or speak during nod.

-If your nod turns into mirth or sadness or hostility, a fight will ensue, or at least hard feelings.

-If you speak, you break the nod rules and are not a man.

-Upon giving and recieving a dude nod, the two parties must look away, as is customary. However, if the space is small or the company poor, the two dudes may take to resuming looking about the room and may catch eye contact once or twice more. From the point of the initial nod, however, no further subsequent nods are required and the dudes may ignore each other as they had originally intended in the first place.

Situations Where the Nod is Not Acceptable:

-If you are in a fight with your girlfriend. Do not exchange the nod to another dude while you are engaged in a fight with your girlfriend. It may give her leverage ("you're not even paying attention, nag nag... etc"), attract the attention of a dude who wants your woman, or could allow you to lose concentration and therefore lose the fight. This is strongly suggested against, and may result in pain, physical or pussy-heartfelt kind.

-When the dude is a woman.

-When a woman looks like a dude and you get confused (this is acceptable, but strongly advised against)

-When you've been hitting on another dude's girlfriend. That will result in a tussel. And the dude who's dignity has been challenged will win, as is established by the Laws of Manliness.

Situations Where the Nod is Greatly Appreciated and Encouraged:

-When you're getting arrested. Nothing spells totally awesome dude like a guy getting arrested. Especially if, while being arrested, he takes the time to give the nod to some bystander. Totally diginified. Even if he has no shirt on.

-When drunk

-When having sex (in a public place)

-While skydiving

-If you're old

-Everywhere, anytime, and in the right way.


Personally, I love the nod. It connects me, mutually, with those other dudes that I know I don't want to talk to. And they don't want to talk to me. And that's ok. It's just a recognition. It's awesome. Let's all enjoy it.

Oh and don't tell the women about it.

Hollywood House Collects Pogs

Christmas is Coming

Things have gotten colder and darker here. It’s throwing me off a little bit. I’ll get up and go to work, then go to class. By the time I’m done, it’s dark already. It’s annoying. And it’s cold. So I can’t even go sit outside and enjoy the world. I mean. I can. Just I have to GET READY for that and getting ready to enjoy things doesn’t spell enjoyment for me. It spells chore. But oh well. Life is such and I’ll get over it.

I found a free tv last night on the street. I knew it was free when I saw the big duct taped sign that said “FREE” on it. So that was nice. Adam is moving out come December and eric is moving in, but I’m pretty sure none of us besides Adam have a tv. So I got this monster. It’s from the 80’s and reminds me of my youth. Which is good because I’m bringing back my super Nintendo and it’ll be nice to remember how it was when I was 8.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how I’m not creative or talented or accomplished in any way. I felt this way when I was writing at the magazine and I feel the same way now. This job isn’t mine. I didn’t get it. It wasn’t my incredible interviewing technique or my cover letter or anything. I attribute it to the Lord. Because, truly, I’m just not really that good at what I do. I try hard. Because if I don’t, I know I’ll just stop coming to work out of fear of rejection. So I try. But whatever I put out is generally not up to snuff. It makes me think about all the kids who are just a little older than me, and sometimes younger than me, who are currently making everything that I read, listen to, or watch. All the young authors and musicians and advertisers and script writers. I write for people roughly three times my age. They write for me. I think about them and how much responsibility they have and I think about me and my cracker jack job and I’m not depressed or angry at myself for not having accomplished more. I’m just damn impressed.

I’m happy it’s almost Christmas. I got everyone in my family something great so far. I’ve got shopping to do still. I actually have a paying job this year so I’ll be getting thoughtful, beautiful presents for everyone. Hopefully.

Midterms, music, water, and snow. That’s life.

It's novermber?!??

I've been studying a phenomenon. I drink on average about 44 oz of diet coke per day. Aside from it embalming my insides, I noticed that oddly, it was barely making me... uh. energized? I wasn't feeling the 44 oz of caffeine rushing through my blood stream. Most of the time I was just feeling entirely tuckered. It was confusing me. I was very confused. Who wouldn't be? So I tried something I remembered from my childhood.

As a kid I guess I drank a lot of soda. Ok, no I know I drank way too much. I was fat. I didn't care. Who does when they're fat? Nobody. I mean I cared. I worried. I was sad that I was fat. But I didn't care ENOUGH to stop drinking the soda and eating the doritos and not exerecising. Frasier was on. Shut up. So what I used to do was, if I was feeling tired and wanted to not feel tired (this was always true when I didn't feel like going to bed or was staying at a friend's house) was I would drink water. Water water water. At the time I was convinced I was losing weight because of it. Maybe I was, maybe I was just adding water weight. Whatever it was, I was way more awake, alert. I always used to rely on it. But then a funny thing happened. I started to stop drinking soda. Of course, I then lost 50 pounds and felt way better about myself. But the water thing stopped working.

Well this past week I remembered all of this and, on a whim, filled up my 44 oz Super BIG GULP (AHHH ECONOMY SIZE MUTHAAA!!!) with free water from the water coolers here at work (maybe against company policy). Twice (I'm getting fired). And the result? All week, as I've been doing this, I get. Jittery. Alert. Crazy about work. I must complete things. I must work. I must super surf the internet with super surfing energy. I'm so jacked up on caffeine I can't feel my face. I abandoned my family. I live in a basement. A crackhouse basement.

Ok, not that far. But damn I'm full of energy. My assumption? When I drink all that soda and aspartame and caffeine, I dry my body out. I turn into a mysterious "red berry" from Special K red berries before the milk. But when I pump 88 oz of water into my system, all of my blood cells then explode and my heart races. I'm really. Really. Hyper because of it.

My plan of action: unless I want to keep acting like Java Man from Mad TV (that referance is lame and I know it. I'm proud of the way I was raised), I'm going to go back to a big gulp. or maybe a gulp. It's still a discount refill and I'll get just the right amount of energy for my day. Plus a lot of water. And water is good for you. Right?

Ah who am I kidding? I won't change. I'll just let my liver suffer. DIE BODY DIE!!!!