Tuesday, March 10, 2015


Morning, Monkey Mind! Enjoy this chai tea with me while I allow you to swing and swing and pick fleas or whatever it is that you do. Do what you will because this will only last for about twenty minutes! Go!

Twenty minutes: This is how long my "intake interview" was this morning over the phone with BYU's counseling center. The Lord's Campus! The Lord's Counseling Center! The Lord's Intake Interview! It was just a bunch of questions like, "Have you had any head injuries? Are you anxious? Do you hear voices? Do you ever refer to your mind as a monkey? What's the deal with sweaters?" Stuff like that. I answered as sweetly and as honestly as peach pie (because nothing is more honest as pie) and then I was placed on hold for a million months while the lovely interviewer (Tasha Bell! Wonderful name!) checked to see if any of the Lord's counselors fit my needs. They didn't. Buuuuuuut that's okay. Honestly. Honest as peach pie it's okay. Tasha Bell gave me a list of other counselors in the area that may be a better fit. "A better fit." Nothing quite fits me or my monkey mind. I ain't no Cinderella, kid.

Okay! Totally different topic! Well, still on the topic of monkeys. I took a break from this post to impulsively purchase some Kindle books. And guess which book the Lords of Amazon recommended? The Girl With No Name: The Incredible Story of a Child Raised by Monkeys. Like, WTH? That H in WTH does not stand for hell. Hell no! It stands for Howler. What The Howler. A fact about howler monkeys that you MAY have missed in monkey school: To the Mayas of the Classic Period, they were the divine patrons of the artisans, especially scribes and sculptors. They were seen as Gods in some tribes, and the long, sleek tail was worshipped for its beauty. This is also great: Alexander von Humboldt said about howler monkeys, "their eyes, voice, and gait are indicative of melancholy", while John Lloyd Stephens described those at the Maya ruins of Copán as "grave and solemn, almost emotionally wounded, as if officiating as the guardians of consecrated ground". (I just copied and pasted from Wikipedia. Do you think I will get sued for plagariasm? That's not how you spell plagarizzzm, iz it? WTH.)

I don't know why I have such an interest in monkeys lately. Actually, I do know. I spend approximately five hours a week at recess, which means I spend five hours a week talking to 5-year-olds about monkeys and banana pudding. Sometimes we talk about Batman and wolves, but it's usually monkeys and pudding.

So why am I not writing more about pudding? Because pudding was never a divine patron of artisans. It was only the divine patron of creepy ass Cosby and I want to avoid writing about creepy ass TV dads as much as possible. It's possible. Everything is possible. Everything is awesome! (Lego Movie! That song! Always stuck in my head! I blame innocent children for getting songs and monkeys stuck in my head. Go to hell, children! Love you!)

This post was tiresome from the first exclamation, wasn't it? And there were a lot of things I exclaimed. Listen, go take a nap right now. I fully take responsibility for anything you may miss, be it work or recess or intake interviews, while you sleep off my monkey mind nonsense. The only thing I ask is that you not snore. Howl, yes. Snore, no.

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