Om Shanti Shanti Shanti

Earlier this summer, my friend Phil asked me if I wanted to get married. When I asked him why, he said he just wondered because I seem so content...meaning content with my life.

My "sister" Beau- an astrology expert- said the other day that he would not have guessed I was a Cancer (other than the fact that I was very nurturing) because I seem emotionally stable unlike many Cancers he knows.

For some reason, those two thoughts popped into my head as I was practicing yoga today. And it happened right after I had this strange experience. The only thing I could equate it to is what I'd imagine a religious experience to be. I literally felt a shift inside my body. I felt something lift away, and I was filled with total bliss. It was amazing. It almost felt like I was high on ecstasy, but it wasn't cloudy & dreamy. It really was ineffible.

I've felt total relaxation on many occasions at the end of yoga when we lie there on the floor doing the savasana (the death pose). And on many occasions I've thought that I could just die right there in peace without any fear or regret. But never have I experienced this total harmony where I felt one with deity. It was weird, but so awesome.

The fact that the experience was followed by those two thoughts made me realize it must be yoga that's giving off that vibe to the people I meet, if that's the way they see me. And I do feel totally content tonight, especially having come home to a mowed lawn & a lovely note from one of my favorite friends in SLC, the HasenPfeffer. (If you haven't heard, I hate yard work, especially mowing, right there next to weeding.)

All the love I sent out to the universe during yoga came right back at me with an angel who mowed my lawn just because I asked... Yoga rocks!

Dumb Rules & Guilt

Work officially starts for me tomorrow. Thought I was going to go in a day early to start the week off on a Monday instead of Tuesday, but can't seem to get myself out of the house. It was such a fun summer, I don't want it to end, even though it has ended. The thought of being around 30 or so grouchy teachers for a week before the kids show up is making me a little depressed.

I don't get it. I always thought teaching & being around kids were the reasons for my youthful looks and my silliness; but other than myself, many of the other teachers I have worked with look so withered, tired, and old, not to mention angry. Perhaps this is why I've never really made friends at work & keep a distance, and probably why most think I'm anti-social, and would be shocked to find out how easily I make friends.

I remember when I first started teaching, I was surrounded by either old timers who couldn't wait to retire (and hated kids) or young people who were those types that never shared their notes at school or ever let you copy their work. It loyally sucked being around downers like that, and so I kept myself away from the lunchroom and hung out with the kids in the playground. I could never understand what the big deal was that my students ran down the hallway ('cause I do sometimes, too) & didn't walk in a straight line like little soldiers, and began to hate all the dumb rules they had in schools. (Don't they remember being kids themselves? I used to wonder.) Of course I've grown up a bit and realize some of those rules are there to keep the kids safe, but I still say most are BS.

Like last year, I had this character in my class whom I adored. He was like a little midget (everyone thought he was a kindergartner even though he was in first grade) & funny as h*ll. He apparently got into a lot of trouble with his teacher the year prior, but with me, he became the star of the class. He wrote crazy, awesome stories after spending a week refusing to use capitals & lower case letters properly (hE thOugGht iT wAs reTarDed tHat hE couLdn't Use thEm aNyway he wAnTed) until I finally got him to understand why it was necessary; and even convinced me to let him stay in during recess with the argument that it was a better use of his time to help me or work on a project than walk around the yard aimlessly since he didn't feel like playing any games. How could I say no to that argument?

He actually became the most popular kid in the entire school because whenever we'd have school performances, he'd do this crazy act (sort of like the Hasen-dance if you watched the video clip on my earlier post). I thought he was hilarious and let him do his thing because otherwise, he would just be this weird looking midget everyone made fun of. But with his antics, he took the attention away from his size & became the rock-star as noted by all the six graders.

Well, I got called into the office and got in trouble for encouraging him. My principal thought Connor, the midget, was acting inappropriately, and ruined the performances when in my opinion, he's what made those boring performances actually enjoyable to watch. And each time we did anything in the auditorium, I was warned to keep him in line. So in order to keep my job, I had to beg Connor to be ordinary. Of course he tried to argue he wasn't hurting anyone (which is the one thing I try to teach them all year with being kind & compassionate), but when he realized I was in trouble, he gave in.

So this brings me to the movie I saw yesterday which also made me depressed: Brideshead Revisited. Not only did it make me depressed, but made me want to move. Had no idea it was going to have such heavy religious repression & guilt splashed all over it. I thought I was going to see a British literary costume drama with the plummy accents & hunky yet so civilized men, but came out feeling punched in the stomach by Catholicism & its lethal weapon. Not just Catholicism (I was baptized Catholic), but just religion in general with its moralizing, which in this movie drives a homosexual character to drink to escape the guilt (which essentially ruins his life) and poisons the love between two other characters.

The movie tried to show a comforting power of faith in midst of its power to destroy; but what I saw was how it manipulated a person into succumbing to what he could only view as comfort in the misery of his guilt-ridden, repressed life, or rather life full of lies and half truths. I see it all around me, especially in this State where most call themselves Mormon and "follow" the rules of their church. I've met quite a few gay men who are "trying" not to be gay, which is so sad because the church they love is telling them who they are is wrong. I know it's not just the Mormons, and this happens in most religions and cultures, but that's just it. All organized religions seem to say, our way is the right way, keeping people out who are different rather than embracing everyone for who they are.

So today I wonder if I want to live and work in a city where so many either live a repressed life because they've been told it's living in sin to drink, masterbate, have sex, be gay, etc. or live a life of half truths because they have to hide their lifestyle to their family. I know it's not all black and white, and am probably reacting to this so strongly because I, myself, was raised in a religious family; but do I want to raise my future kids in a city where they "marinate" because having premarital sex is wrong & beat themselves up for masterbating? Do I want them to be around kids who habitually lie & hide their true selves b/c their religious family will judge them?

Who makes up these dumb rules & why do they brainwash young kids into believing that so many things are sinful that they live in frustration & guilt? I just can't seem to help but grapple with this aspect of religion which keeps me away & makes me want to withdraw from it completely.

My New Little Sister

I always envied my friends who had sisters. They always seem to have secrets, tell each other everything, go shopping together, gab all day, and just do lots of things together you can't really do with a brother.

Don't get me wrong, having been a tomboy as a kid, it was awesome having a little brother you could have sword fights with, skateboard with, and just run around with, with all the boys in the neighborhood. But when I got a little older, I envied my friends who could talk about boys, clothes, and sex with their sisters.

On the other hand, it's probably good I didn't have a sister because one thing I couldn't stand about girls growing up was how catty they were. Probably why I didn't have too many girl friends & enjoyed the company of boys much more.

But as so many good things seem to come my way here in SLC, I've found myself a sister...except he's a boy. His name is Beau. I love him. We have so much fun, when we hang out, we can't stop gabbing. We talk and talk and talk about everything, including sex; and I give him lots and lots of advice because he's 28 & Mormon, and you know what that means.

We talk about all the girls he meets as he is a lady's man (look at his pictures, what girl wouldn't fall for him), we go shopping together for kitchenwares because we both love to cook (he went to a culinary institute), we play music together (he's a fabulous musician), and we decorate together because we both have an innate talent for interior design. It can be exhausting, believe me, but he is so adorable, I can't stop gushing over him.

April & Eve, my two friends here who are sisters have a Sisters' Night every Monday. They meet after work, just the two of them, have dinner and do what sisters do, I imagine- tell secrets and gab all night. Well, I'm no longer jealous, because I'm going to have my own sisters' night with Beau, my new adopted boy-sister.

My Little Babes

It's a miracle. My little farm has produced edible goodies. Didn't think it was going to happen, especially after I was told by a self-proclaimed expert backyard farmer, Miles, that I wasn't watering enough. "Look at the leaves," he had said, "How could you not know you weren't watering enough? They're dying!" Well, frankly, I hadn't been going out there to even notice. It was too hot, even in my air-conditioned house. Why the h*ll would I go outside? Plus I had a new toy to play with- my piano.

Well, it finally cooled down yesterday... a breezy 85 degrees. It felt like fall, almost, so I ventured out to the back. Oh, I do have such lovely yard...too bad it's so hot here in the summer. I walked over to the little patch of farm to see how the leaves were doing, and I noticed something red. OMG, is that a tomato!? Yes, it was a tomato, bright red tomato! My own little tomato, and I found another one right behind it. I jumped up and down in excitement, almost falling off the ledge, and looked closer at the other plants. (My organic farm is separated by a small wall where I have to stand to look at the plants.)

OMG, I've got peppers, too! Oh sh*t, why did I plant so many? I thought one plant would yield about six at the most. Oh no, there's about thirty on each plant! Wait, what were they again? I had to dig around the ground to find the little plaque to figure out what kind of peppers I had planted. They were Anaheim Chiles. What am I going to do with all of these? Why didn't someone tell me I didn't need to plant so many? That Shane, some help he is!

Anyway, after the mini-drama I had in my head over all the wrong things I had planted, I proceeded to walk around the farm & found one watermelon, one eggplant, one jalapeno, two ripe cherry tomatoes, dead cucumbers, dead corn, and lots of green tomatoes hanging from the vine...is it called a vine? I couldn't help but smile looking at all my organics. No pesticides, not even any fertilizer or plant food, and I had myself my own fresh farm produce. I felt like a proud parent, even though I neglected them most of the time they were fighting to survive.

Now I understand why people do this every year, and kind of understand why people have kids. It's a lot of work & a pain in the behind, and at times you neglect them just out of pure frustration...but when they start maturing a bit & start looking like what they were meant to be, they're just so beautiful. Wow, I think I just grew up a little, maybe... I think my veggie garden helped me understand that having children is not the end of the world, as I had always thought. Oh my, am I finally ready for a conventional life of marriage and family? Oh no, what has Utah done to me?

But I so do hate the conventional...hmm, we'll see what unfolds.

the Manifester

About a year ago, I got it in my head that I wanted a Steinway. For those of you unfamiliar, Steinway is the Rolls-Royce of pianos, I would imagine, or a Bentley or whatever people seem to believe is the top-of-the-line car of the century these days. And if you know me at all, you know I'm not into brand names, and could care less what the logo says as long as it does what it's supposed to do without breaking apart in a week. I even get embarrassed and definitely have the middle-class guilt when it comes to owning nice things... probably why I gave away my BMW even though it drove stupendously. I even put out a disclaimer when people come over to my house for the first time, "Don't judge me for how my place looks. It's just a byproduct of how I was raised, but I'd be happier living in a trailer."

However, when it comes to musical instruments, I can't help but want the best. It's not a pair of jeans or a mass produced factory made product, (well in some cases, yes) but a work of art, crafted to sound just perfect in the hands of a talented musician (...and especially for those of us not as gifted because then whatever you play ends up sounding so much better.) The Steinways are built by hand, and it takes about a year to build this masterpiece. They've been doing it, I believe, since 1853.

Anyway, I had gotten into playing the guitar last year, and it subsequently got me into wanting to play the piano I used to hate as a kid. (I was tortured into playing two hours a day from age 5 to 10 until I escaped the Korean regime and fled to the States.) The painful memories of sitting in front of the giant black torture device while my brother & my friends played outside had finally eased up, and I actually wanted the monster back in my house. (I do have an electric piano, but it's just not the same.)

So I found a Steinway Dealership that sells these quality instruments and I went from one grand to the next like a kid in a candy store playing the only music I still knew how to play: Beethoven's Piano sonata No. 8 or part of it, anyway. Then came over the salesperson with the bad news. Fifty grand for the baby grand. $50,000!? I left the store, deflated.

Finish the remodel of the house or buy a Steinway? It was a tough decision, but in the end, my practical side won over and I shelved my dream of owning a Steinway. But as I always do when I badly want something, I pictured it in my house even though I knew I couldn't afford one on my teacher's salary.

Well, about a month ago, I got a phone call from my mom. Her friend was selling a used Steinway and wanted to know if I was still interested. $25,000, she said. "Mom, my birthday is coming up & I haven't made you waste money on a wedding...how about a piano?" She didn't think that was amusing. (My mom's been wanting me to get married since I was in my early twenties. She thinks I'm waiting for her to die so I can marry whomever I want.) She said if I got married, she'd buy me one. Seriously, here I am finally telling her I want to play the piano, something she's been wanting me to do all my life, and she dangles the marriage bit. I swear, nothing is free in life. People always seem to want something in exchange for whatever they're giving away...even your own parents.

Anyway, I finally convinced her to loan me the money, and got myself that sweet baby grand. (And Hasen, the only friend who was excited for me with this purchase, also gave me a fabulous idea for paying my parents back- my inheritance!) The piano came all the way from Chicago, so it needed tuning. I waited a month for this guy because he's the Master Tuner of all the notable Steinways in the city. He finally showed up this morning, and guess what? The piano's worth $35,000. Not only did I get the piano I wanted by visualizing it in my house, I made 10 grand in a month! How fantastic is that!?

So I've come to really believe what my friend, Lauren said about me. She said I was a manifester, and I think I really am. She said in the year she's known me, whatever I've said I really wanted in my life, I've gotten. And looking back on my life, I think she is absolutely right. It's not a wish thing, it's more of a concrete thing where I say I want this & I'm going to get it. How do you think I got my job, my house, and ended up in SLC? Try it. I don't think it's just me. I think anyone can do it.

I'm a Man, Apparently...

So I decided to be real "good" and didn't have a lick of alcohol last night, even though everyone else was boozing it up. Of course, all the ladies at the toenail party gave me a hard time about turning Mormon on them; or rather saving myself to party with the Mormons, instead. But I stuck to my guns and came home sober at 11 pm. I had decided I was going to cut down on my drinking...plus, I was saving myself for the possible debauchery tonight at the Trapp Door. (Not sure anymore though, as I've gotten no sleep. I bet the toenail ladies put a curse on me after I left. Tekoa does have a voodoo doll.)

My plans for a good night sleep (so I could rip the dance floor tonight) backfired on me. I guess my body's just not used to going to sleep sober these days, and I freakin' woke up at 6:30 and couldn't go back to sleep. So what can you do at 6:30 in the morning, especially now that I have a roommate? Not much. So I sat in front of my computer and started reading my friend, Christy's blog from the beginning as she takes some awesome pictures and writes funny captions to go along with 'em.

That's when I stumbled upon this thing called Celebrity Collage by MyHeritage.com. You can upload a photo of yourself, and it matches your face to celebrities. How fun! So I started out by uploading the profile picture I have on this blog page, which my friend, Kimon took with his amazing camera at the library when he came to visit. I like it because I think I look mischievous.

Well, what d'ya know...I'm White. I knew it! Even my own family called me a Whitey when I was little because I had red hair & freckles, and that list of Stuff White People Like is so me in so many ways.

Take a look:

But I had to try another one. This time it's me playing around with my photo-booth on my computer a few months ago.

That's more like it. It finally recognized that I am indeed Asian. I don't know who Matsu Takako is, but she's hot and she's Japanese. No wonder people talk to me in Japanese when I visit Korea. In case you didn't know, I'm not White nor am I Japanese. (Nor Chinese to those of you in Utah.) From what I've been told, I'm a descendant of the founder & the first king of the Joseon Dynasty in Korea.

I don't know. I still wasn't convinced. These chics are way too hot. So I tried another picture. That's me right now, messy bed-head, shiny face from the night cream I put on before going to bed (hey, how do you think I stay looking so young!?), all puffy and look what it turned up...

I'm a man. No wonder I get hot for girls when I'm drunk. That's my uninhibited male side coming out. Hmm...could this be why I like skinny, pretty boys in real life?

Family Ties

It had been a while since we were all together at Chris & Cassie's. Andrew was out of the hospital, Jake's new girlfriend was out of town which meant Jake was back with us again, and Hasen-Beau were gone so I was present. We were all there, and it was just our old gang again (except for this one lady from St. George not too many of us knew).

As much as all the fun I've been having with my new friends lately, there was definitely a sense of familiarity & sort of a coming home feeling to the evening, like the way it felt when I used to go home for the holidays in college. It was like being with my family again and realizing how much I adore & missed being with them all, even though I've been neglecting them a bit with the excitement of being around the Logan crowd.

To top it off, Chris showed us a bunch of Youtube clips of sitcoms we used to watch as kids, and we all sang along. (Punky Brewster, Family Ties, Silver Spoons, Growing Pains, Alf, the Wonder Years, Different Strokes, Small Wonder, Mr. Belvedere, Who's the Boss, etc.) We ooh-ed & ahh-ed over all the great shows commenting on how they don't make tunes like that anymore. I must admit, I got a little teary-eyed singing along to Family Ties because I was surrounded by people who love me the most in SLC - my family, my true A-team.

Crazy or Brilliant? Does it matter?

As most of you know, I've been teaching for a long time. Over the years, I've taught hundreds of kids, and each year there's always a kid or two who leave a lasting impression. These are the kids I'm forewarned about...the kids nobody wants because they were horrible the year before. They have a reputation before I ever meet them, and lucky for me, they seem to always end up in my class. Having always been the youngest teacher or the newest teacher in school, I'm blessed with these little monsters who spent most of their prior years hanging out alone in the hallway because they were kicked out of their kindergarten or 1st grade class for being naughty & disrespectful.

The crazy thing is, these are the kids who make my days teaching so much fun. As much as I want to strangle them at times, they are the ones who entertain and challenge me. I'm fascinated by the way their mind works, and as exhausting as their antics can get, it keeps me on my toes, and they help me to become a better teacher. I learn to be more tolerant and learn to be in awe of how different people's brain works. And usually, these are the kids who are brilliant with a mind of their own & these are the kids who question rules they are told to follow. They usually end up being the sweetest and most loving (even though they don't appear to be on the outside) and they excel in my class because I let them be who they were meant to be.

I have a friend who reminds me of one of these kids. And the reason I'm writing this post is because I just found a copy of an online chat he had with a gear expert at Backcountry.com. (I had to print it out because it was so outrageously funny.) His name is Hasen (pronounced /haw-sin/). He's crazy...but oddly, brilliant. About two months ago, he and my other friends Matt and Phil (who's also weird & talented) came over for dinner. We spent the evening hanging out, talking and playing music. We were up in my bedroom/loft playing piano & guitar while Phil tinkered on my computer. It was a pleasant evening, nothing out of the ordinary, just me getting to know the boys a little better since they were all fairly new friends.

Next morning, I remembered I'd forgotten to turn off the computer. So I went over to my desk and clicked on the mouse to shut it off & noticed an on-line chat screen still open. This is what I found:

Chat information. One moment please while we route you to a gear expert. You're currently number 1 in queue. Like hot deals on gear? Check out www.steepandcheap.com & www.whiskeymilitia.com for killer deals on the best gear on the planet. We'll be right with you.

Thanks for holding. Chat Information. Thanks for contacting us. My name is JJ, how can I help you?

Jason: I'm looking for something that can hold a lot of milk. (That's my friend Hasen. So you know, he doesn't own dogs, not even one.)
Jason: Like, a lot. I have 2 St. Bernard dogs that come camping with me and I need to feed them tons of milk.
JJ: Ok
Jason: They slurp it down like water but the other problem is carrying that much on the trail.
JJ: Let me see what we have.
Jason: Ok.
Jason: They won't drink water, it has to be milk. So it has to be lactose friendly.
JJ: MSR Dromedary Bags - click here
JJ: We have that available in a large 10L size.
Jason: Is that one lactose friendly?
Jason: Is that one alright? What's the diff between a camel and a dromedary? Is dromedary milk?
Jason: Wait, hold on, dromedary is just the name.
JJ: Yes, that is the name of the bag.
Jason: I can put any milk I want in it, right?
JJ. Yes
Jason: Got it.
Jason: So...how do I carry that thing?
JJ: You could just close it up and put it in your pack.
Jason: It's not its own backpack?
JJ: No, it is not.
Jason: Ok.
JJ: Would you rather have a backpack style, those come with a smaller capacity, usually max of around 3L.
Jason: How do I get my dogs to drink out of those? Some sort of dog straw or something? Or I could just pour it into a small dent in the ground or just bring a bowl...
Jason: But they would fight over it and they're big.
JJ: Ruffwear Quencher Cinch Top Dog Bowl- click here
Jason: And it's scary as heck when they fight.
JJ: That is a great portable bowl.
Jason: Oh.
JJ: You could get 2 of those and they will fold up small for you.
JJ: Mountainsmith Dog Trippin' Kit - click here
Jason: I could separate the dogs and tie them to a tree so they can't fight, but then they'd just cry.
Jason: One time the one, Jarb Honey, bit me cuz he got pissed at me.
JJ: That is a pretty cool kit with the bowl, food dish, bed, and dog pack so they could carry their own milk too.
Jason: No shit? Let me look at it real quick.
JJ: Ya, pretty cool, I'd always make my boy carry his own food if he wanted to come with .
Jason: Cool. My dogs are gonna be lovin that leche.
Jason: That means milk.
JJ: Nice
JJ: Let me know if I can help with anything else.
Chat Information Thanks for chatting with us today.

(I wonder what JJ was thinking chatting with Hasen.)

The thing is, I don't think any of us knew he was having this on-line chat while we hung out. When in god's name did he do this, and why in god's name did he decide to query about a leche bowl for his imaginary dogs in the middle of us hanging out, I'll never know. But like I said, it's fascinating to be around people like him, and I bet he was loathed and loved by his teachers, depending on how crazy they were themselves.

Watch him dance:

Little Miss Molly

Just had a little visitor. Normally when people knock on my door, I duck & hide. (My front door has glass panes & you can see in.) I can never say no when they want me to buy something or sign up for a "good" cause, so I've resorted to hiding. Also, you never know if it's going to be a Jehovah's Witness or a Mormon Missionary trying to give out stuff for me to read. Last time, it took me four months to get rid of the Book of Mormon this guy left me. Didn't want to throw it away & I couldn't get anyone I know to take it.

I've also tried pretending to be Chinese not speaking any English or broken English at least, but that never works because I'm awful at it. I should take lessons from Hasen since he's so good. Speaks to me with the oriental accent when he thinks I'm having a difficult time understanding him. So rude. (He doesn't get that it might have something to do with him talking 100 miles per hour.) Anyway, I inevitably end up laughing or turning bright red from being embarrassed & feeling guilty.

That reminds me of this time I was at the beach with a friend of mine. This creepy looking dude (okay, not creepy, but no matter how hot they are, I hate being approached at the beach...don't ask me why) came over to us. I was laying on my stomach so it was my friend who ended up talking to him. Since I wasn't participating in the conversation, the guy says, "Your friend's really quiet," to which my friend Grace replies, "Oh, she's a foreign exchange student from China. She doesn't speak much English. I'm in the Chinese class she TA's in." I had to put my hand over my mouth so I wouldn't bust out laughing.

Dude: Oh, so you speak Chinese?
Grace: A little. Enough to hang out with her.
D: Will you tell her I think she's beautiful?
G: Sure. To me, "#$%^&*()__)(*&^%$%^&*"

To which I can't help but bust up with my hands over my face.

G: She's shy, but I think she's flattered. Look at her turning red and giggling.
D: What's her name?
G: Sheshuan.
D: Hm, Sheshuan. Does she have a boyfriend?
G: Not that I know of. Why don't you talk to her? She understand a little.

D: YOU HAVE A BEAUTIFUL NAME!
(Why do we all yell when someone doesn't speak English. I find myself doing the same thing...it's not like they're deaf.)
Me: Thank you, (with the best foreign sounding accent I could muster up.)
D: YOU SPEAK VERY WELL! I DON'T DETECT AN ACCENT! WOULD YOU LIKE TO GO OUT ON A DATE SOMETIME?

I look over to my friend who's sitting there with a straight face. I wanted to kill her for putting me on the spot & as funny as it was watching her speak to me in "Chinese" I started to feel guilty. She pretended to interpret for me with a few more @#$%^&*($#$%^&* and finally told the guy that I had a man waiting for me in China.

Sorry, went on a tangent. Back to my little visitor.

The knock on my door was strong. I knelt to the floor up on my loft and crawled over to the short wall. I slowly moved my head up so I could peek below without them seeing me, but couldn't make out anyone. Then the knock, again. It had to be a dwarf. A kid couldn't knock that hard. I was curious to see what the dwarf may be selling and ran downstairs. When I opened the door, there stood Molly, a cute little red head with freckles- a student of mine from this past year. She stood there with her arms out with a large card she had made for me in her cute little hands. (Have no idea how she knocked so hard.)

Molly had missed me as much as I've been missing her and stopped by with her grandma to say hello. I picked her up and twirled her around and we hugged for a long time. She and I were all smiles and I listened to her as she timidly told me what she's been up to all summer. (Kids get weird when they see you outside of school...hence the timidness.) Sadly, her family is moving to Red Lodge, Montana so her dad can manage the ski resort up there. (And she had promised to teach me how to ski next season so I wouldn't get stuck on a black diamond like I did last year.) I was heartbroken to hear the news, but she assured me she'd come visit.

So that was my little visitor today who came not to sell me anything or talk me into changing my religion, but to just give me lots of love. I miss that about being a kid...just going over to friends' to say hi just because. When did we get so uptight & weird that we have to make appointments to see our friends?