come a long way, baby.

i'm sitting here. my apartment is messy because i'm an art major and paint everything everywhere. (mostly i paint on the couch when i'm watching endless episodes of the office. a dangerous feat, perhaps, but for what regency's put me through, they deserve paint on their couch.)


it should seem weird to me that this is the last monday i will ever be in an apartment like this with four other roommates. that i just spent my last sunday in a singles ward (hallelujah forever). that my last fnal is wednesday and i'm procrastinating like crazy to go finish the project for it. it doesn't seem weird, though. to be honest, i'm excited. 


i hate change. people who know me know that change usually brings lots of tears and irrational behavior. they know that i set my mind to hating the change and the people involved with it until i'm dead in my grave and beyond. that's how much i hate change and endings. i watched the series finale of that '70s show (and i had probably only seen two episodes total of that series) and i cried. that is how much i hate change and endings. 


but this one? i'm pretty excited. 


i get to live with my family one last time before i become permanent roommates with this guy.

i get to marry him. in the temple. 
i get to work on my art.
i get to have new adventures. crazy scary at times, but the fact that my best friend (the one who lets me make weird noises in public and who lets me be irrational) will be with me makes it better. 


now if you'll excuse me, i need to go get ready so i can finish my project.

alrighty, world. it's 2012.

when the clock struck midnight to 2011, i could feel change in my bones. it resonated. i was done with the old and could feel that 2011 would be my year.

it started out with me facing some demons and getting to a better point in my relationship with myself. hard work, but good work. something that needed to be done.

i know some people say that they know when magical things will be coming their way, but really, how do they know? i'd like to point out that back in the beginning of march on my blog, i felt hope in the air. it was permeable for me. things were going to be changing.

and two days later they did. :) i met parker.

so, when people say they knew magical things were coming in their lives, don't question them. they probably did know. they probably felt it in their bones, like i did. they probably had this cloud of hope swirling around in their brains, filling every crack of their lives with wonder and possibility.

it happened to me.

sketching

i've been thinking a lot about that article i posted on sunday. love chooses us.

basically, what's been running a marathon in my head is how the story is never really over. it's not defined by the small bursts of good stories in the middle. it's created and it's constantly being created.

like today. i was in the wilk. there was a pre-black friday sale in the bookstore, so i'd been jostled around by way too many people looking at board games and overpriced chocolate. i sat in the cougareat and decided to sketch. (mostly because it was during my sketchbook class hour and i was supposed to be sketching.)

this lady and her husband were sitting at the table i decided to sketch. right as i began, she stood up and walked off and i saw her husband sitting there. he was old. not real old, but old. white hair and lots of plaid old.

i sketched him. and his plaid. and as i fell in love with the situation and thought about me and parker when we're in the lots of plaid old stage, his wife came back with two ice cream cones.

one for him. one for her.

and they sat there! eating it together! she in her really big pink sweater and him in his plaid. and i thought, "you've just gotta make every little moment part of your story."

like eating ice cream in the cougareat.
or listening to mat kearney when november weather is happening in august.

read the link. really. read it.

all i needed to know was: love chooses us.

please read it. it's beautiful. you might cry. i did.

november first = rain (the good kind)

something beautiful about today: how the leaves looked collaged on the sidewalk with rain as the glue. and how parker looks when he's really smiling.

to me, being heartbroken always meant being sad because somebody had hurt somebody else. romantically speaking, that is. like that time one winter i thought i loved a boy, and he didn't want me. when he stared through the windshield and shook his head as we drove through abysmal january weather.

he. didn't. want. me.

yeah, pretty heartbreaking.

but now, i think there's a different meaning.
sure, that stuff's heartbreaking. been there, done that, and completely agree with the validity of its hurt. but there's more: there's the heartbreak that happens when you're just living and something as small as driving in the car listening to a mix cd was something you did together (and would still do, if there weren't a few states between you) and you wish on every dandelion seed that had ever been blown that they could be with you at that moment.

but they can't.

and that, dear readers, is heartbreak.






[but the good news? he never looked through a windshield and shook his head that he didn't want me. he can't even drive the car because he doesn't want to let me go.]

here in the fres-yes.

my hair is wet right now. mostly because i don't want to put more heat on it than it already gets. i basically have feathers for hair it's so thin, and it just needs to grow.

turns out i'm in love. you know, the kind where you blast your favorite song on the radio with the windows down, even though it's raining and you're getting soaking wet? yeah. that kind.

who knew, right?

life is lovely. and i've got some new figure drawing books to keep me going for the next little while, not to mention some art classes to keep me busy the next four months while park is in the golden state.

shoot, i'll miss him.

hearts: part IV

It was that time of day in the summer when the air reaches no temperature.

There was a woman sitting next to me whose husband's arm was around her shoulders while this song was playing. Thirty-something years together under their belts. I loved them for it.








And for the fact that because of them, my own shoulders weren't lonely that night.

"you know your mama taught you what to love, but she never taught you how."

-augustana; someone's baby now

[up next: pictures from their concert on wednesday]
[check out the song here. it's wonderful.]

hearts: part II

When I think of Japan I think of my friend, Nae. Not because she has any shred of Japanese blood in her or anything. She's as blond-haired-blue-eyed as they come. But there is someone in her life who is half Japanese, currently serving there for two years.

The day the earthquake hit, she thought for maybe three hours she had lost him forever.

She writes him every week. She waits. Sometimes patiently, and sometimes not patiently but oh, she waits. She's learned Japanese. She's going to Japan. She knows how to cook delicious Japanese magic in the form of food [the names of which are too beautiful for me to remember and slaughter here].

We were in the car, stopped at a red light with the now-summery air blowing through the sunroof when he decided: that is love.







<3

[i loved the less-than-three once
i realized the cleverness behind it.
and what it represented.
heart.]

hearts: part I

I went to a reception on Saturday night. The groom is a friend of mine and he and his wife were shining. They always do, just because they're two of the best people I know, but they were especially glisten-y as I hugged and talked with them. I was with Parker across the cultural hall when they had their first dance.

The groom pushed his wife's wheelchair to the center of the floor. He picked her up in his arms, huge white dress and all. [You could see her turquoise Vans poking out of the tulle. Like those flowers that pop out in spring snow.] Then they danced their own special dance. She cried. I cried. In a conversation later, I decided that is love.











<3

still march-ing

i keep saying that march is a magical month.
[and as it turns out, this one has been especially magical.]
it's magical for various reasons: daffodils. blossoms. green. hope.
and also because, once upon a time twenty-three years ago, a young yank married a british girl.


happy anniversary, parents.

happy (and hopeful) sunday

it's 4 a.m. and i can't sleep.
(4 a.m. is a magical hour in time.)
i was looking around my room and i noticed the christmas present i made for ginger not long ago, which quotes part of a scripture i love. and in french (so i double love it).

"...car l'amour parfait bannit toute crainte."

"...for perfect love casteth out all fear."
moroni 8:16

sometimes that phrase will be a repeating song in my head that i've listened to a hundred times (in both languages), and i always wonder what it could mean.

naturally, perfect love in our heavenly father; perfect love in christ. these kinds of love casteth out fear, for with this perfect love, we have faith. we have faith in them and how they will keep their promises to us and bless us. "fear and faith cannot coexist in our hearts at the same time." we could even turn that around and say that the perfect love they have for us helps to cast out the fear in our lives.

but what about love for other people?
perfect itself doesn't mean what we think it means in society. we've distorted so much what perfect really is: complete. finished. fully developed.*

of course, we can't be perfect in this life. we're human. we make mistakes. that's why we have the atonement to lift us up when we humanly fall. but what about having perfect love?

can we perfectly love our children? our friends? the people we serve? can a husband perfectly love a wife, and vice versa?

and maybe it comes down to this: we can't have perfect love for those people all the time. there will be moments when my dad irritates me and in my imperfect state i say something i regret. there will be moments when my friends break promises and i feel hurt. there will be moments i forget to serve with full purpose of heart.

but can we have it sometimes?
is it possible for us to have perfect love for people?

i feel the very fact that we have the ability to love shows how much god loves us.** and because He's full of so much abounding and abiding love for every one of us individually, and because He's a perfected being, perhaps our love isn't perfect all the time, but has glimpses of perfection. moments where we are closer to heavenly father and jesus christ because we are loving [as much as we can] like they do.

perhaps that's why i love that scripture so much.
because there are so many hopeful things that come from those seven words.










*click on the actual word "perfect." you'll see its definition.
** please read that whole chapter. not because i want to preach to you, but because that chapter fills me with so much hope and happiness i couldn't not tell you to read it.

teaching

i witnessed something magical today.
[or miraculous. either one works.]
i watched forty-some-odd girls come
together in one purpose.

we learned to love.
i could see it.
i could feel it.
and it was wonderful.

bless this gospel
and the relief society.








bless my sisters.

post valentine's day cards

this is what i did at the grandma house on sunday.
excuse poor image quality. i'm no photographer.

it's love. really.

i spent the evening eating homemade quesadillas and cutting out hearts.

although in high school i swore against it i love valentine's day. i love celebrating love. because, although there is no crunchy peanut butter to my strawberry jelly just yet, i love a lot of people. and i am also loved by a lot of people.

love love notes.
-----------------------

i woke up one morning last year and became very aware of my heartbeat. it may have been the one thing i was grateful for that morning. life.

-----------------------

and that time we were sitting on the couch in 374?
you had your arm around me. i could hear your heartbeat. you were keeping me alive.

january is a bad month. toujours.

------------------------

i was sticky from sitting in the ford escort too long.
it was one of those summer days that lingers on your skin.
the sprinklers barraging the door offered no solace, and fernando was playing.

dear andous. i like you. now i'm going to europe.

-------------------------

another january decorated with rain and the prospect of two mix cd's proclaiming independence. you came over in an instant with names at the top of your hit list.

(you don't have to hate him anymore. it's not worth it.)

--------------------------

red heads are lucky for me.

--------------------------

i think that the rain was there for both of us as we stood by the jkb. you told me about your brother. i told you how my heart hurt. we were sort of meant to be friends. both of us artists, unsure about what was going to happen.

[here's a secret: it worked out.]

--------------------------

and i sat on the edge of the blue chair and cried for the millionth time. you said it would be okay. he knew long before you did. let it be.

---------------------------

then you both came out of the house while i was in my sweats, sitting in my car. there was a used tissue in the glove compartment. you both had ties on.

just trust.

----------------------------

happy valentine's day.

today:

i'm eating honey nut cheerios from my obama mug (see below) and thinking about a year ago from this week.

also thinking about 12 days from now.

and also thinking about how much the lord has blessed me with good, solid, wonderful people.

on the art of breakfast and love

i was in and out of sleep during this movie today.
as i was drifting back into nowhere-land, paul varjak spoke these words to holly as he got out of the taxi into the pouring rain.

you know what's wrong with you miss whoever-you-are? you're chicken, you've got no guts. you're afraid to stick out your chin and say, "okay, life's a fact, people do fall in love, people do belong to each other, because that's the only chance anybody's got for real happiness."

whoa.
it stopped me dead in my mental reverie and slapped me in the face.
i can relate.


i needed this.

i'm giddy. still.

enough said.
cross that off the bucket list
(and the 21 list)

more miracles to come

two more miracles from today:
getting to hug see-ya-later to these lovely europeans.
a.k.a. my grandparents