From the Beginning.

I've done an overhaul on the look of the blog. It just needed a change.

It's simple now. And when I get the time, I'll probably redo it again so that there's more to it. But for now, I'm happy with it.

Hello again, world!

being a grown-up is stupid.

parker and i are in the process of buying a house (well, condo, but it's something that we'll own, so house is good enough for me). we met with our realtor and this really intimidating lady yesterday and they bombarded us with all this information about titles and house insurance and a warranty and HOA and escrow and blah and blah.

man. what the heck is escrow? honestly. i had to google just now what escrow is, and i still don't get it.

and parker and i got in a spat last night about the title and how confused i was about it and how i was having anxiety attacks thinking about calling all these people (the phone and i have a hateful relationship) and parker was asking me "are you serious?" when i asked if we had to buy the title.

yes. i was serious.
and no. i don't have to buy it.

luckily, the title and title company makes more sense now. escrow will probably always remain a mystery.

it reminds of this scene in gilmore girls.
in fact, that's the first time i heard the word escrow.

it also reminds me of escargot, which i think i'd rather be dealing with than actual escrow.
at least escargot doesn't make me call it.

de la coeur

the last day of summer i bought a book from the byu bookstore: a book about life and the little things this man wrote to his son when he left home. a tangible object portraying the love that he has for his son and what he wants him to know.

today i read, "don't write down anything you don't want someone else to read."

which made me think of this blog.
and you.

you, readers, few as you may be.
you may be someone that i know. well, perhaps.
someone that i don't know.
someone on facebook who decided to be curious (or brave) and click on my blog's link.
someone who stumbled upon this blog luckily (or fatefully).

and i want to talk to you today. all of you. the friend. the acquaintance. the member of my home ward reading this blog. the stranger. this is what i want you to read.

be brave, and have courage. although you may be atheist, agnostic, or anything in between, i believe in god. i believe in a god who loves us. he loves me personally, and i know he loves you personally. and although you may not believe in god, believe that someone, somewhere, knows that you are being taken care of. that you are being watched over. whether through divine intervention, or through the divine intervention of others. you are loved.

this world is a mess. there's no denying it. but there are people like you out there to show the world that morals and ethics haven't disappeared.

don't doubt yourself. it doesn't get you anywhere. you have more potential than you realize (which is advice that i need to take myself).

we're all going through this existence together. help each other. if there's one thing you take from this post, it's this: love. love those around you. love the woman at the grocery store with the crying 3-year-old who's trying to budget out her food for the week. love the man in the metro who is reading his newspaper. he may very well be going through a divorce or losing a loved one and may need a friendly smile or someone to hold the door for him. you never know.

think of your human existence. you have fears. you have a past, a future, and a present. all of these people do as well and they need my help as well as yours to get through. be there for them. remember.

and that, my friends/acquaintances/strangers, is what i want you to know. what i want you to read. take it how it comes. it's not me being self-righteous, egotistical, persuasive. it's me telling you from the deepest pieces of my soul what i want you to know.

what i want you to know that i know.

insomnia revisited

couldn't sleep.
i was experiencing one of those in-between sleeps, where you're mentally aware of everything, but you are sleeping. the fan in my room was abnormally loud tonight. then the second you decide to turn over, you wake up again. not pleasant.

i think it's because the sunburn on my neck is mildly unbearable. that and perhaps the nap i took yesterday. but even with naps, i can usually sleep well.

so here i am. on the couch that is easily more comfortable than my bed. i have ice in a pink sock on my neck, held there by a scarf that whit leigh gave me last wednesday. sort of contemplating life, i guess. which is a really long way to disclaim that anything that formulates from my typing fingers may or may not be logical at this early hour.

i'm kind of thinking about the missionary; whether or not i'll hear back from him, and whether or not it will be a positive response. either way, though, it doesn't really matter. i was justified in writing what i wrote to him last time well, two times ago now and i wouldn't take it back.

kind of thinking about muslim, too. his book is on my coffee table. a little more worse for the wear than when he let me borrow it. for whatever reason, he was in my mind a lot yesterday while i was at church. i let myself relive things that i haven't relived in almost exactly seven months.

what's particularly disheartening about thinking about these two individuals is that i really am content with my life right now. i don't feel like i need a man. i'm happy. i don't feel like i'm missing out on life right now by not being married or in a relationship like so many of my friends and acquaintances from high school. i mean, i'm twenty years old. i've got puh-lenty of time. i'm not even really interested in anybody right now, to tell you the honest truth. let's just say that the events that transpired seven months ago have left me a little more worse for the wear than muslim's book. we'll call it even.

yet here i am. thinking about the missionary. and muslim. although he's a little more in the back of my mind, but still there.

thinking about what's going to happen with my life not exactly with the missionary, just in general.

endlessly. thinking.

man. i just want to sleep.
alas, work is nearing in about 45 minutes.

on injuries in a river

we really are just trying, aren't we?

humanity, i guess. we just want to be loved. we just want to make it in this life. we just want things to go okay sometimes.

but life doesn't always go okay. which is the way life is. despite that, we cope and we have faith and we rely on the people who we love and who love us the most. we pick ourselves up out of the mud, dust ourselves off, let the scrapes and the bruises heal, and we keep diving.

la vie est belle.

so sorry, blog. it's been a while.
at times i feel like my life is not exciting. i work at five in the morning. i scrub toilets. i come home. i nap. i exercise. i eat. and i try to fill my time with worthwhile things such as reminiscing with emily who's having a baby soon, reading muslim's book that i started in january that i may never give back, sucka, and attempting to fill my art portfolio.

but, i look at my life and feel like i really am making it happen. i've realized that i am the only person who can make things happen for myself. nobody else can jump into my skin and do the things that i want to do for me. nobody. it's all my choice.

supreme court told me a few weeks ago about not failing by default (she was referencing a story told by this guy to a girls camp). since then, it's become a way of life. whenever i feel scared to do something due to not feeling like i deserve a shot, that there are many worthier people out there, that i don't belong, i tell myself, "you are not going to fail by default."

and i'm not.

i have yet to figure out how to deal with failure itself, although the fact that men have stomped on my heart time and time again seems to show that i can deal with some kinds of failure but i feel like my time will come. if i can give my all, my best, i can know that i tried.

don't want my life to be full of "didn't tries," right?

sometimes you have to ask yourself what you're doing.
so, world. what are you doing?
what am i doing?

missouri

country music makes a restaurant friendly.
and i went through my country music stage a year and a half ago.
thank you wyoming boy.

also: i caught a frog today at haun's mill.
it covered my fingers and gold shoes in mud.
it sure was worth it.
pictures to come.

eff. oh. ex.

i'm calling it a night with this.

[caramel cone ice cream.

the best ice cream.
introduced to me five years ago
when the missionary broke my heart
the first time.]

and with this.

[meg and tom.
as kathleen and joe.
i do love that his name's joe.
and that they're writing
to each other.]

and i'm enjoying this song.

"sometimes i wonder about my life.
i lead a small life. well, valuable, but small.
and sometimes i wonder, do i do it because i like it,
or because i haven't been brave?
so much of what i see reminds me of something
i read in a book, when shouldn't it be the other way around?
i don't really want an answer.
i just want to send this cosmic question
out into the void.

so goodnight,
dear void."

pieces

provo has never seemed friendlier.

i'm watching valkyrie.
about to write a serious letter
to the infamous missionary
(whose mother likes me, apparently).
and....i'm kinda hungry.
in other news, the people who
sold me their dvd/vcr player
sent me the remote i've been
longing for! [celebration]

hello real world tomorrow.
let's hope i don't run into the past.

you really don't have to read this

Straight up. Right now, I'm not listening to music. I'm listening to my laptop about on its last leg as the fan whirs louder and louder. I'm feeling vulnerable. Mostly because I'm not sure what to blog about. I'm not really sure about myself. Not in a negative way, or in any kind of emo way. I just...am. My purple room is a mess. There are clothes from the thrift store on my bed and a box of food I'm taking to D.C. on the floor. I'm thinking. I watched Valkyrie tonight (for the third time in my life) which led me to thinking. I'm on a Tom Cruise kick right now. I've watched Mission Impossible 2 probably three times in the past week, and I plan on commandeering Top Gun as well as the other two Mission Impossible movies from my mom's vast collection of movies. I blame The Missionary for this. And for a lot of things. My legs hurt. I wanted to go running tonight, because I'm trying to be good about my health and all that, but it was about 10:30 pm when I decided that, so I decided against it. I napped today at 5:30 pm. Who naps that late? It felt great, though. My room feels nice because it's colder than the rest of my house. And it's lots colder than the stifling room I have down in P-Town. I have plenty of secrets locked away right now that will come out eventually. For my sanity. I love art, but I have no motivation to do it right now. Which sort of upsets me. And by sort of, I mean really. But I know that I'm the only one that can change that. I fell in love with a boy. For whatever reason, there are two loaves of whole wheat bread on my nightstand. I won't complain, though, because they'll come with me back to my apartment, and I'll have bread again instead of the stale bread that's been in my fridge for about a month. I really love my purple room. And I really love that I get to go to church tomorrow. Because, despite all the transience that occurs in life for a twenty-year-old, at least that's one thing I can always count on.

realizations

here's the dealio.

i made some realizations today.

i was reading this conference talk today in the ensign, and was pondering the idea that what we give in this life and the hardships we go through will be returned to us. a hundred fold. a thousand fold. infinite.

i also figured out this morning while cleaning bathrooms all my good thinkin' happens when i'm driving or cleaning that the things most worth it in this life are never easy. but they sure feel so good after you've worked so hard and gone through so much.

hm.
made me re-figure out my life a little bit. both of the thoughts.

it was really comforting. and possibly something i should have figured out a long time ago. but sometimes it takes a while for things to click, ya know?

laughing thoughts

can we please just bask in the irony that is the missionary? (i'd go into detail, but for the sake of my own privacy...i won't. those of you who know me well will understand what i'm saying...)

[basking in irony]

okay. basking done.

in other news, hope you all had a lovely sunday! mine was full of cookies, food, englishmen (just one), the gospel, and legitimately realizing how much i love people.

see you peeps tomorrow. ta, loves.

peter pan syndrome

of the limited choices i have when it comes to doing my hair at five in the morning, i opted for pig-tails today.

as i walked to work, i started feeling like a little kid. the pig-tails always make me feel ten or thirteen or fifteen years younger. definitely what happened today.

i felt like i was still in the second grade, learning cursive and collecting erasers i still have most of that collection, by the way. stashed away in the toy box that my stereo has now taken residency on.

i didn't feel old enough to be walking to a job at a university i attend. i didn't feel old enough to have to deal with the letter i got the other day or with any of the other boys namely one plaguing my mind. i don't want to grow up.

les mains

"there was a railing along the bottom five steps: i grabbed it with my free hand and held on. skilled watchmaker's fingers closed over mine and gently unwound them."

the hiding place.

......................................................................................................

it's no secret that i love hands.

i've told many people, and i'm sure i'll tell many more.
it's sometimes the thing that i fall in love with when it comes to men.
not lying.

perhaps it's because i've been playing the piano since i was seven. knowing what hands are capable of has made me appreciate them.

or maybe it's because i would be nothing without my hands. i wouldn't type 90 + wpm i like to type. i'm a bit of a nerd. i wouldn't play the piano. i wouldn't draw. i wouldn't cook. i would miss my hands.

or maybe it's because they're comforting. to me, they're like eyes. they can tell a lot about a soul. with every scar, with every freckle, every callous, you can see their story.

love lost. music memorized. battles conquered.

come, and hold my hand.

red bucket

memories usually bombard me when i'm going up the stairs from hell.

and by bombard, i mean flood. the dam has burst and is coming at me full force. but instead of running away from the wall of thoughts and memories and water that comes at me, i run toward it. possibly with my arms open. ready to hold as much of the water as i can.

thankfully, i'm holding a bucket. a big red bucket. it makes holding them a lot easier.

au revoir

one last post before i say goodbye to april.
and after my previous post, i think i'd be okay saying goodbye, and not just good.

part of me thinks the month deserves a farewell. but there were some great things about this month: like the blossoms. and the phone call. and conference. and buying my plane ticket to d.c.

the loneliness that became my companion as i got off the center street exit on sunday, though, does not deserve a good.

april, just like any other month, was full of ups and downs. it's fascinating how we have to experience both. and, as much as i hate to admit it, i wouldn't have it any other way.

i also noticed

there are scratches on my arm from the barberry shrubs that i planted today.

why is it that the most beautiful things warrant us to get scratched?
like love, sometimes.

gardening

my fingers are caked in residual dirt from my excursions in the front yard today. sometimes getting dirty is nice. dirt is real. it helps you remember that you're alive. it makes you feel part of something bigger.

lots to blog about. hopefully one day everything i want to say will be acceptable to talk about.

maybe not.
but it's in there. bubbling. like a soda bottle that's been shaken way too much.

i think it's spring that did it to me

i was reading in a book recently that life isn't about all the big things that happen.

yes, the "big things" (like going to kindergarten, learning to drive a car, going to college, mission, marriage, kids, etc.) are incredibly important moments to existence. but the real substance of our lives is in the small things.

every single emotion felt: whether it be how i felt after i lost, when my heart beats powerfully sporadic for one reason or another, feeling alive after running 2.3 miles, being embarrassed daily in my french class....those make up me.

every single person met: family and friends obviously, the girl who complimented my red jacket, the guy who held the door open for me, the cashier at the bookstore who always comments on my buying peanut butter m&ms. they make up me.

the missionaries.whit leigh.sadie jean.that one missionary.britt. jake.mom. dad.cross-country runner.muslim.wyoming boy.

all part of me.

every small thing: those leaves i crunch on when i walk up the stairs from hell. driving with becs to get overpriced paninis in stella. the red-ness of strawberries. the goldfish who survived against all odds. how my best friend legitimately loves a boy and how happy that makes me. singing queen with whit.

those make up my story.

and for the first time in my life, i realized how grateful i am that they do make up my story. the goods. the bads. the in-betweens.

because when it comes down to it
life is all about the in-betweens.