This Post Could Be A Country Song

I have this pair of jeans.

I’ve had them since I was in 8th grade.

That’s six years, ladies and gentlemen.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

I know.

Every time I wear them {which had slowly and sadly dwindled to about once a year} someone kindly suggests that I throw them away, on account of the fact that they are disgusting.

I might be more inclined to take their advice if they weren’t the most comfortable thing I own. Sure, I could always buy a new pair of jeans two sizes too big with pre-ripped holes in the knees, but it wouldn’t be the same.

So I wear mine.

And they make me happy.

I mean, think about it. I have had these since I was 13-years-old. How many things do I still have {and love} from when I was 13? A couple of stuffed animals, and a blanket maybe, but the list isn’t long.

And so I wore my jeans today, and now I will put them back in my drawer until the next time I feel the need for extreme comfort and reminiscence at the same time.


*On a side note, my mother also had a pair of very old and extremely ragged jeans that she loved {the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree I guess} and I recently may or may not have been partially responsible for her getting rid of them. {Hint: I was.}

I’m sorry mom!

I have seen the error of my ways.

Mondays are My Least Favorite Day of the Week

Mondays have always been the worst, but this semester they are worse than usual. 6 classes in one day is about 2 more than I can handle, and 3 more than ideal. My Monday schedule also makes Sunday nights practically unbearable because I am plagued by the thoughts of homework I should be doing. Monday nights, with FHE, are a little better, but by the time I am done for the day it is 9 o’clock and I am ready to pass out, and any hope I had of being productive soars right out the window. Tuesday is only occupied by one class, but this 3 hour long nightmare is quickly becoming the bane of my existence, and if it weren’t for the fact that I could sit here and blog in the middle of class I would lose my mind, absolutely and completely. And then Tuesday night I work, but the restaurant is slow, and the people are cynical, and the money is scarce.

To sum up: 4:15pm Sunday-10pm Tuesday is the longest 53.25 hours of.my.life.

And I hate it.

{With a few minor exceptions.}

Luckily for me, Tuesday night-Sunday afternoon is immensely more enjoyable.

Only 8 hours to go.

Google : 0 Kara: 0 (We're All Losers Here)

I recently confided in a dear friend of mine that a situation keeps arising in which I find myself continually at a loss for things to say. {Shocking, I know.} I can’t chalk this aberration up to nervousness, seeing as how when I am nervous I usually begin a discourse of unreasonable rambling without the slightest idea what I am talking about and why. So it’s not nerves, necessarily, but something is driving all words directly from my mind. It would be a little more acceptable if it were merely driving all interesting things from my mind {another phenomenon I have experienced} but no, I simply am left without words all together. My dear friend suggested that I practice what I am going to say in the mirror. Skeptical but willing I immediately went and stood in front of the mirror. Instead of thinking of clever or interesting or witty things to say {or anything at all for that matter} I began a silent examination of my face. By the time I was done, I had accomplished nothing except to heighten my self-consciousness and remove my stubborn eye makeup.

Slightly annoyed but mostly undaunted, I instead turned to Google for help, and it turns out there is no shortage of advice pages devoted to conversation starters for the socially inept. For example, searchwarp.com thinks it would be a good idea for me to get the dialogue going in said awkward situation by turning to someone and saying “Peanut butter and what?” Or better yet, asking them if they have any relatives in jail, if they are a good parent, what their favorite Cyndi Lauper song it, what their favorite Care Bear is, and if they have ever been in love with two people at the same time. Hmmm. If a virtual stranger randomly said any of these things to me I am afraid I would fix them with an incredulous stare and turn the other way as soon as I had the chance. I can’t help but wonder if these things actually work, but I am inclined to think they don’t, as I was roped into attending an FHE activity last week where we speed dated and with each new person we had a different topic to discuss. Like, if you won 30 million dollars what would you do with it, and if you could have any super power what would it be. I found it insufferable, especially when a specific guy told me he would like to be the punisher, who is apparently some kind of super hero powered by the rage he feels as a result of his entire family being murdered. What?! So then I responded that I would like to be super stretchy because I hate when I am in bed at night and realize I need to get up to turn the lights off. He did not look impressed, and neither did I.

3 minutes never lasted so long.

So Google failed me, and I am afraid I am going to have to either be content with my new status as a mute or search deep into the recesses of my brain to string together coherent thoughts if and when the situation ever arises again. And if that doesn't work, I can always rely on “Peanut butter and what?”

Cause that makes sense.

Wishful Thinking

Tonight I was driving home from work with the window rolled down and the AC on high, and for a few brief but thrilling moments I thought I felt a chill in the air. Immediately dreams began to form in my mind of warm weather clothes {specifically the adorable sweater I bought with Krystal today and the maybe equally adorable electric blue hoodie I did not buy} and me participating in fall-specific activities in said clothing. It did not last long however, once I turned off my car and stepped outside to discover there was no chill in the air. Not even kind of. The good news, however, is that it was not hot, so the temperature must be dropping some.

It’s all about progress.

Only 4 more days :)

Returning to the Nest: Pros & Cons

Con: I never do my homework.

Pro: My mom is here to help me make homework related phone calls when I wait until the last minute and begin to panic.

***

Con: When I come home from school and announce “I think failed my geology test today!” The response I receive from my mom is “Oh no! You should have studied!” and from my dad, “I never failed anything in college.” When I would come home to Regan and relate my failure, she would say something akin to “Awh, I’m sorry. School sucks.” OR “Yeah, me to.”

Pro: I have someone to talk to about my day, as opposed to when I lived with Roommate Number 1, who lived in head phones and old movies.

***

Con: When I spill Plum Pudding nail polish all over our family room carpet and then hear my dad pull into the garage 30 seconds later, I feel like an 8-year-old with my hand caught in the cookie jar.

Pro: My parents have DVR so I can record Top Model while I scrub the carpet.

***

Con: Occasionally I grow very hungry waiting for food to be placed in front of me, rather than getting up and making food ( i.e. opening a box of Cheez-Its) for myself.

Pro: When my mom realizes we are all hungry, we get Jack-In-The Box milkshakes and Jr. Bacon Cheeseburgers as a remedy.

***

Con: My family goes to bed ridiculously early, leaving me to wander the house by myself past 10:30 pm.

***

Pro: Getting to explain to my dad the differences between MySpace and Facebook when he says “Everyone’s facing out these days” and then intently asks “So is MySpace pretty much dead in the water?”

Song Of The Day

Enjoy!

It's About Time

28 days, 4 trips to the ASU book store, 1 visit to Half Price Books, 1 stop by Cassie's parents house, 1 (undelivered) online order, and $379.5 later, and I am *finally* ready to start the semester.

It’s Good for the Soul When There’s Not a Soul in Sight

What I wanted to do tonight, was go to the ASU football game. What I did instead, was go to work at Red Robin. It was probably a blessing in a thinly veiled disguise that no one took my shift however because I am so strapped for cash it’s shocking. Really. It turns out my Conan needs two new front tires, and apparently those things don’t come cheap. Even the “cheap” ones. *Sigh* It's a nice little welcome to the wonderful world of car ownership. It's not so bad my night turned out low-key, however, because what I planned for last night was homework and cleaning. What I did instead, was spend a couple of hours at coffee rush drinking a “deadly” Italian soda and talking about life. Low-key, sure, but still more interesting than I had originally planned. And now what I plan for tomorrow is everything I did not do last night. Hopefully. But it still remains to be seen if my homework will ever get done or my room will ever be clean again. Most of me is thinking it won’t happen, but I guess I could always surprise myself.

Not a bad weekend, all things considered. Not that I even know what “things” I am talking about, it just felt like the right thing to say. So I’ll stand by it.

It Has To Get Easier Than This

Easier than driving home from an otherwise angst free evening only to stop at a light next to a 50-something-year-old couple riding on a motorcycle together, a sight which completely pulled at my heart strings and was enough to make me want to pull over to the side of the road right there and cry. (Note: I didn't.)

I'll Be Cathy to Your Heathcliff

I am currently reading Wuthering Heights for the second time, and I am loving it. I think the first time around I appreciated it, sort of, but I did not really love it. I admired Bronte and I mourned with Cathy and Heathcliff, but I wasn’t excited to sit down and spend some time with them. I first read the book senior year of high school and wrote an in-class essay about it, but I never got to discuss it in class or with anyone. I had one class period to hash out all of my thoughts about the book, and it turns out that does not even begin to do Miss Bronte and her creation justice.

The assignment for today’s class was to read chapters 1-9, and I have to read 11-20 by Friday. I have to admit this assignment came at exactly the right time because I have been in a bit of a slump lately. A sophomore slump, as I have been affectionately referring to it in my head. My classes aren’t exceptionally difficult this semester, and some of them have even been tolerable to the point of interesting, but I just can’t seem to make myself care. I sit around at night and I know I have homework that I should be doing, that would be easy for me to do, but I just don’t do it. And I don’t care. Up until this point in my life, when I have not done my homework, I fret about what will happen and how it will affect my grade and how far behind I will be, but as of late, nothing. No remorse, no worrying, just pure, unadulterated apathy. (Unless, of course, you count my concern about my apathy.) It has been a little unsettling.

Enter Bronte. Enter Cathy and Heathcliff. Enter wild, stormy, dark, Yorkshire moors. Enter wretchedness, selfishness, pride, violence, confusion, and chaos.

And I care. I want to read this. I want to participate in the class discussion. I want to write and I want to learn. I am excited about this. I read this, and it breaks my heart.

“He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same...”

“If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.”

And finally,

“Nelly, I am Heathcliff.”

It is premature to call an end to my sophomore slump, as my English 200 homework is currently the only thing that is getting done, but at least this is something I can grasp on to. This is something, the only thing, right now, that is not making me say “What’s the point?” Because I understand the point of this. This is what makes sense to me.

I love this.

A Poem

A man said to the universe:
"Sir I exist!"
"However," replied the universe,
"The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation."

-- Stephen Crane

i am beginning to notice a pattern.

i do not miss tucson. i do not miss tucson. i do not miss tucson. i do not miss tucson. i do not miss tucson. i do not miss tucson. i do not miss tucson. i do not miss tucson. i do not miss tucson. i do not miss tucson. i do not miss tucson. i do not miss tucson.

the end.

p.s. my weekend was every kind of fabulous. way more fabulous than i was expecting. maybe if you are lucky i will tell you about it sometime.

Skipping Town

Conan and I are taking our very first road trip together (!), and I am headed straight for the city I spent a solid 9 months running from. I could not be more excited.

Tucson- here I come! Gilbert, I'll see you in a few {much needed} days.

Wish me luck.

Hope your weekend is a good as mine promises to be!

For Your Viewing (and Lisening!) Pleasure

When my big sis was still in high school she, um, rather liked the band Everclear. ha. I can remember their music blasting from her cd player pretty much nonstop for a year or two, (sorry if this embarrasses you) the Everclear Christmas ornament, and the mix she burned my mom of some of their greatest songs. To be fair to big sis, my mom probably asked for the cd, as she listened to it often, even after Sandy's fascination died down. Anyway, the point of this is the fact that during this period I also grew quite fond of a handful of their songs (mostly the ones on my mom's cd) and for a good few years considered myself "cool" for being one of the only people I knew who listened to them. ha. again. And I absolutely fell in love with "Learning How To Smile" for a time. I still listen to the song occasionally (alright, and a smattering of others) but the problem is my copy of the song is noticeably scratched. Tonight I found myself wanting to listen to the entire, untarnished copy, so I turned to youtube.

And I found something amazing. Something I just had to share.

Now, for those of you who have never heard this song (boo) and have 8 free minutes on your hands, I suggest you listen to it twice: first with your eyes closed, as to appreciated the awesomeness that it is, and then again with your eyes open to appreciate the hilarity (too strong?) of the video.

For those of you (cough: Sandy: cough) who have already enjoyed this song, skip straight to the eyes open portion of tonight's program.

You're welcome.



P.S. There are so many good moments, but I think my favorite is a tie between 2:20 & 3:20.

Inundated

“Dreams aren’t perfect. They come true; not free.”

“If you want to write you must have faith in yourself. Faith enough to believe that if a thing is true about you, it is likely true about many people. And if you can have faith in your integrity and your motives, then you can write about yourself without fear.”

“High-maintenance means you’re a glutinous queen, narcissistic and mean.” –Ludo

“Do you remember when we first met? I sure do, it was sometime in early September. Well you were lazy about it you made me wait around; I was so crazy about you I didn’t mind.” –Jack Johnson

“Love yourself, for if you don’t, how can you expect anyone else to love you?”

“Courage is fear that has said its prayers.” –Dorothy Bernard

“Perhaps the feelings that we experience when we are in love represent a normal state. Being in love shows a person who he should be.” -Anton Chekhov

“There is no remedy for love but to love more.” –Henry David Thoreau

“Nearly all marriages, even happy ones; are mistakes: in the sense that almost certainly (in a more perfect world, or even with a little more care in this very imperfect one) both partners might be found more suitable mates. But the real soul-mate is the one you are actually married to.” –J.R.R. Tolkien

Some Things about Me You May or May Not Want To Know

Sometimes I think I come across as a bad friend.

Or a thoughtless person.

Or boring.

The simple fact is I don’t like to hang out with a bunch of people I don’t really know. I don’t usually like to hang out with a big group of people even if I do know them. I don’t like to go to parties. I don’t mind being at home; I even enjoy it most of the time. I have just never been the type to go out and do something I don’t really have any inclination to do, “just because.”Staying at home, reading, watching TV, cooking, and hanging out with my family are all viable other options, even preferable ones. When he and I were together, we spent most nights watching Seinfeld on my parents couch. And I loved it. Sometimes I feel like I could have done that forever. Last year Regan and I spend the majority of our Friday nights eating pizza and watching reruns of House and Friends and going to bed early, and I didn’t mind it at all. I miss it, even. Natalie and I spent this summer eating junk food in her parent’s kitchen. It was nice. Krystal and I could sit around and gossip for hours, and we do, and I love it. Because that’s the thing about me, I have never needed more than one or two good friends. I have never been good at having more than one or two (or maybe three, during a busy year) really good friends. And I tend to click better with people who like to sit around and talk. Because truthfully, that is what I want to do most of the time.

So when someone I am not that close to asks me to hang out, to do something that does not sound like my kind of thing, I generally say no. But even with all of the practice I have had, I am terrible at say no. I say “I can’t this time,” or “I’m busy,” or “make sure to ask me next time!” And when I use that last one I do generally have good intentions. Because, hey, maybe next time they ask me to hang out I will actually want to go. On the off chance that I say yes, however, odds are that I will immediately begin thinking of a way to get out of it. That’s just the way I am. I’m sure it rubs people the wrong way, just as I am sure this post does, but I have come to accept this about myself. I used to think there was something wrong with me, that I should spend every night doing something fabulously exciting, but now I know that I prefer the way I spend my time. Occasionally, however, I feel bad for saying no too many times in a row, or I am afraid it will become obvious that I can’t possibly be that busy, or I really feel like I should get out and do something, and I say yes (and don’t back out), even if it is something totally bizarre.

So that is how I found myself waking up at 7 this morning (on my holiday from school, mind you) to drive out to the desert and shoot shotguns at clay pigeons. Yikes. Let’s just put that on my list of things that I have done and never feel the need to do ever again. I could tell the people I was with were disappointed, were confused by my skittishness around the guns (loaded or not) and were amused by my shocked face each time I shot. I guess I am glad I went, because now when people ask me to go shooting (although I’m betting these people won’t be asking again anytime soon) I can honestly say “no thanks, I don’t like shooting.” And we can be done with that.

Before I go, however, I would like to make a small disclaimer. This post is not to imply that I don’t like making new friends. I love making new friends. Just not at the risk of spending all of my time doing things I don’t enjoy, like aching from the recoil of a 12-gauge shotgun.

Good Omens

I knew the day was going to be a good one, or at the very least had good day potential, when I woke up yesterday morning to the sound of rain against my window,


and the sight and smell of these beauties in my bedroom. {I am afraid that I am going to have to start splurging on fresh flowers for myself, as my mood lifts ever so slightly each time I glance their way.}


And then I got to drive to one of my very favorite places


with two of my very favorite people


in my brand new {albeit used} Suzuki Forenza, Conan. He is from Japan, and I love him dearly.



And then I had a very short shift but still came home with some cash


and ended the night with a late dinner; my very first omelet. I know, I don't understand how that is possible either. But it was delicious. And cheesy. And delicious. {Mine looked better than this, thanks entirely to Mom & Sandy, and we even took pictures, but Sandy flew away with them this morning.}


Actually, we ended the night with dinner and a show.


Not a bad day, at all.

Too Many Pictures and (Almost) Two Weddings

By the time I get married (note: I am neither engaged nor wedding-obsessed) I am going to be a wedding planning savant.

But this post (for once) is not at all about me. It is approximately 3 percent about Sandy and how she and I spent yesterday afternoon browsing wedding magazines at Barnes and Noble. Browsing every wedding and bridal magazine the store carries, to be more accurate.




This is going to be fun.

And the other 97 percent of the post is dedicated to Will, and Madison, and their lovely Friday wedding. And since pictures are all pretty much anyone wants to see, and since all I would really have to say is how beautiful everything was, and how fun the reception was, and how my dad’s band is awesome even if it is composed of a bunch of 50 year old men, the rest of the post will be a picture essay of Friday, September 4, 2009.

Enjoy.


{Just leaving the temple}


{The House of The Lord - Holiness to the Lord
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints
Arizona Temple}


{Must resist urge to post too many pictures}


{Not posed or planned; just super precious}


{Sandy and I waiting for the happy couple}






{Family combinations that I hopefully do not have to caption}


{Dad, Me, and Michael at the family luncheon}


{Self-explanatory; or perhaps not}


{The bows on the chairs were the prettiest part, but you can't really see them here}



{Krystal & I)


{One broken knife and six pictures later}


{Bride and Father}


{Bride and Groom}


{Groom and Mother}


{Looks can be deceiving, because these people were not dancing to the YMCA}


{Looking good Stanford}


{And I'll end with my favorite picture of the entire day}

The Girl On The Wall

{If you would rather not deal with my disconnected ramblings, admire this pretty picture and skip the rest of the post.}

Half of my family (the Dad, Michael and Tommy half) are asleep. The other half (Mom, Sandy and Will) are downstairs playing Rockband. I am doing neither, although either one of those would probably be a better use of my time. Better than sitting in my room, trying to blog through fake nails, listening to The Beatles “Let It Be.” I feel like even the mere mention of that song conjures images of patheticness or wistfulness or confusedness, but that is really not the case. Because just as quickly I am listening to “Come Together” and there is nothing wistful or pathetic about that. {one and one and one makes three.}

Tomorrow, or today actually, Will gets married. In less than nine hours he will be a married man. Yikes. When did this happen? No seriously, if someone could let me know that would be fabulous.

Two very short weeks into the school year (I am one day into my ridiculously welcome five day weekend) I am already wishing for life to slow down. And unfortunately, the chances of that happening are slim to none. School will get more difficult and time consuming (because, let’s face it, so it’s been a virtual walk in the park- which terrifies me because I am already slacking). Work will become more tiresome. Living at home will get lonely as opposed to a nearly effortless way to pretend like it is still summer. It will become more apparent how broke I am. Stress will settle back into my life as if he never left my side. Getting up in morning will require herculean effort due to cold and lack of sunrise. Driving to school will seem impractical when I could just sleep instead. I will probably get sick. Life will exhaust me.

Sometimes I wonder if I wasn’t born in the wrong place, if I wasn’t meant to simply lie on the beach all day, wash the surf out of my hair once a week, and smell of sunscreen 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year.

But then again, that would not really be fair to me. Because I would miss Autumn, and I adore Autumn. Autumn and I are good friends. Best friends, even. Good things are coming too. It’s not all bad. Not by a long shot. But we still have September to get through, so I am not going to get my hopes up quite yet. We still have a lot of days to get through before the truly good ones are here. But don’t worry, I’ll keep you posted.

P.S. I think I use too many parenthesis.

Roses in December

I have been spending a lot of time on the road lately, giving me a lot of time to think. Lately I have taken to reminiscing about “the good times.” Logically I know it is probably not the best way to spend my time; but I just can’t help myself.

I can’t help but think about the time I was sick and he came over after institute to visit me, and he told me the story of Leo the Lion while I was falling asleep. And the time he dropped me off for my second week in Tucson when I left my makeup bag in his car, and he drove at least an extra hour to give it to me to make sure I did not have one more thing to stress about when I was already so sad. And the time we watched the Olympics for 2 weeks straight and painted flags on our toenails. And that same week when we played and kissed in the pouring rain outside my house. And how we would have magnetic poetry contests. And all of the times he drove all the way out to Pedro’s even though he did not like it that much, because he knew I loved it. And the time we went to the corn maze with Tommy. And the way he was willing to drive out to my grandma’s house on the Fourth of July, even though we probably would miss the fireworks, just because I am a sucker for tradition. And the time and thought he put into my “Going Away to Tucson CD,” and how I still cannot listen to “Do You Remember” without crying. And the way we both cried in the theater during The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. And all of the times we would sign in the car, especially to “So What”. And both spring training games we went to {two perfect days}. And when he helped my study for my Government AP test, and how I can still remember the more important aspects of the iron triangle. And how safe I felt in his arms. And how he always {said he} thought I looked more beautiful without makeup on. And running through the fountain at Tempe Marketplace, and discussing The Picture of Dorian Gray over pasta and hot wings.

And I could do this all day.

Then I inevitably remember that you can’t build a relationship on good memories.

But it is oh-so tempting to try.

"If any one faculty of our nature may be called more wonderful than the rest, I do think it is memory. There seems something more speakingly incomprehensible in the powers, the failures, the inequalities of memory, than in any other of our intelligences. The memory is sometimes so retentive, so serviceable, so obedient; at others, so bewildered and so weak; and at others again, so tyrannic, so beyond control! We are, to be sure, a miracle every way; but our powers of recollecting and of forgetting do seem peculiarly past finding out." -Jane Austen, Mansfield Park