Friday, March 19, 2010

confession #15

i think the boy and i might be in a fight. and i think it is one of those things where i know it's my fault, and he knows it's my fault, but instead of saying anything i am going to turn off my phone and pretend it's not happening.

i guess vacation really is over.


The Best Things About My Trip to San Diego. With Pictures!

*Dinner overlooking the Pier in Seaport Village.



*Getting hit on by the drunk Brazilian Boy who only had “one night in San Diego." {I sadly do not have a picture of this, and am including a picture of downtown instead, as that is where the proposition was made.}


*Discovering that despite my long held opinion otherwise, kettle korn is actually delicious. {Also don't have a picture of this. Shawna and I devoured the bag before I thought to document the discovery.}

*Running into the same giant Filipino family twice in Balboa Park and being ushered into their pictures/video both times while they told us we were beautiful.

*Eating a frozen banana, from a frozen banana stand, on the board walk. {click here if you know what's good for your soul}


*Realizing that it is impossible to anything other than utterly relaxed while lying on the beach.


*Being peer pressured into buying my TOMS shoes. {"They are for a good cause!"}


*Taking silly pictures.




*My awful, terrible, sunburn. Because, hey, in a week, I am going to be so tan! {I did take a picture of this, but have made the executive decision not to post it, as to avoid scandalizing your innocent eyes with my lasciviousness.}

Oh. A Post Script: If I end up with skin cancer 30 years down the road, consider this permission to remind me of Spring Break 2010 and say “I told you so.”

Thursday, March 18, 2010

It's Friday, I'm In Love

{Thursday - Monday, I was here.}



{Tuesday - Thursday, I was here.}



And now, I'm home.

And I'm happy.

Monday, March 15, 2010

About Going and Returning and Urban Sprawl

There's something about leaving. And there's something about coming home.

It's no secret I like to go. When I was in high school I dreamed of going away, far far away, for school. When I went to Tucson I spent most of my time going to Phoenix. Now that I am home I look forward to the weekends I can steal away to Tucson. I have spent my entire life wanting to study abroad, to go as many places as possible. I have a playlist on my ipod titled "about leaving." I listened to it on the plane out of Phoenix. I listen to it when I get restless. I listen to it when I long to leave.

I like to go.

It has surprised me in recent years just how much I love to come home. My escapes from Tucson were more about coming home than they were about leaving where I was. Even on my mini trip to Tucson last month I found myself breathing a heavy sigh of relief as I sped home early the next Saturday morning. I listened to my "about leaving" playlist, all the while thinking I should have one titled "about returning." It was a shame to have to leave Michigan today, because I had such a good time, but as the airplane started its descent tonight and I looked out the window, my breathe caught slightly in my chest. The lights of Phoenix spilled out in front of me, stretching impossibly far. Urban sprawl at its finest. It turns out urban sprawl is kind of beautiful from thousands of feet up after the sun has set. Phoenix is home.

And I like to come home.

But, in less than 6 hours I am going, again.

And I'm excited.

Just like I will be when I come home again on Thursday.

Going and returning. I could get used to this.

Spring Break in Ann Arbor, Pt. 2

It is my last morning in Ann Arbor.

The clock on my computer tells me it is 7:47 am.

The clock on my cell phone tells me it is 10:47 am.

It is very confusing.

Yesterday my friend asked me how I am enjoying my vacation. I said that it is "kind of cold and dreary here, but there is a lot of good food, so it balances out."

And I meant it.

Well, sort of.

It more than balances out, is what I meant.

I really don't mind the dreariness. Not for a few days. But I can see how it would grow tiresome.

Yesterday was nice. I like that Sundays have the same relaxing feel to them no matter where you go. I like that church people in Ann Arbor are friendly. I like that Sandy's finance didn't get too upset when I tried to help make dinner {grilled cheese} and ended up cutting myself with the knife and bleeding all over the swiss. I like that we played Bananagrams, even though I lost. And I like that Sandy and I stayed up late watching Gossip Girl online and eating frozen berries like candy.

It was a good day.

Sandy is in class right now, and I am in her apartment in her bed attempting to write my midterm for my African American lit class.

That's right. Monday morning. Spring break. I'm doing homework.

But only because today's agenda is full. And so is tomorrow's. And Wednesday's and Thursday's too.

So I have to get this done now.

And then back to enjoying spring break.

Have a lovely day.

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Spring Break in Blue Country, Pt 1.

What I've been doing so far, can be boiled down to a small list of things.

1. Going out to eat.

A lot.


2. Marveling at the "Harry Potter-ness" of campus.

And feeling jealous.


3. Seeing Alice in Wonderland in 3D.

And loving it.


4. Talking about wedding things with this couple.

And getting excited.


5. Shopping in the many little shops filled with many odd little things.

And being silly.


6. Spending time with my sister.

And loving every second of it.


The End.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Detroit City Bound


Well, I’m leaving for a little while.

I’m leaving to spend time with my sister.

I’m leaving to watch Alice in Wonderland.

I’m leaving to eat red velvet cupcakes + mass amounts of food that will make my jeans too tight.

I’m leaving to get away.

I’m leaving to de-stress.

I’m leaving to get some time off of work.

I’m leaving to get my mind off of Him.

I’m leaving to have some fun.

I’m leaving to see some snow.

I’m leaving to plan a wedding.

I’m leaving to celebrate living through the first half of the semester.

I’m leaving to forget about midterms.

I’m leaving because I’m exhausted.

I’m leaving because I want to...

And every once in awhile, mere wanting is reason enough.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

confession #14

laundry is my favorite household chore. and I don’t say that in a well, at least it is better than dishes way. i say that in a i really really like doing laundry, way.

i hope to be able to make a deal with my future husband that goes like this: i do all of the laundry and bathrooms while he takes care of the kitchen/dishes. and with any luck he'll be so thankful that i am willing to spend my time "slaving" over the never ending pile of dirty clothes for our entire family that he won't even suspect that i am actually doing something i very much enjoy.

brilliant, no?

confession #13

i can't go to bed because i have two midterms tomorrow and i haven't studied enough. {read: at all.}

i can't study for my midterms because i need sleep in order to be able to concentrate.

so instead i am doing a never ending stream of laundry, watching the daily show, and contemplating eating those strawberry pop-tarts on the counter even though the last thing i need now is more food.

oh yeah, and i'm worrying about those midterms.

so much worrying.

i probably should have studied when i got home from work instead of eating junk food and gossiping with my parents about how insanely crazy every person on the planet is.

except for me, of course.

except for me.

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

confession #12


on my date the other night, i happened upon a “fountain” of sorts, and took two coins out of my wallet: one for my wish, and one for my date. the awful part is, i totally made a wish about another guy, and then spent the entire second act of the play we saw day dreaming about what it would be like if my wish came true.

i know, i know.

i'm going straight to hell.

Monday, March 8, 2010

A Quick Note

Dear Those Of You Nice Enough to Humor Me and Read this Nonsense,

Last night around 12:30 am I realized it was time to stop procrastinating and get something done. So naturally I made a To-Do List.

Correction: I made the mother of all To-Do Lists. The sheer length of this thing sent me from a mild I should probably get something done mood straight to a I am never going to get out of these next 3 days alive full on freak out.

Don't believe me?

I'd post my list here in an effort to garner sympathy, but I can hardly bring myself to revisit it again, especially when I am blogging, which is notably absent from the list.

This is the reason I will probably get a lot of my "confession" posts out of the way over the next few days. I already have a ton of them written, and they are fairly quick and low maintenance. Hope you don't mind terribly.

Have a good night! I am off to write my bilingual education midterm and spark notes Frankenstein and Great Expectations.

{I knew things were going to be bad when I wasn't sure I would have time to spark notes these books, let alone read them, before my midterm on Wednesday.}

Keep your fingers crossed for me, ok?

Thanks a ton.

xoxo, karajean

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Well, I Haven't Tried This Yet

"We will never regret the kind words spoken or the affection shown. Rather, our regrets will come if such things are omitted from our relationships with those who mean the most to us. Send that note to the friend you've been neglecting; give your child a hug; give your parents a hug; say "I love you" more; always express your thanks. Never let a problem to be solved become more important than a person to be loved. Friends move away, children grow up, loved ones pass on. It's so easy to take others for granted, until that day when they're gone from our lives and we are left with feelings of "what if" and "if only" ("Finding Joy in the Journey," Ensign, Nov 2008, 84-87).
-Thomas S. Monson

Let's Play a Memory Game

Do you remember when The Ex and I dated for a year and a half?

{Check.}

Do you remember when he left on his mission 4 days ago?

{Check.}

Do you remember when I got caught off guard and found myself on a date with his best friend last night?

{Wait…what?!?!?!}

Um…yeah…I’m not really sure what was going on either. I made sure to ask, before dinner even arrived, and the answer I received was not very satisfactory.

I was talking to a couple of people at work yesterday and they said if I didn’t want to go I should have just said “No thanks. I’m not interested.”

But I’ve always been taught that if a guy has enough courage or whatever to ask a girl on a date the girl should have enough courtesy to say yes, to give the guy a chance at least once.

I kind of disagree. Sometimes I say no. And most of the time {read: all of the time} the first date does not change my mind in the slightest because I can tell fairly early on whether or not I am going to like a guy. {I usually feel it in the form of a very real, very painful stomach ache. It is one of my favorite feelings in the world. }

I was having this very conversation with “the boy” the other day and I remarked:

I think you underestimate how much I detest dating.

To which he replied:

I just don’t think that you give dates the opportunities that they deserve…

I can see where he is coming from, but I still think he is wrong. I’m convinced I don’t need any of this “date” business. **

But, let’s get back to last night.

I said yes.

Because I am terrible at saying no.

And how was the evening, you ask?

Well, for starters it was not ¼ as good as ward softball on Friday. And my favorite part of last night was when I was finally dropped off and I got to change into my pajamas, eat a Cinnabon, watch What Not to Wear, and have a lovely text conversation with a certain someone.

Do you remember that I’m pathetic?

{Check.}

**A side note: one time at a church activity centered on dating some guy had the audacity to suggest that not only is the girl obligated to say yes to a first date, but a second one as well, because people are “so nervous” on a first date that you don’t really get to know the other person. I vehemently disagreed in front of the room of 100+ people, making it public knowledge that I thought that philosophy was ridiculous. Some people laughed, but some of the guys looked at me incredulously, probably surprised that I would have the audacity to refuse a second date with a nice guy.

Oh well.

That’s just a few less dates I potentially have to avoid.

Saturday, March 6, 2010

confession #11

i can’t cook.

just kidding.

that’s not my confession.

i’d say it’s pretty common knowledge that when left to my own devices i am more than happy to live on a steady diet of ramen, pb & j, and lots and lots of assorted cereal.

recently, however, thanks to a conversation started by my dad and ended by random people i have been asking, i have been thinking about learning how to cook, and about how it is something i might like to do.

{that’s the confession part of this, fyi.}

so i was talking to my mom, and she mentioned that she wouldn’t mind if i made dinner for the family once a week. and i figured since i’m living here rent free and all, and since she will be paying for the groceries i buy, it’s the least i can do.

i started last night.

i planned to make mexican lasagna and fried empanadas.

what i actually made was mexican lasagna and queso dip.

the empanadas were an epic fail.

{i guess that’s another part of the confession.}

i’m very new to this cooking thing, so there’s a lot i didn’t know. for example, who would have thought that scallions and green onions are the same thing! go figure.

i started dinner at 4.

i had my little brother take a picture of me at 4:15.


the red onion thing was not a surprise to me, because i experience it every time i make guacamole {all 5 times i ever have…} but it was still ridiculous. i cooked the rest of the meal with the biggest raccoon eyes of my life, because my hands were covered with onions and pepper juice and i was afraid to get them near my eyeballs.

i told you, i’m new at this.

dinner was ready by 5:35, improvised queso dip and all.

and it was pretty good.

and i think i kind of like cooking.

{that’s the biggest confession of all. please don’t tell anyone.}

Friday, March 5, 2010

An Excerpt From My Friday Night

me: Well...I'm wearing an apron. Let the ridiculousness begin.

him: Why are you wearing an apron?

me: I'm cooking dinner.

him: Should I call the Fire Department?

me: Please do. Tell the hot single firemen that I'm single and I can cook. Thanks.

him: In an apron?...

Thursday, March 4, 2010

Little Letters {Part III}

Dear RR,
It's about time you hire some new employees. And I'm not saying that because I am getting sick of the people I work with. {Although that is true.} I'm saying that so I can stop working 5 shifts a week. I have not worked this much since we opened last summer, and I would like to keep it that way.

Dear Dickens,
It's not that I'm not enjoying Great Expectations. Really! I am. It's just too long, and I'm afraid I won't have time to finish it before my midterm next week. So... think you could help me out here?

Dear foodnetwork.com,
Did we just become best friends? Yes? That's what I thought.

Dear Professor,
I think you might be the most arrogant teacher I have ever had in my life. Also, the word is pronounced uh-pos-truh-fee, not app-o-stroph. Duh.

Dear Mailbox,
I love that you brought me mail this week! It was absolutely lovely and certainly brightened my day.

Dear Choir Boy,
A clarification. Just because I let you dance near me at that party last week does not mean we are friends. So you can stop turning around in institute and making eyes at me. It just heightens your creeper vibe.

Dear Bishop/Dad,
I think I do a pretty good job in participating in my fair share of church activities. But if you think there is any way on earth I would be caught dead at the Date Auction at the end of this month, I'll just let you know right now: There isn't.

Dear Sister-In-Law,
I need a haircut like you wouldn't believe. It's such a good thing I actually love the way you do my hair and I don't have to pretend in order to spare my brother's feelings.

Dear Everyone Who Might Someday Have a Child,
Baby modeling contests are ridiculous. Cute babies or not. They are not okay.

Dear 66 Degrees and Sunny,
I'll miss you when I'm in Michigan.

Dear Ann Arbor, Michigan,
Twice as many Durkins = Twice as much fun. Get ready.

The Songs I'll Listen To Because of a Boy, Pt. 1

you think a girl would learn.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

This One is About My Future

I have been thinking a lot about the future.

In other words, I have been thinking too much about the future.

I met with my counselor on Friday and he let me know that I am not completely on track, credit wise. I will either have to take 3 English classes during the next 2 summers, or I will have to delay graduation by one semester, graduating in December 2012 instead of May.

My first thought was: this sucks. Either way my scholarship is going to run out, and I’ll be funding these last 9 credits on my own.

My second thought was: summer school. Obviously. I need to get out of here as quickly as possible. All of my friends are graduating in May. I am not going to be one of those students who can’t graduate in 4 years. How pathetic!

My third thought was: wait a second. Why do I need to get out of here as soon as possible? Do I really want to be teaching high school in 2 years? 2 years goes by fast. I am not ready to be a real adult and enter the real world. Not even close. Plus, I don't want to burn myself out with school all year long. That's a recipe for disaster.

My fourth thought was: delay graduation a semester. Definitely.

My fifth thought was: but what if something happens in the next 2 years that makes me want to finish school as quickly as possible? What if I am {gasp!} married?

Which brings me to my sixth thought: But what if I’m not. I probably won’t be. I’ll probably want to stay in school as long as possible, just like Sandy told me. I don’t want to be a real person yet.

As you can tell, I have a lot of thoughts.

And they just keep coming.

And the one thought that keeps reappearing: It would just be so much simpler if I could see the path in front of me.

But alas, I can’t. I’m going to have to make this decision without all of the information.

And I’m leaning towards delayed graduation.

For now, at least.

Sunday, February 28, 2010

The Things I'll Do Because of a Boy, Pt. 1

Get to church at least 10 minutes early every single week.

I can't get enough of the banter.


{Taken last week, outside my house, before church. I wish I would have gotten one today in my adorable brown argyle shoes with the bows and the brown tights, but I was too concerned with getting to church at least 10 minutes to early to remember to stop and snap a picture. Oh wait! Do you want to see the cute brown shoes? Click here, scroll past all of my post-break-up crazy-person ranting, and take a look-see.}

"I Just Don't Really Like People."

I went to a party tonight.

And I subsequently remembered why I don’t go to parties.

I mean, it wasn’t completely terrible, really.

But it was really hot and really crowded and I kept being bumped into by sweaty people I either don’t know, have been spending the two years since high school avoiding, or whose names {or mocking nicknames} have now been added to the list of people I need to avoid while at the institute.

After khood and I were done dancing but before we could leave {we were held hostage by the pouring rain, afraid to get soaking wet on the half-block trek to my car} we went and sat on the top of the stairs dividing the party half of the house from the non-party half and talked about why we don’t like parties as we stared at a group of guys who may have been cute but who were wearing questionable t-shirts. {SWAT = Sweaty, Wet, and Tired... Really?} And we both came to the consensus that any guy we would ever be interested in would not be spending his Saturday night at a party like this. I’m not sure about khood, but the guys I am interested in were probably sitting on their couch watching Seinfeld, or reading a book or hanging out with a small group of friends, or even taking a girl on a date. Because guys I am interested in ask girls on dates instead of trying to make “get to know you conversation” while awkwardly dancing with them at parties.

So yeah, I was pretty judgmental of everyone who was there.

And yeah, that was probably my last party for a very long time.

But I am glad I went anyway because I got to spend a lot of time with khood which equals a lot of talking and a lot of us knowing exactly what the other person is talking about, which is always nice. Plus, nights like this always confirm that maybe it’s not such a bad thing to sit at home on my weekends of there isn’t somewhere I really want to be.

So until next time my friends all decide to get together to grill hamburgers or one of these hypothetical boys invites me to sit on his couch and watch Seinfeld with him you can probably find me at home.

And after last night, that is more than ok with me.

Saturday, February 27, 2010

confession #10

here’s the thing i have learned about my {mini} broken heart. sometimes, it can stretch days into eternity. friday nights, sunday mornings, and anytime i am staring at my cell phone waiting for a text message can seem agonizingly long. like, time practically stops, long. the thing is, however, i spend so much time and energy figuring out how to get through these little moments, hour by hour, that i don’t pay attention to how quickly things are actually moving. and now it’s practically march, which is insane, because i am still trying to figure out what happened to january.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

A To-Do List Post Script

For the record, the “cleaning” parts of my to-do list were comically simple: take out the garbage and rinse out my bathroom sinks. So why I spent the last hour wearing yellow rubber gloves, up to my elbows in bleach, and scraping soap scum off of everything with a plastic knife, I couldn’t tell you. Unless, of course, cleaning has finally been added to the List of Things I Would Rather Do Than Homework.

{Which is saying something, because today’s homework was, in theory, fairly painless: read through chapter 10 of Great Expectations, outline my next writing assignment for my creative nonfiction class, and come up with 200 semi-intelligent and mostly coherent words on Tennyson’s “The Lady of Shallot.”}

Other things on the list include, but are not limited to:

-Sleeping
-Lying in bed not sleeping
-Lying in bed facebooking and blog stalking
-Clicking on blog side bars, taking me through a never ending stream of mostly painfully boring blogs that are somehow connected to someone I might know in some way
-Inventing clever ways to start text conversations with people the person I want to talk to
-Forcing myself not to text said person because one of the things on my to-do list reads: Don’t text {the boy}
-Writing in my journal and then writing the same thing, only vaguer, in my blog
-Watching the first half of The Real World: DC {But not the second half, as I have yet to make it through an entire episode since Sister & her Fiancé watched the season premier with me over Christmas break}
-Making pointless lists

So, anything equally as silly on your procrastination list today? If you feel inclined, please share!

Insert a Synonym for 'Weird'

Yesterday was weird.

Weird in the way that it was the first Wednesday I haven’t worked in forever, not weird in the way that gives me any interesting stories to tell.

It was weird in the way that I realized The Ex is leaving for his mission in exactly 1 week, and weird in the way that this realization doesn’t make me feel anything, really.

Weird in the way that I wrote down everything I was thinking in my journal {which is not weird at all, just another daily occurrence} and it took up about 8 pages and for once writing it all down did not provide me an ounce of clarity. That was the weird part.

Weird in the way that I was driving home from school with the windows rolled down and found myself thinking about how lovely February in Arizona is.

Weird in the way it always is when the boy and I get close to having a real conversation about something kind of important, but then dance around it for an hour the way we usually do until he gets tired of being so evasive and decides the conversation won’t happen after all.

And it was weird in the way that I got an email last night telling me that my 9 am class this morning was cancelled.

So naturally, I am giving myself the entire day off.

Well, sort of.

I’m not driving down to Tempe for my other 2 classes, but I am going to get to work on the sizeable to-do list I made last night.

And that is what makes today weird.

Although now that I am looking at said list in the daylight and with an arguably well rested mind, I think I might have overestimated my ability to get things done when I could just as easily lie in bed and do absolutely nothing.

The main problem is this list wants me to hit on all cylinders.

It wants me to clean, to do a fair amount of homework, to be healthy, and to relax and hang out with Krystal tonight, and do a host of random little things.

Weird.

I have not been this productive on a “day off” in, I don’t know, ever?

I must have been greedy last night.

Or optimistic.

I would normally say it was the former, but who knows; things are weird around here.

Maybe that weirdness includes some optimism.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

confession #9

i have been working at red robin since june 2009. that's almost 9 months, people. and i have this manager, who still pronounces my name wrong. he says it like "kar-uh" instead of "kare-uh." i tell myself it's because he's from new york, but really, he doesn't have an accent, and that's not the reason. i'm kind of used to this misconception and i am usually pretty good at correcting people who pronounce my name wrong {and correcting and correcting, if need be} but this one must have slipped under the radar. either that or i was too nervous when i got hired to actually speak to a manager. and now i'm about 8 months too late to say anything. lame.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

The Things I'll Do Despite a Boy, Pt. 1

Do you remember Monday, February 15, 2010?

Well, I do.

I remember it because I was frustrated and my brain was fuzzy.

{The evidence can be read here and I blogged about it here.}

I was unnaturally sleepy and feeling worse than I had in donkey's years.

And still, on top of that, on top of being so distraught over what to do because of some confused guy, still {!} I was expected to write an entire paper for my oh-so brutal African American Lit class?

You've got to be kidding me, Professor. I said {internally}.

Sometimes there is a crisis bigger than school.

But I sat down for a few hours, and I wrote anyway.

And what do you know?


It's good to know there are still some things I can do, and do well, even when it feels like everything else is in shambles.

Monday, February 22, 2010

A Reminder That Nothing Happens By Accident

I held my brown lunch bag awkwardly in my hands. I shuffled uncomfortably from my place in the center of the cafeteria. I looked around, attempting to achieve the nonchalant looking of someone scanning the crowd for her friends, rather than the desperate look of someone realizing she has no friends to sit with.

{Kara Durkin, "Just Lunch"}

Stupid title I know, but I am terrible at titling my papers, which is a shame, because I love titling my silly blog posts.



Tomorrow morning I turn in my first major writing assignment for my creative nonfiction class. I am happy with the way the paper turned out, but I cannot wait to get rid of it so I can stop thinking about it. While I was writing my first draft it somehow morphed from what it was supposed to be and turned in to something I didn't want to spend any time with. After a bit more struggling I turned it back in to a paper focusing on something I cared about, but after all of this struggling I am tired and ready to send this baby packing. I've had enough.

That being said, I am already looking forward to the next assignment. I really do love this class.

That being said, I take back anything I may have said about this being my favorite class. Actually, I'm not sure I ever used the word favorite here, but I definitely have in conversation. And I would like to take this opportunity to officially change my mind.

After today's institute class, I realized that Book of Mormon with Brother Calton is my absolute favorite class. It is without a doubt the 100 minutes on campus I look forward to the most, I enjoy the most, I prepare for the most, and I use in my daily life the most, and that helps me the most when things get rough, as they invariably do for everyone, especially someone as emotional as I am.

I even managed to avoid my habitual Sunday night collapse last night as I studied for this morning's class.

I don't think that was a coincidence.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

confession #8

i should have stood up, both arms waving, and shouted out across libraries, "Hey you! Love me back."

{Maxine Hong Kingston, "No Name Woman."}

i came across this tonight while doing my homework, and i couldn't help but think, this is the one regret i am most afraid of having.

Apparently the Word "Angst" Only Exists With the Modifier "Teenage" In Front of It

I fail at being sixteen again.

Just like I predicted, 9:30 pm last night found me changing out of my sweats, deciding I definitely could rock the not-brushing-my-hair look again, and waiting to be picked up by a friend so we could spend the night at Coffee Rush, 2 grocery stores, and driving around in the rain listening to J.R. Cash.

That makes two nights in a row that I valiantly tried to stay in bed staring at the ceiling listening to depressing music. And that makes two nights in a row that I failed.

Maybe it is something programmed into the DNA of moody teenagers that real adults {ha!} just don't have the mental or emotional capacity to do. Not on a regular basis, anyway. Not when the "problem" ain't really that big of a problem.

The funny thing is, apparently I knew this was coming. Senior year of high school my English teacher assigned a paper requiring me to define what my name as a verb would mean. I chose the verb to be "karaed." And after an entire single spaced page of rambling what it meant to be "karaed" the second to last paragraph said this:

To be karaed is to be almost 18 and to wake up every day wondering how much longer you will have the luxury of drowning yourself in blissful teenage self-absorption, to contain the kind of egotism that could allow you to go on for pages about yourself.

{So dramatic! So heavy-handed! So hormonally imbalanced!}

Well, I was half right anyway. I can, and do, still go one for pages about myself, but it appears I no longer have the luxury of lying around and throwing myself the ultimate pity party on Friday & Saturday night.

It's kind of a relief, and it's kind of sad.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

I Get a 'B' in Originality

I have almost decided on spending my Saturday night doing homework.

But then again, this time yesterday I had decided on spending my Friday night in bed with a pillow smahshed over my face listening to Something Corporate on repeat like it was 2006 all over again.

Don't ask.

By approximately 9:30, however, I was putting on makeup, wondering if I could rock the not-brushing-my-hair look once again, grabbing my keys, and heading for the door. For better or worse. {I still haven't decided yet. Although the night was fun, and interesting, to say the least.}

So you never know.

But for now homework {+ Secondhand Serenade} is looking is looking like my best (e.g. smartest} option.

And I'll definitely get to it once I have exhausted all other possibilities. Including writing this post, which I have tried, and failed, to do 3 times in the past 2 days.

But really, getting my homework done by Saturday is something I have been thinking about all week. I'm hoping it might be a good way to avoid the inevitable Sunday night meltdown I have been experiencing as of late. And while it might make me feel lamer than lame right now, I think it will be worth the trade off if I am able to come home from church tomorrow without crashing under the weight and stress of a new week and a heap of undone homework.

Here goes nothing.

P.S. Apparently my taste in music this weekend has reverted to that of sixteen-year-old Kara, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out why. *sigh* I was so moody back then. Hopefully this regression stops with my musical preferences, and hopefully I'll snap out of it soon. It's almost impossible to get anything done with these vaguely whiny acoustic rock songs blaring in my ears. They are enough to suck away all of my time and energy, and suddenly it has been 3 hours and I haven't moved a muscle other than the ones that expand and contract with every pining sigh.

Oh, to be sixteen again.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

The One Day in February That Doesn't Make Me Want to Punch Babies

Ok.

Fine.

February might have one redeeming quality.

Unfortch, in The Durkin house, this one quality only lasts about one day.

Or about one hour of one day.


Mom took a box of the thin mints and a box of the tagalongs and "hid" them so we wouldn't finish every last cookie in one sitting, but we all know "hid" them is code for put them in an easy-to-see spot in the freezer.

Normally, this disappearing act might bug, but not today. Because today is my last day of sugar and/or eating out until spring break. Swimsuit season, and all that. {Cause, you know, I am going to be bringing my swimsuit to Michigan. Obviously.} So I am going to eat girl scout cookies and Five Guys {!} to my little hearts desire tonight.

And tomorrow, well, tomorrow I won't.

In other less delicious news, I thought I had to work tonight, and once again valiantly tried to pawn my shift on my coworkers. There were no takers, however, so I resigned myself to writing my entire English paper tomorrow before its midnight deadline, pinned on my flair, and dragged myself to Red Robin. I walked in and looked at the floor chart to see which of the lower level team member sections I would be gracing with my presence for the night, only to find out that I wasn't even on the schedule. My bad. I walked out, immensely pleased with my newfound night off. And if you're thinking "Well great, now she can work on her paper!" then you and I must have never met in real life. Because of course I'm not going to work in my paper. I am going to eat girl scout cookies on the couch and watch an endless string of TV.

Vampire Diaries + The Office + Project Runway.

And then I'll write my paper.

Maybe.

It depends on how much I want to go to ward softball tomorrow.

{Right now, not that much. But tomorrow, probably a lot. When you're as fickle as I am it's good to plan ahead for mood swings.}

How to Become a Writer

"First, try to be something, anything, else. A movie star/astronaut. A movie star/missionary. A movie star/kindergarten teacher. President of the World. Fail miserably. It is best if you fail at an early age- say, fourteen. Early, critical disillusionment is necessary so that at fifteen you can write long haiku sequences about thwarted desire. It is a pond, a cherry blossom, a wind brushing against sparrow wing leaving for mountain. Count the syllables. Show it to your mom. She is tough and practical. She has a son in Vietnam and a husband who may be having an affair. She believes in wearing brown because it hides spots. She'll look briefly at your writing, than back up at you with a face blank as donut. She'll say: "How about emptying the dishwasher?" Look away. Shove the forks in the fork drawer. Accidentally break one of the freebie gas station glasses. This is the required pain and suffering. This is only for starters."--Lorrie Moore

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

I Made A List!

I call it The Reasons Why My Wednesday Was Great {Read: Better than Yours} List

1)Today was dollar lunch day at the institute. I know what you’re thinking. Dollar institute lunch, does not a great day make. I have never once been to one of these things, nor did I feel particularly inclined to go this week. But! When I pulled into the institute parking garage I saw {and smelled} that they were already firing up the grills on the patio. Hamburgers. I love hamburgers.* I did a mental wallet check and remembered that I deposited all of my cash on Monday, so when I got into class I complained a bunch to khood about having no money and about wanting a hamburger and about finding some unsuspecting guy to buy me lunch. Luckily it never came to that. As class ended the girl in front of me, whom I have never talked to, turned around and insisted on giving me a dollar so I could buy lunch. **Awh** People are nice. Sometimes I forget that. So thanks, random girl who overheard my whining! I owe you! {P.S. The hamburger was so.good.}

2)After I devoured my hamburger out on the patio in the insanely lovely weather, I headed inside for better internet reception so I could book my plane ticket to Michigan! And guess what?! Said tickets were only $269 total. Roundtrip, nonstop, including taxes. Maybe I should always book plane tickets while inside a dedicated building. {As if I book plane tickets all the time. False. I’ve never done it before.} I am officially schedule to visit Sister from March 11-March 15. Words cannot describe how excited I am. Less than one month away!

3)Usually while spending time at the institute I head to the quiet study room so no one will talk to me. But today I was waiting for a call from my mom so I could get her vote of confidence before purchasing my tickets {I’m a baby, I know} so I had to sit in the regular study room where people love to chat and flirt and laugh. I sat at the only empty table, but there were bags there so I knew I would be joined by strangers eventually. And boy was I. And now I have two new friends, one of whom made me stand up and let him teach me how to swing dance with him in the middle of the room. And while that would usually cause me to, I don’t know, die of embarrassment, {I can't swing dance to save my life} today it just caused me to swoon. Go figure.

4)After school, I went to work. I was so not excited to go to work. I tried to give away my shift many, many times. But! It was the busiest Wednesday night ever. {Read: incredibly lucrative.} And! Some 35 year old guy eating dinner with his mom left me his phone number and instructions to call. My Red Robin uniform must have really been working for me tonight. ‘Twas a lovely ego boost, if I ignore the creep-factor.

And that is the end of my Wednesday. I mean, not really. I have lots o’ homework to do. But I might not do it. Why spoil a good thing?

I hope your day was equally lovely. But don’t feel bad if it wasn’t. This day was a very long time coming.

Good night, friends.

*Speaking of hamburgers, I have been dying to try the new Five Guys that opened by my house since Sister and her fiancé raved about it over Christmas break. And in retrospect, the most disappointing part of the fact that nothing ever developed between Shoe Guy and I last month {although he did, eventually, answer my text} is the fact that we talked about going to Five Guys together, and now that he only barely acknowledges me in church {which is completely awkwardly confusing, btdubs, considering nothing ever happened between us!} I guess I am going to have to find someone else who shares my love of hamburgers to go with me.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Writing Myself Into Happiness

I'm recuperating.

That is what I call it when I lie in bed for 3 straight hours doing absolutely nothing.

No, really.

I am recharging after yesterday.

Yesterday. The longest day I have had in ages. The most exhausted I have been in ages. The most aggravatingly frustrated I have been in ages. The fuzziest my brain has been in ages. The least amount of time and attention I have put into a college English paper in... ever.

So today I am giving myself a break, and tomorrow I will faithfully return my nose to the grindstone.

And it turns out a break means allowing myself to just lie in bed and eat as many mini chocolate donuts straight from the bag as I want. It means allowing myself to daydream of spring break, because really, 4 weeks ain't that many. It means allowing myself to not pay attention to my cell phone. It might even mean allowing myself to take time for a run.

In short, it means allowing myself to take a break from unhappy.

"I think and think and think, I‘ve thought myself out of happiness one million times, but never once into it." -Jonathan Safran Foer

Monday, February 15, 2010

Can & Can't

I think sometimes life boils down to can and can’t.

Please bear with me as I attempt to explain what I mean.

Can and can’t comes into play when there is no should and shouldn’t.

For example, when I was a senior in high school, trying to decide between U of A and ASU {and BYU, briefly} I became convinced that there was a should and a shouldn’t. I was obsessed with the idea of a “right” answer, and I did everything in my attempt to find it. I made lists and I weighed and mulled and surveyed and I prayed. I prayed incessantly. I felt sure that an answer would come; that something would happen to let me know which school was right and/or which school was wrong.

I waited.

And I waited some more.

I became frustrated, and I gave up.

{Almost}

I started praying again.

And finally, I decided to just make a choice. I decided to pick one.

I picked U of A.

And then I prayed.

And I felt good about my choice.

U of A was my should. ASU was my shouldn’t.

I have since come to view things differently. I don’t think that circumstance necessarily had a right answer and a wrong one. Maybe it had a good answer and a better one, but I don’t think there was a definite shouldn’t.

It was more of a will and a won’t.

I will go to U of A

And I won’t go to ASU.

Another example.

I like to ask for advice. When I have a problem I want to know what you think about it. I want to know what you would do in my situation. Because, let’s face, I would rather do just about anything in the world than make a decision on my own.

I don’t always like to ask for advice from those closest to me, but often I do. And when I don’t, I like to read books and quotes and scriptures, looking for advice anywhere I can find it.

In the last 30 hours, I have asked no less than 5 people {maybe more} for advice about 1 situation.

Whether or not I take their advice, is a will or won’t.

I don’t know what I should do, and I don’t know what I can do, but I generally know as they are speaking to me if I will take their advice, or if I won’t. And generally speaking, the more people I ask for advice the more advice I won’t end up taking. If I don’t like what I hear, I ask someone else. Generally.

But can and can’t comes into play when there isn’t a should or a shouldn’t, and when I refuse to choose between will and won't.

What can I handle?

What can’t I handle?

What can I justify?

What can’t I justify?

Too vague?

Let’s see.

When I was contemplating transferring to ASU this past summer, I realized {much to my dismay} there probably was no should, and no shouldn’t. There was no will or won’t. There was me, unable to justify moving back to Tucson. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

I can’t move back.

I said.

Can & Can’t.

Do you see?

Figuring out can and can’t might be the most difficult for me. What, exactly, am I capable of? Even more daunting, what am I not capable of?

3 hours ago, this was my can and can’t:

I can be there for him when he needs me. I can drop what I am doing to sit in a dark parking lot with him, talking about life and pretending to be something we aren’t.

I can’t, however, pretend like that moment didn’t change anything. Because it did.

But that was 3 hours ago, and now I’m not so sure.

My can’t feels less like a can’t and more like a I don’t want to. Not exactly a won’t, not even a shouldn’t.

So.

What do I do now?

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Today and Tonight

Today, church was lovely.

Today, my talk went off without a hitch.

Today, I got to talk about Love; about the greatest act of Love that has ever or will ever exist.

Today, I felt that Love.

Today, I got to wear my fabulous new dress.

Today, I was all smiles and sunshine.

And then today turned into tonight.

Tonight, I talked to my mom.

Tonight, I cried for the second time.

Tonight, I listened to T.Swift on repeat.

Tonight, I talked to my best friend for the first time in ages. I miss her so much when she is in Boston. And sadly, neither of us had good news to report.

Tonight, I am not writing my paper that is due Tuesday. And I am not reading Frankenstein, even though I am supposed to finish it by tomorrow.

Tonight, I don't care about school.

Tonight, I want to wallow.

Just like every other Sunday night.

I don't know why Sunday nights are so hard for me. It's certainly not the first time this has happened. I go to church and have a perfectly wonderful day, and then I come home and begin to think about facing the real world.

I realize there is so much coming.

So much homework. So much life. So many to-do lists. So much stress.

It's crippling.

I can't tell you exactly when Sunday became both my favorite and least favorite day of the week all rolled in one.

There is something distressing about getting to spend a few hours in harbor only to know that sooner rather than later I am going to have to start all over again. So I procrastinate, hoping to put Monday morning off as long as humanly possible.

It's daunting.

And I'm already tired.

But I addressed this today in church. I know I don't have to be so tired. And I certainly don't have to be tired alone. I just have to be willing to ask for help.


Thus, the Savior has suffered not just for our iniquities but also for the inequality, the unfairness, the pain, the anguish, and the emotional distress that so frequently beset us... There is no physical pain, no anguish of soul, no suffering of spirit, no infirmity or weakness that you or I ever experience during out mortal journey that the Savior did not experience first. You and I in a moment of weakness may cry out, "No one understands. No one knows." No human begin, perhaps, knows. But the Son of God perfectly knows and understands, for He felt and bore our burdens before we ever did. And because He paid the ultimate price and bore that burden, He has perfect empathy and can extend His arm of mercy in so many phases of our life. He can reach out, touch, and succor-- literally run to us-- and strengthen us to be more than we could ever be and help us to do that which we could never do through relying on our own power. --Elder David A. Bednar

confession #7

when i am married, i want my husband to know me well enough to know 2 things.

i want him to know that i want flowers on valentine's day.

i also want him to know that i don't want those flowers to be red roses. i know red roses are "romantic," the ultimate valentine's day flowers, but i want the man who loves me to know that i want daisies, or lilies, or sunflowers, or wildflowers instead.

Friday, February 12, 2010

The Things I'll Do For a Boy, Pt. 1

Spend my Friday night freezing my butt off in a softball dugout, cheering on my ward in our church games.


{One thing I won't do for a boy, however, apparently includes actually playing in said games. Maybe next week.}

Move On If You're Already Sick of the Fourteenth.

To be perfectly honest, I haven't really given Valentine's Day much thought.

I've given Sunday, February 14 a lot of thought, but only because I am speaking in church.

Valentine's Day itself, on the other hand?

Not so much.

There is one exception to this rule however.

That exception seems to be when I log into Blogger.

Nearly every blog I read has devoted at least one entry in the past few days to Saint Valentine and/or being single and/or being in love.

So although while out in the real world among the real people I have not spent much time stewing over my feelings for this year's big day or my feelings for the holiday in general, every dang time I sit down at the computer it is practically inescapable.

{Yeah, I read too many blogs. Moving on...}

And then I settle in to write, all thoughts of the post I spent my entire linguistic discussion crafting swept from my brain in favor of hearts, broken and whole.

And here is my unsolicited two cents.

Being single on Valentine's Day, is, in my opinion, not that big of a deal.

Unless!

Unless, of course, there is a specific someone you want to be un-single with. Because if that's the situation, then, yeah, Valentine's Day is an extra-crappy day in what is most likely a long string of days that make you want to smash your cellphone to pieces and commit yourself a week spent in bed.

And now that I have taken the time to assess my feelings and write them down for posterity, you might be wondering what my feelings are in regards to Sunday, February 14 in a strictly non church-going sense.

Well.

Let's just say it might be better to keep my cellphone away from me. Because it's newish. And I don't have insurance. And I'd hate to spend Monday gluing together the pieces.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

love cures.


I got my first valentine of the year.

It's from my mom.

In case you can't tell, it says "Yes" on it.

It tastes like a SweetTart.

{I'm assuming.}

It makes me happy.

So, I guess I was wrong when I said this year I wouldn't have a valentine.

I'm luckier than I give myself credit for.

This picture is exhibit a.

<3

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Too Much Food & A Happy Email

I can never remember if the saying goes:

Feed a fever, Starve a cold

or

Starve a fever, Feed a cold

WebMd said that neither is true, as starving yourself is never the answer.

WikiAnswers said a lot of contradicting things. Twas confusing.

But I sincerely hope it is the latter, because today I have eaten just about everything. And the kitchen sink.

For example, I drank an entire pitcher of orange juice. By myself. Before 3 pm. I am currently working on pitcher 2.

I also ate going away cake for my favorite expo at Red Robin, a cup of chicken tortilla soup from Red Robin, and am enjoying a chicken walnut sandwich from Paradise Bakery as I type this. I don't know what has gotten into me, but I am going to chalk it up to medicinal purposes. Naturally.

Oh, and remember today when I ditched class?

Well, I checked my email this afternoon to find this lovely gem from my professor:

ENG 312 Students:

Sorry I forgot to send around the attendance sheet today.

On Monday, February 15th, I’ll send around two attendance sheets, one for Wednesday, February 10th, and one for Monday, February 15th.

Sorry about the inconvenience.


For those people better than me this might create an ethical dilemma.

For me, it's just conformation that I made the right choice.

I mean, come on.

Would you really expect anything else?

All the Durkin Apples Fell Pretty Close to the Tree

Right now, I am playing hookie.

I went to school for my first two classes and then decided to skip my last two while sitting in lecture.

As I walked to my car I made a mental list of all the reasons why it is perfectly ok that I ditch today.

Here is what I came up with.

*I am really sleepy.
*I am a little sick. {i.e. my throat is kinda sore...}
*It is raining.
*I have to go to work at 5.
*I have homework I should do before work.
*I am craving orange juice and soup. {Still working on this one.}
*I texted my friend and told him I was considering going home and if I didn't hear from him by the time the class ended in 15 minutes, I would take that as a sign he approved. It took him 22 to get back to me, and I was already walking up the parking garage stairs.
*Sometimes, you just need to not go to class.

It's good, no? I especially like the fact that I stepped outside, turned to khood, and said "It's raining! Of course I can't go to class today!"

I came home to find Dad and Michael asleep/watching tv on the couch.

At noon. On a Wednesday.

I guess the entire Durkin family is playing hookie today.

That's what happens when it rains.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Dedicated To All My Non-Arizonan Friends.

Apparently, certain parts of the country are being buried in snow. Or something.

Out here in AZ, things are a little different.

Here is a picture I snapped with my camera phone today while I visited the temple with khood.


{I was wearing a skirt, tights, and a short sleeved shirt, by the way. We could both smell the flowers. It was enough to make me forget I hate hate hate this month- for now. It was almost enough to make me think I love love love it.}

I'm speaking in church on Sunday, and I'm a little nervous. I'm not actually nervous for the standing-up-in-front-of-people-part, but I am nervous for the preparing-a-meaningful-talk-part. I just pray that I will find something worthwhile to say.

Oh, and as an update to yesterday's post, I'll tell you that I did finish my homework. I turned in the first draft of my first big writing assignment for my creative nonfiction class. And, long story short, I kind of hate it. At least I have two weeks to "revise." What that really means is I have 2 weeks to rewrite an entire paper. If only someone will remind me to start before 1 week + 6 days from now. Remind me of today and how sleepy I was and how my throat was so sore, probably from lack of sleep. But don't say probably. Tell me it definitely was from lack of sleep. Also remind me that not getting enough sleep makes you die sooner. That's true, right?

Hello, 1:30 AM.

If this is a preview of the semester, count me out.

Today I got home from school at 5.

I started my homework at 11:30.

I'm still trying to figure out what happened during those 6.5 hours. The lost hours, I am calling them in my head.

I took a night nap. I took a bath. I ate cookies and milk. I wrote in my journal. I texted. A lot. I debated the finale of the Harry Potter series. I quoted all the best Tobias Funke lines I could think of. I sat in my bed doing nothing but stewing in my own confusion and lack of motivation. A LOT. I moaned and I complained. I blog stalked. I facebook browsed. I thought. And I rethought. I allowed my heart to break for him, and to ache for me. I gave myself up as a lost cause. I set my alarm for 4 am. I rethought. Again. I took another night nap. I begrudgingly got to work, because what else could I do.

So now my alarm is set for 6:30, because I didn't finish everything. I don't like myself very much right now, but I will absolutely loathe myself in 5 painfully short hours.

Sometimes, I don't know how I do it. I don't know how I can be wrong almost every single time. How many nights like this do I need to have before I learn to suck it up and get to work.

Apparently more than this, because I am writing in here instead of sleeping or working.

I wonder what it is like to live in your world.

Living in mine almost never makes sense.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

confession #6


even though the ex and i were together for a year and a half, thanks to my stellar breakup timing, i have never had a valentine. so don’t worry about me, this year won’t be any lonelier than any of the others.

Saturday, February 6, 2010

confession #5

a follow up.

today, while driving to work, linking park came on the radio again. naturally, i turned the volume up and simultaneously laughed at myself. but then, today while at work, chester bennington totally came in to eat. at red robin! in gilbert! crazy. i didn't even recognize him, but once i was informed who it was, the seventh grader in me did a mini-happy dance.

true story.

Thursday, February 4, 2010

On My Way in A Cloud of Dust


Tomorrow, I road trip down south for the night.

I won’t be gone long.

In fact, I will be in Tucson for less than 24 hours {more like 12} but I.cannot.wait.

Regan turns 20 this weekend, and you can bet we’re going to make the most of my short trip. We'll eat, laugh, and talk ourselves silly, joined by some other girls I have been missing dearly.

Should be a blasty blast.

{Plus, you know, there is that other thing I am looking forward to before I hit the road.}

Enjoy your weekend. They don't come around every day.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Peace in February

The last couple of days have been better than the few before that.

Yesterday I stopped by the temple on my way home from school and just walked around the grounds and sat down for awhile in an attempt to get my mind off some things that have been getting me down lately. I felt better the second I stepped out of my car. I brought along my iPod so I could listen to church music but I didn’t end up turning it on. It was so peaceful to sit in the 70 degree sunshine and listen to nothing but the birds chirp and the calmly running water near the reflection pool. It was almost enough to make me forget it is still the first week of February. There were not a lot of people there, but I did pass a few adorable old couples, walking slowly and holding hands in that way that quietly but clearly let me know they're in love. It was sweet. Luckily, that kind of sweetness doesn’t make my heart ache the way it did back in September; it makes me smile. And I think that is something to be grateful for.


{It is pictures and days like this that make me realize I might have accidentally fallen in love with Arizona somewhere down the line. I'm driving with the windows rolled down and admiring blossoms on trees instead of fighting my way through the snow. And I kind of like it.}

Monday, February 1, 2010

Girl, Don't You Lose Your Heart Yet

"...but one of the mixed blessings of being twenty and twenty-one and even twenty-three is the conviction that nothing like this, all evidence to the contrary notwithstanding, has ever happened to anyone before... Nothing was irrevocable; everything was within reach. Just around every corner lay something curious and interesting, something I had never before seen or done or known about...I could make promises to myself and to other people and there would be all the time in the world to keep them. I could stay up all night and make mistakes, and none of it would count."

--Joan Didion

Sunday, January 31, 2010

Don't Mind Me, I'm Just Mad at the World.

It is the last day of January.

I can tell because the sun is quick to set and slow to rise.

It is the last day of January.

I can tell because a mountain of homework looms on my horizon with no end in sight.

It is the last day of January.

I can tell because I turn the heat on in my car in the morning and the ac on in the afternoon.

It is the last day of January.

I can tell because I am already dreaming of spring. And spring makes me think of falling in love. Every year, without fail.

It is the last day of January.

I can tell because my stomach gets a knot in it when I realize that this year, just like every other, February will arrive despite all of my protests.

It is the last day of January.

I can tell because I spent this past week in a special kind of gloomy mood that I reserve specifically for the days I am mad at the world.

It is the last day of January.

I can tell because Valentine’s Day is practically upon us.

I can tell because my music has been a touch lonelier as of late.

I can tell because I am planning an escape to Tucson.

I can tell because my flair for the melodramatic is at full force once again.

I can tell because I’m not doing any of my homework but the stress has yet to settle into my chest like a bad cold I can't shake.

It is the last day of January.

I can tell because I have not been the friend I told him I would be.

It is the last day of January.

I can tell because I am looking toward the future, desperate to escape the stifling claustrophobia of the present.

It is the last day of January.

Saturday, January 30, 2010

Bonus Points For Making Me Uncomfortable

I went on a date last night.

And, I don’t know.

He’s nice, and funny. He has super white teeth and understood my Bizarro Jerry reference.

On the other hand, he is absolutely in love with Mesa, Arizona, and he listens to John Mayer. I could never wear heels in his presence and he says Sein-field.

And I know that doesn’t sound like much, but if those are the only things I can think about, doesn’t that say something?

One thing I have learned is that when you kinda sorta like a guy and you go on a date with someone else, it is pretty much just going to leave you thinking about the guy you actually care about even more. So that explains the dream I had last night and the pit I had in my stomach when my date mentioned that he wanted to take me out again. I mumbled something lame, knowing I would have time to figure out a way to decline later.

And lest it seems like I am blowing this guy off because he can’t pronounce Seinfeld correctly and he’s not 6 feet tall, I guess I should just put it out there that I didn’t feel anything. No excitement, no butterflies, no real desire to go out with him again.

So there. Maybe I am just a little bit stuck on a guy who couldn’t care less. And maybe I am a jerk. But I gave it a shot, and it didn’t work out.

Although it would have been nice if it did.

**Side note. While we were picking up out food last night we happened to run into someone my date knew a little bit. {Which subsequently happened at least 5 or 6 times over the course of the night, I wasn’t kidding about the being in love with Mesa thing.} So they start talking a little bit and the guy looks at us and remarks, “So you’re not married right? I don’t see a ring…”

Now that things were nice and awkward and my date hurried to assure him that we weren’t married I chimed in with the fact that it was out first date, thinking the guy would probably look embarrassed and apologize.

Nope.

Instead, he says, “Oh ok, so we’re probably looking at a wedding in midsummer then?”

Not okay dude.

Now, it actually wasn’t that horrible, and I have definitely endured way more awkward situations in my life, but what the heck?! The guy barely knew my date, so it wasn’t even like they were the type who could joke around. He was just socially inept, clearly.

Also, when did I get old enough to be married?

It might have been nice had someone clued me in.

Friday, January 29, 2010

confession #4.

today, linkin park came on the radio on my drive home from school. instead of changing the station, i'm embarrassed to admit i turned the volume up and totally rocked out, all the while thinking of the time so many years ago a friend and i spent the entire afternoon trying to win linkin park tickets over the radio.

commence judgement.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

A Bedtime Story

My very first ENG 217 assignment, as promised.

Note, the names have not been changed, on the grounds that it seems kind of pointless.

***
“He’s going to kiss you” Natalie remarked for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

“No he’s not” I answered, making sure to turn away from her as I said it so she would not see the grin on my face. I so badly wanted him to kiss me, but I did not want Natalie to know that in case it didn’t happen. I looked into the mirror again to check my makeup and hair, wondering as I did so if my outfit was motorcycle appropriate. Having never been on one, I wasn’t sure. I had opted for jeans and converse, which felt right, but my top was red with flowers, extremely girly and ruffled. It was my favorite shirt, and I needed something special for the occasion. Even my mom remarked how cute I looked as I left the house, surprised that I had dressed so carefully to spend a night with the girls. I just shrugged and ducked out of the house as quickly as possible, hoping to ward of suspicion. I was a terrible liar. My long straight blonde hair was down around my shoulders, sleek and shiny, which was something else that did not seem to mesh with my planned activity for the night. But I liked this boy and I looked best with my hair down. The choice was obvious.

“What time is he coming?” she asked, glancing casually at the clock. I knew she was almost as apprehensive about this as I was, but I felt like we were both doing a pretty good job of hiding it. I looked over at the clock. The blaring red numbers read 10:45. My stomach did a small flip.

“15 minutes.”

“You know,” she said, “I’m not really sure if my parents will love the idea of you getting picked up by some guy on a motorcycle at 11 o’clock at night.”

“He’s not some guy” was my reply. But I knew she was right. The chance of her parents saying something to mine was way too big to risk. “It’s cool though, I’ll tell him to meet me on the corner.” I picked up my phone to send the text.

“Well I’m not sure how I feel about letting you get picked up on the corner by some guy on a motorcycle! What if you get hurt? What if your mom finds out?” The uneasiness we had both been experiencing all night finally started to emerge. Thankfully she waited until after it was too late to change my mind.

“Don’t say on the corner like I’m a prostitute!” I answer as I attempted to keep myself from thinking about her objections. I knew she was fulfilling her duty as my best friend by issuing the standard warnings and I did not have any good responses to her valid questions. I could get hurt; I knew for a fact that he had crashed his bike before. With a girl on the back, no less! And I just about died inside when I thought about my mom finding out. I had no idea what would happen, as I spent my entire adolescence being the “good girl” who never snuck out of the house or did something her parents told her not to do. But here I was, the beginning of my senior year, ready to be a little rebellious. All I knew for a fact was that my father had been in a bad motorcycle crash when he was younger, and when I nonchalantly suggested to my mom that I take a ride on Eric’s bike her answer was a firm and unyielding “No!”

At five till eleven I quietly crept down Natalie’s stairs and made my way to the corner of her street. The dark of the night gave me chills, despite the warm September air. It was quiet. I stopped under the streetlight and listened for the distant sound of a roaring motorcycle. I heard nothing; so I waited. As the minutes ticked by my excited nerves turned to dread. What if he didn’t show up? The thought killed me. Slowly, I sat down and rested my head on my knees, wondering for the first time if I was in over my head. I glanced back at Natalie’s house where her bedroom light was off but I knew she was also straining to hear the sounds of Eric’s bike. Getting stood up was simply not an option. He had to show.

After an agonizing five minutes my phone mercifully buzzed.

Sorry I’m late. Had to stop for gas. I’ll be there soon.

My heart leapt. And then it started drumming faster and faster. Unsure of what to do with myself, I stood up. But that felt awkward. I sat back down and scuffed my shoes against the pavement. When I finally heard the sounds of his bike a smile so big my face hurt appeared out of nowhere. It was the sound of excitement, of freedom, of rebellion, and of danger. All of these feelings were largely unfamiliar to me and what I considered my sheltered life. In that moment, I was completely sure of my decision. I looked down and wiped the smile away, wary of letting him know how excited I was.

He rounded the corner and pulled to a stop right in front of me. I looked up at him as he climbed off the bike and pulled his helmet off. My initial reaction was that he looked different in his non-work attire. I had only ever seen him in a white shirt and tie. My second reaction was that he looked tall. And cute. I smiled again, no longer making an attempt to hold it back.

We exchanged slightly awkward hellos.

“You didn’t bring a jacket like I told you too!” he said.

“I forgot.” I lied. In reality, I was afraid that a jacket in September would tip my mom off that something unusual was going on. No one needs a jacket when it is still 85 degrees outside. “I’ll be fine.”

He chuckled to himself. “If you say so. But if you need mine let me know.”

“Will do.” I did not plan on needing it. After all, it was warm enough outside that I was questioning my choice to wear jeans, let alone a jacket.

Eric tossed me my helmet which I held uneasily in my hands and began to explain the bike: where I would be sitting, where I would put my feet, and a host of other information that I never even processed. When he looked back up at me expectantly I plopped the helmet on my head, hyper aware that it most likely lowered me a few notches on the attractiveness scale I know boys are so fond of. I felt like if I had been a 6 before, the helmet lowered me to a 4.

“You know, if I get hurt, my mom will kill you. And then she’ll fire you.”

“She’ll fire both of us” he said laughing as he walked over to my side and helped me with the straps on the helmet. I looked up so he could see them more easily and found myself staring directly into his face, mere inches away. My stomach danced uncontrollably. When he finished we made eye contact for a fraction of a second and then stepped back. He quickly hopped on the bike and motioned for me to follow.

“Where do I hold on?” I was pretty sure I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear him say it.

“You hold on to me!” He grinned at me and I returned the favor, approaching the bike confidently as the sound of my heart threatened to wake the neighbors. I swung my leg over the bike and as I did so my stomach did one final flip and my palms clammed up. I put them around his stomach and shut my eyes in a dramatic fashion.

“You ready?” He called as he kicked the bike to life.

I was.

***
P.S. Posting this feels a little too indulgent. Please smack me upside the head if it was.