confession #3

sometimes, you meet a boy. and you talk and laugh and he gets your number and the two of you hang out. sometimes you sit in his car until 2 am getting to know each other and making plans to eat ridiculous amounts of hamburgers and mexican truck tacos until you get a text from dad, prompting you to reluctantly go inside with a goofy grin on your face. so then maybe a week goes by, and you talk and kinda try to see each other over the weekend, but it doesn't really work out the way you thought it would. and suddenly it is monday again, and you haven't talked to him all day, so you send him a text. and then, then... you get the fun task of accepting the fact that said boy is just not that into you! because, if he was, he would totally answer your dumb text.

It Must Be A New Semester; It's 1 am and Nothing is Done

I like to think that I am not that different than most other people. So when I say that some days are just harder than others, I assume most of you know what I am talking about. I can have a fabulous Sunday at church where I felt the Spirit so strongly I cried in Sacrament meting for perhaps the first time memory (recent or otherwise) and then come home to find that quite immediately and unexpectedly every good thing about the day has fallen apart. And I think you understand what I mean.

Today (the after church part, anyway) was one of those days that can only be characterized as difficult.

It was difficult to be happy. Difficult to carry on conversations without snapping at people. Difficult to talk to most of my friends. Difficult to get out of bed. Difficult to eat. Difficult to feel good about myself. Difficult to be content with the present, difficult to keep an eye on the future. Difficult to get my mind out of the past. Difficult to listen to anything other than Jack’s Mannequin Spinning on repeat over and over again. Difficult to do my homework. Difficult to look at my syllabus to figure out what the homework is. Difficult to keep myself from wallowing. Difficult not to be an obnoxious, self-absorbed pain in the neck. Difficult to get down on my knees and ask for help. Difficult to open my Book of Mormon.

Just difficult, is what I’m saying.

I was texting a friend about this remarking that I could pick out a few concrete reasons for my bad mood but added together they weren’t nearly enough to justify my serious funk. He remarked that sometimes the small things multiply themselves rather than adding. And while that’s true, it is seriously not fair. It’s not fair that a stomach ache plus an obnoxious girl flirting with a boy I like plus a burned tongue plus an older brother who teases me can somehow multiply together to creating 8 hours of serious unpleasantness. Especially after such a good day in church. It’s not fair that I could have come home and painlessly done my homework and then had time to read or spend time with my family or call a friend. Instead, it is now well past midnight and I have yet to touch my school bag. It is 12:45 am and I feel not only unhappy but also idiotic.

I should have known better.

"And Nothing is very strong: strong enough to steal away a man's best years not in sweet sins but in a dreary flickering of the mind over it knows not what and knows not why, in the gratification of curiosities so feeble that the man is only half aware of them, in drumming of fingers and kicking of heels, in whisting tunes that he does not even like, or in the long, dim labyrinth of reveries that have not even lust or ambition to give them relish, but which, once chance association has started them, the creature is too weak and fuddled to shake off." -C.S. Lewis

It Turns Out I'm Fairly Easy to Please

Tonight could have been better.

Let us list the ways.

*ASU could have made their free throw shots. Or their three point shots. Or any shots at all.
*They could have not embarrassed themselves on their home court.
*They could have won. {In theory.}
*The Ex could have sat somewhere other than 10 feet in front of me.
*I could have gone out with a certain boy instead of going to the miserable game.
*I could have gone out with a certain other boy instead of going to the miserable game.
*I could have done something better after the game than going to a dance party when I was not in the mood to dance.
*I could be in bed right now instead of watching Jersey Shore on MTV and eating my weight in honey roasted almonds.

I suppose tonight could have been worse though.

I mean, I did get to spend time at the awesome game with my friends. And I got to see khood shove the obnoxious U of A fan out of her way after the game. And at the end of it all I got to chat with a certain boy on Facebook.

So it looks I’ll be going to bed with a smile on my face tonight, after all.

Go figure.

confession #2

i wish being single was always this much fun.

Tell It Slant

I think I’m in love.

I know it sounds premature, but I simply cannot help myself.

After two very short days, I am in love with my ENG 217 class.

The unofficial title of the class is Writing Reflective Essays.

Last night we had our first homework assignment. I was genuinely excited about it all day.

I rushed home from work, sat down at my laptop, and didn’t move until I was finished.

I wrote 2 pages, single spaced, and then forced myself to stop. Today in class the professor told us we should have aimed for 1 page, double spaced.

Yep. I am that incredibly annoying overachiever. I was almost embarrassed to turn my homework in.

I read the introduction and the first chapter of the book, and I was enthralled. I wanted to keep reading.

I wanted to keep reading my textbook.

I know.

The introduction opened with an Emily Dickinson quote {whom I am not particularly fond of} and it was hook, line, and sinker.

Tell all the Truth but tell it Slant
Success in Circuit lies…

As I read the book I came to realize that this class is what I am all about. I have always known I wanted to be a writer, and I always just assumed I would write novels. But in reality, I don’t write very much fiction. I write in my journal. I write in this blog. I write about myself, about my life, about people I know. I write these things almost compulsively. And I love it.

So maybe, just maybe, I want to write Creative Nonfiction?

{Insert lame joke about an oxymoron here.}

I enjoy writing the most when it is a personal experience. I love the idea of connecting with myself and others through representation and exploration of real events.

Am I boring you?

I’ll try to stop.

Last night I could not wait to write about “a scene out of your own life that was of utmost importance.”

It was great. {The experience, not necessarily my paper.}

I told "All the Truth"

But I "Told it Slant."

Just like Dickinson instructed.

I think this semester I am going to post some of my work on here.

And I’ll see what you guys think. {If you would be so kind as to oblige.}

And maybe soon I’ll start with my very first assignment.

I’ll give you a hint. It’s about a boy. And a motorcycle. And if you know me at all, I have probably already told you the story.

After all, the prompt did specify utmost importance.

"The Purpose of this Class is to Change You."

I am trying to get into the habit of looking at the bright side. Of making a list of the good things about my life when I am not loving the present circumstances. It’s a practice in counting my blessings, if you will.

I knew one of these lists would be required when my alarm went off at 7 am this morning, and when it went off again at 7:30, reminding me that, like it or not, the semester has officially begun.

So here it is. My list of the reasons why today didn’t actually suck.

**It was beautifully overcast, cool, and windy all day. And as I write this the forecasted rain is finally starting to appear.
**It only took my one 20 minute trip to the bookstore to get all of my books. All 19 of them.
**The lady who teaches my 9 am class has a really sweet, sugary voice. This would normally annoy me, but seems not so bad at 9 am when I am still trying to wake up.
**My institute class, The Atonement, Forgiveness, and Repentance, is going to be fabulous.
**I got to wear the new pair of jeans I bought myself for two reasons. 1) I need new jeans. 2) I needed a reason to look forward to going to school. It kind of worked.
**I ran into Mormon Boy at the institute, something that didn’t happen once all last semester.
**I deposited my ASU refund check!

And finally

**I picked up my ticket to the ASU vs. U of A game this Saturday, as well as for the Cal & Stanford games. I am so ready to see my Sun Devils {who are leading the Pac-10} destroy those Wildcats. {But I still love you Nic Wise! And even you too Kyle Fogg!}


Hopefully your day didn't suck either. Even if you did have to go to school.

It's Nothing I Haven't Said Before

School starts tomorrow.

I am neither excited nor prepared.

What I am prepared to do is spend another week sleeping in late, going to the gym, watching Cash Cab + Stephen Colbert, taking afternoon naps, and generally living the life of a retiree {minus a few hours a week waiting tables at the local RR}. Sure, I got a little bored, but I am not ready to trade that boredom for months of stress and headaches and sleep deprivation.

I am positive there was a time I liked school. Loved it, even. But I barely remember that time. Admittedly I had two classes this fall that I thoroughly enjoyed, found interesting and intellectually stimulating, but when it comes down to it, it wasn’t enough. Wasn’t enough to keep the school junkie in me from dying a painful death. Wasn’t enough to get me excited about 4 English classes and the many many hours of reading and writing papers that will result in said classes.

I’m tired. I have been out of school for 5 weeks and I am still tired. I am tired when I think about this semester. I am tired when I think about 2.5 more years of this.

And now I have sufficiently bummed myself out after an unexpectedly lovely weekend.

Only 4 more days until the next one.

I’ll be counting my time in weekends from now until mid-May. Care to join me?