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