no words. but the opposite of that.

hi.

i'm a republican. did you know that? because i am.
a red-blooded, george bush supporting, glenn beck advocating, right wing enthusiast.
i respect sarah palin, bill o'reilly, and will vote for mitt in 2012.
but guess what. i'm also a member of a pretty great church. which is rarely represented on fox news.
last night it was.
and i was overjoyed.
i watched this last night. and it simply brought me to tears.

i have the most respect for the nielson family. and on air last night, they told america how they really felt. all of america. topics were touched on air that never have been before, i'm sure. good people, those nielsons. i went to bed feeling like a weight was lifted from the world maybe. that there had to be someone watching that needed to hear that god is in everything. god provides hope when circumstances appear to be hopeless. when a prayer seems neglected, try again, or listen harder. this broadcast reminded me to be better--to quit whining. it was wonderful to watch this, and know that we all root for the same team. we want to share our knowledge of the plan of salvation, the atonement, and even things that may seem insignificant like a prayer. they do get answered, something you will understand if you only try.

i couldn't find the entire broadcast, but if you're interested, you can go here and read it all. do it. it is wonderful. :) 

there's color everywhere, and things are off center.

it's ugly right now, i know.
but i don't have the energy to fix it.
so please pardon my slackership.

blogstruction underway.
hard hats necessary.

today was the first daybreak drive of the season,

and i sure did love it.
and because i'm so in love with the oquirrh mountain area, i spend an hour a week on a drive around daybreak in the summertime. woah. preposition overload. sorry. anyway. the drive offers my brain and i five seconds alone to bounce ideas off of one another. such time is much needed in order to keep altercations away throughout the week. conversation seldom turns ugly, however, i have been known to be awake all night with a brain that won't stop chatting.

but for the most part, i like my brain.

favorite discovery of the adventure:

this.

also,

i purchased some new tights and shoes. which was bril.
we all know that nothing makes this girl happier than lace and tights.
well. some things do. like babies, and sour candy, and pools.
but roll with it.

{happy sabbath.}

this place smells like germs. which is gross.

one miracle of a flight later, i have touched down in the land of the free. which feels almost surreal, considering the fact that i thought i was never going to get out of dublin. two flights a day to the states... whaaaatta joke. but that's not the point. the point is that mary ann in business elite took double care of me, {meaning my cup of diet coke mixed with the non virgin kind was never neglected. relax, people. i'm talking about stiff coke here.} and the man who sat beside me for our special journey fondly resembled my dentist, which removed some of the awkward severity when he hovered over me to get to the aisle. good man.

so. here i sit. at jfk. again.

back to the place where horizon lines are full of skyscrapers and department store tycoons.
plus, my 3G no longer rejects me.

it's a good one, this country.

pictures of dreamland and londontown to come soon. i have to get outttta new york first. which could be a problem.

kilarney has ruined me forever.

miraculously, there is wifi in our favorite red blooded american diner in limerick. sure do love me some free wifi, that's for sure. especially when it is accompanied by a big juicy BLT heavy on the mayo. what can I say... i'm all about the grease. however, I can't stomach another fry. i'm done with those.

the tour ends in the morning, and i have to wake up from my green dream. it's possible that i'll shed a few tears. i mean, i'm just being honest.

i spent the day on dingle peninsula and felt my heart skip a beat upon entering thatched roof and poppy territory. it was a blustery day and grey was everywhere. the rain dimpled our euro car as the kooks and otis redding provided the soundtrack of our drive. this saying goodbye business isn't going to be easy.

i'll be seeing you in america too close to momentarily. back to the place deprived of cake pops, penney's, and da mario's. {sigh. big sigh.}

love, a true galway girl.

in case you are wondering,

i am never coming home from this green place that i sometimes call heaven.

travel seduction brought to you by ireland.

tube to train, train to ship, ship to train, and train to train, i have reached dreamland. around nine o'clock tonight, and after twelve hours of travel across land and sea, i stepped off the train in limerick. the very same place that mr. thomas lefroy calls home... that is one beautiful detail that i am particularly giddy about. the other could possibly be driven by the fact that upon arriving, out my window, there was nothing but green.

i am in heaven here.

and do you know what?
there is a bath tub here. a real life one. and the view put my window is of a dark grey stone clock tower and cathedral, fifteenth century made or older. i'm telling you, i could spend forever here. plus, i ate maynards wine gums for dinner, {my favorite european delicacy} and am finishing off the night watching made in chelsea. the hills, but with the addition of british accents... which somehow makes it less trashy. instead of our protagonist being the lovely "LC", in britain, her name is caggie. i do believe i have once again pestered the reality t.v. monster inside of me, and this show has become an addiction i refuse to shake myself of. cheeky, reeeally. lastly... every commercial voice over has an irish tint. it. is. the loveliest thing.

good night from county cork.
all of my love, courty kearns.
{p.s. my name is a big deal around here, what with it being irish and all. so i'm obviously loving that too.}

that was the man i was supposed to marry.

he got off the tube at picadilly, walked eastbound and forever out of my life. i'm afraid the image of his khaki pants, curly sand hair, root beer boots, and dark teal eyes will never leave me. he stared at my shoes, and i stared at his stare. it made my heart hurt, really. a few years my senior, two or three i'm sure. if he'd spoken a word to me with the british accent that i know he had, we'd be halfway to serious courtship by now. i am convinced that I witnessed a great tragedy this morning on my way to wales; never trust a boy from london in dark blue pin stripes. he is far too dreamy for real life. here's to better luck in dublin.

diaries from a gate twelve, jfk.

i am gazing at manhattan out the big glass windows, too ghetto to be considered chic.
i can't for the life of me remember the architect of this airport, even though i was tested on exactly that not two weeks ago.
my zipper is down. what else is new. it has gotten to the point where i'm not even embarrassed anymore.
and something borrowed has become my jetsetting vice. i believe that emily giffin and i just became long time friends.

cheerio, chaps!
i'll be seeing you in londontown! :)

here's the deal:

i have to catch an 8:30 flight in the morning, just to transition to another. but we're okay with that, because the second plane is headed for london-heathrow.
i hiked a serious waterfall in farmington tonight with gen, miss, and those bountiful boys, which has led me to my bed just praying that my legs stop throbbing in time for me to shake it off in the morning. it's a long shot, i understand. but we all know the big man can work some pretty sweet miracles. let's just hope he deems me worthy of one of them.
i have been patiently waiting for this one girl to get a kiss, but it keeps on doing the opposite of happening. it's like, KISS HER ALREADY... ya know? p.s. it's not me. just in case you didn't know. thanks for being on my team anyway, though. i appreciate that.
i learned tonight that similar to spicy food, salsa, and hot sauce, a hike's intensity will never be represented correctly. that's why when i say, "ketchup sometimes burns my tongue," you say, "this hike is around three miles uphill both ways". heaven help the man who marries me. i hope he's not an outdoorsy mexican. things could be fatal for our love.
campfire roasted starbursts are my guilty pleasure. along with lots of other things like nick jonas and antique road shows. but we're getting ahead of ourselves now.

well, all you pretty people.
i just love you, i do.
plus, i think you're great. (i had to say that for my brother. sometimes words come our of my fingertips and i could swear i'm typing from jake kearns' body. like just now. it's the strangest thing.)  

i'm off to europe for the trip i have been dreaming of since i was a little girl. it feels so good to know that it all happens in the morning.

i'll be seeing you!
and i'll write all of your names on abbey road.
because i just think that much of you.
it's a big honor.
you're welcome.

{...that in all your recordings,

let it be recorded in heaven.}

d&c 128:7

my favorite snippet of tonight's reading.

:)

strawberry fields forever.

helllllo cute boy.
it's me.
your one day wife.

i thought of some more things you maybe should be aware of.

first.
i like the beatles.
almost in the same way that i like you.
but not.
because i like you wayyyy more.

sometimes i say the 's' word, and then i don't even feel sorry about it.
actually, if i'm being honest, i do lots of things i don't feel sorry about.
like throwing gum on the sidewalk, and sometimes running stop signs.
i'm pretty risky business if you couldn't tell.
and when i'm sad, i feel like i deserve to not wear pants. so then i don't.
and i just decided to designate saturdays at our house as no pants day.
nobody needs to go out on saturdays.
therefore, nobody needs to wear pants.
it's incentive to push through the week. go with it.
i insist on raiding your closet, stealing your zip ups, and abducting your shaving cream.
but i give top notch tickle back turns, so it all evens out.
i don't like karaoke, and i will never make you watch moulin rouge. because i hate it as much as you do.
however, i refuse to share a glass of milk with you, and can make no promises of staying awake during football games on t.v.
you win some, you lose some i guess.
also,
sometimes, even after i'm pantless and still sad, i think of europe.
it's my happy place.
and we're going to live there one day. in ireland. i don't care what it takes.
but i've done my homework, and it is happening.
white washed walls, and a thatched roof on the cliffs of moher.
i'm sure that it is somewhere in the cards for us, even if it's buried deep.

but more importantly, you're in the cards for me, and we will cross this ireland bridge when we come to it.

sound like a plan, one day love?

raise your hand if you were humbled this morning.

remember how i like words?

well, i don't just like writing and saying them. 

i loooove reading them too.

and i'm starting my summer reading with this book.

because this man is incredible.  read his story here, and then watch this.

...i can only imagine what he has gone through, and i feel a sort of reverence towards him. 

there are wonderful people who deserve the world at their fingertips. 

matt logelin and his little maddy are two of them. 

i'm reading, and you should be too.

liiike... you think i'm kidding.

but i'm not.

i have the best news, loves.

two more followers. in one night.
that rarely happens.

i don't know if you know this about me, but secretly, {and after tonight not-so-secretly} i hope to become a big shot blogger one day. i think we all do, but i'm admitting it.
for real though. 
so let's try something.
i'm going to go brooke borup on you, because she is brilliant, {p.s. is her header not killer? we're big 'b' fans on this blog.} and give you some incentive.

i'm leaving the country for two weeks on saturday.
and if by the time i get back there are thirty five of you or more, {remember that i understand my stat graphs... i know you're out there...}
it's possible that there will be an international surprise just waiting to show up in your mailbox.
highly possible.
take my good friend, joe.
joe follows. and lives in germany. {p.s. joe, i don't know you, but i think you're great.}
and once there was someone from australia that commented. {i like you too by the way.}

i'm talking giveaway, people.
pathetic? maybe. but that's none of your business.
and when have i ever been self conscious about anyone's opinion anyway?
i'm going pretty far this time... it's being posted on the fb.
which i never do.

so here goes. thirty five... that's nine more. for the price of clicking a button.

you are wonderful. :)

 and here's your piece of the day. 

because i decided i like it again.

i like me some red head lovin'.

why did the girl fall off the swing?

because she had no arms.


courtesy, jordan hansen.
my bestie in d.c.

...you know you laughed.  

seriously, the last one. promise.

it has all sunken in now,
i am no longer a resident of the 404.

this is my last post from the purple counter in alva c.
which, as previously stated, depresses me and makes me want to do abnormal things.
like paint myself white to match the cinder blocks, and glue myself to the walls--no one will notice, right?

so here's to colorless surroundings, a packed fridge, fly traps in the light vents, and purple doors.

  here's to snow hall, and the lessons it taught me... like never water bucket your neighbor's door at 4 a.m. and expect them not to retaliate during bun-lympics.

and of course, here's to these girls who made all of the above more fun.

miss you already. :)

i know, i know.

it has only been three hours.

but i just have to say.
being alone has its perks.
when a plethora of guests are present at the marketplace, it makes it hard for the public to judge them.
however,
when you're a girl, who is quite alone, and foreign to this place, "the regulars" lose their inhibitions.
everyone feels the need to play court critic.
and who wouldn't want to subject themselves to that level of ridicule?

there is obviously no food in my cupboard. or my fridge for that matter.
i don't have a car. or friends apparently.
so naturally, i choose to walk to the one spot that will feed me.
and of course that one spot costs me nine dollars and a few hours of sheer humility.
the one spot where all i eat is pizza and browning salad.
ironically, this is also the place where "that kid" from high school has found his "in". he's surrounded by like twenty girls. which just doesn't click with me. he's the mean smart kid in your chemistry class that refuses to answer any question you ask because he thinks you're trying to copy his paper. even when you're not. {matt randall, i will never be your groupie. you burned that bridge long ago when i passed with a d+. karma's a......}


the marketplace. what a joke.

upon entering said "restaurant", i pull out my credit card. and the following words are exchanged:

true story number one: 

me: hi! {friendly. because i have nothing against anyone yet.}
him: hello.... {no, seriously. just like that.}
[i hand my card over. he hesitantly takes it. and weirdly. it's like, just take that card...]
me: uh... [pulling away a little] i have never been here before. do i just....
him, [interrupting.]: this costs nine dollars.
me: yes, i know. do i just... [he hands me back my card, and proceeds to stare] ...it's okay. i don't remember what i was going to say anyway.

not another word was uttered from card man.

true story number two:

me [to pasta preparing lady]: do you think you could point me towards the salad bar?
p.p.l.: [she took me literally. and vaguely pointed.]
i look around...
me: um... okay so over on the wall?
p.p.l.: no.
me: alright.
p.p.l.: [silence. more staring.]
me: you know what, i'll figure it out.

winners those two; they should reproduce. their offspring would thrive.

needless to say, i probably won't return...
but in the meantime, i'll sit pretty on endless diet coke until my computer dies. for when my power is deceased, i will have truly become an outsider. and i think outsider is tomorrow night's special.

yikes.

and any time you feel the pain, hey jude, refrain.

moving out of the alva c. today was maybe the worst thing. 

ever. 

scratch that...

moving out of the alva c., then having to stay the night in it without the 404 peps, mr. j.b., and the old girl chair is the worst.

it is going to be one lonely night here.

i hate college right now.

last night, we took some family pictures outside of our home of nine months.

and i have considered shedding tears a few times. 

as the roomies left one by one this morning, i contemplated attaching myself to their legs and holding on for dear life.
kylee was the first, followed by kenz, brookie, and later little miss.
jordan left for d.c. around noon,
so let's just not talk about that.
i guess this means that the tribe has spoken.

this is not real....

at least, it wasn't until i looked around me five seconds ago, and the only things in the living room are maroon alva c. chairs and a table from davis hall.

{if laura asks, i have no idea where it came from. i'm scared she's going to make me haul it back...}

so here i am, 

checked out, keyless, and alone.
just me, my computer, and a few boxes.

i have never wanted to call this place home until now.

i'll be out by tomorrow morning, 

and it's breaking my heart.

tonight we:

i moved in with one best friend, and moved out with three. 

they're pictured above.

roasted starbursts over our little stove with those boys next door that we have come to love oh so much, 

sent some flames up towards the infamous smoke alarm,

splashed agua in pursuit of a frosty,

smooshed in a black exterra named denzel,

drove around logantown to find an ice cream joint open past eleven o'clock {not for rookies, folks.},

settled on carl's j.,

"froggered" some quarters {i'm a quarter spinning champ by the way},

there was some def leopard in the car,

some more smooshing,

and we laughed, and laughed. 

and laughed.

  and of course...

i have to mention these lovelies.

the 404 would be a sad place without them.

spring semester was top notch, and i will miss it like crazy.

even if the elevator lights mysteriously vanished one too many times, {only our fault ONE TIME, starr! k maybe twice...}

and even when angie's was the highlight of my weekend.

i can no longer imagine life without ping-pong players in the lobby until two in the morning,

or coming out of the elevator and being greeted by a twin boxing match.

it's all just normal now, and i never want to leave. 

however, 

i will pack my bags tomorrow, and seal up my life for the summer.

you've been good to me, alva c.

four months is four months too long.

my own slice of heaven in logantown.

i sure am going to miss this little house on 1st east.
seriously.
i can already feel the withdrawls that come with park avenues, seventh habits, and cafe ibis hot chocolate.
not to mention the sadness i feel when i think about how it will be months before i sit inside by the used bookshelf, staring out into the rain, while listening to aspiring artists serenade me with sad songs.

i will always remember the autumn morning that we first discovered this place.
and will weep for the absence of it all summer long.

see you come september, crepery.
sure do love you.

i hate the world this morning.

i showed up half an hour early for my second to last final.
so i'm a pretty happy camper.
that was the biggest bold faced lie i've ever told.

penny lane is in my ears, and in my eyes.

a little less than two weeks, lovelies.

i can see london-heathrow as i type, i swear it. slow-mo walking across abbey road, playing around piccadilly circus, trafalgar square, and harrod's... indulging in a pistacchio and strawberry cake pop of course... remember? bucket list? not to mention shopping portobello road in notting hill, {cue bill withers}. sunday the fifteenth, you can find me wandering hyde park, listening to young revolutionists proclaim their most well thought out ideas from soap boxes. and later in the week, i will share a long awaited kiss with the one that i love. his name is the blarney stone. and we're practically married. i'm pretty committed, and have been since i heard the word ireland so many years ago. i was young when we were introduced, but our love is forever.

for now, however, i must dream sweetly of gerrit rietveld, phillip johnson, and karim rashid... for my academic fate lies within their now-tainted names. they're brilliant men, but i'd rather not be tested on the course of our courtship.

that means history of interiors final, people. 
tomorrow. 

{good night.}

p.s.
still beatles obsessed. i think it's for good this time.

"never fear... brooklyn is here!"

i got to chat tonight!
it was the happiest! i mean, we only chatted for a few minutes, as a missionary's time is limited on the interweb... but it was worth it to chat directly with elder d.

and now newsies is occupying snow 404, and i couldn't be happier. my heart is filled with spot collins, which is something i am more than okay with... seeing as i have had a crush on him since my hormones informed me that i'm supposed to like boys.

it is a grand sunday evening in logantown. :)

i have a crush on john cusak. which doesn't have anything to do with this post, but it's true. and i thought you should know.

the good news is, melancholy... gone. no grey's anatomy today; i think we've solved our case, watson.
and the other good news is the absence of bad news.

yes, it is close to five o'clock in the morning, and i'm sitting at my kitchen counter writing this. and dreaming of a day when it will feel all fine and well to go to bed before the latest hours of the morning. i just cannot bring myself to do such a thing when i have three days left of my freshman year. there are too many games to be played, movies to be watched, friends to be made... and i guess i should mention the studying. {that was for you, mom.} besides that, i was thinking about myself a few minutes ago, something i admittedly do all too often. {you do it too. it is easier if you just admit it.} and i remembered how much i liked fun facts.  so here we go:

i shower in the morning and at night. the just clean feeling upon hitting the sheets is possibly the best one on earth.
i swear by jergen's ultra healing lotion.
i don't feel pretty until i'm wearing earrings.
i'm an avid chapstick wash and dryer. i am certainly no stranger to unchecked pant pockets and broken chapstick.
making people feel stupid unsettles me, so i'll probably laugh at any joke you tell. unless i don't like you... that's a different story. and in that case, i'm pretty sassy. i'm working on it...
i like boys that use big words and say dumb things. paradoxical, but charming.
flattened marker tips drive me absolutely up the wall, and i refuse to use them.

{good morning, and happy sabbath.}