small talk, revisited.

 i think that most people wonder if i am colorblind, based on the kaleidoscope quality of my closet.
i wear blue tights with red shirts, and yellow tights with everything else.
and what's worse? i have teacher hands.
long bony fingers, even longer nail beds, and dark blue veins. lots of them.
i even delight in marking the parts of speech with red pen in my novels.
i am losing the fight against the scholastic world at a rapid pace.
destined to be a teacher, i am.
even programmed to produce offspring with vein-y teacher hands for generations to come.
however, until i figure out how to make the boy next door love me, aforementioned generations will not belong to him.
i should have made it clear that we are not exactly on the same page, he and i.
as of last week, he has begun courting a girl who is totally indie-rad and completely fabulous.
she parts her long hair down the middle, rocks the aztec print messenger bag, and looks something similar to wednesday addams. but she is witty, and heaven knows i'd like to be her.
and if the two of them cross over into married land, my posterity is in serious jeopardy.
say goodbye to teacher hands and the jolly disposition of a christmas elf. 

sorry, kids. i'm trying.

small talk.

i eat berry berry kicks before bed. a lot.
and i think the boy next door looks good with the wide rims, as well as without them.
i think he's great whether his small talk is questionable, or whether he spells his own name wrong sometimes. and then blushes.
i just kind of think he's like a well dressed, pop culture loving, nerts cheating, brown eyed christmas elf.
precisely my type. 
oh, yes. mad love for the boy with the bow-tie.

and also, i adore miss havisham.
because her story is tragic, mysterious, and melodramatic.
and it's all in the name of love.
which i'm all about.

in big trouble.

i think that my obsession with rom-coms has ruined me.

i cannot see myself settling for anything less than:

ike graham's cynicism,
gerry kennedy's irish accent,
pete monash's six smile speech,
oliver martin's face,
thomas lefroy's one liners, [particularly the heart and soul bit...]
roger adams in pin stripes and a fedora,
john tyree's uniform,
will hayes' big brown eyes,
everett stone's zip ups,
rhett butler's voice to melt my butter,
justin matisse's perseverance,
ben barry's abs,
tom leezak's dumb jokes,
spencer aimes' smoothe moves,
william thatcher's chivalry,
william thacker's innocence,
declan o'callaghan's sarcasm,
john grogan's sweetheartedness,
gil pender's old soul,
michael o'neal's tempestuous temper,
andrew paxton's love of the written word,
pastor dan's patience,
joe bradley's hair,
joe fox's wit,
sam baldwin's sensitivity,
dex thaler's smile,
jackson latcherie's charm,
jacob jankowski's moves on the dance floor,
john mason's laugh,
and jack callaghan's silent judgement.

i don't think i'm aiming too high, here. i just know what i want, right?

is there counseling for this? hay-ulp....

the sick addiction that i have to purchasing sassy blockbusters is rather pathetic. 

i've got everything from frankie and annette to scott pilgrim. in alphabetical order...

i'm one of those people who tries to purchase ferris bueller's day off for the sixth (yes, the sixth) time,

and somehow winds up leaving hasting's with a completely different collection. again.

i am a champ when it comes to bargain movie shopping. nay, a gladiator.

oh, yes. i am a bargain-movie-shopping-gladiator.

and amazon.com? we've been fighting a saucy love affair for quite some time now.

it tempts me with 2$ classics, and i always give in.

anyway...

three eclairs, and one hour later,

i am the proud owner of 4 best sellers.

for a grand total of 20 bones.

who's your daddy....

gilmore sisters.

"honestly, lorelai. it's not your looks that keep them away. think about that."
--emily gilmore.

sisters always give the best advice... especially when given through the voice of beloved fictional television characters.




gilmore... the voice of reason inside of my head. e'rryday.

human again.

"i'm sitting pretty and i don't know why. 

i found somebody, said he'd make me fly. 

wrapped me up in ribbons, then he left me to die. 

wrapped me up in ribbons, then he left me to die."

"i know a man who was afraid to love.

to lay his heart on the bathroom rug."

"we hate the rain when it fills up our shoes, 

but how we love when it washes our cars.

and we love to love when it fills up the room, 

but when it leaves, oh, we're cursing the stars."

mm.

the hours of sleep that i've already lost from breathing all of this in are not a big deal, and i couldn't care less that 9:00 will come in seven hours.

this album is the best thing to have happened to me since 2009, and that, alone, is big news.

she's a genius. and an angel, as it were.

don't trust @pple π.

Last night, some sketchers dragged us ten miles up Logan canyon, across an icy bridge, and to a scary cabin in the middle of one thousand trees. I don't think anyone realized just how many prepositions would get involved.

But we are safe, and have so far proven to be unscathed by the event. And our body temperatures will most likely return back to normal. And I will never wear tights and a dress to an apple pi event ever again. And also, I refuse to visit the nunnery. Just so we are clear.

Thankfully, my trusty cuzzy stood by my side every step of the way. May-lons, you're my best girl... And not just because you cuddle with boys that look like Ben Affleck. I like you for other reasons too.

40 degrees and raining.

sometimes, i practically force alex's arms into her rain jacket and drag her to the grocery store at midnight.
even in torrential rain.
even when i know she doesn't want to come.
even when she's in pink polka dot pajamas... [hehe!]
but don't feel too bad for her. because her attendance is conditional on the fact that i promise to buy her an 8$ stick of eyeliner.
...which i agree to.
because i reeeeally don't want to go alone.

thursday, thursday, THURSDAY!

don't pretend like you didn't know this was coming, guys...

bloody thursday=success.

...understatement of the year.

let's start with the BSHs, shall we? 

i think only one thing needs to be said: 

stefan salvator still has a soul.

praises be to the gods of the underworld.

now to move on to bigger and better things. like....

...how i am going to kidnap this child.

he won me over tonight. most adorable tumor patient ever.

and by the way... bawled. through the entire episode. 

including funny valentine-richard/adele/kepner-being-completely-useless scene.

tears.

if you haven't watched yet, i suggest that you do.

because grey's was OFF. THE FRIGGIN. HOOOOK TONIGHT!

best episode since season 5... "o'malley got hit by a bus! izzy's got cancer, and o'malley got hit by a bus!" 

concur?

and don't even get me started on zola. she's got me wrapped around her finger. twice.

hope your bloody thursday viewings were even more wonderful than mine.

...that sounds weird...

suck it, trebek.

 today was probably the greatest.

but i'm getting ahead of myself...

 

it is my emily's twentieth birthday today!

we were stitched together four years ago by the thread of two teenage heartbreaks and a.p. u.s. history [which, by the way, mercilessly kicked my trash].

and while i'd rather eat french fries, and she'd rather take the stairs,

we are still somehow able to be best friends.

she's the athletic one, and i watch old movies and obsess over architecture.

match made in heaven, i tell ya.

 happy birthday, sweet emiline! 

also.

i made two killer batches of my mother's famous biscuits and gravy, and thanks to my brilliant sister-in-law who posted the recipe with step by step instructions [and fool proof pictures!], i actually pulled it off.

which worked out nicely.

because as it turns out, neighbor boys particularly like biscuits and gravy.

and i particularly like neighbor boy. [s]. but really, just the one. and someday, we're going to hold hands. or something.

and seven thousand decks of cards later, we finished off our breakfast eating festivities with about seven thousand games of nerts.

i'd like to give a kiss on the cheek to whoever is responsible for national holidays.

 

p.s.

i play card games now....

wtf?!

 

story of my life.

never have i felt uncomfortable with the soul inside of me, or begged to be a little bit cooler.
my dresses are fine; they suit me.
the hairs on my circle head are dull, and i like them just like that.
in fact, i even like my circle head.
in dark theaters, i talk too often, and undoubtedly too loud.
i chew on ice, and laugh when i shouldn't...
i protest pants, head up church tickle-back-turns, and sleep 'til noon.
i appreciate clean white socks, covered parking, and smart boys with bed head...the ones with stupid jokes.

and often, i find my brain wandering past the things i know, and exploring silly alternatives to the list above.

but.

i catch myself in writing.
i stake my hole in the ground, and remember that the soul inside of me will always be my favorite one.
and then, i go to sleep.

tehe.

obviously i'm too cool for school by the fourth day. 

either that, or i thought my class was at 9:30, when it was really just at 9.

you decide. i've chosen to plead the former. 

but for the record... 

understanding literature at 9... also a trip. 

so....

i've decided to celebrate my mistake with red lips, jamba, and einsteins before i have to go rot in biology, round 2.

do NOT tell my mother.

oh, and my town is better than yours. second rescue in six months. i love little logan. 

[p.s. the good looking gentleman in the long sleeved dark blue? he's in my ward. i know a hero. it's whatev.]

the weird girl, and the class that follows.

yesterday, on the first day of school, a girl punched me in the face.
and then, she proceeded to tell me that "while this wasn't exactly an ideal introduction", i should still tell her my name...

no, seriously.
she punched me in the face.
on accident.
...but still.


i felt a little bit weird about her...

elements of grammar at 12:30 is going to be a trip.
especially because when i began exploring my textbook tonight, i realized that i have a whole lot to learn about subordinate clauses and reflexive pronouns.... crap.

this is just to say.

"how about this: failure is essential. fail as much and as gloriously as you can. fail in little, seemingly inconsequential ways when no one is looking. or fail on a stage under the lights. the thing is, others might not see it as such. and given enough time, it might actually reveal itself as something else."

--ms. meg fee

and that, my friends, is why i idolize her. really, i do. 

"we go to movies... and we kiss..."

first things first:

i just pre-ordered my copy of human again which i am absolutely ecstatic about! january 24 will be the best day of my life. and i might cry.

 second:

holy adorable. i've got the fever for life, i'm afraid.