midnight sister phone calls.

some of my favorite snippets from tonight's conversation.
possibly racist, and possibly sacrilegious.
but, we speak our minds.

some author's notes:
--somehow misuse of the churchill quote always seems to sneak into our phone calls, how winston probably rolls in his grave with every new "keep calm" reference... how women of the pinterest generation couldn't explain where the quote came from to begin with. it has become a staple in conversation. something we love to parody.
--"the mormons" are commonly a topic of discussion. yes, it's a generalization. but we're allowed to use it... because it's a demographic we're particularly knowledgeable of. it's like the i'm-the-only-one-who-can-make-fun-of-my-little-brother-because-he's-my-little-brother idea, but different. "the mormons" are casually thrown in every once in a while to make ourselves feel justified in worshipping things we almost shouldn't. i.e. dax shepherd and kristin bell, mcdonald's caramel frappes, rebel wilson...
--UBH: unfriendly black hottie. 


court: i'm never getting my eyebrows waxed by a white girl ever again. these brows are only to be touched by the asians from now on. i have learned my lesson.
amy: i know. i totally feel your pain.
court: and do you know, she used gloves on my eyebrows! insinuating that i had an eyebrow diseases! jada never uses gloves. she knows i don't have any disease. and she waxes in 7 minutes or less. and she gives me a face massage. also, white girl salons have that smell... you know? it's like the white-girl-salon smell. if cady had a scent...
amy: "guilt & chanel no. 5". gilmore girl references are always appropriate. 

court: i'm taking an archaeology class. did you know that? because it's true. yes, amy. archaeology.
amy: no, i don't think i knew that.
court: oh, and get THIS. i usually sit next to a kid from hawaii. and he's got blonde hair. doesn't that make you feel weird?
amy: why would that make me feel weird?
me: i don't know, i just always wonder, "if you're from hawaii, then why are you white?" i call it the karen smith complex. seriously, white people from hawaii don't make you feel weird?
amy: not since they joined the union...

amy: remember how the last time we went to california, we kept over-using the term, UBH?
court: k but it was a valid overuse... they were unfriendly, but also good looking.

amy: so i guess the church came out with a statement saying that cold, caffeinated drinks are not of the devil.
me: good. now the mormons will get off our back about the amount of DC we consume. and we'll probably be allowed to drink diet coke in sacrament. i can just see it now: keep calm and coke & cupcake on, coming to a canvas bag near you.
amy: mormons: allowed to drink diet coke now, so gotcha.

maybe i would have been something you'd be good at.

tonight, i listened to that tegan & sara song about a thousand times as I drove downtown logan. it was vacated at 11:00 per usual, and i began thinking about why it never works for me. why i get so close and watch it fall apart.

either way, mouth open or closed, tragedy strikes: he is forced away from me; we never speak again. he vacates the country, we both lose touch. he lives down the street, and i try to avoid him on campus. while still searching the crowds. because one day, i'm going to give him a piece of my mind.

not the point.

there is a gentleman in one of my classes this semester. yesterday, he wore a plaid shirt.

this is the part where i get it together, and the universe cooperates.

snips and snails, and puppy dog tails.

maybe i'll call you something for short, or maybe i'll call you junior.
no, i'll never do that; i'll never call you junior.
i wonder which you'll prefer: sailboats or piano lessons.
or, maybe you'll hate them both.
but i hope you'll like me the most.
i'll know the line of your nose, and the curls in your hair,
your pant size, and how much breakfast you'll eat.
we'll learn about the airplanes in our blood, learn of the places you've yet to go.
and i already love you.

hey, just a quick thought:

so help me if cake is smashed in my face on my wedding day...

actually, so help you if that happens.

if you choose not to heed this warning, we'll see how funny it seems after the party.


until then, smash away, home boy.

love, me.

lack of words. funny, that doesn't sound like me...

tonight, i moved mountains (boxes), as well as caught up with a few of my favorite people (more commonly known as my beloved logan team, who i worship and adore).

then, i came home, lit an apple cider spice candle, and stared at this painting for approximately twenty minutes. because... hello, it is a stunner... (stunna).

so, so, SO insanely happy to be a resident of cache valley again. i cringe to think of the mistake i almost made. so, so, SO insanely glad divine intervention took over for a second there. because, boy, do i love the spot where the sagebrush grows.

today i read that writing is brave. so this is me, trying to be brave.

   "tell me all about it," he prodded.
   "the whole thing?"
   "the whole thing." i loved the way he'd said it, letting himself become absorbed in me.
 
   i'd told him of my love, for my devotion to charles dickens, my fascination with miss havisham, how i'd always loved little nell. my adoration for wilkins micawber seeped through my words as i gushed over david copperfield. i gave too many details and spoke too fast, i'm sure.
   "did you get it all?" i asked, resting my hands on the iron bar before me.
   "i think so," he said. he placed his hand on my lower back. i felt myself shiver as the rest of me went blank. somehow, all at once, my mind was full of empty, something i didn't understand. it was a contradiction of the strangest components. all i could think about was luke daines of stars hollow, unusual mother-daughter relationships, massive amounts of fresh-brewed coffee, and a dairy queen commercial that stated, 'everyone deserves soft serve'. he'd made a move--his first one--and my brain had painted a shade of television tendencies in pop-culture pink slime on its walls.
   "anna karenina!" i shouted.
   "i'm sorry?" his hand remained and he moved closer.
   "you love tolstoy," i gulped. a long pause followed, "you do, don't you?"
   "definitely not," a harder gulp. i was ruining it.
   "must have been someone else."
   "i guess so," he looked up, examining the sky. "have you ever noticed how everything in the world has a symbol?" i didn't understand. my head tilted, and the fear disappeared.
   "do tell." my breath slowed.
   "everything," he turned, pulling me to the ground, "relates back to something. it's all about symbolism, don't you think?" my eyebrows rose. i lobbied for an answer. i knew what he meant; i had always thought the same. listening intently, i was captivated by his logic, thirsty for the things he said, quenched by the way he said them. he was full of something that wasn't the same as my empty. we lay on the grass side by side in silence, untouching. he changed the subject. "i bet you're ticklish."

and then, it happened.
the one thing i begged would never happen, happened. the line i hated. it wasn't that i was opposed to being tickled. i was, but that wasn't the point. the point was that it was proven now. proven to be less. less than holding hands in front of my parents. this, this was less than wrapped in blankets at school football games. less than the effort i'd planned to make to attend the games this year. i wasn't worth an introduction to strangers, not even a mentioned name. i was a forgotten conversation--one we'd had weeks ago about how i hated that line, and the action that followed. something about it was artificial. i was slowly getting it, just now. the foreigner could take my jabs, but didn't follow the conversation, making said jabs irrelevant and telling of the fact that we spoke different languages.
   "don't..." i started, fighting my temptation to not resist. i was a double negative; i was a mess.
   "don't... what?" he placed a hand on my waist and kissed my cheek. i wanted to fight, wanted to care less. i said nothing. the kisses were sweet and stung hard. they moved to various parts of my face. a mess of conjugations and improper slippings of the tongue. i closed my eyes, trying to make the thought go away. this wasn't going to be improper or a slip. it was going to be the real deal, one hell of a deal.
   "well, are you? ticklish?" i swallowed, and boldly sat up, "if you don't tell me, i'll find out without you," to avoid what came next, what would, indeed, solidify the inevitable, i pulled him in, fingers through his hair, and i took his lips, myself. it should have been a sign. everything was a sign, a lesson i'd learned just minutes ago. for me, it was a bold move. to him, another cavalier saturday night.

later, he blamed me for the kiss. he told me how he wanted to remain close, how he wanted to spend more time with me. he liked the way i spoke, he said, the way i housed such passion. he liked it when we would kiss, but refused to learn my language.

i blamed him for ruining the saturdays i had planned to have many more of, and for teaching me that the less i give a damn, the happier i'll be.

...and i'm a mormon.

when the day comes, when it's all over, when we've all endured, i can't wait to see the faces of people who write articles like this.

that's all.

p.s.
i wouldn't judge you if you judged me for reading this article... but what can i say? i think we are all just a little bit curious.

on thinking this blog is cool when really, it is pretty lame:

my good friend, rayo, at this blog liebster'd me. and elsa, over here did, too. 

they're pretty awesome. thanks, ladies!

anyway. here we go.

the rules:
-each person must post 11 things about themselves.
-answer the questions that the tagger set for you PLUS create 11 questions for the people you've tagged to answer
-choose 11 people and link them in your post
-go to their page and tell them. (no tag backs)

eleven things that you could care less about: 

-i'd like for one of my pieces to get published in the new yorker... fat chance, eh? we'll see...

-sharing drinks? gross.

-my deepest fear is not that i'm inadequate. my deepest fear is that i'm powerful beyond measure. (did i steal that?)

-i like jokes. and plagiarism. 

-just kidding. i hate plagiarism.

-but seriously, my deepest fear is losing a baby.

-this week, i'm having a stress-causing break out. something you were dying to know.

-ann hathaway gives me the creeps.

-i spent the summer with over 1,600 teenagers, and loved every second of it.

-my vote will swing on the mormon side come november. 

-jelly beans are my most favorite candy.

what is your favorite song, and why?

my favorite song is called, i want the sky, by lucy schwartz. it is me, in a song.

how did you choose the name for your blog?

the name of my blog, in the garden of earthly delights, comes from a hieronymus bosch triptych. it is one of my favorite pieces because it embodies the things that we, as humans, worship. sinful, or not. i decided it would be a fitting name for the things i write about.

what is your favorite item in your makeup bag?

obviously, my tweezers. my brows would be a sad story without those boys.

if you could travel anywhere, where would you go? why?

i have a list. and next on the list is prague, czech republic. i want to cross the charles bridge and bask in all of its baroque glory.

cake or ice cream?

gelato. poire glace. tres magnifique! 

who is your best friend, and why?

austin william daw. because he makes me laugh harder than any other human on the earth. (are you all sick of hearing about him yet? well, too bad.)

what is your favorite childhood memory?

there is this picture of all of my brothers and sisters dog piling on my dad when we lived in oklahoma. i remember it, and i love it.

dogs or cats?

both. someday, i'd like an irish setter named phillip pirrip, and an orange tabby called mr. bingley. also, i'm obviously obsessed with british literature... can you tell?

what's your go-to funny youtube video?

let me just show you instead.

what do you want to be when you grow up? 

mrs. joshua radin.

why do you blog?

to preserve my sanity.

 

the part where i question whether or not this is real life....

when i think about being married to a boy, living with one, sharing beverages with one, sleeping in hotels with one, sleeping in my mother's house with one... i pretty much start feeling like i'm going to throw up.
which probably is okay for now.
because obviously i'm nowhere near that freaky shiz.

however,
ask me how happy i am for my friends who've given up their single beds, and their morning how i met your mother marathons. i've yet to even imagine such big love. also, i have never successfully cooked anything in a crock pot, so i'm pretty sure that disqualifies me from the wife club, anyway. or, it probably should. remember this? well i'm still that immature. clearly, it is not my time yet (props, friends).

all of this to say that my dear friend chelsee is getting married in the morning. just one year ago, we were gallivanting around las vegas together, without cares or husbands. and while i will remain husbandless this summer, she'll get married. tonight i visited her, and honestly, i've never seen a human being so happy or so beautiful. i couldn't help but think about how one day that's going to be me. it gave me butterflies to think that i'll find someone somewhere who'll make me not want to throw up anymore. (that came out weird, but.. oh, you get it.)

 

 i love you, chelsee my sweet!

she said, "watch your back, i'm nobody's girlfriend".

oh, look at that.

i hate everyone today.

except you, matt.

"she said, 'this talking just kind of wears me out,

and all these salesmen, baby, make me tired.

they're no good, but tell you the truth,' she said, 'i've been getting used to liars.

they sing me love songs with store bought words.

they make promises like policians.

so we stumble and disconnect over and over again.'"

"'i let him in, oh man, i let him win.

i burned my house down just to hear him scream my name.

i've carried hope and heavy day dreams,' she said

'but i'm done with sleeping.

take the phone calls

take this circus

take the drummer

cause baby, it's just worthless.'"

and cynical o'ertakes me again.

what do you call a big oxymoron that likes to have his cake and eat it, too?

you don't. you just don't call him.

(a little bit of) summer.

expectation: i do adorable things with a boy who asks me out on dates.

we see each other every day, and i say everything that's on my mind. he does, too.

reality: i fall asleep next to my cat.

and i'm still unhealthily obsessed with ashton kutcher. 

 

expectation: megan settles still lives in utah. not east texas.

 reality: we facetime during twilithons.

she tells us about her me-maw.

expectation: my job is wonderful, important, and i feel like i'm making a difference in the world,

touching people with the hand of my written word.

reality: i forget to tell people about the love loft rewards card, get scolded for it,

then i space out when debbie teaches me how to process returns.

also, i couldn't care less about retail fashion in general.

 so most days end looking something similar to the above picture. 

and yes.

my hair is always that atrocious after a shift.

expectation: we'll be young, wild, and free forever.

reality: we won't.

expectation: my best friend in the whole entire world finally comes home on december 19, 2012.

reality: my best friend in the whole entire world finally comes home on december 19, 2012.

 .....

that last one just sort of makes everything else okay.

so much updating to do.

my friends are all in love. which makes me love them even more.

saturday night, little miss and i took a small road trip down to southern utah to see our bailey rae be all in love with jade dalton. it was the best wedding reception i have ever been to, and i mean that with all of the sincerity that i have inside of me. my lanta, i love them.

then, i found myself a boyfried.

his name is bryce. he wears cowboy boots.

and he really just sweetens my tea.

it was a much needed getaway with the "clayboys" playlist (an exclusive collection of clay aiken and cowboy music, developed freshman year by court & missy.) and a trip to the country.

bliss.

a parable, of sorts.

if the foreign man exercises the few words in his bank to confront the native,
said native will respond with deeper words, and faster. my, my. much faster.
it is at this point the foreigner must decide which he prefers: the hot, or the cold.
participating in the native's game, the man learns quickly, but is forced into a whirlpool of conjugations and improper slippings of the tongue.
exhausting.
but oh, the rush.

there was something good about him.
something that i wanted to be about me, too.

he lifted the thin, wooden piece to his nose.
   "pine sol," he concluded, "that's what it is."
   "pardon?" i begged.
   "these chopsticks. they remind me of pine sol," he laughed at the thought, "i don't know why i said that out loud." i raised a chopstick to my nose, prepared to save him by nodding in tacit compliance, confirm that they were, in fact, pine sol chopsticks. one inhale, two even, and i could smell nothing but cheap, wholesale wood... which made sense in my head, under the circumstances.

his eyes were intense on mine, waiting for the rescue.

i thought about the foreign man, how he could say something so interesting, while the native could understand it at a more advanced level. was i the native, fast moving and impatient? i thought of how he might scare easily, scamper away if i threw my complete understanding of the way i spoke at him, along with the kitchen sink,

though i did it anyway.

   "yeah, me either, " i spurted, "next time, could you keep those thoughts to yourself?"
a timid smile spread across his face. one that came only with sarcasm at his expense.

the foreigner likes it hot.

one more thing....

i was looking through old emails, and i found a picture that i had never seen before. 

it was from back in march, attached to a one-lined letter that read, 

"i just did 95 pushups" followed by approximately one hundred thousand exclamation points.

no idea how i missed this masterpiece.

...and sometimes i forget just how eager i am to see my friends this winter. 

woa. did i just say this winter?! 

you read correctly. i did, indeed.

no matter what may or may not be happening five months from now with life, i am so comforted by the fact that i'm going to have the two greatest boys on the face of the planet within cell phone coverage distance, and home for holidays, weekends, birthdays, and surprise logan visits.

merry christmas, and happy new year to me, no?

endure to the end is what i always say. also, it's a commandment.

my iphone makes photo strips.

and this one sort of makes me smile more than it probably should.

which could potentially become a problem.

a charming, one-dimpled, fickle sort of problem,
who is really good at...stuff.

...but it makes me smile, nonetheless, 

and happy as a little clam.

it also makes me write cliches, which is basically against my religion.

so i'm not really sure what's going on here. you do the math, and get back to me.

your guess is as good as mine.

yeah, silly.