Conversations with Dean, Volume I

My neighbor, Dean, is perhaps one of my most favorite people, ever. We are in the same Archaeology class, and often chat on our way home from school. Not only does he have an endearing stutter when he gets to speaking too fast, but he has an innocence about him--one that I find most admirable. And man, is that boy honest. Brutally honest. He often makes comments about my outfits, telling me that I don't match, asking me why I wear such bright colors together... I love it! Anyway, today, we were able to talk for a while after school. I always enjoy conversation with him. It's just too good not to share.

Dean: Would I look good with a goatee?
Me: Dean. No one looks good with a goatee. Would I look good with one?
Dean: Girls don't look good with facial hair, but some have it, anyway.

(Walking out of class)
Dean: Did you smell that?
Me: No, what?
Dean: It smelled incredibly strong with B.O. just now.

(We rode the bus home today, and Dean had to sit next to a stranger, but without him noticing, the stranger got up and off the bus. Someone else sat down, again, Dean not noticing.)
Dean (Screaming extremely loud... Louder than necessary, for all the bus to hear): WOAH!!!
Me (startled, obviously): What!
Dean: The person next to me changed.
Me: What do you mean?
Dean (suspiciously, and pointing): That is not the same person I sat down next to when I got on this bus...

Dean: Do you snowboard?
Me: Not really. I ski, though!
Dean: Oh, well once I was at the top of a mountain with my dad, and I went faster than him. He was skiing. I was snowboarding. He was slow, I was not. I was really proud that day.

(And my personal favorite conversation snippet...)
Dean: Have you ever driven a bus?
Me: No... Have you?
Dean: Yeah.


Three cheers for confidence, honesty, and good company.

Halloween by polaroid. We dressed up like this for sport, but also because it was halloween, and I guess that's just what you do.

 (Rosie the Riveter, Gypsy Mama, Mother Nature, and Audrey, herself.)

 

Every Halloween, there's a big dance party on campus.
I'm sure you've heard all about it. The Howl. It's sweaty, gross... and surprisingly fun.

We decided to go this year. 

I was probably one of the only girls with a dress to my knees (or, really a dress at all, for that matter, but no judgement here),

and my mad EFY-trained dancing skills kept all of the weirdies from 

grinding all up on me. Because my moves are anything but suggestive. Or attractive. 

So, that was nice. 

Happy Halloweekend.

I drank abnormal amounts of tea today because it felt good on my throat and I'm not even sick at all. And I played hookie from school, explained what hookie meant to a boy who wants to be my friend, mopped my floor, admired my longer-than-ever-fingernails,

and I really don't like marshmallows or s'mores at all.

One time that same friend of mine told me that I will

probably change my mind about marshmallows someday.

I sort of kind of think he's really wrong. Because I still

don't like Canteloupe, and he still hasn't really changed

his mind about me. But that's okay, because yesterday, I 

told him that I wasn't, like, in love with him or anything,

and I think it was something no one has ever said to him

before. And by the way, I sort of kind of really meant it. 

Because he makes a really good friend. And Heaven knows

that before someone can be both, no one can. It's a mean 

paradox, having your cake, and eating it, too. Which is 

something Heaven also knows: it doesn't work. So 

here's to having cake. Because it's better than not having 

any.

And it sure is better than marshmallows.

Sometimes, my life is like the books I read. Sometimes, my life is exactly like the books I read:

     I walk out onto the porch, and there he is. Three months after our date, there is Stuart Whitworth himself, standing on my front porch in khaki pants and a blue coat and a red tie like he's ready for Sunday dinner.     Asshole.
     "What brings you here?" I ask. I don't smile though. I'm not smiling at him.
     "I just... I wanted to drop by."
     "Well. Can I get you a drink?" I ask. "Or should I just get you the entire bottle of Old Kentucky?"
     He frowns. His nose and forehead are pink, like he's been working in the sun. "Look, I know it was... a long while back, but I came out here to say I'm sorry."
     "Who sent you--Hilly? William?" There are eight empty rocking chairs on my porch. I don't ask him to sit in any of them.
     He looks off at the west cotton field where the sun is dipping into the dirt. He shoves his hands down in his front pockets like a twelve-year-old-boy. "I know I was... rude that night, and I've been thinking about it a lot and..."
     I laugh then. I'm just so embarrassed that he would come out here and have me relive it.
     "Now look," he says, "I told Hilly ten times I wasn't ready to go out on any date. I wasn't even close to being ready..."
     I grit my teeth. I can't believe I feel the heat of tears; the date was months ago. But I remember how secondhand I'd felt that night, how ridiculously fixed up I'd gotten for him. "Then why'd you even show up?"
     "I don't know." He shakes his head. "You know how Hilly can be."
     I stand there waiting for whatever it is he's here for. He runs a hand through his light brown hair. It is almost wiry it's so thick. He looks tired.
     I look away because he's cute in an overgrown boy kind of way and it's not something I want to be thinking right now. I want him to leave--I don't want to feel this awful feeling again, yet I hear myself saying, "What do you mean, not ready?"
     "Just not ready. Not after what happened."
     I stare at him. "You want me to guess?"
     "Me and Patricia van Devender. We got engaged last year and then... I thought you knew."
     He sinks down in a rocking chair. I don't sit next to him. But I don't tell him to leave either.
     "What, she ran off with someone else?"
     "Shoot." He drops his head down into his hands, mumbles, "That'd be a damn Mardi Gras party compared to what happened."
     "I don't let myself say to him what I'd like to, that he probably deserved whatever she did, but he's just too pathetic-looking. Now that all his good ole boy, through bourbon talk has evaporated, I wonder if he's this pathetic all the time.
     "We'd been dating since we were fifteen. You know how it is, when you've been steady with somebody that long."
     And I don't know why I admit this, except that I simply have nothing to lose. "Actually, I wouldn't know," I say. "I've never dated anybody."
     He looks up at me, kind of laughs. "Well, that must be it, then."
     "Be what?" I steel myself, recalling fertilizer and tractor references.
     "You're... different. I've never met anybody that said exactly what they were thinking. Not a woman, anyway."
     "Believe me, I had a lot more to say."
     He sighs. "When I saw your face, out there by the truck... I'm not that guy. I'm really not such a jerk."
     I look away, embarrassed. It's just starting to hit me what he said, that even though I'm different, maybe it's not in a strange way or an abnormal, tall-girl way. But maybe in a good way.
     "I came by to see if you'd like to come downtown with me for supper. We could talk," he says and stands up. "We could... I don't know, listen to each other this time."
     I stand there, shocked. His eyes are blue and clear and fixed on me like my answer might really mean something to him. I take in a deep breath, about to say yes--I mean, why would I, of all people, refuse--and he bites his bottom lip, waiting.
     And then I think about how he treated me like I was nothing. How he got shit-dog drunk he was so miserable to be stuck with me. I think about how he told me I smelled like fertilizer. It took me three months to stop thinking about that comment.
     "No," I blurt out. "Thank you. But I really can't imagine anything worse."
     He nods, looks down at his feet. Then he goes down the porch steps.
     "I'm sorry," he says, the door to his car, open. "That's what I came to say and, well, I guess I said it."
     I stand on the porch, listening to the hollow sounds of the evening, gravel under Stuart's shifting feet, dogs moving in the early darkness. For a second, I remember Charles Gray, my only kiss in a lifetime. How I'd pulled away, somehow sure the kiss hadn't been intended for me.
     Stuart gets in his car and his door clicks shut. He props his arm up so his elbow pokes through the open window. But he keeps his eyes turned down.
     "Just give me a minute," I holler out to him. "Let me get my sweater."

Kathryn Stockett

The Help

The parallels are uncanny.

things i'll never say, volume II

"WHERE did you get those leather pants?!"
"it's cool, dad. i think i'll just sit this trip out."
"i wish i could be more like michelle obama."
"totes."
"the 'b' word... hardly a term of endearment."
"when is nikki minaj going to come out with a new CD? because i am ready."
"take your time walking across the crosswalk."
"your new boyfriend is way cuter than the one who looked like jacob black and offered to help me with my laundry."
"you pay 25 cents for a water from mcdonalds? that is such a waste of money."
"apostrophes were made for the letter S. in all cases."
"cafe rio puts enough pork in their tacos."

i am still in an i'm-obsessed-with-being-auntie-courty phase

dear buster:



the other day, i was exhausted and on my way to pack my bags. when i came up the stairs, there you were, sitting on the carpet, moving around a few action figures by yourself. i couldn't resist asking to play, though my eyes were droopy, and i figured you'd want your space. it was your time to play, after all. no one was there to bother you or tell you what each toy should say. i snuck in, quietly, prepared for a polite dismissal, and asked, gambling, "what are you doing, buster?" and then, one of the sweetest things happened: you said nothing, but offered me a spot beside you. at that point, my droopy eyes turned to drippy, and i was on cloud nine. you let me play trains with you. you let me dump the bin, attach the tracks, move the cars, even make the sounds! then, you told me it was fun. i'm never going to forget those sweet fifteen minutes. not ever.

i love you, john davis.

love, aunt kikki.

today i wanted to write down everything that i saw and heard because it was all so wonderful.

instead, i bought some flannel shirts from the men's section, ate a double cheeseburger, and vowed to one day be a balanced combination of carrie bradshaw and skeeter phelan.

and it all made me really, really happy.

seriously?

i spent the weekend in arizona. it was much needed time with mi familia.

and i played with babies all day long.
can you even believe these faces?
i love my tiny humans.

you know that pin that's like, "when i get home, i try to make myself as unattractive as possible"?

well, that's my life.

and since i came home from school today and accidentally slept for a hundred hours, i am not tired in the least right now.
i figure that it's a great time to rediscover the office, and remember that jim halpert is the love of my life, forever, the end.

dear everyone-who-is-thinking-about-not-voting-next-month:

first of all, i think you're an idiot.
sorry, but not really.
you just sort of... are. by definition.

 

id·i·ot

 [id-ee-uht]

noun

1.

Informal . an utterly foolish or senseless person.

  (see?) 
 

i, like most people in this country (well, the less ignorant ones, anyway), watched the second presidential debate tonight. alongside my television screen was my computer, following the comments of the entire world, via twitter & facebook. some, like chris rock's, made me want to kill myself... just thinking about there being such uninformed lunatics at the voting booths... it makes me want to scream. others, like elisabeth hasselbeck's, instilled hope in an educated american people. (thanks for standing up for smart celebrities, E. i knew they were out there, somewhere.)

but what's worse?
comments like these:

"i'm voting for mickey mouse."
"i am not voting. neither of the candidates care about me specifically, anyway."
"what is with all of this bickering? can't we all get along? why does it matter how we get there if we're all trying to end up in the same place?"
"i hate contention. contention is contentious. let me say contention 400 more times because i want to show everyone how non-contentious i am."
"i would so much rather watch family guy than the debate."

first of all, whenever anybody praises "family guy", their opinion about anything else automatically becomes invalidated in my book. do you know those people?

 "have you seen that episode of family guy where..."

"no. no, i haven't." 

glad i got that off my chest. 

now, second, pleeeeeease. 

step up to the plate, america. seriously. grow up, educate yourselves, do the work, listen to the speeches, the debates.... anything! lest we not confuse the other countries, we are people of substance, people with values, morale... we are people of joy, people who fight for it. 

so, this november, get off your high horse, your soap box--get off your ass, and DO SOMETHING. do anything. vote for whoever you would like. that's the beauty of it all--you have that right. do something about it while you still can... before government takeover is shifted into high gear. cancel out a vote if that's the only motivation to get you to a poll. and if for no other reason, vote because your posterity is at stake whether you would like to believe it or not. 

i will vote for mitt romney, and i'd like anyone who would like to take a swing at me for that to come at me. because at least that would mean you're making a valiant effort to contribute, and i appreciate that.

"dwight! you ignorant slut!"

i've just always wanted to use that phrase, and it seemed relatively appropriate here.

things that sometimes happen

this. all too often. and i love it.

it makes me feel like an editor. 

so, i take my job very seriously.

wayyyyyy too many bottles.

honestly, who needs 4 sets of shampoo?

halloween shows up. 

it's sticky, purple, shaped like a ghost, and attached to my computer screen.

 this doesn't even need an explanation, but i'll give one anyway.

three words:

koala.

bear.

hug.

also, i am still unemployed.
so, sorry if you get baked goods for christmas this year. 

noteworthy banter.

over the past few weeks, i have been keeping an ongoing note on my cell phone of conversation snippets that i have heard all around me, ones that i found particularly funny. i learned this practice from a creative writing teacher my junior year of high school, and have continued to do it ever since. writing it all down helps me to see how funny and great and beautiful and downright wonderful life is. i think i often forget these things when i'm stressed about wasting three grand in tuition money for a semester of classes that i don't even need.

ah. c'est la vie, right?

 here is a picture from this weekend.

my cat came home. remember when he peaced out on me?

turns out it was more of a vacation.

i cried when he was found. real tears.

"my boss just got divorced. it's making my life a hell of a lot easier."

"can i pay you in frogurt gift cards?"
"why, yes. i take all tenders of cash."

"i have an addiction to buying strawberries."

"i'm just afraid that i'm not qualified for any of [the jobs]. like, for example, i have no idea how to use microsoft excel spreadsheets."
"they do that just to weed out the people who don't know how to use computers; they do that to weed out the illiterate. and the senior citizens."

(in reaction to a movie trailer...)
"i cried in that movie."
(another trailer comes on...)
"i cried in that movie, too."
"you cried... in james bond...?"
"YEAH, OKAY?!"

"remember that part with the zombies, when the people are walking down the highway, and the zombies come walking towards them? well, that's my biggest fear. but also, i wouldn't be made if it happened to me... because it's kind of my secret hope, as well..."

"do you even know how many times i have been spanked today? too many."

"i feel like i've just been emotionally shang-hai'd!"

(unsimpathetically) "she talks like she's been to war."

"i got really obsessed with bill cosby the other day."

"did you want paper or plastic?"
"optional."
"so... paper or plastic, then?"

"that is clearly a drawing of a daddy long leg. be not mistaken. actually, i'm not exactly sure how you can even question it in the first place. those legs are obviously telling of the species."
"i'm sorry we are not all abreast on the classifications of arachnids..."

(girl has pen in mouth. boy sitting next to her, reaches over, takes out pen.)
"whoops! uh-oh! see, that's cute, but yucky and inappropriate for this particular setting."

"there is nothing like staying at home for real comfort."

jane austen

 

i came home from school a day earlier than i had originally planned, and i'm so glad that i did.
i've had the entire day to be completely smitten with autumn today,
 and i'm quite sure that it has everything to do with the rain, the way most good things do.

this morning,
i finished up the VP debate on tivo (feeling pretty confident in my party),
made my favorite, banana pancakes,
and am now off to spend the remainder of the day with my mother.


also, my good friend, chelsee, showed me this website.
it's basically like one hundred million free audio books for your ipod.
i'm seriously in love.
i listened to northanger abbey from logan to draper.
it was bliss.
you should check it out.

and life is, well,
life is good.

"whatever else anything is, it ought to begin by being personal."

kathleen kelly has got it all together, wouldn't you agree?

i walked into my bedroom this evening, noticing the side tables on either side of my bed.

1: my life savings adding up to exactly three dollars and forty seven cents, one of my favorite sketches by van goh in a gold frame, and a plethora of concert tickets stuffed together behind a plate of cheap glass.

2: assorted halloween candy in a neat pile, because i have somehow managed to leave the grocery store with four bags of worthless sugar, and it's only the ninth day of october. my gosh, it's like crack. i indulge before bed time. please don't tell my dentist.

and what does it all say about me, i wonder? well, i don't know just yet. but it looks an awful lot like i'm trying to figure it all out, doesn't it?

adventures in wonderland.

they met on a sunday in june.

it was dusk, and she wore a blue dress that made her eyes bloom.

he was in a suit, wearing it well.
for the first hour of their meet-cute, she couldn't remember his name. not that she thought it was something different, she literally could not find the name she'd been told he owned. it was nowhere in her cranial filing cabinet, and that was frustrating. not because she was in love with him and wanted to sketch it in bubble letters, no. but because she found herself needing to use it.

they sat on grass. it wasn't comfortable or romantic. it was grass.

he was the cheshire cat: wonderful and intriguing. she wouldn't say he preyed on young alices like her, but a strong case could be made for the fact that he did love it when they agreed to follow him.

she did that. she followed him.
on accident, really, but she did have things to say.
things to say in rich, unabashed honesty.
but he was fond only of the dress that fell upon her shoulders, putting innocence to the face he only halfheartedly appreciated.
her name was alice, and the cheshire cat, well, he didn't want her for much other than her dress, and the way that she fit inside it.

alice was in could-have-been with the cheshire cat. she sometimes caught herself watching tennis on television, and wimbledon when it was on, but never thought she'd catch herself in could-have-been with a figure so cryptic, he may as well have been lewis carroll, himself. in fact, she may as well have been fictionally developing, becoming, if you will, in a hell much less certain than even wonderland.
and the worst part of it all?
this man, a tomcat of sorts, has since claimed to be in is-going-to-be with another little girl in a different dress, one that can only be assumed accentuates character traits beyond rosy cheeks and blue eyes. alice knows this because the cheshire cat told her. and he told her because she asked him to. and she asked him to because she didn't want it to be true. and she didn't want it to be true because she believed in magic. and she believed in magic because he kissed her dimple. and that was plenty, believe me.
i mean, her.
believe her.
well, anyway.

he disappeared, the way cheshire cats are known for doing, taking is-going-to-be with him, and leaving the pretty girl in the blue dress behind, along with the hell she'd come to know so well.

alice sat down in the grass, alone.

it wasn't comfortable, or romantic. it was grass.

she thought about how she'd gotten to that point, carefully examining her backtracks, and how she had gotten more lost than she'd already been when all of a sudden, alice remembered her entrance to wonderland, and it became so clear: 

"would you tell me, please, which way i ought to go from here?" asked alice.

"that depends a good deal on where you want to go," said the cat.

"i don't much care where," said alice.

"then it doesn't matter which way you go," the cat said. 

and that was when alice picked up her wit, and learned never to follow the cat, no matter the way he looked in a grey suit. she understood that he may show up, though previously appearing invisible, yes. he may reappear upon her meeting of the mad hatter--a character whom she particularly adored. she knew that she'd beg to get out of wonderland when tea was served that she wasn't fond of, or when she realized her demons in the queen of hearts. for now, though, she was in a place of whimsy, a place she might not be able to journey to years from now, a place she wanted to be, and, well, maybe she wasn't ready to leave, after all. so, she decided to paint the roses red, irresponsibly, until the grass was comfortable. and conditionally romantic, depending on who chose to sit there beside her.
and believe her when she says that it will never again be the cheshire cat.
because today in wonderland, she'd forgotten his name.
and she told me it was blissful. 

*excerpt and concept taken from alice's adventures in wonderland, by lewis carroll.
as for the rest of it, i'm sure it would do you well to read between the lines.  

this just happened:

(taking an oral iclicker quiz in my history of interior furnishings and architecture class.)

the only work michelangelo ever signed was....

person in class: i'm almost 99% sure it was the mona lisa.

...and i'm almost 99% sure it's common knowledge that the mona lisa was painted by da vinci.

if you didn't know that, basically, i just saved you from a lifetime of humiliation. i wish someone would have done the same for the boy sitting behind me. poor guy.

T-75.

today, while i was in best buy, i checked my email.

one was from carter, and it said he'd be home on december the 15th.

first, i squealed. loud.

second, i read on.

he also threatened me with my life if i didn't get him a birthday present.

little does he know, his birthday surprise comes four days later, all the way from russia.

i've been smiling like a fool all day long.

this song takes on a whole new meaning, right?

T-75 & 79 days, party people!

surreal, but nice.

i tried for about three hours to think of something creative to say.

i wrote something, but it's not done.

in fact, it's sitting lonely in my draft bin until i can muster the energy to fix it all up, work out the kinks, you know? i just hate that. 

so, instead of something creative, you're stuck with this...

first, a series of awkward pictures that i took once, and then a bunch of other stuff.

 this is my roommate, cassandra. mostly, i call her samantha. or sam. for no reason at all.

also, those are my favorite pants. they're yellow.

-i can't stop thinking about how i need to get up the canyon. i miss the color change every year. always too busy, or too lazy. not this time. it's happening.
-today, around 2:00, my roommate and i fell asleep on my twin bed, watching a movie. we didn't wake up until 7:30 p.m. ...weirdly, i was comfortable the entire time.
-i keep a large blue quilt pinned up over my bedroom window because it makes my walls glow a certain grey color that only comes on rainy days. and, well, we haven't had one of those in a long, long time. so i fake it.
-all of the boys in my ward wear their white shirts too tight, and gel their hair like pauly-d. i hate socializing with them. a lot. 
-i didn't go to sunday school today. instead, i skipped out to make banana pancakes and eat reese's peanut butter cups.
-i never have homework these days. i hope that changes. can't believe that just came out of my mouth.
-i am now a english major with an emphasis in creative writing. i always think that makes me sound so silly, but i've never felt more myself before, so i'm thinking this is finally it.
-my roommates are constantly drinking green smoothies, and i just think that's gross.
-friday afternoon, i got a letter from a friend in texas addressed to merideth grey. it made me want to marry him.
-this weekend, i went bowling. i asked my roommate to check out my bum, then my cousin's bum, deciding whose was flatter. i won that competition the way i usually do. like a boss.
-i fall asleep to you've got mail almost every single night. 
-i try to avoid people at school. well, just the one, actually... but it hasn't exactly been working. so mostly, i just keep my nose buried in a book and continue across the quad, hoping he won't notice me.
-i need to eat more vegetables. yeah.
-i wish that shania twain would re-popularize.
-one of our roommates broke up with her boyfriend the other day. cassie, mels, and i are more heart broken about it than either party involved. probably because the boy she was dating is our neighbor, and he strongly resembles jacob black. he was usually around on my laundry day, and regularly offered to help. i'm not exactly sure how he thought he could be of service, what with me sorting my delicates and all, but i appreciated the offer. and his sculpted-by-the-gods good looks. too bad, really. 
-turning 21 sounds scary, but i feel comforted in the fact that i'll be able to buy hard alcohol soon.
...just kidding, nance! ;)


that's all.