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.

"i feel you in my knees."

i like to buy new art.

i like to turn leftover scrapbook paper into bunting.

i like to listen to death cab, m. ward, and jj heller.

i like to spend my friday nights alone.

....

i like sweet letters promising world travel,

and i like the way they send me to the moon and back.

oh, yes. i particularly like the moon.

we're not friends.

if you're the annoying girl that steals other people's ideas and pretends to be their friend,
i probably am not your biggest fan.
or even your fan at all.
just so you're aware.

and don't think for one minute i won't call you out in public with loud and vicious rhetoric if the opportunity presents itself. it's all in the name of love. which i happen to have a lot of for my friends. that's the difference between us. i lied. the difference between us is the fact that you think we're friends. don't pretend we are. because i won't pretend back.

we square?

writing aloud.

nutella toast and dan in real life.
the cure all.
especially for a case of the unspoken blues.
which i have admittedly come down with.

i blame the sweet talk.


 

vintage yellow.

there is paint in my ears,
on my chin,
in the crevices of my fingernails,
drip-dried down my leg.
vintage yellow, to be exact.

yes, tonight i unleashed a powerful monster inside of me.
the bad kind.
the kind that gets obsessed, and never quits pestering my brain.

speaking of a pestering brain...

the thoughts never stop.
you know,
those thoughts that are hard to swallow.
because they are too wonderful to host if they are uncertain.
...too lovely to even fall asleep to.
yes. i have a pestering brain.

but more than that, i have paint splatters all over my skin.
because i happen to love old furniture and refinishing it.
which was the point of this entire post.
sorry for the ramble.
and it's lack of poetic rhetoric.

my life in words as of late:

pristine.
to be so intoxicated by such an emotion.
uncorrupted; unsullied.

consistent.
like clock work, with more pages.


vindicated.
yes, i have been vindicated,
parts of me validated.
and it tastes ohhh so sweet.

surprise.
the element that never ceases to disappoint.
especially this time.

content.
better than before, even.

sometimes i'm glad that it's not me. i take that back. all of the time, i'm glad that it's not me.

it almost was,
a long time ago.
but it's not anymore.
and hasn't been.
for a long time.
and for that, i am so thankful.

because it is hard enough as it is.

and if it had been me,
so long ago,
it wouldn't be me today.
which would've robbed my upbringing of  some pivotal moments thus far:
ducking,
witty sarcasm,
and HSC
{to name a few}.
which would be downright tragedies in and of themselves.

so,
it's not me.

and i have only one person to thank.
he lives upstairs, and sometimes he thinks i'm special enough to take care of.

i take that back.
all of the time, he thinks that i am special enough to take care of.

i am a grown up. therefore, i:

-listen to norah. under every circumstance.
-distrust humankind's originality. seriously, it's getting ridiculous.
-write. and write some more. just because it feels good.
-travel when it's inconvenient--it's an opportunity to contribute to society.
-drive on an empty tank when nothing else provides a thrill.
-vow to never be among the millions to misuse a semi colon. the english language is far too sacred for a shenanigan such as this.
-keep faithful to my notepad and pen. for at the end of each day, i remember who is waiting at my bedside.
-laugh off 24 months. because it is only 24 months.

this girl always remembers calendar dates.

in the midst, and through the mist of all things scholastic,

i would just like to take a small moment to recognize this day as a monumental one.

on april the twenty sixth, two thousand and eight,

my lips lost their virginity.

tahaha... what a funny day.

i was maybe wearing the above apparel on said spring evening. and it is maybe still tucked away in my closet.

if you'd like to know the juicy details, you won't find them here.

except that it happened in a soccer field, and i thought i fell in love. 

but i didn't. and thank goodness for that.

because love sounds scary...

however, 

kisses are lovely little things, and they deserve to be recognized.

so here's to three years ago, hosting stomach butterflies, and more kisses. :) 

sealed with a kiss, court.

beta fish.

love them, hate them. they just won't die.
you know?

maybe one day i'll actually say what i mean.
but it's unlikely.

{good night, little followers.}

if you had three, you'd give me two. no other friend like you.

title love from my boyfriend, j-rad. here.

so here's what's up.
blogging a lot lately.
i think a lot.
deal, or stop reading.
...sassy? yes. true? also yes.


my very best girlfriends: miss emily, lulu, kels, haley, and i the night before we all moved up to college.

so here are my thoughts on friendship:

a question has been poking my mind as of late. in all honesty, what should a friend do for you? the answer that i came up with is anything. so for all of you out there that have friends that stick stipulations to situations, you can borrow mine. because they are the best ones on the earth. promise.

and guess what.

conditions don't exist with them. and if they do with your friends, get yourself some new ones. because your old ones are laaaame. and quickly turning your spent time into a waste of it.

and here's what i have to say to you if you, yourself, aren't a very good friend...

i sincerely wish you the best of luck.
that's all.

pray for me.

let's pretend there's this fruit that only comes around every once in a while. and then let's pretend that this fruit is a watermelon.

so i guess there's this watermelon...

k now let's add that you've never tried watermelon before. but you think it's great already. you don't really need to taste it to know how great it looks in a zip up sweatshirt. and you cerrrrtainly don't need to have a real conversation with it to understand why there's no better fruit on the market. and maybe this watermelon makes you nervous, and you just want to die a lot when it comes in... season? and it knows that.
smart fruit.
so it takes full advantage of watching you fumble through words any chance it gets. it also takes pleasure in asking you to repeat phrases that have somehow escaped your mouth in the most juvenile of ways. because it's a fruit. and we think fruit is a bully.

k then the last thing that makes you want to be allergic is those watermelon eyes. you heard me.

it's obviously time to stay away from watermelon for a while.

and so i went and let you blow my mind.

there is a song that intoxicates you, forcing you into an allusive state that you just can't deny. i know there is. and it may not be this one for you, but yes... this train-blaring, overheard, top 5 on the charts, most downloaded song of 2010 does it to me. i can't listen, and refuse the memory of the first time i heard it. it's just not possible. i have tried many times to kick it out of my head, but at the end of the day i always end up surrendering, and am suddenly unwillingly {yet somehow always willing in the back of my mind} taken back one and a half novembers ago. my hair was in loose curls, and i had dressed myself in a beige sweater and cream pin striped vest; i wore off-white rosebud earrings that night. i can't remember a time that i laughed more. and even if i hate admitting it to myself, {and the w.w.w. for that matter} it is a guilty pleasure of mine--and i am in love with the way it takes me back. :)

{good night.}

pining for the rond de jambe.

it's simple, really. it's not hard.

i had a moment today. it was a missing moment.
you know, those moments where you just feel like something is missing?

now, forgive me for becoming absurdly abstract.


i saw a picture tonight; i saw a picture in my mind of that charming little sea: the charming sea of blissful confusion. i'm not sure if i am seduced by that phrase because of the way the consonants participate in a series of playful banter, back and forth, or it's just... true.

in my brain's canvas, the salt water was pink. the sky, a burnt orange, and i was not alone. aftertaste mentha sparkled my tongue and i somehow forgot what the rain felt like. i was swimming in circles. they were bewitching little things, beckoning me to fall victim to the way they said goodnight. i felt my eyes begin to abate, like carmen's final curtain! closing my eyes in salt water has never tasted so sweet. admitting defeat--submitting to the takeover of the strange sea that now possessed me--i began to drown. my splash kicking had transformed into repeated rond de jambes, forcing my swim into a dozen ballets. any sort of mutterance that i could pronounce would may as well be better served by mozart's taste of death. was i feeling it now upon my own lips? unlike anything of this earth, claims he. well yes, that is the fondness i pine for.

though years later, i can't understand how i sunk so low. to willingly tie a tag to my wrist and float to the bottom of that ocean. i must have been sixteen. sixteen and smitten by a thought that the sea was real and blissful.

but here i am, cold and dry. and still preferring the former.

little love letters.

i just read something.

that used to just make me cry. and now i just laugh. because it is funny. but i'm posting because i love my new life. i know. i say it often, and often is probably too much. but i really do. i love my current position. and i love that i get excited about clean laundry and wallpaper and candles. i love that i can laugh at myself when i read old love letters that are silly and weird. and contain things that i would never say today. or out loud. under any circumstance... because they're weird. i love that i'm excited to make new love letters for a different {and better i might add...} person soon. i love that i am in love with just about every single boy i see now. that didn't used to happen, but now it does because they are all just wonderful.

well most of them.

except you, you little punk that laughed when i ran into someone with my bike.
i hate you.

but back to the good things...

i love that i'm into art projects lately. art projects are fun and i wish i had the time to do them more often. i love that i live next to my best friend of eleven years and we talk about the old days lots and lots. i love that i catch a bus to school. i have missed that the last few years. it is a lot less stressful than driving. except i miss that little green car... i love the girls in 102 that have quickly become my b.f.f.'s. and i love that we have slumber parties with our matresses weekly. and yummy sunday dinners. i love canyon driving and little baby creperies in old houses downtown logan. i love love love love ingrid and can't wait to visit her soon. i secretly love one very handsome person. but he doesn't know it. it's cool... {read on for more information... ;)} and i love that true aggie night is put on by the school. i love that i miss my mom and dad, and i love that they miss me too. i love that jake and court live down the street and i can go to institute with them if i ever wake up in time... oh and i love my new life.
again.

how's your life? i hope it is just as wonderful as mine.

oh and i just want to post this too:
we made a list today in alien class. because i can't listen. i don't get it.
so miss and i make lists. on scales. of... things.

-dear bachelor number 1: you're on this list because you're dashing. and that's a good thing. it's good to be dashing. and we're obsessed with you. you have given us no other choice. obsession is the only option. thank you for breathing. and having a really great face.
-dearest darling handsome bachelor number 2: i think you're my favorite. i wish we could be friends. or maybe at lease speak real words other than just "hi". because you're great. and you donate to the cancer bucket. and you're shy. and you make me feel shy. which has been proven to mean that i think you're lovely. and sometimes you smile at me in the laundry room and i almost drop everything i'm holding, and that obviously means you think i'm great too. okay no. it doesn't. but it could. so think about it. and plus, you are very handsome. and it takes a very specific person to be classified as handsome. and you are the definition of the word. so please. just let's get rich and buy our parents homes in the south of france if you know what i mean.
-dear bach numero tres: you're fun. and you know every single answer in alien class. and sometimes you read your scriptures before class. i'm not attracted to you, but that's okay. please help me pass school.
-dear bachelor four: hello. i had a dream about you. plus i sat by you today. and i don't know your name. but you know mine. so i feel weird about that.
-dear bachelor number 5: 11 months and counting...

which bach are you leaning towards? :)

and p.s. happy birthday to the best little bailey mae ever! i love you cutie! you're a big six year old! kisses bae mae! love you!

maybe is a vicious little word that can slay me? how does she come up with these things...

forgive me.
for this post is looong overdue.
but for the record, keeel me now.
aka kill me now.
keeel is just so much more dramatic. so naturally i felt the need to use it.

there are two big, huge, and anything but brief acknowledgments that need to be addressed.
coincidentally, they go hand in hand.

background on the sitch?

today was the best day of my entire life. and the worst.
first.
sara b. maybe she is my all time fave.
{second only to ingrid of course.}
and maybe her new album came out today.
you're missing out if you haven't thought about buying it.
because you should.
second.
maybe i am in love with a person that has no idea that i breath. or do anything of that nature.
maybe.
i don't know.
just maybe.
and maybe i hate my life when i have to sit in class and hear him talk.
because you know.
maybe i'm in love with him.
again. maybe.

so here goes.

dear sara b:
you know you're my favorite. you know you can hit notes on an unreal level, and you know that those are notes i can only dream of hitting. sometimes i hate you. but not really. because you are sara b. and you've got my back. speaking of which... today. you totally had my back. this song made my day. even if it was for the worst reason ever. which is going to be made known in just a moment. you get me, you really do.

dear best part of my tuesday:
you are the worst dancer ever. and you are really cute when you run. and you are such a nerd that likes classes that i want to run far away from. and i wish we could date. but too bad we can't. please next time we have class together, don't say religious things, or things that make you sound sensitive. because you know. it makes me want to confess to the world that you're my new favorite thing. and i'd love to remain silent about that. so please. next time, just sit. and don't make me hate myself for an hour. p.s. for the record, i breathe. and do other things of that nature.

because I'm taking your advice. have a good future.

Listen, I'd love to let you in on all of the secrets that swim through my thoughts on a mission to disrupt my progress. But that would mean laying my cards out on the table. And I hate card games. I'm not one for saying what I mean. If I were, you could read me like a low level book...so feel free to misconstrue what I say next.
It's interesting being here. I feel like an interesting person. I'm in Logan... again. And I love it here. I love the atmosphere, the people, the thought of me one day being a big girl. I love it all. Interesting. The best word I can think of right now. Granted, that might be because it's only four minutes from striking 1 AM, but then again, I have been known for my late night thinking skills. So that too is interesting.
Why do I feel good here? Why do I feel like it's the place for me? Beats me. No. Like almost quite literally. I am bewildered by the concept. It would have been about eight times easier to go to college twenty minutes from home. Why didn't I? I'd shrug my shoulders in confusion if there were any people looking at me. I have no idea whatsoever. But I love it. Because I feel...interesting. In a good way.
I feel like I haven't felt since Michael Phelps outstretched his arms in the 2008 summer Olympics, revealing quite the wingspan.
I feel shiny and brand new like a green car in the August heat.
Like a fresh bowl of raspberry sherbet ice cream with hardened gummy bears and more than one spoon.
Like I never wrote a single thing about the way I felt because I'd never felt that way before.
I finally feel like I don't remember the smell of Curve, or the offbeat of Pineapple Rag.
Because being so far away makes me feel safe, like I don't ever have to remember those things that force my memory to be cruel. And it's new to me.
So I feel interesting.