As I walk across my room
another small shard of glass
manages to inbed itself between my toes.
A quiet curse escapes my lips
and I hobble to my bed.
As I am pulling out the bloody shard
I realize two things.
One:
This shard of glass almost hurts
as bad as Scott's betrayal.
And two:
I should never smash glass frames
that held my lover's picture
in the bedroom where I walk barefoot.
~Note from Kelly~
I wrote this back in November of 2009 after my most recent relationship was destroyed. The breakup sent me into a state of depression that was pretty intense. But after I wrote this poem, I had to laugh. Then I wrote on the same page, "The only good thing about this depression is that for the first time in months, I can write a decent poem."
Love you.
Mean it.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
My Breakup Letter With 2010
Dear 2010,
I think you know what this is. You know it's been coming for a while now. You & I just aren't right for each other. In fact, I'm pretty sure you're toxic for me. In the time we've spent together, I've been hurt so much. I can't do it anymore. It's time we went our separate ways.
I know what you're thinking. We did have some really great moments together, like when I discovered the genius that was David Foster Wallace or when Greg & Ali got married. I started writing for the UVU Review and quickly became the Assistant Culture Editor. I found an amazing friendship with Jon Timothy and made a lot of other new friends here in Provo. I met Dr. Crane and he quickly became my favorite professor at UVU. Jon Stewart, one of my greatest heros, put on the Rally to Restore Sanity, which was just epic. I visited Sean in Vernal and my friends in Cedar. My family got a new dog named Randy who just loves me. And above everything else, I've developed my passion for writing and have found real joy in it.
I'll never deny that these were really, really good times, 2010. But they don't cancel out all of the heartache and pain we shared. I spent nearly the entire year reprising my role as Kelly, the Dateless Wonder. I had to say goodbye to two of my dogs, Jenny & Scotty and endure many nights of being alone. But more than anything else, my move from Cedar City to Provo was by far the most painful & heartbreaking thing I had to endure this year. I was left alone without the support and comfort of my friends, and had to learn to adjust to a place I hadn't called home in four years. There were many trials and pain I had to get through when it came to problems with my family. And even though now, at the end of our relationship things have gotten better, 2010, I'll never be able to forget how hard you've been for me.
So it's time to say goodbye, 2010. I'd be lying if I said I'll miss you.
Good Goddamn Riddance.
Love you.
Mean it.
I think you know what this is. You know it's been coming for a while now. You & I just aren't right for each other. In fact, I'm pretty sure you're toxic for me. In the time we've spent together, I've been hurt so much. I can't do it anymore. It's time we went our separate ways.
I know what you're thinking. We did have some really great moments together, like when I discovered the genius that was David Foster Wallace or when Greg & Ali got married. I started writing for the UVU Review and quickly became the Assistant Culture Editor. I found an amazing friendship with Jon Timothy and made a lot of other new friends here in Provo. I met Dr. Crane and he quickly became my favorite professor at UVU. Jon Stewart, one of my greatest heros, put on the Rally to Restore Sanity, which was just epic. I visited Sean in Vernal and my friends in Cedar. My family got a new dog named Randy who just loves me. And above everything else, I've developed my passion for writing and have found real joy in it.
I'll never deny that these were really, really good times, 2010. But they don't cancel out all of the heartache and pain we shared. I spent nearly the entire year reprising my role as Kelly, the Dateless Wonder. I had to say goodbye to two of my dogs, Jenny & Scotty and endure many nights of being alone. But more than anything else, my move from Cedar City to Provo was by far the most painful & heartbreaking thing I had to endure this year. I was left alone without the support and comfort of my friends, and had to learn to adjust to a place I hadn't called home in four years. There were many trials and pain I had to get through when it came to problems with my family. And even though now, at the end of our relationship things have gotten better, 2010, I'll never be able to forget how hard you've been for me.
So it's time to say goodbye, 2010. I'd be lying if I said I'll miss you.
Good Goddamn Riddance.
Love you.
Mean it.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
"Fill Your Hands, You Son of a Bitch!"
As I promised in my last post, here is the part where I talk about the movie True Grit, which I saw last night. It was pretty much one of the best movies of the year.
I love the Coen brothers and love nearly everything they've ever done (e.g. No Country for Old Men, The Ladykillers, O Brother, Where Art Thou, The Big Lebowski, Fargo, Raising Arizona). There style, their stories, their choices are great examples of why I love watching movies. When I first heard that there was going to be a retelling of True Grit, a moment of panic gripped my heart. I was raised on John Wayne and his True Grit (1969) is one of my favorite. I was terrified they were going to ruin the film that finally gave Wayne his only Oscar. (Though there is a belief that Wayne's Oscar for this film was a "sentimental choice, more in recognition of his forty year career." You can read more here.) But when I found out the Coen brothers were writing and directing, I calmed down a little. When I found out that Jeff Bridges was to play Rooster, I was not only completely at ease but also very excited. This movie was going to be awesome!
The Coen brothers masterfully brought in the elements they are known for and that I love so much. One of which was that the characters are so real yet sympathetic. I loved Mattie Ross (Hailee Steinfeld) in this movie way more than the Mattie Ross (Kim Darby) from the original. First, she really did look like she was 14, which is closer to the book the movie is based on. Second, her tenacity was so intense yet she was also so likable. It reminded me of Margie from the movie Fargo, which was also written & directed by the Coen brothers. Both women (though one is a woman and one is just a girl) are strong, assertive, and stubborn but are so likable, kind, and never cross the line of being a complete bitch or a whiny little baby. Steinfeld's Mattie was a brave yet kind character. Even when she was kidnapped by a posse, she keeps her wits about her. She even offers the ringleader of the posse her lawyer should she ever be caught. Darby's Mattie was just being pathetic.
One of the biggest differences between Steinfeld's Mattie and Darby's Mattie was she didn't hide behind her talk of her lawyer. Yes, she did bring him up but she didn't use him as a shield to hide behind. The only time she really used him as a weapon was when she was talking to the business man about the ponies her father had purchased. The 1969 Mattie would often use talk of her lawyer to try and reason (or threaten) the bad guys. It was pathetic and way overdone. They're bad guys. They don't care about lawyers, especially out in the middle of nowhere. It caused me to dislike Darby's Mattie. She was whiny and rather annoying. While watching Steinfeld's performance, I got the feeling that Mattie wanted a man with "grit" because he had to be able to match her own.
Like I mentioned earlier, these characters were so real and genuine. I felt like in the 1969 version, the characters are so over the top, hammy, and rather silly in comparison to this 2010 version. Here we see Bridges's Rooster Cogburn, warts and all, and we still like him because he is genuine. The one thing I'm still debating about is whose performance (Wayne's or Bridges's) I liked better when it came to his tenderness (I wouldn't go as far as to call it "love") towards Mattie. I loved Bridges when he stopped LaBoeuf from spanking Mattie by threatening to shoot him. I can't remember the exact words but he basically tells him if he doesn't stop, "it'll be the biggest mistake you ever made." There was something about the way Bridges's acted before he said that line and even while he said it. There was a realization, an epiphany that this girl had "grit." In the 1969 version, after Rooster and LaBoeuf watch Mattie cross the river, Rooster (Wayne) says, "By God. She reminds me of me." I believe this is part of the reason Rooster begins to care for Mattie. However, near the climax of the film, when Rooster has to carry Mattie to get help after she is bitten by a rattlesnake and the horse has died from exhaustion, Bridges can't hold a candle to the emotional power Wayne's performance gave. Seeing the Wayne's concern for his "Baby Sister" and the lack of concern for himself is just awe-inspiring, though I will say Bridges's does give a fantastic performance. He makes your heart ache after the horse dies but he keeps going.
However, I will say I am not going to pick sides when it comes to the iconic scene where Rooster takes on Ned Pepper & three other men. Both Bridges's and Wayne's performances were superb. If you don't know the scene, here is the dialogue:
Ned Pepper: What's your intention? Do you think one on four is a dogfall?
Rooster Cogburn: I intend to kill you in one minute, Ned. Or see you hanged at Fort Smith at Judge Parker's convenience. Which'll it be?
Ned Pepper: I call that bold talk for a one-eyed fat man.
Rooster Cogburn: Fill your hands, you son of a bitch!
Rooster then puts the reins in his teeth, and rides towards the posse, who also charge towards him. Rooster has a rifle in one hand and a pistol in the other. In Wayne's performance, we see him re-cock the rifle by swinging it all the way around. It's a spectacular scene and one of my all time favorites in film.
Another little detail I loved from this version was the fact you never really see the face of Tom Chaney until Mattie accidentally stumbles upon him by the river. It makes the scene that much more powerful and the man seems so much more sinister. But again, Josh Brolin's portrayal of Tom Chaney never crossed the line into a over-the-top, cliche villain. He was real. There was even a brief moment where I felt sorry for Chaney (it was terribly brief but still there). And like I mentioned earlier, Steinfeld's Mattie holds her ground and is brave when she encounters Tom Chaney. In Darby's performance, she tries to be brave but fails miserably and just comes off as pathetic.
It makes me feel terrible to imply I've "turned my back" on John Wayne. I haven't. The man is still one of my favorite actors and I will revere him till the day I die. But this retelling, from the characters to the story to the little bits of humor, is just an all around better film. I would gladly see it again. Who wants to take me?
Love you.
Mean it.
I love the Coen brothers and love nearly everything they've ever done (e.g. No Country for Old Men, The Ladykillers, O Brother, Where Art Thou, The Big Lebowski, Fargo, Raising Arizona). There style, their stories, their choices are great examples of why I love watching movies. When I first heard that there was going to be a retelling of True Grit, a moment of panic gripped my heart. I was raised on John Wayne and his True Grit (1969) is one of my favorite. I was terrified they were going to ruin the film that finally gave Wayne his only Oscar. (Though there is a belief that Wayne's Oscar for this film was a "sentimental choice, more in recognition of his forty year career." You can read more here.) But when I found out the Coen brothers were writing and directing, I calmed down a little. When I found out that Jeff Bridges was to play Rooster, I was not only completely at ease but also very excited. This movie was going to be awesome!
The Coen brothers masterfully brought in the elements they are known for and that I love so much. One of which was that the characters are so real yet sympathetic. I loved Mattie Ross (Hailee Steinfeld) in this movie way more than the Mattie Ross (Kim Darby) from the original. First, she really did look like she was 14, which is closer to the book the movie is based on. Second, her tenacity was so intense yet she was also so likable. It reminded me of Margie from the movie Fargo, which was also written & directed by the Coen brothers. Both women (though one is a woman and one is just a girl) are strong, assertive, and stubborn but are so likable, kind, and never cross the line of being a complete bitch or a whiny little baby. Steinfeld's Mattie was a brave yet kind character. Even when she was kidnapped by a posse, she keeps her wits about her. She even offers the ringleader of the posse her lawyer should she ever be caught. Darby's Mattie was just being pathetic.
One of the biggest differences between Steinfeld's Mattie and Darby's Mattie was she didn't hide behind her talk of her lawyer. Yes, she did bring him up but she didn't use him as a shield to hide behind. The only time she really used him as a weapon was when she was talking to the business man about the ponies her father had purchased. The 1969 Mattie would often use talk of her lawyer to try and reason (or threaten) the bad guys. It was pathetic and way overdone. They're bad guys. They don't care about lawyers, especially out in the middle of nowhere. It caused me to dislike Darby's Mattie. She was whiny and rather annoying. While watching Steinfeld's performance, I got the feeling that Mattie wanted a man with "grit" because he had to be able to match her own.
Like I mentioned earlier, these characters were so real and genuine. I felt like in the 1969 version, the characters are so over the top, hammy, and rather silly in comparison to this 2010 version. Here we see Bridges's Rooster Cogburn, warts and all, and we still like him because he is genuine. The one thing I'm still debating about is whose performance (Wayne's or Bridges's) I liked better when it came to his tenderness (I wouldn't go as far as to call it "love") towards Mattie. I loved Bridges when he stopped LaBoeuf from spanking Mattie by threatening to shoot him. I can't remember the exact words but he basically tells him if he doesn't stop, "it'll be the biggest mistake you ever made." There was something about the way Bridges's acted before he said that line and even while he said it. There was a realization, an epiphany that this girl had "grit." In the 1969 version, after Rooster and LaBoeuf watch Mattie cross the river, Rooster (Wayne) says, "By God. She reminds me of me." I believe this is part of the reason Rooster begins to care for Mattie. However, near the climax of the film, when Rooster has to carry Mattie to get help after she is bitten by a rattlesnake and the horse has died from exhaustion, Bridges can't hold a candle to the emotional power Wayne's performance gave. Seeing the Wayne's concern for his "Baby Sister" and the lack of concern for himself is just awe-inspiring, though I will say Bridges's does give a fantastic performance. He makes your heart ache after the horse dies but he keeps going.
However, I will say I am not going to pick sides when it comes to the iconic scene where Rooster takes on Ned Pepper & three other men. Both Bridges's and Wayne's performances were superb. If you don't know the scene, here is the dialogue:
Ned Pepper: What's your intention? Do you think one on four is a dogfall?
Rooster Cogburn: I intend to kill you in one minute, Ned. Or see you hanged at Fort Smith at Judge Parker's convenience. Which'll it be?
Ned Pepper: I call that bold talk for a one-eyed fat man.
Rooster Cogburn: Fill your hands, you son of a bitch!
Rooster then puts the reins in his teeth, and rides towards the posse, who also charge towards him. Rooster has a rifle in one hand and a pistol in the other. In Wayne's performance, we see him re-cock the rifle by swinging it all the way around. It's a spectacular scene and one of my all time favorites in film.
Another little detail I loved from this version was the fact you never really see the face of Tom Chaney until Mattie accidentally stumbles upon him by the river. It makes the scene that much more powerful and the man seems so much more sinister. But again, Josh Brolin's portrayal of Tom Chaney never crossed the line into a over-the-top, cliche villain. He was real. There was even a brief moment where I felt sorry for Chaney (it was terribly brief but still there). And like I mentioned earlier, Steinfeld's Mattie holds her ground and is brave when she encounters Tom Chaney. In Darby's performance, she tries to be brave but fails miserably and just comes off as pathetic.
It makes me feel terrible to imply I've "turned my back" on John Wayne. I haven't. The man is still one of my favorite actors and I will revere him till the day I die. But this retelling, from the characters to the story to the little bits of humor, is just an all around better film. I would gladly see it again. Who wants to take me?
Love you.
Mean it.
Christmas Report
Christmas has come and gone. It was a pretty sweet day, no doubts about that. It was spent watching movies, going to the movies, watching football, cuddling with fluffy unicorns, eating tons of junk food, and dodging flying marshmallows.
Allow me to explain...
This year we started a new tradition. While we've always exchanged names within our family, this year we had to purchase a toy for our chosen family member. This was a great idea and I'm so glad we did this. My parents got me a fluffy white and pink unicorn a la Despicable Me. It was my favorite movie this summer and I begged my parents to get me a fluffy unicorn. I had completely forgotten about wanting one until I opened the bag and saw her. I really wish someone would have gotten a picture of my face. It was epic. Also, my sister Cindy got my dad a pump-action marshmallow shooter and a whole bag of mini marshmallows. This made opening gifts a bit perilous since at any moment, you could be pelted by flying marshmallows and forced to duck and cover. And I assure you, getting hit in the eye with a marshmallow that was shot out of a gun hurts more than it sounds like it would.
Later my dad, my mom, Cindy, and myself watched Despicable Me. My dad hadn't seen it but loved it. Cindy, mom, and I laughed through the whole thing. It's a freaking hilarious movie plus makes you all warm and fuzzy inside. There's a part where Gru is looking at his family tree portrait on the wall and the girls have drawn a line from Gru and added drawings of themselves underneath. Ohh, it breaks my heart! Not to mention the minions are so freaking funny! If you haven't seen this movie, go do it!
At ten last night, I went out with my bestie Jon and his brother Daniel and saw the movie True Grit. I was raised on John Wayne movies and the original True Grit is one of my favorites. But this masterful retelling by the Coen brothers is just fantastic! It's so freaking good! I'm going to add my thoughts about the film in a later post. There's just too much!
As Christmases go, this one was really awesome. I'm so very grateful for my family and for my friends for all the support and love they have given me.
Love you.
Mean it.
Allow me to explain...
This year we started a new tradition. While we've always exchanged names within our family, this year we had to purchase a toy for our chosen family member. This was a great idea and I'm so glad we did this. My parents got me a fluffy white and pink unicorn a la Despicable Me. It was my favorite movie this summer and I begged my parents to get me a fluffy unicorn. I had completely forgotten about wanting one until I opened the bag and saw her. I really wish someone would have gotten a picture of my face. It was epic. Also, my sister Cindy got my dad a pump-action marshmallow shooter and a whole bag of mini marshmallows. This made opening gifts a bit perilous since at any moment, you could be pelted by flying marshmallows and forced to duck and cover. And I assure you, getting hit in the eye with a marshmallow that was shot out of a gun hurts more than it sounds like it would.
Later my dad, my mom, Cindy, and myself watched Despicable Me. My dad hadn't seen it but loved it. Cindy, mom, and I laughed through the whole thing. It's a freaking hilarious movie plus makes you all warm and fuzzy inside. There's a part where Gru is looking at his family tree portrait on the wall and the girls have drawn a line from Gru and added drawings of themselves underneath. Ohh, it breaks my heart! Not to mention the minions are so freaking funny! If you haven't seen this movie, go do it!
At ten last night, I went out with my bestie Jon and his brother Daniel and saw the movie True Grit. I was raised on John Wayne movies and the original True Grit is one of my favorites. But this masterful retelling by the Coen brothers is just fantastic! It's so freaking good! I'm going to add my thoughts about the film in a later post. There's just too much!
As Christmases go, this one was really awesome. I'm so very grateful for my family and for my friends for all the support and love they have given me.
Love you.
Mean it.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
A Kind, Forgiving, Charitable, Pleasant Time. Part 3
(In case you missed it, Part 1 & Part 2)
"...I have always thought of Christmastime, when it has come round...as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men & women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore, Uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!"
Merry Christmas & God Bless Us, Everyone.
Love you.
Mean it.
"...I have always thought of Christmastime, when it has come round...as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men & women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore, Uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!"
-Fred from A Christmas Carol
by Charles Dickens
Leave it to Charles Dickens to be able to express my love of Christmas a billion times better (and a million times more concisely) than I ever could. I guess that's why he's Charles freaking Dickens.
Merry Christmas & God Bless Us, Everyone.
Love you.
Mean it.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Feeling Generally Pathetic (AKA Human)
"What passes for hip cynical transcendence of sentiment is really some kind of fear of being really human, since to be really human [...] is probably to be unavoidably sentimental and naive and goo-prone and generally pathetic."
-David Foster Wallace
Love you.
Mean it.
Love you.
Mean it.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Peace on Earth, Goodwill to Men Part Two
In case you missed it, here's part one.
There is another reason I love Christmas. It is a bit more religious in nature but I think it can apply to pretty much anyone.
In the New Testament, more specifically in the book of Luke, it talks about an angel coming to shepherds in their fields and telling them of the birth of Christ. In Luke 2:14 it says, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men." Now, even if you aren't Christian or even remotely religious, this is an idea that everyone can and should embrace. We're all on this Earth together. We should show more love and kindness to our fellowmen.
In 1914, the world was in the first four months of the 'war to end all wars.' It was miserable weather. British troops were on one side and German troops on the other, and in between was no man's land. Yet on Christmas Eve, both sides held a cease fire so they could celebrate Christmas. The British heard a German shout, "A happy Christmas to you Englishmen!" The Germans soon heard the British reply, "Same to you, Fritz, but dinna o'er eat yourself wi' they sausages!" In other places, the two sides exchanged Christmas carols. You can read the account yourself here. There were even places where the two sides would meet in the middle of no man's land! They would exchange cigarettes or souvenirs. They didn't speak each other's language but they would try to communicate in anyway they could. One witness said, "Here we were laughing and chatting to men whom only a few hours before we were trying to kill!" I'll be the first to admit, I am pretty cynical and pessimistic, but the story of the Christmas Truce, as it came to be known, helps me to believe that the idea of Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men can happen.
Sometimes, I hear stories of modern day "good Samaritans" who went out of their way to help another, even if it meant risking their own life like this man here. Or the story of the man who stopped an extremist church from burning a Quran. I also sometimes see simple acts of charity such as a young man stopping to help a woman who had dropped a bunch of papers at school or a guy pulling over and getting out of his car to help push a stalled car out of an intersection. All of these stories and firsthand accounts help me believe that there are good people out there who are willing to put aside their differences or ignore their own schedules & agendas, and just help their fellowmen. When we think about it, we're all in this together. We can make things really difficult for each other or we can help make things easier.
That is why I love Christmas. It seems like people decide to think of others and promote peace. Even if it's just once a year, it's a start. My previous Christmas post mentioned a song by Reliant K. There's another one by them called, "Boxing Day." It has a line that says, "But just for one day we all came together. We showed the whole world that we know how to love." If we can do that and keep doing that even after Christmas is over, I think this world is going to be okay.
Love you.
Mean it.
There is another reason I love Christmas. It is a bit more religious in nature but I think it can apply to pretty much anyone.
In the New Testament, more specifically in the book of Luke, it talks about an angel coming to shepherds in their fields and telling them of the birth of Christ. In Luke 2:14 it says, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men." Now, even if you aren't Christian or even remotely religious, this is an idea that everyone can and should embrace. We're all on this Earth together. We should show more love and kindness to our fellowmen.
In 1914, the world was in the first four months of the 'war to end all wars.' It was miserable weather. British troops were on one side and German troops on the other, and in between was no man's land. Yet on Christmas Eve, both sides held a cease fire so they could celebrate Christmas. The British heard a German shout, "A happy Christmas to you Englishmen!" The Germans soon heard the British reply, "Same to you, Fritz, but dinna o'er eat yourself wi' they sausages!" In other places, the two sides exchanged Christmas carols. You can read the account yourself here. There were even places where the two sides would meet in the middle of no man's land! They would exchange cigarettes or souvenirs. They didn't speak each other's language but they would try to communicate in anyway they could. One witness said, "Here we were laughing and chatting to men whom only a few hours before we were trying to kill!" I'll be the first to admit, I am pretty cynical and pessimistic, but the story of the Christmas Truce, as it came to be known, helps me to believe that the idea of Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men can happen.
Sometimes, I hear stories of modern day "good Samaritans" who went out of their way to help another, even if it meant risking their own life like this man here. Or the story of the man who stopped an extremist church from burning a Quran. I also sometimes see simple acts of charity such as a young man stopping to help a woman who had dropped a bunch of papers at school or a guy pulling over and getting out of his car to help push a stalled car out of an intersection. All of these stories and firsthand accounts help me believe that there are good people out there who are willing to put aside their differences or ignore their own schedules & agendas, and just help their fellowmen. When we think about it, we're all in this together. We can make things really difficult for each other or we can help make things easier.
That is why I love Christmas. It seems like people decide to think of others and promote peace. Even if it's just once a year, it's a start. My previous Christmas post mentioned a song by Reliant K. There's another one by them called, "Boxing Day." It has a line that says, "But just for one day we all came together. We showed the whole world that we know how to love." If we can do that and keep doing that even after Christmas is over, I think this world is going to be okay.
Love you.
Mean it.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Birthdays of Recent Memory
I turned 16 years old on December 17th in 2003. It was a Wednesday, which meant we didn't have to go to school till 9:20 a.m. I woke up and was taken out to breakfast by my two friends (at the time) Jason McNew & Kendall Pearson. I had been dating Jason early that year but had only recently broken up with him. I would eventually date Kendall as well, though the relationship would end in a horrific way. They were acting weird, saying that we couldn't go anywhere that took a long time but wouldn't say why we were in such a hurry. We ended up going to a doughnut place and feasted on doughnuts and chocolate milk.
When I got home, I found my room had been epically decorated by my two best friends Heather Smith & Danielle Butler, with some help from our other friend Lindsay Clarke. Heather, Danielle, and I had this thing where birthdays were a big deal and we'd always try to outdo each other in what we could pull off. We had to stop around age 17 because it got too ridiculous and expensive. They had enlisted the help of tons of friends, family, strangers, etc. to cut out hundreds of paper snowflakes of various sizes and had them hanging from the ceiling. They also hung white bedsheets over the walls to make everything seem like a winter wonderland. But the most amazing thing they did was cover the floor (albeit, I have a small room but still) knee-deep in shredded paper. I am not even exaggerating. They went to businesses and asked if they could take their shredded paper to be the "snow" in my winter room. It was incredible.
That day my mom checked me out of school to go get my license. After it was all said and done, we walked out and my mom wanted to get my picture by the car. However, in all the excitement, we took my picture by the wrong car. We had a great laugh about it. It was later that evening that I discovered that the Toyota Corolla that was my dad's car was now my car. Seven years later and she's still my Babygirl. She now has 192,000 miles on her, along with plenty of dents and scraps but I love her. She's never let me down.
It was 2004 when I turned 17. I don't remember what we did on my birthday but I remember the day after. I was dating a guy named David at the time. My best friend Danielle was dating a guy named Trevor. Us four decided we were going to go to Temple Square that night. Trevor lived in Bluffdale so we were going to pick him up along the way. The only trouble was we, David, Danielle, and I, got stuck in bumper to bumper traffic before we even got to the point of the mountain. However, this did not damper our spirits in the least. We had the windows rolled down, Christmas music blasting, and just goofed off. We talked to the people in the cars next to us and tried to cheer them up.
Even after we got Trevor and got back on the freeway, the traffic hadn't cleared. But we didn't care. We were having a blast. By the time we got to Temple Square, we only spent 20 minutes there before it closed. As I was driving everyone home (the traffic had all but disappeared by then), I noticed I was the only person awake in the car. Trevor and Danielle were cuddled up in the back and David had fallen asleep still holding my hand. I remember feeling this wonderful sense of love and peace for these three people. Danielle was my best friend and had been for nearly four years then and Trevor made her so happy. Danielle and Trevor ended up getting married, which I was fortunate enough to be a bridesmaid at their wedding. Their three year anniversary will be in January. David was my first love. He made me ridiculously happy. I couldn't think of a better way to spend the day after my birthday.
My 18th birthday was the worst birthday of recent memory. My entire family came down with some sort of flu bug and was too sick to celebrate. I was the only person who wasn't violently ill, so my parents gave me money to go out to eat with David. We were still dating and had only just passed our one year anniversary two months previously. We went to an Indian place called The Bombay House. For some reason, David and I were fighting about something. We hardly ever fought but we made up for lost time during this fight. I don't even remember what it was about. We were just angry and irritated with each other. The relationship didn't last for too long after that, maybe three more months at the most. Like most relationship where there was real love and passion when it was good, it was a horribly messy break up filled with hurt feelings and words we didn't mean.
I have little memory of my 19th birthday. The only thing I really remember was a gift I received. It was from my dear friend, Brian. He gave me Fight Club, both the movie and the book. I've since watched the movie hundreds of times and read the book even more. Fight Club was the first book by Chuck Palahniuk that I read. I've since read everything he's ever written, with the exception of Fugitives and Refugees, a book I can't seem to get my hands on.
My 20th birthday is similarly a blur. It was only a few weeks before I was to leave to go teach English in Russia so my presents all were in preparation for that adventure. I got my Canon powershot point & shoot camera that I still have today. I've taken thousands of pictures with that camera, including my trip to Russia, my trip to Canada, all my adventures in Cedar City, my assignments in my Intro to Photography class, and many more. I also remember my friend (and recently ex-boyfriend) Gus gave me the t.v. series Wonderfalls. We had watched the series during our very brief relationship. He also gave me a nice notebook to write in when I was in Russia.
I honestly don't remember a thing about my 21st or 22nd birthday. I know it was my 21st birthday that I got my Blackberry from my parents and my friends Amber McNew, Ashley McNew, and Paige McGuire came over. Other than that, I can't remember anything special or significant. This is kind of upsetting to me.
Two days ago was my 23rd birthday. It was pretty awesome as birthdays go. My family had dinner together, pizza from Nicolitalia Pizzeria, which is my new favorite place to eat. My cousin and his family came over. He and his wife have two kids, a 2-ish year old named Carter and a new baby named Juliet. Cute, cute, cute family. For presents, I got a sleeve protector for my laptop (so I won't borrow Kathy's anymore), some Victoria Secret lotion & body wash, and a new charm for my necklace. But the best gift was my awesome new saddle bag. It is freakin sweet! I love it.
After we had cake and ice cream, I jetted over to my friend's apartment building where the lovely Mary Buynak had thrown me a karaoke birthday party. A bunch of my friends were there. Usually I shy away from all things karaoke but everyone was getting really into it and having a great time. I didn't feel self conscious in the least. Seeing the two Doyle brothers, both big guys, serenade us with "Dust in the Wind," and seeing Josh Keele turn "Sweet Caroline" into a rock performance of the ages made me laugh until I cried. I even did a little ditty for the audience. Christina Freeman and I sang "What I Like About You" accompanied by some sweet dance moves. To say I had a blast would be an understatement.
Love you.
Mean it.
When I got home, I found my room had been epically decorated by my two best friends Heather Smith & Danielle Butler, with some help from our other friend Lindsay Clarke. Heather, Danielle, and I had this thing where birthdays were a big deal and we'd always try to outdo each other in what we could pull off. We had to stop around age 17 because it got too ridiculous and expensive. They had enlisted the help of tons of friends, family, strangers, etc. to cut out hundreds of paper snowflakes of various sizes and had them hanging from the ceiling. They also hung white bedsheets over the walls to make everything seem like a winter wonderland. But the most amazing thing they did was cover the floor (albeit, I have a small room but still) knee-deep in shredded paper. I am not even exaggerating. They went to businesses and asked if they could take their shredded paper to be the "snow" in my winter room. It was incredible.
That day my mom checked me out of school to go get my license. After it was all said and done, we walked out and my mom wanted to get my picture by the car. However, in all the excitement, we took my picture by the wrong car. We had a great laugh about it. It was later that evening that I discovered that the Toyota Corolla that was my dad's car was now my car. Seven years later and she's still my Babygirl. She now has 192,000 miles on her, along with plenty of dents and scraps but I love her. She's never let me down.
It was 2004 when I turned 17. I don't remember what we did on my birthday but I remember the day after. I was dating a guy named David at the time. My best friend Danielle was dating a guy named Trevor. Us four decided we were going to go to Temple Square that night. Trevor lived in Bluffdale so we were going to pick him up along the way. The only trouble was we, David, Danielle, and I, got stuck in bumper to bumper traffic before we even got to the point of the mountain. However, this did not damper our spirits in the least. We had the windows rolled down, Christmas music blasting, and just goofed off. We talked to the people in the cars next to us and tried to cheer them up.
Even after we got Trevor and got back on the freeway, the traffic hadn't cleared. But we didn't care. We were having a blast. By the time we got to Temple Square, we only spent 20 minutes there before it closed. As I was driving everyone home (the traffic had all but disappeared by then), I noticed I was the only person awake in the car. Trevor and Danielle were cuddled up in the back and David had fallen asleep still holding my hand. I remember feeling this wonderful sense of love and peace for these three people. Danielle was my best friend and had been for nearly four years then and Trevor made her so happy. Danielle and Trevor ended up getting married, which I was fortunate enough to be a bridesmaid at their wedding. Their three year anniversary will be in January. David was my first love. He made me ridiculously happy. I couldn't think of a better way to spend the day after my birthday.
My 18th birthday was the worst birthday of recent memory. My entire family came down with some sort of flu bug and was too sick to celebrate. I was the only person who wasn't violently ill, so my parents gave me money to go out to eat with David. We were still dating and had only just passed our one year anniversary two months previously. We went to an Indian place called The Bombay House. For some reason, David and I were fighting about something. We hardly ever fought but we made up for lost time during this fight. I don't even remember what it was about. We were just angry and irritated with each other. The relationship didn't last for too long after that, maybe three more months at the most. Like most relationship where there was real love and passion when it was good, it was a horribly messy break up filled with hurt feelings and words we didn't mean.
I have little memory of my 19th birthday. The only thing I really remember was a gift I received. It was from my dear friend, Brian. He gave me Fight Club, both the movie and the book. I've since watched the movie hundreds of times and read the book even more. Fight Club was the first book by Chuck Palahniuk that I read. I've since read everything he's ever written, with the exception of Fugitives and Refugees, a book I can't seem to get my hands on.
My 20th birthday is similarly a blur. It was only a few weeks before I was to leave to go teach English in Russia so my presents all were in preparation for that adventure. I got my Canon powershot point & shoot camera that I still have today. I've taken thousands of pictures with that camera, including my trip to Russia, my trip to Canada, all my adventures in Cedar City, my assignments in my Intro to Photography class, and many more. I also remember my friend (and recently ex-boyfriend) Gus gave me the t.v. series Wonderfalls. We had watched the series during our very brief relationship. He also gave me a nice notebook to write in when I was in Russia.
I honestly don't remember a thing about my 21st or 22nd birthday. I know it was my 21st birthday that I got my Blackberry from my parents and my friends Amber McNew, Ashley McNew, and Paige McGuire came over. Other than that, I can't remember anything special or significant. This is kind of upsetting to me.
Two days ago was my 23rd birthday. It was pretty awesome as birthdays go. My family had dinner together, pizza from Nicolitalia Pizzeria, which is my new favorite place to eat. My cousin and his family came over. He and his wife have two kids, a 2-ish year old named Carter and a new baby named Juliet. Cute, cute, cute family. For presents, I got a sleeve protector for my laptop (so I won't borrow Kathy's anymore), some Victoria Secret lotion & body wash, and a new charm for my necklace. But the best gift was my awesome new saddle bag. It is freakin sweet! I love it.
After we had cake and ice cream, I jetted over to my friend's apartment building where the lovely Mary Buynak had thrown me a karaoke birthday party. A bunch of my friends were there. Usually I shy away from all things karaoke but everyone was getting really into it and having a great time. I didn't feel self conscious in the least. Seeing the two Doyle brothers, both big guys, serenade us with "Dust in the Wind," and seeing Josh Keele turn "Sweet Caroline" into a rock performance of the ages made me laugh until I cried. I even did a little ditty for the audience. Christina Freeman and I sang "What I Like About You" accompanied by some sweet dance moves. To say I had a blast would be an understatement.
Love you.
Mean it.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
23 years old seems so young to lose faith in dreams.
The other day someone asked me my major and I told them I'm literature and cinema. They asked me what I wanted to do with that and I didn't exactly know what to say. I mean, I know what I want to do with my life but my major doesn't exactly match up with that plan. But I'm too far into my major now to change things. I need to get out of college and move on with my life. But maybe it's a good thing I still have at least another two years before I graduate because, frankly, I don't know how I'm going to make it work out there.
Whenever I think about the future, it scares the shit out of me. I keep worrying if I have what it takes to be able to accomplish what I want to do. I want to be a writer, yes, but how am I going to compete with all the other people out there who majored in journalism or creative writing or technical writing? I'm terrified I'm going to end up working a job I hate just because it's the only thing I can get.
When I think about my life and what I want to do with it, there are a few things that I know I have to do in order to feel like my life is worth anything. One of them is to feel like I'm making a difference, that I'm actually apart of something bigger than myself. It's not about having a huge house and driving expensive cars. I want to know that when I leave this stupid planet, I left it just a bit better than when I came. I know this is all silly idealism that would make any real cynic gag, but that's how I feel. Another thing is I want to get out of Utah. I don't mean to imply that Utah isn't a good place to grow up. I experienced it first hand and it's a great place to raise a family. But minus the five months I've lived in St. Petersburg, Russia, I've lived in Utah my entire life. I need a change. I need something different. I can't explain it, but I know if I stay here too long, it will end up destroying me. Another thing is I want to know I took risks, that I didn't play it safe my whole life. This is so important to me if I want to be a writer. I want to write the truth as I see it and maybe one day I will write something that will ruffle some feathers and shake some cages. I want to stand up for what I believe, even if I'm standing alone. Again, this is all silly idealism but it's important to me. Without these three things (and more) I'm going to feel like I lived my life in vain.
And if I end up somewhere doing something that isn't going to fulfill these "requirements," what then? Am I brave enough to sacrifice job security (even if it's something I dislike) to try and find something better? What if there is nothing better? What then?
I often say as a joke that "these are troubled times we're living in." But it is true to a point. My generation is facing a crisis. Do we do what is guaranteed to pay the bills or do we take a risk and try to make a go of doing what we love? Is it possible to do both? I've always intended on living a full and rich life, doing what I love and being successful. But I'm starting to realize just how hard that is going to be. And while I've never been one to back down from a challenge, I'm slightly hesitant because I'm not positive I can win and if I don't win, I have a lot to lose.
Tomorrow is my 23rd birthday.
23 years old seems so young to lose faith in dreams.
Love you.
Mean it.
Whenever I think about the future, it scares the shit out of me. I keep worrying if I have what it takes to be able to accomplish what I want to do. I want to be a writer, yes, but how am I going to compete with all the other people out there who majored in journalism or creative writing or technical writing? I'm terrified I'm going to end up working a job I hate just because it's the only thing I can get.
When I think about my life and what I want to do with it, there are a few things that I know I have to do in order to feel like my life is worth anything. One of them is to feel like I'm making a difference, that I'm actually apart of something bigger than myself. It's not about having a huge house and driving expensive cars. I want to know that when I leave this stupid planet, I left it just a bit better than when I came. I know this is all silly idealism that would make any real cynic gag, but that's how I feel. Another thing is I want to get out of Utah. I don't mean to imply that Utah isn't a good place to grow up. I experienced it first hand and it's a great place to raise a family. But minus the five months I've lived in St. Petersburg, Russia, I've lived in Utah my entire life. I need a change. I need something different. I can't explain it, but I know if I stay here too long, it will end up destroying me. Another thing is I want to know I took risks, that I didn't play it safe my whole life. This is so important to me if I want to be a writer. I want to write the truth as I see it and maybe one day I will write something that will ruffle some feathers and shake some cages. I want to stand up for what I believe, even if I'm standing alone. Again, this is all silly idealism but it's important to me. Without these three things (and more) I'm going to feel like I lived my life in vain.
And if I end up somewhere doing something that isn't going to fulfill these "requirements," what then? Am I brave enough to sacrifice job security (even if it's something I dislike) to try and find something better? What if there is nothing better? What then?
I often say as a joke that "these are troubled times we're living in." But it is true to a point. My generation is facing a crisis. Do we do what is guaranteed to pay the bills or do we take a risk and try to make a go of doing what we love? Is it possible to do both? I've always intended on living a full and rich life, doing what I love and being successful. But I'm starting to realize just how hard that is going to be. And while I've never been one to back down from a challenge, I'm slightly hesitant because I'm not positive I can win and if I don't win, I have a lot to lose.
Tomorrow is my 23rd birthday.
23 years old seems so young to lose faith in dreams.
Love you.
Mean it.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
He's Not Going to Stop Looking
I'm looking for a guy who makes it a habit of living in his head.
Who believes in art, math, and chai tea because he knows the good of them.
Who believes in miracles every time he hears a baby laugh.
He's intelligent in that unassuming kind of way that people can't help but like.
Who never steps outside without a pen in his back pocket and Converse on his feet.
He lets others take pictures while he makes memories.
He attacks life with a smile and a dark sense of humor.
I'm looking for a guy who keeps his promises and his secrets.
Who helps me with my coat and rises when a woman walks into a room.
He doesn't mind wasting Friday nights watching movies
as long as he's sharing a couch and a blanket with someone he cares about.
He isn't satisfied with mediocrity or normality and knows this place will destroy us both
if we stay too long.
I'm looking for a guy who has a sense of adventure.
Who will try anything once and dive in headfirst.
Who is naturally drawn to those people in the crowd who don't seem to fit,
who seem out of place because he knows those are the people with the best stories.
He's cynical about mankind in general yet always rolls down the window
to offer a few bucks to a man holding cardboard that reads
"God Bless."
Who always notices the strangest things
like how all the cars parked on the street are white or
how I play with my necklace when I'm uncomfortable.
I'm looking for a guy who laughs often,
either in short chuckles or loud, long bursts.
He always finds the humor of each situation, no matter how twisted or dark.
He doesn't trust people by nature but no one knows that.
He doesn't see the point in lying but tells the best stories.
Who has a soft spot for animals, though he'd never admit it.
He makes plans in pencil because he knows things always change.
The guy I'm looking for knows what it's like to be in love
and knows it won't answer any questions.
But he's not going to stop looking for it
because he knows nothing else compares.
Who believes in art, math, and chai tea because he knows the good of them.
Who believes in miracles every time he hears a baby laugh.
He's intelligent in that unassuming kind of way that people can't help but like.
Who never steps outside without a pen in his back pocket and Converse on his feet.
He lets others take pictures while he makes memories.
He attacks life with a smile and a dark sense of humor.
I'm looking for a guy who keeps his promises and his secrets.
Who helps me with my coat and rises when a woman walks into a room.
He doesn't mind wasting Friday nights watching movies
as long as he's sharing a couch and a blanket with someone he cares about.
He isn't satisfied with mediocrity or normality and knows this place will destroy us both
if we stay too long.
I'm looking for a guy who has a sense of adventure.
Who will try anything once and dive in headfirst.
Who is naturally drawn to those people in the crowd who don't seem to fit,
who seem out of place because he knows those are the people with the best stories.
He's cynical about mankind in general yet always rolls down the window
to offer a few bucks to a man holding cardboard that reads
"God Bless."
Who always notices the strangest things
like how all the cars parked on the street are white or
how I play with my necklace when I'm uncomfortable.
I'm looking for a guy who laughs often,
either in short chuckles or loud, long bursts.
He always finds the humor of each situation, no matter how twisted or dark.
He doesn't trust people by nature but no one knows that.
He doesn't see the point in lying but tells the best stories.
Who has a soft spot for animals, though he'd never admit it.
He makes plans in pencil because he knows things always change.
The guy I'm looking for knows what it's like to be in love
and knows it won't answer any questions.
But he's not going to stop looking for it
because he knows nothing else compares.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Saturday, December 11, 2010
So This Week...Holy Crap.
Holy crap.
I know it's only been about three days since my last post but it feels more like a lifetime. It's been the last week of classes so school has been basically the sole item on my mind. I've been working on a paper for my Academic Writing class and I really, really like it. It's going to be awesome when it's done. I have two other essays to write; one is due on Monday and the other on Wednesday but I know I can pull it off.
The other way more exciting news is we got another dog! His name is Randy after A Christmas Story. Our other dog is named Ralphie because we got him around Christmas time seven years ago. Randy is a chihuahua/rat-terrier mix and is adorable. He loves to be held and loves to cuddle. I just love him.
The other great news is last night we had our last improv show of the year and it was our best yet! It was so freaking funny! I don't know what made the difference but everyone had lots of energy, everyone was excited, we had great suggestions, and everything seemed to just click. It was a riot. I'm so glad we ended on a positive note.
Well, I know this post hasn't been too interesting but, as I mentioned earlier, school has been the only thing on my mind lately so even right now as I'm typing this, I'm thinking "Crap, I really need to keep working on that paper."
So until next time, Happy Christmas (or whatever other holiday you wish to celebrate.)
Love you.
Mean it.
I know it's only been about three days since my last post but it feels more like a lifetime. It's been the last week of classes so school has been basically the sole item on my mind. I've been working on a paper for my Academic Writing class and I really, really like it. It's going to be awesome when it's done. I have two other essays to write; one is due on Monday and the other on Wednesday but I know I can pull it off.
The other way more exciting news is we got another dog! His name is Randy after A Christmas Story. Our other dog is named Ralphie because we got him around Christmas time seven years ago. Randy is a chihuahua/rat-terrier mix and is adorable. He loves to be held and loves to cuddle. I just love him.
The other great news is last night we had our last improv show of the year and it was our best yet! It was so freaking funny! I don't know what made the difference but everyone had lots of energy, everyone was excited, we had great suggestions, and everything seemed to just click. It was a riot. I'm so glad we ended on a positive note.
Well, I know this post hasn't been too interesting but, as I mentioned earlier, school has been the only thing on my mind lately so even right now as I'm typing this, I'm thinking "Crap, I really need to keep working on that paper."
So until next time, Happy Christmas (or whatever other holiday you wish to celebrate.)
Love you.
Mean it.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Because It Wasn't There Before
One of the reasons I love to write so much is the process of creation. I've been thinking about this ever since someone asked me a question on formspring. They asked when I will write my Mormon "exit story." In my explanation, I talk about how that story is told and perfected in my head and it wouldn't be any fun to write it. It would be more like typing it.
When I go to write something, I usually start off with a very small idea or a phrase or even just a word that intrigues me. I start writing and just see where it takes me. I try to get as much out as possible before I begin to self-edit. That process, me typing on my laptop, expressing ideas and emotions through my words, it's the most fun and exhilarating thing I can do. It's a glorious experience to create something that wasn't there before. And once it's all over, I send it out there to be read or ignored or whatever. It doesn't matter either way too much. What matters is that feeling of creation; to look down and see your work and know it's something that wasn't there before. I guess that's one of the big reasons why I write. To put it simply, it's fun.
Another reason is the fact no one can say what I have to say in the precise manner in which I say it. I know that's a bit confusing but think of it this way: if I don't write it, who will? I have my own voice, my own thoughts, my own experiences. If I don't write about them, if I don't try to express these ideas and experiences, who will? Just like with creation I am able to put something out there that wasn't there before. And if I don't create something that wasn't there before, no one will.
So I guess what I'm trying to say is this process of creation is not only fun and exciting but also vital (I'm not just speaking of my own work but creation in general). Everyone is capable of creating something to express themselves. Everyone needs to create. Because if they don't, who will?
Another reason is the fact no one can say what I have to say in the precise manner in which I say it. I know that's a bit confusing but think of it this way: if I don't write it, who will? I have my own voice, my own thoughts, my own experiences. If I don't write about them, if I don't try to express these ideas and experiences, who will? Just like with creation I am able to put something out there that wasn't there before. And if I don't create something that wasn't there before, no one will.
So I guess what I'm trying to say is this process of creation is not only fun and exciting but also vital (I'm not just speaking of my own work but creation in general). Everyone is capable of creating something to express themselves. Everyone needs to create. Because if they don't, who will?
Love you.
Mean it.
Mean it.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Singing
Last night was a birthday party for my friends Mary & Pricila. The evening included playing pool, dancing, catching up with friends, a photobooth, lots of food, and pièce de résistance: Glee Karaoke. I don't watch the show Glee. My taste in television usually leans towards shows where a dead body or two are involved (See Criminal Minds, NCIS, NCIS: Los Angeles, The Mentalist, etc). And while I am usually opposed to singing in public, my friends worked me over to sing a simple version of "Leaving on a Jet Plane." I only acquiesced because I actually like that song a lot. However, this was before I knew the song "Proud Mary" was an option. Never heard of it? Yes you have. Here's Ms. Turner singing it like a goddess. Mary and Pricila sang it and I had to join in (from the comfort of the couch to the right). And it was then I remembered how much I have always wanted to sing that way.
I've never considered myself much of a singer. I was in A Capella my senior year of high school and was very minor roles in school musicals but that was about it. It never bothered me too much. I never really liked singing musical numbers or pop-ish melodies. But I do have a sincere and lustful desire to be able to sing jazz, blues, gospel, and soul; something with a little attitude and "umph" behind it would suit me just fine. Alas, I am about as white as white could be and wasn't blessed with the most stunning voice either. I know if I had the time/money to take voice lessons, I could train my voice to sing better but I don't see the point anymore. If I found a genie, my very first wish would be to be able to sing like a big black southern woman, full of soul, emotion, and power.
Maybe in the next life...
Love you.
Mean it.
I've never considered myself much of a singer. I was in A Capella my senior year of high school and was very minor roles in school musicals but that was about it. It never bothered me too much. I never really liked singing musical numbers or pop-ish melodies. But I do have a sincere and lustful desire to be able to sing jazz, blues, gospel, and soul; something with a little attitude and "umph" behind it would suit me just fine. Alas, I am about as white as white could be and wasn't blessed with the most stunning voice either. I know if I had the time/money to take voice lessons, I could train my voice to sing better but I don't see the point anymore. If I found a genie, my very first wish would be to be able to sing like a big black southern woman, full of soul, emotion, and power.
Maybe in the next life...
Love you.
Mean it.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
It's overrated.
"I have a lot of growing up to do. I realized that the other day while I was sitting in my fort."
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Who Do You Carry the Torch For?
"Who do you carry the torch for, my young man?
Do you believe in anything?
Do you carry it around just to burn things down?"
-Brand New
"The Archer's Bows Are Broken"
The Devil and God Are Raging Inside of Me
I have probably listened to that song hundreds of times. Brand New, more specifically their two albums Deja Entendu & The Devil and God Are Raging Inside of Me I usually reserve for when I'm in a melancholy, introverted mood. Brand New's lyrics always offer little gems of raw honesty, beauty, or poignancy. I could quote a good amount right here. But it's the quote above that has captivated me, mostly because I've listened to it for over four years now and haven't given it any extra thought. I was listening to some playlist on shuffle the other day and that song came on. Those are the first lines of the song and they sort of got stuck in my head. I went and googled "carry the touch" to see if it meant anything outside of the song. After some exploring and tweaking of search words, I found out the meaning.
On the word detective website, I found this entry:
Last night I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking who do I still carry a torch for? Who do I still love & still hope that they will find my torch? I was haunted by the memory of four men that I fell in love with to some degree or another. Tossing & turning, trying to get them out of my head, I could see how easily it would be to stop believing in anything and to use those torches to burn things down. Once you've had your heart broken enough times, you get to the point you don't want to try again. It doesn't seem worth it.
How many more guys will I be haunted by?
How many more torches will I continue to carry?
How long can I go before I start to burn things down?
Love you.
Mean it.
On the word detective website, I found this entry:
Since at least 1927, "to carry the torch" (or "carry a torch" for someone) has meant to continue to love and pine for someone long after the object of affection has left the building and any reasonable hope of amorous success has passed. By 1934, romantic ballads of lost love and broken hearts were known as "torch songs," and female nightclub singers who made them their specialty were known as "torch singers."What a tragically beautiful thought. It gives the image of a man carrying a torch and being asked who he carries it for. He carries it for a love that has been lost and can never hope to have again. Yet he carries the torch in his fruitless attempt to find her again. Perhaps he did believe in love but his heartache has left people questioning whether he believes in anything anymore. His despair has left him cynical, as thoughts of using the torch that is meant to find his lost lover to be used instead to burn things down, to destroy. It is this idea that gives the song the poignancy that I'm used to having from Brand New.
Last night I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking who do I still carry a torch for? Who do I still love & still hope that they will find my torch? I was haunted by the memory of four men that I fell in love with to some degree or another. Tossing & turning, trying to get them out of my head, I could see how easily it would be to stop believing in anything and to use those torches to burn things down. Once you've had your heart broken enough times, you get to the point you don't want to try again. It doesn't seem worth it.
How many more guys will I be haunted by?
How many more torches will I continue to carry?
How long can I go before I start to burn things down?
Love you.
Mean it.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Merry Christmas, Damnit. Part One
I guess now that it's November 27 and both Thanksgiving & Black Friday are over, I can officially write about Christmas without receiving too many death threats.
Usually when I tell people that Christmas is my favorite holiday, I receive the same cynical rolled eyes from pretty much everyone. I don't blame them. It is a pretty cliché thing to say. I mean, who doesn't like Christmas? There are presents, food, family, religious services, presents... And all those things are pretty awesome. But I'm right there with the cynical people who say that Christmas has become too commercialized; that we, as a society, have lost the true meaning of Christmas. What I find odd about that statement is that it is never really explained what the "true meaning of Christmas" really is. I'll be the first to admit that I'm not a very religious person anymore. I'm not even really a "spiritual" person per se. The coming of Christmas and the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ has awoken a major dissonance in my religious/spiritual/whatever life. If I claim to be a deist (deist: belief in the existence of a supreme being, specifically of a creator whodoes not intervene in the universe. The term is used chiefly of anintellectual movement of the 17th and 18th centuries that accepted the existence of a creator on the basis of reason but rejected belief in a supernatural deity who interacts with humankind), then obviously I wouldn't believe that God sent his Son to die to redeem all mankind from their sins. This is a matter that I'll probably attend to later in another post. But I have found special significance and meaning in Christmas that causes it to be my favorite holiday that has hardly anything to do with presents or religious meaning.
I have a playlist on my ipod that is titled "Merry Christmas, Damnit." The title comes from an old joke between some old roommates from two or three years ago. My one roommate, who was stressed out of her mind with finals and some recent family troubles, came into the kitchen where another roommate and I were talking. The girl plopped two wrapped presents in front of us and said, "Merry Christmas, damnit." The roommate sitting by me looked at the presents then at me and we both burst out laughing. It was just too funny to us. It was merely moments before the gift-bearing roommate joined in. It still is one of my favorite memories from that first apartment I had in Manzenita on SUU campus. There is a song on the mix that is by Reliant K called, "Merry Christmas, Here's to Many More." It's become my favorite Christmas song over the last few years because of the lyrics.
The reason I love that song so much is the first reflection on the past year. It has been hard and it seems like a miracle that he has been able to get through it. Then he even states, "I need to realize my sorry life's not hanging by a thread. At least not yet." He recognizes that his life isn't as bad as he thinks it is. I've thought about these words many times and have thought about my own life. There have been some exceedingly rough periods in my life, especially in the last eight or nine months. But when I really think about it, things could be a lot worse. I'm doing okay. But what makes me really love this song is the next part, "And I don't know how but the closest friends I've ever known are all inside singing together, singing "Merry Christmas, here's to many more." I imagine him coming home (to what ever place he calls his home, another comforting thought) and finding his close friends gathered around a piano, singing Christmas songs. When they see him, they all greet him with loud calls of love. Someone helps him take off his coat while another brings him a cup of hot tea. He joins them in their singing of hope for more Christmases. It's a beautiful image, even more so when you consider the significance of it. They are all wishing for more Christmases, which means they are wishing for more years. The man was reflecting on the past year and how hard it has been for him. But then, when he's home with his friends, he knows he can make it through another year. I would even argue that his friends have become a family to him. I was talking to a friend of mine last night and the subject of family was brought up. I told him that sometimes family isn't about blood. It's about who you care about and who cares back. I really do believe that. I always get an amazing feeling of love and comfort when I hear that song. It reminds me of who is important in my life and why I was able to get through all of the hardships I have encountered over the past year and years. It's because of my family, friends, and the friends I consider to be family. Christmas, to me, is a time to spend with those people you love and who love you in return, to recognize who is really important in my life.
And I was really planning on doing this in a completely separate post, but it seems more appropriate here. The following is a list of people who have made my life better over the last eight months & fifteen days (in no particular order). Thank you for everything. I don't know what I would've done without you guys. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.
Love you.
Mean it.
p.s. I had originally intended this post to be much longer and cover several more reasons why I love Christmas, but I had no idea I would spend so much time on this one topic. So I've decided to break it up and cover all the reasons over a series of posts. Stay tuned.
Usually when I tell people that Christmas is my favorite holiday, I receive the same cynical rolled eyes from pretty much everyone. I don't blame them. It is a pretty cliché thing to say. I mean, who doesn't like Christmas? There are presents, food, family, religious services, presents... And all those things are pretty awesome. But I'm right there with the cynical people who say that Christmas has become too commercialized; that we, as a society, have lost the true meaning of Christmas. What I find odd about that statement is that it is never really explained what the "true meaning of Christmas" really is. I'll be the first to admit that I'm not a very religious person anymore. I'm not even really a "spiritual" person per se. The coming of Christmas and the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ has awoken a major dissonance in my religious/spiritual/whatever life. If I claim to be a deist (deist: belief in the existence of a supreme being, specifically of a creator whodoes not intervene in the universe. The term is used chiefly of anintellectual movement of the 17th and 18th centuries that accepted the existence of a creator on the basis of reason but rejected belief in a supernatural deity who interacts with humankind), then obviously I wouldn't believe that God sent his Son to die to redeem all mankind from their sins. This is a matter that I'll probably attend to later in another post. But I have found special significance and meaning in Christmas that causes it to be my favorite holiday that has hardly anything to do with presents or religious meaning.
I have a playlist on my ipod that is titled "Merry Christmas, Damnit." The title comes from an old joke between some old roommates from two or three years ago. My one roommate, who was stressed out of her mind with finals and some recent family troubles, came into the kitchen where another roommate and I were talking. The girl plopped two wrapped presents in front of us and said, "Merry Christmas, damnit." The roommate sitting by me looked at the presents then at me and we both burst out laughing. It was just too funny to us. It was merely moments before the gift-bearing roommate joined in. It still is one of my favorite memories from that first apartment I had in Manzenita on SUU campus. There is a song on the mix that is by Reliant K called, "Merry Christmas, Here's to Many More." It's become my favorite Christmas song over the last few years because of the lyrics.
Made it through the year and I did not even collapse
I've got to say, "Thank God" for that
I'm torn between what keeps me whole
and what tears me in half
I'll fall apart or stay intact
I'm tired as I stumble back to bed
I need to realize my sorry life's not hanging by a thread
At least not yet
So look at me now
It's finally Christmas and I'm home
Head indoors to get out of this weather
And I don't know how but the closest friends I've ever known
Are all inside singing together
Singing, "Merry Christmas, here's to many more.
The reason I love that song so much is the first reflection on the past year. It has been hard and it seems like a miracle that he has been able to get through it. Then he even states, "I need to realize my sorry life's not hanging by a thread. At least not yet." He recognizes that his life isn't as bad as he thinks it is. I've thought about these words many times and have thought about my own life. There have been some exceedingly rough periods in my life, especially in the last eight or nine months. But when I really think about it, things could be a lot worse. I'm doing okay. But what makes me really love this song is the next part, "And I don't know how but the closest friends I've ever known are all inside singing together, singing "Merry Christmas, here's to many more." I imagine him coming home (to what ever place he calls his home, another comforting thought) and finding his close friends gathered around a piano, singing Christmas songs. When they see him, they all greet him with loud calls of love. Someone helps him take off his coat while another brings him a cup of hot tea. He joins them in their singing of hope for more Christmases. It's a beautiful image, even more so when you consider the significance of it. They are all wishing for more Christmases, which means they are wishing for more years. The man was reflecting on the past year and how hard it has been for him. But then, when he's home with his friends, he knows he can make it through another year. I would even argue that his friends have become a family to him. I was talking to a friend of mine last night and the subject of family was brought up. I told him that sometimes family isn't about blood. It's about who you care about and who cares back. I really do believe that. I always get an amazing feeling of love and comfort when I hear that song. It reminds me of who is important in my life and why I was able to get through all of the hardships I have encountered over the past year and years. It's because of my family, friends, and the friends I consider to be family. Christmas, to me, is a time to spend with those people you love and who love you in return, to recognize who is really important in my life.
And I was really planning on doing this in a completely separate post, but it seems more appropriate here. The following is a list of people who have made my life better over the last eight months & fifteen days (in no particular order). Thank you for everything. I don't know what I would've done without you guys. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.
Sean Kendall
Jonathan Timothy
Mike Timothy
Justin Pitts
Martin Isaksen
Freddy Desposorio
Maria Nuila
Rachel Carter
Juan Nuila
Mary Buynak
John Hancock
Josh Keele
Greg Vandagriff
Jacob Horlacher
Jacob Ludlow
Ashley McNew
Amber McNew
Paige McGuire
Mindy Haward
Paul Johnson
Andy Sherwin
Augustus Johnson
Leila Warring
Kelly Rodkey
Blake London
Joe Willis
Ammon Eddy
Kristy Denlein
Bri LeBreton
Reed Parkinson
Katie Parkinson
Seth Lawrence
Lorien Lawrence
Mace Sorensen
Chris Clark
Chelsea Sorensen
Drew Young
Lehif Martin
Dr. Mark Crane
Dr. Alan Hansen
Ben Lewis
Davey Morrison-Dillard
Devan McLain
David Ashworth
Jim Ailey
Miles Spencer
Matt Kearney
Lisa Garlock
Seren White
Steve Pew
Dave Newlin
Kelly Reeves
Love you.
Mean it.
p.s. I had originally intended this post to be much longer and cover several more reasons why I love Christmas, but I had no idea I would spend so much time on this one topic. So I've decided to break it up and cover all the reasons over a series of posts. Stay tuned.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Thanks for Making Me Laugh
I don't know if you remember me. We really weren't friends, just casual acquaintances who happen to be in the same class. I mean, if it hadn't been for what's-her-name calling out my name as I walked by the ELC building, I don't think we would've ever spoken.
You and her were sitting on the bench outside the ELC building. I was walking from the Braithwaite building and she called out my name. I turned and she said something about wanting to let me know she wasn't personally attacking me in class when she made a comment about something I said. I laughed it off and said I didn't feel that way at all. I ended up talking to you two for a good bit. Even when she left, you and I continued to talk. I don't remember about what, exactly. I just remember enjoying it and laughing a lot.
I began to look forward to seeing you and talking to you after class. We always had fun when we'd talk. I started to think that maybe you were the type of person that could be good for me. When we'd talk about your mission to Austria and where you stood in regards to the church at that time in your life all seemed to echo my own life. It always feels so good to find someone who feels the same way you do on certain subjects, especially if those feelings are not the norm.
I don't know if you ever got my note explaining why I had to leave. Timian said she'd deliver it but I don't know if she ever really did. It's probably for the best. It was written only an hour after I lost everything. I was a mess and the note probably didn't make sense, if it was legible at all. I sometimes wonder if you noticed I stopped showing up to class, and if you did, if you wondered what happened to me. I wonder how long it took until you forgot about me all together.
I confess, I sort of forgot about you until today. I don't know why I suddenly thought of you. Maybe it was the hat I bought the other day. I decided to wear it and the first thought in my mind was Professor Nozomi, or however you spell her name. She wore a hat that was a little like the one I was wearing. It unfortunately gave me an instantaneous dislike for the hat (which is a pity since I do look decent in it). It was her class that was the cause of us meeting at all. It's weird how that works sometimes.
I doubt we'll ever see or hear from each other again. But where ever you ended up, I hope you're doing okay and that you're happy. I hope one day you do write stories for video games, like you always wanted to.
Thanks for making me laugh, James. Even if it was only for a few weeks.
Love you.
Mean it.
You and her were sitting on the bench outside the ELC building. I was walking from the Braithwaite building and she called out my name. I turned and she said something about wanting to let me know she wasn't personally attacking me in class when she made a comment about something I said. I laughed it off and said I didn't feel that way at all. I ended up talking to you two for a good bit. Even when she left, you and I continued to talk. I don't remember about what, exactly. I just remember enjoying it and laughing a lot.
I began to look forward to seeing you and talking to you after class. We always had fun when we'd talk. I started to think that maybe you were the type of person that could be good for me. When we'd talk about your mission to Austria and where you stood in regards to the church at that time in your life all seemed to echo my own life. It always feels so good to find someone who feels the same way you do on certain subjects, especially if those feelings are not the norm.
I don't know if you ever got my note explaining why I had to leave. Timian said she'd deliver it but I don't know if she ever really did. It's probably for the best. It was written only an hour after I lost everything. I was a mess and the note probably didn't make sense, if it was legible at all. I sometimes wonder if you noticed I stopped showing up to class, and if you did, if you wondered what happened to me. I wonder how long it took until you forgot about me all together.
I confess, I sort of forgot about you until today. I don't know why I suddenly thought of you. Maybe it was the hat I bought the other day. I decided to wear it and the first thought in my mind was Professor Nozomi, or however you spell her name. She wore a hat that was a little like the one I was wearing. It unfortunately gave me an instantaneous dislike for the hat (which is a pity since I do look decent in it). It was her class that was the cause of us meeting at all. It's weird how that works sometimes.
I doubt we'll ever see or hear from each other again. But where ever you ended up, I hope you're doing okay and that you're happy. I hope one day you do write stories for video games, like you always wanted to.
Thanks for making me laugh, James. Even if it was only for a few weeks.
Love you.
Mean it.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Letter To My First Love
Last night I found out you are getting married. After a brief conversation with an old friend, I found out it's one of those "have to get married" type of situations. You got your girlfriend pregnant, so you proposed. This friend of mine assured me that you two are in love and she really thinks it's going to work for you two. I hope she's right. I don't need to tell you the deck is stacked against you, but hey, you two could be the exception. I mean, after all you're in love.
I'm sorry if I sound bitter. I'm really not. Forgiving and forgetting has never been my strong suit. It's just when I heard the news of you and your fiance, I couldn't help but think that could have been us. If we would have stayed together, it's more than likely that we would've wound up pregnant years ago. Thank God for little miracles, I guess. I think you know as well as I do that would've been a horrible situation, not only for you and I but for the kid we would've brought into this world.
But maybe you and your fiance will make it work. My friend kept telling me you two are really in love. But I just kept thinking that you and I were in love and look how that turned out. All the anger and hatred, the lies and secrets, the bitterness and the petty attacks at one another, that isn't how love is suppose end up. Despite everything that happened, I'll never deny we were in love. Did you know I still wear the claddagh ring you gave me years ago? Each one of my rings is from a significant point in my life. That one is from the first time I was ever in love. Now, nearly five years later, you're getting married, about to be a husband and a father, and I'm still trying to decide if love is really all it's cracked up to be. I've only been in love twice in my life and both times nearly destroyed me when they fell apart. I'm starting to feel like if you love someone that passionately and fervently, then when it ends it has to be just as powerful and packed with emotion. Is it even worth it then?
Despite everything that has happened between us, I really do hope things work out for you and your new family. Maybe you'll prove everyone wrong. I really hope you do.
Love you.
Mean it.
I'm sorry if I sound bitter. I'm really not. Forgiving and forgetting has never been my strong suit. It's just when I heard the news of you and your fiance, I couldn't help but think that could have been us. If we would have stayed together, it's more than likely that we would've wound up pregnant years ago. Thank God for little miracles, I guess. I think you know as well as I do that would've been a horrible situation, not only for you and I but for the kid we would've brought into this world.
But maybe you and your fiance will make it work. My friend kept telling me you two are really in love. But I just kept thinking that you and I were in love and look how that turned out. All the anger and hatred, the lies and secrets, the bitterness and the petty attacks at one another, that isn't how love is suppose end up. Despite everything that happened, I'll never deny we were in love. Did you know I still wear the claddagh ring you gave me years ago? Each one of my rings is from a significant point in my life. That one is from the first time I was ever in love. Now, nearly five years later, you're getting married, about to be a husband and a father, and I'm still trying to decide if love is really all it's cracked up to be. I've only been in love twice in my life and both times nearly destroyed me when they fell apart. I'm starting to feel like if you love someone that passionately and fervently, then when it ends it has to be just as powerful and packed with emotion. Is it even worth it then?
Despite everything that has happened between us, I really do hope things work out for you and your new family. Maybe you'll prove everyone wrong. I really hope you do.
Love you.
Mean it.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Experimenting More With My "Experiments"
Yesterday when I was suppose to be paying attention in Literature of the American Renaissance (a common occurrence not matter what the class) I started writing something that has been on my mind lately. I had every intention of posting it here--and I probably will eventually--but after rereading it a few hours later, I felt terribly depressed. It was a pretty serious subject and it sounded a bit too didactic. After rereading it for the second time, I immediately thought, "Geez, lighten up."
I'm starting to realize that I am way funnier in real-life & in person than I ever am in writing. I don't know why that is. Whenever I write something, it's like some older, more serious side takes over and I tend to sound intelligent, introspective, philosophical, and very, very boring. Granted, I can be those things in person as well, but I'd like to think I'm also entertaining at the same time in real-life. In my writing, I'm either terribly candid or horribly formal. I can't find the sweet median. My goal, when it comes to my writing, is to be like the journalistic work of David Foster Wallace. I've been reading a lot of his work lately. I'm almost finished with his collection of essays titled Consider the Lobster. The man was a phenomenal writer. He was always able to find the perfect balance between a casual, candid approach to a subject while still sounding authoritative. That's why his work is not only accessible, but also thought-provoking and real. I don't have many "heroes" when it comes to famous and/or historical figures. I tend to give the title of "hero" to people I actually know. But if I were to have a role model when it came to my writing, it would be David Foster Wallace.
Which brings me back to my original problem: How can I achieve the same balance that David Foster Wallace seemed to have perfected? ~If you're wondering why I am writing out David Foster Wallace's full name every time and not shortening it to Wallace or just DFW, it's because the guy is so awesome, he deserves to have his full name typed out every single goddamn time. Deal with it.~ The only real solution I've been able to find is just to practice; to write and write and write and keep trying to get closer to that perfect balance. Of course, I'm going to mess up quite frequently and a lot of my stuff is going to be complete shit, but how else am I going to get there? It's not going to happen instantly just because I want it to. It's like this quote I read by William Faulkner,
Love you.
Mean it.
I'm starting to realize that I am way funnier in real-life & in person than I ever am in writing. I don't know why that is. Whenever I write something, it's like some older, more serious side takes over and I tend to sound intelligent, introspective, philosophical, and very, very boring. Granted, I can be those things in person as well, but I'd like to think I'm also entertaining at the same time in real-life. In my writing, I'm either terribly candid or horribly formal. I can't find the sweet median. My goal, when it comes to my writing, is to be like the journalistic work of David Foster Wallace. I've been reading a lot of his work lately. I'm almost finished with his collection of essays titled Consider the Lobster. The man was a phenomenal writer. He was always able to find the perfect balance between a casual, candid approach to a subject while still sounding authoritative. That's why his work is not only accessible, but also thought-provoking and real. I don't have many "heroes" when it comes to famous and/or historical figures. I tend to give the title of "hero" to people I actually know. But if I were to have a role model when it came to my writing, it would be David Foster Wallace.
Which brings me back to my original problem: How can I achieve the same balance that David Foster Wallace seemed to have perfected? ~If you're wondering why I am writing out David Foster Wallace's full name every time and not shortening it to Wallace or just DFW, it's because the guy is so awesome, he deserves to have his full name typed out every single goddamn time. Deal with it.~ The only real solution I've been able to find is just to practice; to write and write and write and keep trying to get closer to that perfect balance. Of course, I'm going to mess up quite frequently and a lot of my stuff is going to be complete shit, but how else am I going to get there? It's not going to happen instantly just because I want it to. It's like this quote I read by William Faulkner,
"Get it down. Take chances. It may be bad, but it's the only way you can do anything really good."And that is precisely what I intend to do. So, you dear and faithful readers of Love you. Mean it., consider yourselves warned. There's going to be more experimenting involved in my "Experiments in Writing." Hope you enjoy the ride.
Love you.
Mean it.
Monday, November 22, 2010
I Don't Want To Play Anymore
"Have you ever been in love? Horrible, isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up you heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all of these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore."
-Neil Gaiman
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Feelings of Thanksgiving
Turkey time is upon us, folks.
This year is different than most in my family because we are celebrating Thanksgiving on Sunday instead of the traditional Thursday. I don't really know why. It was a decision made by one of my mom's sisters (there are three of them). My immediate family is going to have a Thanksgiving-esque meal on Thursday as well but without the turkey. We're opting for honey baked ham, which I always thought was way more delicious.
Anyway, Thanksgiving is a time where we Americans are suppose to look at our lives and be grateful for the things we have and enjoy. I've done something similar to this earlier this year. But in order to keep with tradition, I'm going to do it again.
I'm grateful for the friendship of Jon Timothy. He's one of the main reasons I've adjusted so well to living back home.
I'm grateful for my parents, especially my mama, for being there for me when I needed them.
I'm grateful for Sean Kendall, my Numero Uno, for putting up with me and sticking by me.
I'm grateful for the chance I've had to be the assistant culture editor for the Review. It's been a lot of fun and has kept me blissfully busy.
I'm grateful for Mindy Haward for being a great editor and for being so awesome to work with.
I'm grateful for my improv group, What's So Funny? I've made some great friends and have had a lot of fun.
I'm grateful for Joe Willis for his continuing inspiration and for giving me hope in my life.
I'm grateful I have a job and it's a fairly enjoyable one as well.
I'm grateful for Dr. Mark Crane for his continuous patience with me and for helping me like UVU just a bit more.
I'm grateful for Reynolds Augustus Johnson, who has been a loyal friend and confidant for going on three years now.
I'm grateful for Dr. Alan Hansen for his help and support
And I'm grateful for Ralphie for being such a good pup.
Love you.
Mean it.
This year is different than most in my family because we are celebrating Thanksgiving on Sunday instead of the traditional Thursday. I don't really know why. It was a decision made by one of my mom's sisters (there are three of them). My immediate family is going to have a Thanksgiving-esque meal on Thursday as well but without the turkey. We're opting for honey baked ham, which I always thought was way more delicious.
Anyway, Thanksgiving is a time where we Americans are suppose to look at our lives and be grateful for the things we have and enjoy. I've done something similar to this earlier this year. But in order to keep with tradition, I'm going to do it again.
I'm grateful for the friendship of Jon Timothy. He's one of the main reasons I've adjusted so well to living back home.
I'm grateful for my parents, especially my mama, for being there for me when I needed them.
I'm grateful for Sean Kendall, my Numero Uno, for putting up with me and sticking by me.
I'm grateful for the chance I've had to be the assistant culture editor for the Review. It's been a lot of fun and has kept me blissfully busy.
I'm grateful for Mindy Haward for being a great editor and for being so awesome to work with.
I'm grateful for my improv group, What's So Funny? I've made some great friends and have had a lot of fun.
I'm grateful for Joe Willis for his continuing inspiration and for giving me hope in my life.
I'm grateful I have a job and it's a fairly enjoyable one as well.
I'm grateful for Dr. Mark Crane for his continuous patience with me and for helping me like UVU just a bit more.
I'm grateful for Reynolds Augustus Johnson, who has been a loyal friend and confidant for going on three years now.
I'm grateful for Dr. Alan Hansen for his help and support
And I'm grateful for Ralphie for being such a good pup.
Love you.
Mean it.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
The Tragical Moments of Improv
Back in high school, I was a drama kid. My friends and I preferred the term "theater kids," as if there really was a difference. I really enjoyed acting and performing. I've never had a problem being in front of a large group of people. Whether it was a talk in church or a presentation in class, I didn't think twice about being in front of people. Stage fright was a concept that was completely foreign to me. You can probably chalk it up to my moderate case of egotism but I love being in front of an audience.
The one thing I did not like about drama classes was improv games. Granted, I understood the value of them and what purpose they tired to achieve. But I was terrible at them and therefore hated them. Looking back, I know I was terrible at them for two or three reasons. One was I wasn't terribly self-confident in my abilities. I didn't trust myself when it came to coming up with clever ideas within a second or two. Sometimes I would get lucky but more often than not, I'd fail miserably. Another reason that is closely tied to the first one was I did much better as a performer when I had a script and I knew where the story was going to go. I had time to prepare and analyze everything. With improv, that same process must be done within seconds; not an adequate amount of time when I was that young.
Things have changed. Now I love improv. I'm also pretty good at it too. My self confident has grown and my mind is a lot quicker. I'm able to think of things a lot faster and anticipate where the scene is going. I've grown to really enjoy improv and look forward to the practices every week.
Last night was an especially funny practice. There were so many points where we were all out of breath laughing, tears nearly streaming down our faces. Driving home I realized something that nearly broke my heart. When you're doing improv and everything works and everything clicks, you create something brilliant & hilarious. But as soon as that moment is gone, it's gone forever and you can never recreate it. Comedians can tell the same jokes and you can watch the same Youtube video and get the same amount of laughter every time, but improv is fleeting. You can never recreate that moment of hilarity. It's kind of magical but in a very tragic kind of way.
Besides these temporary tragical moments, I have really enjoyed making friends with the others in my improv group. They're the closest things I have to friends here besides a handful of friends from the neighborhood. I'm glad I've met them and have been able to be in this group.
Love you.
Mean it.
The one thing I did not like about drama classes was improv games. Granted, I understood the value of them and what purpose they tired to achieve. But I was terrible at them and therefore hated them. Looking back, I know I was terrible at them for two or three reasons. One was I wasn't terribly self-confident in my abilities. I didn't trust myself when it came to coming up with clever ideas within a second or two. Sometimes I would get lucky but more often than not, I'd fail miserably. Another reason that is closely tied to the first one was I did much better as a performer when I had a script and I knew where the story was going to go. I had time to prepare and analyze everything. With improv, that same process must be done within seconds; not an adequate amount of time when I was that young.
Things have changed. Now I love improv. I'm also pretty good at it too. My self confident has grown and my mind is a lot quicker. I'm able to think of things a lot faster and anticipate where the scene is going. I've grown to really enjoy improv and look forward to the practices every week.
Last night was an especially funny practice. There were so many points where we were all out of breath laughing, tears nearly streaming down our faces. Driving home I realized something that nearly broke my heart. When you're doing improv and everything works and everything clicks, you create something brilliant & hilarious. But as soon as that moment is gone, it's gone forever and you can never recreate it. Comedians can tell the same jokes and you can watch the same Youtube video and get the same amount of laughter every time, but improv is fleeting. You can never recreate that moment of hilarity. It's kind of magical but in a very tragic kind of way.
Besides these temporary tragical moments, I have really enjoyed making friends with the others in my improv group. They're the closest things I have to friends here besides a handful of friends from the neighborhood. I'm glad I've met them and have been able to be in this group.
Love you.
Mean it.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Tell Me a Secret
"Tell me a secret."
It's something I often say to people, usually via text, when I want to talk but have no subject on hand. I don't know what started me saying it but I still do. Sometimes they ask for secrets back. I tell them a secret back, though they vary in "intensity." I don't have many secrets. If I were to send some to post secret, these would be it.
Love you.
Mean it.
It's something I often say to people, usually via text, when I want to talk but have no subject on hand. I don't know what started me saying it but I still do. Sometimes they ask for secrets back. I tell them a secret back, though they vary in "intensity." I don't have many secrets. If I were to send some to post secret, these would be it.
Love you.
Mean it.
~A Teaser for Something Bigger~
We met by random chance.
We re-met by even more random chance.
He's one of those guys that seems to always be on the outskirts of my life, unable to get any closer. In this regard, I wish we hadn't re-met. He could've stayed a forgotten memory and he never would have haunted my life.
Some people believe that everything happens for a reason. I think that is bullshit. There are a few things, yes, that happen because there is a specific and legitimate reason for them to happen. But sometimes, as one of the Tremor Brothers says in the epic movie Smokin' Aces, "Sometimes fate just up-and-f***s you for no good reason." Whether having him spring up in my life once again is something that was suppose to happen or just fate messing with me, I haven't decided. But, truth be told, I'm leaning towards the latter.
~Note from Kelly~
As the title suggests, this is just a teaser. I'm working on expanding this idea a bit more but I can't seem to make it work. This is as much as I have been able to get out that isn't complete crap. I'll come back to this someday. I promise.
Love you.
Mean it.
We re-met by even more random chance.
He's one of those guys that seems to always be on the outskirts of my life, unable to get any closer. In this regard, I wish we hadn't re-met. He could've stayed a forgotten memory and he never would have haunted my life.
Some people believe that everything happens for a reason. I think that is bullshit. There are a few things, yes, that happen because there is a specific and legitimate reason for them to happen. But sometimes, as one of the Tremor Brothers says in the epic movie Smokin' Aces, "Sometimes fate just up-and-f***s you for no good reason." Whether having him spring up in my life once again is something that was suppose to happen or just fate messing with me, I haven't decided. But, truth be told, I'm leaning towards the latter.
~Note from Kelly~
As the title suggests, this is just a teaser. I'm working on expanding this idea a bit more but I can't seem to make it work. This is as much as I have been able to get out that isn't complete crap. I'll come back to this someday. I promise.
Love you.
Mean it.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
We Didn't Even Know What We Were Trying To Escape
Last week when I was in Cedar City, I had the chance to see Joe. I hadn't seen him since we ran into each other at SUU commencement back in May. It was so good to see him and to talk to him again. I had forgotten how much I missed him.
When I asked him what he was up to, he said he was getting out there. He was applying to different teaching jobs and Ph.D. programs across the nation, as well as in England and Australia. He hoped to be gone by the end of spring semester. I sat there listening to him explain why he wanted to get out of Utah. As he talked, I found him expressing the same feelings I have had for the longest time but couldn't find the words to explain them. Utah had served its purpose in his life. He needed a change. He needed to live somewhere where he didn't feel judged or suffocated. I don't think I have ever loved him more than at that moment.
I can remember being young, barely in high school, and my friends & I talked about getting out of Provo & Utah in general. This place didn't understand us and we were going to be something in the world. We were only 14 or 15 years old. We didn't even know what we were trying to escape. It was your typical teenage rebellion, I guess. Looking back, I don't think I really wanted to leave. Provo & Utah were the only places I had ever known. They were home to me.
Home.
That's become such an odd word. I used to think that Provo was my home. Then I left and Cedar City became my home. It's where I wanted to be. It's where I felt comfortable and wanted. I felt purpose there and a sense of belonging that I was craving. When I came back to Provo, Cedar City still felt like home. But I've come to a realization over the past few weeks. I love Cedar City and I probably always will but it's not my home anymore. Too many things have changed and when I go back, I'm not going back to the same place I called home. I think what makes an area feel like home is not only the right place but also the right time. Cedar City was my home for a long time but that time has passed and I need to find a new place & time.
Joe and I talked about each of us finding a new home. I'm not sure where it might be or how I'll know it's where I'm suppose to be. I guess it'll feel like when I first started living in Cedar City. I'll have this feeling that I belong there. I'll fall in love with the area and with my life. Eventually I'll build friendships and relationships that will feel like a family to me. And for that time in that place, I'll be happy.
Love you.
Mean it.
When I asked him what he was up to, he said he was getting out there. He was applying to different teaching jobs and Ph.D. programs across the nation, as well as in England and Australia. He hoped to be gone by the end of spring semester. I sat there listening to him explain why he wanted to get out of Utah. As he talked, I found him expressing the same feelings I have had for the longest time but couldn't find the words to explain them. Utah had served its purpose in his life. He needed a change. He needed to live somewhere where he didn't feel judged or suffocated. I don't think I have ever loved him more than at that moment.
I can remember being young, barely in high school, and my friends & I talked about getting out of Provo & Utah in general. This place didn't understand us and we were going to be something in the world. We were only 14 or 15 years old. We didn't even know what we were trying to escape. It was your typical teenage rebellion, I guess. Looking back, I don't think I really wanted to leave. Provo & Utah were the only places I had ever known. They were home to me.
Home.
That's become such an odd word. I used to think that Provo was my home. Then I left and Cedar City became my home. It's where I wanted to be. It's where I felt comfortable and wanted. I felt purpose there and a sense of belonging that I was craving. When I came back to Provo, Cedar City still felt like home. But I've come to a realization over the past few weeks. I love Cedar City and I probably always will but it's not my home anymore. Too many things have changed and when I go back, I'm not going back to the same place I called home. I think what makes an area feel like home is not only the right place but also the right time. Cedar City was my home for a long time but that time has passed and I need to find a new place & time.
Joe and I talked about each of us finding a new home. I'm not sure where it might be or how I'll know it's where I'm suppose to be. I guess it'll feel like when I first started living in Cedar City. I'll have this feeling that I belong there. I'll fall in love with the area and with my life. Eventually I'll build friendships and relationships that will feel like a family to me. And for that time in that place, I'll be happy.
Love you.
Mean it.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
In Five Years Time
I realized the other day that this May is my five-year high school reunion. I'm not going to go. I really have no desire to go and see the people I graduated with. There are many reasons for this. One being the people I was close to in high school I already keep in contact with. Everyone else are just familiar faces with forgotten names.
I can't believe it's been almost five years since I graduated. Looking back I know my life hasn't turned out the way I thought it would. Don't get me wrong, I like my life right now. It's taken me a long time to get to the point where I love my life. It's just not what I thought would happen. I know it sounds corny but if you would've told me five years ago where I'd be now, there is no way in hell I'd believe you. A lot has happened. A lot of things have changed. I'm not the same person I was when I graduated, which is a good thing I suppose.
Thinking back over the last five years makes me think of what's going to happen in the next five years. I'll be 27 by then. Where I am going to be then? Will I have a job I like? Will I be married? Will I have kids? There are so many uncertainties and it terrifies me. The last five years have been so unpredictable that there's no way I can even guess what is coming up ahead.
I'm discovering there is a very scary difference between what I want to do with my life and what I'll be able to do. I mean, I'm smart, fierce, stubborn, independent, and an incredibly hard worker. I know what I want and I do everything I can to get it. But sometimes that's not enough. With the economy the way it is, I can be all of those things and still be left sitting on my ass somewhere, no job and no prospects. I am a fighter. I always have been and I always ready to fight for what I want. I just don't know if I can hold out and keep fighting for what I want. I want to be a writer, yes. But how long until the world beats the fight out of me?
I want to be a writer because I want to change things. I want to reach out and let people know they are not alone in their thoughts and feelings. I want to be apart of a catalyst for change. I want to know that what I'm doing is making a difference. I used to say that I'm not cynical by nature; I'm cynical by experience. But when it comes to me wanting to help people and make a difference, I don't want to be cynical anymore. I want to tease out a little optimism and hope. And that terrifies me. Hope is a dangerous thing for dreamers. What if I can't make a go of writing? In five years, am I going to be a beaten down recovering-dreamer? I hope not. God, I hope not.
Love you.
Mean it.
I can't believe it's been almost five years since I graduated. Looking back I know my life hasn't turned out the way I thought it would. Don't get me wrong, I like my life right now. It's taken me a long time to get to the point where I love my life. It's just not what I thought would happen. I know it sounds corny but if you would've told me five years ago where I'd be now, there is no way in hell I'd believe you. A lot has happened. A lot of things have changed. I'm not the same person I was when I graduated, which is a good thing I suppose.
Thinking back over the last five years makes me think of what's going to happen in the next five years. I'll be 27 by then. Where I am going to be then? Will I have a job I like? Will I be married? Will I have kids? There are so many uncertainties and it terrifies me. The last five years have been so unpredictable that there's no way I can even guess what is coming up ahead.
I'm discovering there is a very scary difference between what I want to do with my life and what I'll be able to do. I mean, I'm smart, fierce, stubborn, independent, and an incredibly hard worker. I know what I want and I do everything I can to get it. But sometimes that's not enough. With the economy the way it is, I can be all of those things and still be left sitting on my ass somewhere, no job and no prospects. I am a fighter. I always have been and I always ready to fight for what I want. I just don't know if I can hold out and keep fighting for what I want. I want to be a writer, yes. But how long until the world beats the fight out of me?
I want to be a writer because I want to change things. I want to reach out and let people know they are not alone in their thoughts and feelings. I want to be apart of a catalyst for change. I want to know that what I'm doing is making a difference. I used to say that I'm not cynical by nature; I'm cynical by experience. But when it comes to me wanting to help people and make a difference, I don't want to be cynical anymore. I want to tease out a little optimism and hope. And that terrifies me. Hope is a dangerous thing for dreamers. What if I can't make a go of writing? In five years, am I going to be a beaten down recovering-dreamer? I hope not. God, I hope not.
Love you.
Mean it.
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