Here We Go-

Graduation (Official) came and went with little excitement. Turning in a final-not that climatic. However, standing and taking it against the wall of the crowded testing center was a little different...We'll chalk it up to the Cosmos (BYU pun definitely not intended) wanting to make my final experience as an undergraduate memorable!

So now I'm off...running full speed ahead into "The Great Unknown"...depending on the day there are other adjectives thrown in there such as terrifying, exciting, endless, etc. And as an amateur strolling out on my own I'll tell you this much...so far so good. And it's scary. And it's liberating. And so far so good.

I have been blessed with many incredible people in my life over the past 22 years but specifically over the past year or so. Sometimes I sit back in awe at the greatness I see around me and marvel that these amazing people are, for some crazy reason, willing to spend time with me. One of these lovely people would be friend Rachel (not to be confused with awesome SIL Rachel). During some random day over the past few months we met in a practice room where she serenaded me while I studied, taking breaks to talk in between songs. It was one of those days when the adjectives dark, scary, daunting, grey, torturous, etc were attached to "The Great Unknown". And then, once again, I was blessed to have this amazing friend turn to me and say something like...

"Becca. This is amazing! You are free! You are graduated-you can do whatever you want. So do what you love!"

And maybe that is what all of my supportive friends and family have been telling me for the past...forever...but it hit really hard that day and so...

What do I love to do? What am I going to spend the rest of my life doing, filling the space of being a student (except for the part when I go back to school...but that's another story...). What makes me me? What makes me happy? What do I love?

So I'm developing a list...and "It makes my boots feel lighter". (Read Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close).

And part of me feels like maybe stumbling, struggling, and being scared isn't necessarily a bad thing. It's simply a sign of eminent growth. It isn't failure. Failing is falling and not getting back up again. So I'll make my list. And I'll try. And I'm sure I'll trip but hey, battle scars are sexy-right?

Please Don't

So lately I have been a little angry for various reasons-

-a perpetually dirty kitchen.
-a seemingly unsolvable confusion.
-my own procrastination and lack of motivation in regards to writing this paper I'm currently taking a break from.
-and mostly, for my friends and family.

As much as sometimes I wish I could chew people out for mistreating those I love. I don't. And I don't yell or hit or glare (well occasionally) or sit in silence and fume. I smile and laugh and then go off to comfort the one who has been hurt.

Do you know how hard it is to comfort someone sometimes? You say what you believe and think and feel with fervor. You tell them it is going to be okay, that they are amazing, that they deserve better than that. You recite quotes that bolstered you up in times of need and share personal stories. And sometimes it helps. But sometimes...sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes they don't listen because they can't. And it is frustrating not being able to help the ones you want to. You want to say the perfect sentence to make everything alright. But it doesn't exist. In the end, healing is a solitary event. You can help and you can try and help but eventually, it is up to the person who is hurt to decide to believe you or to decide that yes, in fact, it is all going to be okay.

But let me just say-sometimes I wish people would leave my loved ones alone. And it's the hardest when it's two loved ones hurting each other. But really. Please would everyone just leave each other alone. Just think about others first. Really. I know its a balance-you have to stand up for yourself and your wants and needs but just think. Think about how your actions and your words affect those around you. Because they do.

So here is my universal chewing out: Stop it. Grow up. Think. I mean, really? How could you think that was okay? That. Is. Not. Okay. I get that you got selfish-we all do it. But overcome it. And if you couldn't then, do it now. Man up. Apologize. Rectify the situation as best you can. Learn, grow, heal, and foster healing.

Happy Thanksgiving

Cliches exist for a reason. It may be cliche to write about some things I am grateful for on Thanksgiving morning. But. Cliches exist for a reason.

And so, dear world, thank you.

Thank you for:
-Crunchy leaves for me to walk through. Their smell, sound, color-everything.
-Musica.
-My family. We aren't perfect but I like us. Late nights full of games. Dove Bars. Bicycle rides. Ski trips. Yard work. Hysterical laughter. The never ending support and faith.
-The night sky.
-Modern medicine. Really.
-My friends. Not only do I have the most amazing time with them but they have been my strength in times of need. Thank you thank you thank you-
-My job. Enjoyable, flexible, and a family in its own way...
-Forgiveness. Both my ability to forgive and others ability to forgive me.
-Fruit and vegetables. Num num.
-The mountain air. You breathe and it feels like its cleansing you.
-Walks. Like going on them. Calming. Fun. Lovely.
-The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It's my foundation.
-Children. The funny things they say/do. Their love. Fun. Their innocence.
-Tacos. Taco Tuesday. Tacos.
-Parks. Swings. Frisbees.
-Farmers Markets and Craft Fairs.
-Creativity.
-The color green.
-The ocean. Lakes. Rivers. Ponds. I love being near bodies of water. They are slightly majestic.
-Transportation of all sorts.
-My health. My health. My health. My health. My health.
-The ability to read and write.
-The education I have been blessed to receive.
-Snow. Christmas lights. Snow and Christmas lights.

And plenty plenty more.

Thank you.

A Gem from ABC...

I always tell my friends not to allow me to watch Grey's Anatomy alone because I usually end up curled into a ball crying to myself...but every week I do and yes, usually every week end up a little blurry eyed.

Sometimes it inspires me. Fictional characters in fictional situations inspire me. Yes. And I have a new hero named Isaac who said the following as he was going into surgery:

No, don't close me up. If you get in and it's too complicated, cut the cord. Paralyze me if you must. I survived a war did you know that? I survived a war where they put bodies in to mass graves where there was once a playground. I survived the death of my family, my parents, my brothers and sisters. Then I survived the death of my wife and child when they starved to death in a refugee camp. I survived the loss of my country, of hearing my mother tongue spoken, of knowing what it feels like to have a place to call home. I survived. And I will survive the loss of my legs. If I have to, I'll survive it. Ok? But Derek, there is always a way when things look like there's no way. There's a way to do the impossible, to survive the in survivable. There's always a way. And you, you and I have this in common. We're inspired. In the face of the impossible, we're inspired. So if I can offer one piece of advice to the world's foremost neuro surgeon. Today if you become frightened instead become inspired. Ok, I'm ready now. Put me to sleep.

I loved it.

So survive. Find a way. Be inspired.

Possession: A Romance

by A. S. Byatt
...

I have been reading it for English 380: Modern British and International Literature and to quote a classmates "It's an English Majors dream!". Which it is in a way though I find myself convinced that I would be swept away by the language and the story more fully were I sprawled on a couch in front of a fireplace somewhere in England with a storm raging outside.

Anyway-Possession. Knowledge is possession. As one comes to understand something, and truly understand something down to the minute details a sense of ownership develops. I have written countless papers, poems, and incoherent scrawlings throughout my life. And through this process of writing I have developed what some refer to as "their babies". It's the literary analysis paper that thrilled your mind or the poem that seems to be your pulse, the poem you spent hours mulling over what word to choose, how to space the lines, what to title it because the feeling behind that poem was so purely you. It was knowledge. An excitement and understand of scholarly topics and then a deeper, self reflective knowledge.

The word possession usually brings to mind objects, things that one claims. And reflecting on my life the things that I have claimed seriously, and not simply as a "My money bought that' are the things that I know, the things that have been apart of my life, that hold meaning. That if they could talk they could tell my story better than I ever could. I don't claim much. I wouldn't be upset to lose many things- Even now I struggle to come up with something that I would cry over were I to have it ripped away from me. Maybe Sniffy-yes, my stuffed dog. And not in a childish-baby-like-way but because Sniffy is mine. I woke up in the most physical pain I have even been in in my life only to have him slipped into my arms where he stayed for days. And then, when days would get hard he would find his way back there, his fur absorbing tears. He has been there with his ears being played with, his softness slowly soothing everything else away. And this knowledge-the knowledge that a brown sack of stuffing brings me comfort is what makes him mine. Other things that I claim: -My Scriptures -My Writings -Certain Letters.

There is more though. I think it applies to people as well and to people the most beautifully. When you know someone and not just know them but truly know them. It makes me think of when John Mayer sings "I'm learning you...". When you come to know someone and know them intimately a sense of possession develops. And I do not mean in a controlling sense. But in a loving, charitable sense. Knowledge fosters love which fosters a sense of claim. They are yours because you have laughed with them for countless hours over the hysterical and the tragic. They are yours because you know what their facial expressions mean despite the words they may be saying. They are yours because no matter what, you forgive them and you forgive them instantly. And they are yours because somehow, your life wouldn't be complete without them. You could live and you could live well but with them in it-you live beautifully. There are very few people I would and will ever claim as mine. And I believe that is how it is supposed to be.

...

I'm avoiding responsibility. Thank you.

This past Spring term I took a writing poetry class at BYU from one the most incredible individuals I have ever met. The first time you meet him you just sit in shock while your brain mumbles to itself "People like you exist...people like you actually exist...".

Thank goodness.
(By the way...weird idiom we use...)

Anyway-I was sitting in class one day listening to my professor spew brilliantness all over the room when he said the phrase "words fail". I remember feeling like everything faded from there. His voice seemed softer and the other students closely surrounding me seemed to pull away. I could hear my pulse, I could hear it and it seemed to drowned out the shuffling of white noise. My chest ached as my breathing staggered. Flooding every sense was that concept and that emotion. And in front of me was a blank page with two words written down. Words. Fail.

So I wrote and wrote and wrote and tried to write a poem about that. Words failing.

(Words) (Loss)

Pairs of worn shoes.
Only one set of footprints.
A scent’s whisper fades
While he…you…
and…-
but…-
(breathe)…-
no…

And appropriately...words failed.

But hey-it gives me a life long project to work on. But how does one do that? Language isn't perfect. Words do fail all the time. How many times do you hear "I don't know how to explain it...I can't think of a word for it...Words can't describe...". Or how many times is silence the only answer that seems appropriate. And yet we keep trying. We keep talking. We keep writing. And we keep reading.

A Good List Never Hurt Anyone

-I'm going to a Haunted Forest tonight...first time ever going to a Haunted "Anything"...I'm planning on coming home with a bruised hand. Why, you ask? Because I hit things when I get scared...poor friendies...though I have been watching 24 lately so maybe I'll just go all Hardcore-Jack-Bauer and punch things I'm probably not supposed to punch/scale walls/run real real fast/army crawl/barrel roll....

-I have an extremely strong desire to spend a day baking a plethora of delectable treats.

-Strong Desire #2: To quilt. Items I need: Everything.

-Autumn smells pretty.

-I want a yellow typewriter and a pale robin egg blue KitchenAid.

-Yoga-ed for the first time ever the other day. I only burst out laughing once. I consider this to be an accomplishment. My thoughts? Liked it. It's hard to do what Man tells you to do when Man puts you in a position so you can't see the TV screen and you have no idea what Man means...and it feels amazing when you finish.

-Vanilla ice cream with Nerds in it. Yeah. It's that good. Made some for Roommate Laura yesterday, she took a bite, looked at me with happy eyes, to which I said "I know!".

-Fruit is Mother Nature's way of saying "I love you."

-Things I love seeing on campus: Hair bling. A bumper sticker that read "So many men-so many reasons to sleep alone." Unicyclists. The Quill and Sword Club. People wrestling to advertise for something...or something...Friends. People walking and reading at the same time. Scarves. Awkward guy/girl interactions. The Study Abroad Fair always brightens my day. Some people in shorts and t shirts with the person next to them in long pants with mittens and a coat on. Others.

-Looks and smiles always say more than anything else. Because you can't always control a look or the way your mouth curls up. Sometimes it's fake. Sometimes it's cold. Sometimes it's warmer than you wanted or expected. I can watch people's faces and know what they are thinking whether they say it or not simply be the softening/hardening of features during our conversations. Looks and smiles haunt me/warm me/make me laugh/intrigue me.

-Good memory: Pulling out stumps with my dad as a young girl. After helping dig around it I would drive the tractor while he would chop at the roots with an axe. Sometimes he would jump on the back of the tractor because I didn't weigh enough to pull it out. And if it wasn't coming out I would help brainstorm solutions with him. We made a good team.

-"Fakeness" and I don't get along. I can sense it and it makes my skin crawl. Just be real. Even if real is confusing and hard it's better than "fake". "Fake" doesn't solve anything. "Fake" makes things even more confusing...put fondant over a piece of wood and it's still a piece of wood. Sand the wood down, stain it, love it. (Random image? I know...that's what I get for watching some random reality show about cakes...).

-Speed kills. (Don't rush life/things...it ruins them).

-Mexican food is happiness in a tortilla.

-There is a difference between being likeable and loveable.

-I'm learning a lot everyday-I just hope I don't forget it all when it matters most.

-I used to be a decently serious person. I mean, I laughed and I joked around but when I was talking about something more serious, I was serious. Brandon taught me about 3 years ago that that doesn't have to be the case. I like combining both. And maybe it's because humor can come as a defense mechanism and it can ease the tension but is that a bad thing? I think it's an art form, and one I'm working on...but I like it. I also think there is a balance and a sense of appropriateness but hey, life is short-

-Pillows and blankets are perfection. I love being in a lil comfortable cocoon and talking with friends. Lovely.

-The other night I dragged a chair out onto our balcony to do some reading and I fell in love.

-Being outside is theraputic.

-When I graduate I'm just going to sit at home all day practicing the guitar. I think it sounds like a solid career plan. My parents are going to love it.


El Fin

Where the Sidewalk Ends...

I think I like to think that things are meant to be. And in five years when I am reflecting back on the past 27 years as opposed to the past 22 it may seem that way. Because the paths I will choose and the paths I have chosen will lead me somewhere naturally. Right? Looking forward it's harder to feel that way-but sometimes...

I just want to sit down with Fate or Destiny or both, have a lil fresh fruit and ice water, and have a nice, friendly chat to ask the following questions-

-I'm meant to be this person's friend, aren't I? It just happened too smoothly and is too perfectly for it not to be...
-So I've been given these traits, had 'em since I was pequeña...is this why? Or is it for some other part of my life that I just don't see coming...
-Why is it that every time I go to give up, and when I say 'give up' I mean flat-out-give-up-run-the-other-direction, on Life Path #39 something draws me back to it...
-Why did you let Life Path #39/40/41 happen?
-Was I meant to meet Person A because they would know Person B who knew Person C and D and were they meant to be in my life for a while to teach me something? Or did it just happen to work out that way?
-Did that happen to both of us so we could understand each other?
-Why then and not now?
-Why now and not then?
-Why did her life go that way and my life this way though we seem to be built for it to be the other way around?
-Was I supposed to finish that book at the time I did so that I would learn more than I could have any other way from it?
-Why can't they just find a job now? Why are they going through this time?
-Did that whole thing mean something?
-Why here? Why there?
-Was she meant to come into my life in someway, and that way didn't matter, as long as she was there, as long as our paths crossed?
-Did that whole car accident thing happen for a reason? Cause I don't necessarily feel like I learned anything from that...and it hurt...
-Are you really taking care of me? It really is all going to work out for the best, right?
-Etc.
-Etc.
-Etc.

Either way. So far so good...and I'm looking forward to my 27th birthday...

It's what I do...

With the Utah sun beating down hotter than ever it seems to be a cruel trick that "Summer" is coming to an end with school starting up in a week. And while the new time segment of "Fall" brings on a plethora of changes one of the main ones I keep thinking about it reading. That's right. I'm a nerd. My time of pleasure reading is tapering out and I'm hoping that somehow I'll be able to fit "The Devil in The White City" and "One Hundred Years of Solitude" into the next 7 days...or at least finish them up before the Library asks for them back...I seriously doubt this is going to happen. Anyway, ramblings aside...I present my "Here Be The Books Becca Read" list from the past 4 months. Not as long as I'd hoped but still enjoyable-

-The Uncommon Reader (thin, light, and amusing...and seemed like an appropriate warm up for the summer as it's about a reader, okay-the Queen of England, who jumps from book to book with feverish excitement, spending most of her time either locked away with each new treasure or at least thinking about it).
-An Ordinary Man ( which made me wonder what I would do and want to be a stronger woman).
-Speak (rereading is always full of comfort-it's like coming home).

Insert 8 weeks of school here...text book reading...

-The Book Thief (Which made me marvel at literary genius, hate war, and love love and its many facets).
-A Tree Grows in Brooklyn ( which made growing up seem less and less glamorous...and guess who is in the process of growing up).
-Harry Potter 6 (which made me want a flying broomstick and an invisibility cloak).
-Harry Potter 7 ( which made me wonder about the true power of love).
-My Sisters Keeper (which caused me to bond with the lady sitting next to me on the plane as we both fought tears).
-The Hunger Games ( which caused the screams of others responsibilities to seem to quiet as I sprawled in my pajamas for hours on end, racing through each chapter).
-The Kite Runner ( which broke my heart each time I turned a page).
-The House on Mango Street (which made me fall in love with words again and long to write away my life).
-My Name is Asher Lev (which is beautiful and for some reason, at times, chilling...).

The End.

Caught

I like pretty things. I know that sounds simple, childish even, but that is the best way of describing it. And while peoples perceptions of what "pretty" is may be different, I like to think it brings to mind images of softness. Cotton candy clouds and cotton ball sheep softness. I don't do bold prints, big jewelry, or extremely bright colors. I love my closet full of grays, greens, and browns. And I love my simple stud earrings and small pendant necklaces.

(I like windows and nails bare of polish. I like the feeling of clean sheets and the sound of soft voices. I like the light-weight feeling of wearing a dress.)

I think a lot of things are simple. And way more simple than we allow them to be. Everyone talks about how life is so hard, so scary, so complicated, so gray. And trust me-I have echoed these sentiments many a late night but when you step back it's all about stepping forward and jumping. But first-simplicity.

Happiness is simple. It is enjoying the feeling of the sun and the sounds of the world swirling by. It is choosing to laugh, choosing to smile, choosing to be optimistic. It is simple. It is just a decision. And I recognize that fact that sometimes it is harder than that. Sometimes Pollyanna doesn't win without a fight. But that is just it-you can fight for it.

Love is simple. Incredibly simple. And this we choose to complicate for complications sake. Or something ridiculous like that. A friend relayed a story to me once about how she had asked another friend, who is now married, what love is like and she answered, "It is so much easier than I had thought." And I believe that to be true. Love. Easy. Finding love? The crappy dates, that whole unrequited thing, rejection (giving and receiving)-that can be hard. But love? Or even extreme like? It's easy. It just happens. You just find one another and you work. You fit.

The future is simple. And this is coming from the girl (yeah, we aren't even pretending to use the word woman here) who is donning a cap and gown in a week to fake graduate, only to do it for real in 4 months...with no concrete plans other than to keep breathing, keep eating, etc. But it is. It's coming. And only a day at a time. We are faced with decisions and we make them. Sometimes we stumble and during those times we either ask for help or try to push through alone. But we must make decisions, in the end they are inevitable and yet we put them off and put them off thinking that the answer will fall into our laps when really, we just have to jump and hope something/someone catches us.

I'd like to call myself a "jumper" but then that makes me think of "pusher" and Mean Girls (thank you to the minds who thought that movie up and brought me and countless others endless joy) and it loses all credibility in my mind. But anyway-I jump. But I'm terrified of jumping. And these two concepts weirdly coexistence in my personality/mind. A few months ago I stood staring over a 45ish foot cliff down to the base of a waterfall, watching my friend Britney resurface and swim to the edge before she gestured to me to follow her. I stepped back as everything is my nature was screaming for survival and screaming "Don't!". And then I was suspended in the air before the warm water enveloped me and the strong currents threw me up to the surface. To my friends and to the sun. I just have to turn it all off and think "Oh well..." and then plummet. We have to. Being perpetually held back by fear is exhausting and I refuse to allow that to be a part of my life anymore. And that is just one of the things I have learned this summer. That I am stronger than that. That everyone is. That we all deserve to live and really live.

So do it.

We Don't Get Two Lives to Live

So I didn't finish my "book" thought completely yesterday for many various reasons. I was eating a huge bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios and was sprawled slightly uncomfortably on my living/family room floor, typing as quickly as possible as to relieve the pressure from my rib cage. Change position? No way.

And so...

Reading grounds me. The sometimes fictional stories of made up characters in made up places, or the real life tales of people I aspire to be as strong as, calm me and center me. My life can be seeming to spin out of control with different stressors coming from all different directions and all I have to do it pick up a book for a few minutes and suddenly, all the puzzle pieces seem to fall into perfectly planned places I never knew existed. It is not the escape though. A road trip to Califoria? A well timed escape-but reading, no. I read and everything else becomes clear.

Music has a similar affect/effect ( I still haven't learned the difference...) on me. Rachael Yamagata's newer album, along with Missy Higgins', have been my listening material of choice lately. I stumbled upon a quote from Rachael Yamagata (that I believe is in regards to her first album) that I fell in love with:

"I try my best to write of love and pain and explore how we humans treat each other, and what our souls are trying to get out at the same time. Performing is my meditation; writing my traveling companion. These songs are as truthful and in the moment as I could be at this point i my life. They are observational, touching, but with a sense of hopefulness that ever piece, and each bit of pain, has a reason. So that nothing is wasted. The never can be happenstance."

Thank you, RY. Thank you.

Ear/Soul Candy...

Rachael Yamagata
-The Only Fault (Hidden Track)
-Over and Over
-What If I Leave

Missy Higgins
-Where I Stood
-Sugarcane
-Steer
-Going North

The Format
-Time Bomb
-She Doesn't Get It
-Dog Problems
-Oceans

A Fine Frenzy
-Hope for the Hopeless
-Rangers
-The Minnow and The Trout
-Almost Lover (One of the most genuinely depressing songs I have ever heard).

Imogen Heap
-Hike and Seek

...to name a few...

Big bowls of Cereal and "A Fine Frenzy"

I loved reading before I loved any boy. Or thought I loved any boy. I don't know if it was our basement full of books or if it was watching the Beast give Belle a sparkling library but I always find something magical in between the pages. There is this thrill I get when I walk into a library or a bookstore. It feels like possibility.

The taste of Crystal Light is the taste of jumping on a trampoline. But not just any trampoline. A trampoline with the sprinkler beneath it causing shrieks of joy to burst from two young girls who reflected in each rainbowed drop of refreshing water, The maple trees over head throwing down dappled shadows.

New contact day is a good day. As is new razor day. Combine the two, which I did today, and it becomes a day of hygienic epic proportions.

I love that I open my freezer and staring back at me are multiple things of ice cream of differing sizes, brands, and flavors. Almost as much as the fact that I love that about 2 weeks ago I decided that I deserved Breyer's Rocky Road. So I bought a gallon and threw it in the freezer for a time when I really craved it-because any food, and especially Breyer's Rocky Road tastes the best when you really want it and not when you are just eating it to eat it. The next day Mindy came back to the apartment after being at a family camp out. As she walks in the door, and after our excited greeting, she says "So I bought this to show you how much I love you..." and pulls a gallon of heaven out of a bag. I just started laughing and dragged her to the freezer where I showed her the matching gallon I had purchased the day before. Roommate connection? I vote yes.

Sporadic? Random? I know.

Spanglish Is My Life

In a Station of the Metro

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.
--Ezra Pound




Fresh berries. Delicious and the lip stain of Summer. Pair it with a sun kissed face, a lil Burt's Bees, and air dried hair. Happy. Easy. Simple. Summer.


I love the Reader's Digest. Always have. Always will. I remember being a little girl, sprawled on my parents bed (the best place in the world to take a nap) reading issue after issue from cover-to-cover. We always had millions of them scattered around from various years. 3 on Mom's bed side table, 2 on Dad's. 4 in their bathroom. 2 in the back entry way one. 3 in the basket by the speakers and probably up to 5 scattered around the aquarium. Except we didn't have an aquarium. Well, we did. But we got rid of it when I was 3 or 4. And yes, I still have a vague memory of burying Flounder in the back yard. But we still call that area "the aquarium", even 18-19 years later.

Anyway-they had this article titled something like "50 Things Your Dentist Wants You To Know". Fascinating. I have always brushed, I can't function without it, but now...I got out of bed last night to REbrush after my mind wandered back to the article. (You should spend at least 10 minutes daily taking care of your dazzling smile). And I added "mouthwash with floride" to my shopping list. Dr. Workman would be proud...

Sporadic

The other day I was thinking about balance. Mostly because I have none (I tip over at random and classic roller skating is a near death experience...) but I have some (Working out, work, church, school, social life-). And it is the most satisfying feeling in the world-climbing into bed at night, relatively early so I have energy for the nonstoppingness of the following day, without the feeling of "Dang it...". Everything is better with a lil balance, or so the roller skaters tell me.

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. none of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

--Elizabeth Bishop

Mmm I love my poetry class. I wish everyone could just observe it. It is hysterical (I laugh for 2.5 hours straight) and it is absolutely beautiful. Hearing my professor read Elizabeth Bishop's poem was chillingly moving. He is brilliant. Brilliant.

Perfect Day Description
-Work (Responsibility...)
-Epic Kickball Game
-Homemade Smoothies
-Going to the pool
-The feeling of the sun/getting a soft burn
-Eating pizza, watermelon, and chips
-Being with amazing people
-A quality 1 hour nap
-Chilling with friends
-Cafe Rio
-A Frosty and a lil "House"
-4-Square in the street
-Sand Volleyball

And that was my Saturday...

My dreams lately have been eerily realistic. Searching for missing children, getting rejected, comforting a friend, being worried about work and school, turning off lights to conserve energy, planning an 'escape' trip to France. And none of it was done with flying Care Bears or changing faces or even weird time lapses. It was just life. But life in blue. (Picasso reference).

I have three bandaids on my body right now. Three. And they all happen to be on the right side of my body...so much for being balanced, right?

I know, right?

Voices are everything to me. If I like the way someone talks I'm drawn to them. If I don't...well, it works in the opposite direction as well. And while the voice is vital (pretty much 80-90% of the equation) it's also the way they word things, their sentence construction. The words they choose, the questions they ask, the way they answer. And it doesn't have to be eloquent. It just has to feel right as it collides with my ear. And I love those moments. It's just a small lil joy, kinda like No Bake Cookies and Capri Sun's during a kickball game.

I miss Midwestern storms. Real bad. A teaser of a storm slipped on through Utah Valley last night and it's gentle breeze mocked me. Remember when the sky would turn from clear blue to black in 3 minutes? Or when the rain came down so hard that I couldn't even see the end of my driveway? Or when all the creeks would flood and driving involved dodging fallen branches? Or when the thunder would cause the house to tremble, books to tip over, and you could feel it reverberating in your sternum? Yeah...Some find storms scary, I find them brilliant.

So I'm definitely on a Kick Ball Intramural team with the most amazing people in the world. Our first game was last week and while we lost 6-18 (actually I have no idea if that was the final score, those are just the last numbers I heard...), it was absolutely, hysterically fun! I led the warm up jog and we all circled around Elyse for team stretches. On our sideline we had the team, an additional 15 people from our ward who came to support, Mindy's brother with speakers pumping incredible music, cookies, and Capri Sun's (mentioned above), and we were all talking, dancing, and joking around. The other team? Stood with their arm's crossed. So yeah, they beat us but I don't think any of us even cared. Our team rules? I'll tell you...

1. Have fun! (We would yell "Remember Rule 1" whenever the boys/men (right?) would get frustrated.)
2. Keep the ball on the ground.
3. When you screw up Rule 2, go back to Rule 1.


Team picture of love and joy and awkwardness...I love my Mizzou shirts...and Randy's shorts...

Team con sus amigos! We may or may not have dog piled on them...Thanks to Sarah Beth for always being ready with camera-


We had a ward activity this past Saturday-awesome. We had tinfoil dinners (my hands smelled like onions for a solid 24 hours after helping build 80 of them...) which were, oh you know, pretty much life changing! Plus a wiffle ball game to rival all wiffle ball games. McMindilicious is a baller (balla' ?...I'm from suburbia...) and I'm real good at hitting foul balls and standing in the outfield with my arms crossed.

P.S. 4-Square for life.

Welp, that's a lot of sports chatter but hey, it's summer in Provo...

Trenches in Sand Boxes

"Turn to Stone"-Ingrid Michaelson.

...will change your life.

Welcome to summer. It's full of BBQ's, outdoor movies, and 4-square games that are life changing! Last night I was sprawled on my quilt, staring up at the sky while the people surrounding me all stared at the screen in front of us. The silhouette of the tree branches interrupted my view, a weaving of dark shapes, and it was absolutely lovely. I just sort of breathed. In. Out. In. Out. Welcome to summer.

You know how in movies they show people talking to themselves in the mirror? Yeah. I don't do that. But I do think to myself in the mirror. And every morning I slip out from under my red covers, put in my contacts, splash some water on my face and then look up and think "It's all a process". Breathe. And then pull up my hair and run out the door to the gym. But really. Everything is a process. Life is a process. Making friends, getting in shape, learning a topic, reading a book, healing (yes, I'm the most clumsy person in the world-see bruised hip, scarred up legs, and tiny cuts that seem to appear out of no where...), understanding, growing, everything. It's a process. So that's my summer theme. Maybe my life theme.

Favorite teacher moment from the week:

Poetry teacher. Fountain pen. Stroking and calling it his "precious". I. Love. My. Major. But really-I sit in class and just laugh while my fellow students and I all exchange amused looks. This man is brilliant.

Other brilliantness in my life: Vanilla Frosty and blackberries. Yummed.

Relocation is kinda fun...

I knew I liked reading and so, I knew I liked books. What I didn't know was that I own a million.

So I moved today. Clothes, put away. Toiletries, put away. Kitchen stuff, mostly put away. Books, not so much. And yet I still have to keep telling myself not to go to DI and browse, looking for my next love affair...

Owning a book is so much better than-well-not. I can write in the margins, underline brilliant passages, and throw in a few Post-it notes if the desire arises.

List of observations from the day/week:
-Familial loyalty is ummm...awesome.
-Flip flips can cause blood shed.
-So can closet doors...my ear is still recovering.
-Fire places should be in every apartment. Every one. Ever.
-I smell like lavender...Mmm body wash.
-I should be a freaking detective. It appears to be a talent of mine...
-There are different ways of being happy.
-My fingers are raw from playing the guitar but its the best pain I have ever experienced. Yup.
-I'm a Knock Out/Lightning champion. Not really. But sorta.
-I have a line from Mean Girls stuck in my head...Oh Gretchen Wieners..."You can't sit with us!"

Foil dinner time...fire places...awesome...

Agape, Eros, Philia, Storge, Thelema...it's Greek...it's Love...

Rediscovered Loves
-Water, water, water.
-Chocolate covered raisins. Best of both worlds...(or has Miley Cyrus ruined that phrase forever?)
-The feeling of having a book (for pleasure, not school) in my bag.
-Grapefruit juice.
-The smell of a storm. Mmm invigorating.
-Throwing things away from my pack-rat past.
-Pulling my hair back.
-Running errands alone.
-Reading the news.
-Wearing shirts without a tank-top underneath. Cooler...literally.

New Loves
-Going to bed early...I'm an old lady and I love it.
-Wearing skirts on Non-Sundays.
-My quilt.

Old Loves that Remain
-Not wearing eye make-up. I can rub and scratch with ease...
-Spending my paycheck on iTunes.
-My job. Really.
-Cameras/Pictures.

Current literary work that is gracing my purse with its presence: An Ordinary Man: An Autobiography by Paul Rusesabagina.

Song of the day: My Love by The Bird and The Bee. (Thanks, Kolleeny).