I'll open up the moon for you.

{I received several CDs for Christmas, and this is one of them. I think it has been in my cart at Amazon for at least two years, but I just hadn't got around to buying it.}

I fell in love with this song...oh I don't know how long ago. But it's been in the back of my mind for a few months.

{Sara's lyrics are always so heartfelt and clever. I always wish I'd thought of them myself. (if you don't believe me, listen to this song.)}

One Sweet Love

Just about the time the shadows call
I undress my mind and dare you to follow
Paint a portrait of my mystery
Only close my eyes and you are here with me
A nameless face to think I see
To sit and watch the waves with me till they're gone
A heart I'd swear I'd recognize is made out of
My own devices....
Could I be wrong?

The time that I've taken
I pray is not wasted
Have I already tasted my piece of one sweet love?

Sleepless nights you creep inside of me
Paint your shadows on the breath that we share
You take more than just my sanity
You take my reason not to care.
No ordinary wings I'll need
The sky itself will carry me back to you
The things I dream that I can do I'll open up
The moon for you
Just come down soon

The time that I've taken
I pray is not wasted
Have I already tasted my piece of one sweet love?
Ready and waiting for a heart worth the breaking
But I'd settle for an honest mistake in the name of
One sweet love.

Savor the sorrow to soften the pain sip on
The southern rain
As I do, I don't look don't touch don't do anything
But hope that there is a you.

The earth that is the space between,
I'd banish it from under me...to get to you.
Your unexpected love provides my solitary's
Suicide...oh I wish I knew

The time that I've taken
I pray is not wasted
Have I already tasted my piece of one sweet love?
Ready and waiting for a heart worth the breaking
But I'd settle for an honest mistake in the name of
One sweet love.

I think what I love about this song is that it's not desperate, or needy, or even overtly impatient. It's not that she's unhappy with her single life; it's more...hopeful about the future.

And I get that, I really do. Because that's where I am right now: content with my life and truly happy, but not too content to lose hope for something more.

We contemplate our own mental versions of what we want. We make silent sacrifices and oaths to cheat time and bring that one sweet love to us a little sooner. We pray that our efforts are not in vain.

And we hope.
We hope that we haven't messed everything up.
We hope that we haven't missed our chance.
We hope that we haven't said too much, or not said enough.
We hope that there is a "you" to put at the end of our "I love..."


Ring Out the Bells on Christmas Day

I love both of these hymns, both taken from poems.

I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


And in despair I bowed my head:
"There is no peace on earth," I said,
"For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men."

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
With peace on earth, good will to men."

Till, ringing singing, on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime, a chant sublime,
Of peace on earth, good will to men!

Ring out, wild bells
by Lord Tennyson

Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more,
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease,
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.


from this stage I can tell that she can't let go and she can't relax

January 15th*, here I come.
I'm getting ready.
I'm pooling my resources and drawing from what I've learned and letting my creativity incubate.

If I can't show you anything else,
let me tell you this:

I want it.
I really want it.
And I'm willing to fight for it.

*The deadline to turn in my Advertising application.
image via deviantart


You say "ee-ther" and I say "eye-ther"*


I hope you don't fall asleep when we listen to "A Christmas Carol," the old radio version. Because my family listens to it every year, and it's one of my favorite traditions.

I hope you like fudge and almond roca, because my mom makes the best.

I don't know if I'll ever be able to cook a turkey or a Christmas ham to perfection like my mother or grandmother, but for you, I'll sure try my best.

I hope that you want to bundle up and go cut down our own tree, and that we'll quarrel just a little bit over which one to get. But we'll settle it over candy canes and hot cocoa.

I hope that you have funky ornaments you made in grade school, just like I do. Because they have so much character.

I hope you like my family. And I hope I like yours just as well.

And even if your family does things differently when it comes to Christmas, I'm okay with that. We'll compromise. And make our own traditions.

I hope we don't get too caught up in the shopping and cooking and planning to remember that his holiday is about love, and giving of ourselves, rather than our pocketbooks.

Because those are always the best gifts.

"It is a fair, even-handed, noble adjustment of things, that while there is infection in disease and sorrow, there is nothing in the world so infectious as laughter and good-humor."
-A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens
image via deviantart
*I've always been a sucker for jazz. Especially this time of year.


"Sometimes people deserve to have their faith rewarded."

Finals are so stressful.

But then it is WONDERFUL when studying pays off.

image via deviantart


Marilyn Monroe was a size 12 in 1952.

{I found this picture on Sabino. And I liked it. A lot.}

we can blame the media.
we can blame McDonalds.
we can blame technology and Photoshop and plastic surgery.

or we can find that inner love for ourselves.
and accept that beauty has no dictionary definition.
it is an open-ended question.
and we answer it by loving ourselves every day.

we can feed our souls when we feed our beautiful bodies three times a day.
we can say thanks for this amazing gift we've been given by treating it well:
moving it around, filling it with delicious food, getting some shut-eye at night.

because it really isn't about the numbers: 10, 35-29-40, 145....
it's about loving the body God gave you. and doing what you can so you can move it around, enjoy that delicious food, and get some shut-eye for 80, 90, maybe even 100 years.

image via google


A few thoughts of the day:

-about a month ago, I realized my ward (the people I go to church with) rocks.
-i still hate the snow.
-i may or may not be unprepared for finals...however I will do such preparing over the weekend.
-i realized I love mustard on my sandwiches.
-my black sweatshirt from D.I. is my new favorite article of clothing.
-gilmore girls never gets old. ever.
-and on tuesday i am going to attempt to make samosas. wish me luck :)

image via deviantart


A little bit of Christmas cheer.

The Sunday before I flew back to school after Thanksgiving, my family and I went to the annual Christmas Tree Lighting Ceremony at our county courthouse.

We sang Christmas carols together. We prayed together. We lifted each others' spirits. Most of all. We came together as a community.

This is one reason I'm so glad I grew up in a small town. I think community is so important. Not saying you can't find that in a big city, but you probably have to look harder for it.

It wasn't commercial or worldly or costly. I really felt like it embodied the true spirit of Christmas: Love.

"For God so loved the world, that He gave His Only Begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him, should not perish, but have everlasting life." -John 3:16


Shuffle to the beat.

(I know, I know, this is two posts on a night when I didn't even have time for one.)


I'm just so in love all over again with this song. It just came onto my iPod.

His voice. Those lyrics.

I had to share. {Actually, the entire Garden State soundtrack is fabulous.}

I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You by Colin Hay

I drink good coffee every morning
Comes from a place that's far away

And when I'm done I feel like talking
Without you here there is less to say

I don't want you thinking I'm unhappy

What is closer to the truth

That if I lived till I was 102

I just don't think I'll ever get over you

I'm no longer moved to drink strong whisky

'Cause I shook the hand of time and I knew
That if I lived till I could no longer climb my stairs
I just don't think I'll ever get over you

Your face it dances and it haunts me

Your laughter's still ringing in my ears

I still find pieces of your presence here
Even after all these years

But I don't want you thinking
I don't get asked to dinner

'Cause I'm here to say that I sometimes do

Even though I may soon feel the touch of love

I just don't think I'll ever get over you

If I lived till I was 102
I just don't think I'll ever get over you.

Every time I listen to this song, I picture an old man sitting in his house, looking at a picture of his late wife. Still lonely. But content, and still so in love. Isn't that the way it should be? We don't want to be forgotten at death; we don't want to forget, either. Love should last forever.

It doesn't mean you can't move on with your life, it just means that that person is still a part of it.

I'm dancing in the room as if I was in the woods with you*

I'm taking time out of my CRAZY busy day to post about dance. Don't worry, this is a happy post. :-).

Let me tell you a little story...

From 7:43am until 7:43pm Laura Coalwell constantly ran through lists in her head. Lists of class assignments, lists of dance figures, lists of things to do. She ran to class, to work, to dinner group, and then, at 7:43pm, she stepped into the ballroom in the Richards Building and....


Okay. Maybe I didn't rock the house. But the important part is: I danced with my heart. And loved.every.minute.of.it.

And when I dance like that, it always feels like I'm rockin' the house.

It turned out to be a pretty good day.**

Image: Marshall and I, faking our way through the Moulin Rouge Tango.

*"Dancing" By Elisa. Beautiful song. Love this.
**Also, I just feel so loved and blessed to have such incredible people in my life. People who truly care.


"This city just showed you that it's full of people ready to believe in good."

I was planning on posting about this movie, and the great quotes from it, but Katie beat me to it.

Go here. Read.

Savor the poetic symbolism of the Dark Knight.

**spoiler alert!**

My absolute favorite moment of the movie is when one of the convicts gets up and takes the detonator and says, "Give it to me. You can tell them I took it by force. Give it to me, and I'll do, what you shoulda did, ten minutes ago." And then he throws it out the window...

I think this movie is so powerful and has so many beautiful themes. It portrays evil so well without glorifying it; it portrays it as evil, and I think that is really important.

(not to mention the excellent musical score from it)


Because I believe in true love.

This seems like exactly my kind of movie. Is it lame if I get chills during the trailer...at about 1:58?

May 2010. Can't. Wait.


'Tis the Season...(well almost)

Yes. This is one of those totally typical Thanksgiving gratitude lists. But I don't care. I like them anyway.

Reasons to keep breathing every day:
1. My family is incredible and I get to see them [except Christine :( ] tomorrow!
2. Family. Friends. Work. School. Every aspect of my life is a gift from God.
3. Excellent roommates
4. I think I've found my niche. Let's just hope it {the Ad Program} accepts me.
5. This song. Still playing it on repeat.
6. The Doogie Howser M.D. theme song.
7. Undeniable optimism.
8. The AdLab won the Canned Food Drive Sculpture contest. :)
9. All of my classes were canceled today.
10. Finding out curry is not that hard to make.
11. Music. Always a good reason to breathe.
12. Finding a great job.
13. Dinner group.
14. New friends.
15. Professors/TAs who care.
16. Late night Smiths runs.
17. Seeing/talking to old friends.
18. Family stories.
19. Listening to my grandparents and parents reminisce.
20. Spending time with my little brother.
21. Being home. There is nothing like it.

Happy Thanksgiving to you all!


When your secret heart cannot speak so easily

Katie's post title reminded me of how much I love this song.

This one's for you.

Sometimes I just need to hear a song. Over and over. I need it because it feeds my soul and it builds me up and gives me that something I need to get through the day. It's a break from the monotone chaos of life. It's a fresh breath from the mundane. It is how I find my "invincible summer."

Today. This is that song.

“The world is not respectable; it is mortal, tormented, confused, deluded forever; but it is shot through with beauty, with love, with glints of courage and laughter; and in these, the spirit blooms timidly, and struggles to the light amid the thorns.”

-George Santayana


The Long Walk Home

I hate that because I'm a woman, there are things I ought not to do.
I hate that I shouldn't walk home alone because there is a chance I could encounter a dangerously forward male with ill intentions.
I've been conditioned to think that because I am a woman, I am weak and helpless to defend myself.

I hate that.

I hate feeling like this rare occurrence is not so rare.
Vulnerable is one of my least favorite flavors of fear.

I don't like calling someone to walk me home. If someone I know is around, sure, I'll walk with them. But I don't like making someone go out of their way to do something I have done by myself thousands of times (even though I know, most likely none of my friends would mind).

I'm stubborn, I know.

I just don't want to be scared of the world.

I am not naive enough to think bad things don't happen, or to think that it couldn't happen to me. I just don't like feeling like it will happen to me. Every.Night.

I guess this post has no real resolution. Except for the fact that I will continue to: rarely be on campus at night, walk with my head held high and buy some pepper spray.

I still don't like the sound of that. Because I've heard so many guys (and my Mom) tell me not to walk home alone after dark, I want to do it more. Just to show them I can do it. That I'm tough enough. It's a stupid reason, but it's my reason.

Take that, invisible male demons. Another successful walk home. I didn't even run.

image via deviantart

{And I hate that Southwest Airlines took away my pepper spray. So I forgot to put it in my checked luggage, it could have come in handy if the guy sitting next to me was planning on hi-jacking the plane. But they threw.it.away. Now, if that should ever happen, I'll have to settle for a ballpoint tracheotomy a la Red Eye. }


While sleeping I slipped on a reason*

I love live music.
I always forget how much of a rush it is until I'm there, feet aching, heart pounding, soul searching.
Emme Packer opened for Kate Voegele up at Kilby Court (totally sketch-o garage concert venue. I loved it.) It was an incredible concert.

I think it's pretty cool when you like the opening act as much as the headliner.

There is something about packing into a tight space, bumping into strangers, and feeding off their body heat, to share a common experience. It's utterly human; for 2 or 3 hours we felt a little more alive. A little more connected. A bit less alone in this thing called life.

Maybe a little more willing to believe in our dreams and in ourselves. Maybe a little inspired. Or a little hopeful.

I'm so inspired by the talents of others. Music gives me hope in people, because they really do have such good hearts.

*{Ghost on a Shelf} --wonderful song by Emme Packer. I highly recommend it. And anything else she does.


A passion that won't be bridled

I have two wonderful little blisters on the backs of my heels, right where my standard dance shoes rub.

These soon-to-be callouses are a reminder that today I worked hard. I danced hard. I let myself put my heart into it more than usual, and it felt so good.

I worked up a sweat, the satisfying kind of sweat. And it's been a while since I've done that.

Since the beginning of the semester, I've felt so guarded. I put up the walls and didn't let myself care too much or expect too much from myself.

Not today.

Sometimes I forget that dance is still one of my passions. I forget to enjoy it, and I get caught up in all the stress and competition and comparisons and politics involved.

It's because I start doing it for other people, rather than dancing for myself.

Today I remembered why I love to dance. It's something my heart and body craves. I remembered that I don't do it for awards or praise. I do it because I love it, because it pushes me to be better; because every time I learn something new, or master part of a step or routine, I feel triumphant.

And because it's like floating and lifting weights, at the same time.

image via deviantart


Vectors, guides, cloning, and spreadsheets*

I'm trying to become more technologically-savvy (and less technologically-loathing).

I'm trying my hand at graphic design, and, for once, not expecting to be great at it right away.

But I'm loving it, and let me just tell you, they call it the Creative Suite for a reason.

I'm getting my fingers wet, and it's glorious.

And it's fulfilling my number 3 on this list.

image...forthcoming...once I have something to show

*this last one just refers to me figuring out how to, once again, begin keeping track of my finances.


Like a rolling stone...

He sat down in the cafe with a cup of something steamy and a worn out copy of Metamorphosis by Kafka.
It's been on her list of books to read for a couple of years now. Thanks for the reminder, she thought.

He was just an ordinary boy. And then he wasn't. The difference? An old acoustic guitar, a dusty harmonica, and a soul full of lyrics to change the world.

He led her through places she'd never been, like dance steps she did not know. And she followed. And she followed well.

He had convictions, and would not let them go. He had opinions, and would fight her on them. And they would fight until the madness overcame their stubbornness and turned into the greatest love of all time. And they knew that it didn't make any sense, that they didn't make any sense. No one believed it could last.

But they didn't care. And they didn't quit.

image via deviantart

Note: This is not a personal narrative. But I wouldn't call it a work of fiction, either. Let's just say it's some stranger's narrative. I'm just the ghost-writer in another's love story. But I wanna know how that feels.


I fight hard and forgive easily

And that's just the way I am.
My method of dealing with issues most of the time, is to not deal with it at all. Ignore it long enough, pretend it didn't happen, and it will go away.

Or at least hide itself for a while.

I have to remember that not everyone is like me.
And that doesn't always make one of us right and the other wrong. It just makes us different.

It's hard when you are trying to do "the right thing," but it ends up hurting people anyway.

Tonight I acted selfish and stubborn.
And I thought I was justified.

Then I got a little taste of humility. And it was good for me. I needed that.

So thanks.

image via deviantart


She's fine, most of the time

These are tough times.
Let's try and pull things together, together.

"Breathe, just breathe, take the world off your shoulders, and put it on me."

I think this is utterly beautiful. Especially the lyrics.
To find out more, visit: www.breathe4jobs.com


Dear current love-of-my-life,

We haven't spent much time together lately, and that makes me sad. In fact, it makes me want to cry.

I've had too much to do, and too many mornings of getting up way too early.

You are my guilty pleasure. You are my refuge from the world. And I love you for that.

I'm tired of never being with you. Exhausted from our separation. Delirious from your absence.

I know I've neglected you. You just stay there, in my room, with the covers messed up and the sheets wrinkled. Patiently waiting all day long for me to come crawl into you and just rest from the world.

Maybe tonight I'll come back to you, and make you more of a priority in my life. Because, my wonderful twin bed with tye-dyed sheets and way too much stuff shoved underneath, you deserve that. I deserve that.

Let's just stay in tonight and cuddle.


*So I have a relationship with inanimate objects. Sue me. At least it's a start.


Pretty Please

I'm in an Advertising class.
We're doing a project.

You can help: do this little survey, and I'll be forever grateful!

thanks a million :)

Love you all.



I fell in love with live music and Jon Foreman's voice my senior year of high school.
Switchfoot was my first real concert, and though I haven't been to that many since, nothing has topped it yet.

Front row.
Pressed against the barrier to the stage.
Jon Foreman standing on that barrier and touching all of our hands, while singing "Meant to Live."

I felt young and alive and invincible.
An unforgettable feeling.

Today, as it's raining outside, this song came on. It's one of my favorites from that concert.

"These dreams started singing to me out of nowhere,
and, all my life, I don't know if I've ever felt so alive."

i wish I had taken this picture. But I didn't.


The search ends here.

I fell in love with this song.
I don't know when I heard it for the first time, but it's definitely a new favorite.


to be or not to be {myself}

Maybe I've said too much...

Sometimes I feel like I tell the world, (or at least the portion of it that reads this blog), too much about myself.

I let my guard down in my little spec of the world wide web, and really put my heart out in the open. Because I feel safe here. It's my space. My world.

My problem is this: I wonder if the real me will scare him away. Sometimes I wonder what he'd think if he stumbled across this blog. It's probably a bad idea to let him see too much too soon. Maybe I need to put on the show just a little bit longer. You know, where I try to say the right things all the time. And behave as a lady should. And play by The Rules. (no I do not own a copy of that book, nor have I read it.).

But you know what I mean. Play hard to get, act mysterious. {Wow. I just realized I really stink at the whole mysterious part.}

What I'm trying to say is that life isn't like the movies, where the overly dramatic/irrational/emotional/imperfect girl gets the guy in the end, right?

Maybe I need to put up the walls again. Go back to being that girl, or appearing to be that girl. Get the fish to bite and then show him what he's in for.

But here's the other problem: I'm happy here, being me. All of me. I like this space. And I like my imperfect, messy heart. I like that my life is sometimes an open book. It's who I am.

{Even as I type, I'm debating between two choices: click the "publish" button, or save this as yet another of more than a dozen "drafts" that will probably never be exposed to the world.}

Maybe I don't even know what I'm saying. Maybe I'm just rambling, but I guess he'll find out sooner or later...

image via deviantart

Yes, this is one of those posts...

Sometimes I dream of falling in love when it's cold outside. I always have.

Winter is the time of year when it's more than okay to be fair-skinned and rosy-cheeked. Winter is the time of year for remembering what and who is important. I know that's cliche, but I don't care.

Maybe love is sweeter in the winter because our noses can be red together, and I'll have his hand for a glove.

We can kiss with hot chocolate on our breath and Christmas in the air.

I'll catch snowflakes on my eyelashes and he'll catch me in his arms when I slip on the ice.

We can live the lyrics of Christmas songs and movies like "While You Were Sleeping" and make some memories of our own.

We can make our own peace on Earth.

I say, if we can find each other through the stormy months of winter, our love can last through all the less-than-sunny days we are sure to have.


A pound (or 4) of flesh

UPDATE: The roast smells...divine! :) Hope it tastes as good :)

DISCLAIMER: Dinner group friends, you probably should wait until after dinner to read this. Also, anyone with easily-upset stomachs...well, read at your own risk.

So it's Tuesday and my turn to make dinner for dinner group. (psst! if you haven't checked out our dinner group blog, please do! ).

Anyway. I'm excited. Really excited, actually. Hopefully slaving away in the kitchen all day will pay off and the food will taste almost as good as my mom's or oma's.

My plan is to make a roast (in the crockpot) and potatoes and Sour Cream and Chive Potato bread.

Let's rewind for a minute: to Monday night. My wonderful roommate Kim, who is in possession of a silver Taurus, took me to the grocery store to buy the necessary ingredients.

I went straight to the meat section in search of the perfect roast.

Note: My first year of college, I lived in the dorms and ate in the cafeteria. My second year, I was a vegetarian. Thus, I don't really know how to buy/prepare meat (other than chicken from a can).

I'm walking down the aisle of red uncooked used-to-be cows and pigs, looking for a "rump roast" as per my mother's instructions.

{While talking to her on the phone the entire time}

I read the names on the labels: Pork Loin, Beef Chuck Chuck Roast (how much beef in a chuck chuck roast...if the beef chuck would chuck roast?), Tip roast, Top Sirloin, etc.

And then I see it: rump roast! But there are two choices: top and bottom. (isn't the rump roast, by definition, the bottom?) Apparently not.

A few things I discovered in the meat department at Smith's:
-the sanitation station is a glorious place.
-the pink/purple ink stains on the fat of the meat...that's where they stamp the dead cow. Yuck. (note: I'm NOT an animal rights activist, and I'm not against eating meat. But that did make my stomach turn, just a little.)
-meat is dang expensive. or at least it feels like it when you never buy it, and then buy a 4.399 pound roast.

I select a "super value pack," 4.399 pound bottom rump roast, grab a package of Beefy Onion Lipton Onion Soup Mix and some milk and go home.

Nevertheless, this morning I put it in the crockpot (correction: my roommate Natalie actually put it in the crockpot, because I was too grossed out...I poured the soup mix over it and put the lid on.) The point is, it's there. And it's going to be really good, I hope.

I'm off to go see if the bread is done rising....


a few reasons why I love life right now

-It's autumn, and several of the days this week have reminded me of Oregon. Utah autumn is much like Oregon winter.

-I'm getting really excited to apply to the Advertising program and show them why they need to accept me. I guess that sounds kind of prideful, but I think that's the attitude you have to have when the acceptance rate is like, 70%. We'll call it: confidence.

-I successfully designed some business cards for my mom using InDesign. (I know that's really easy to anyone who has ever used a computer, but I'm sort of technologically-challenged, and I'm working on it. Baby steps.)

-I love dancing the foxtrot. I am loving my Standard class. I really miss Latin, but this is good for me.

-I am choosing to view the fact that I am a "Jane of All Trades, Master of None" as an asset rather than a fault. And feeling blessed for the things I am good at.

-I am choosing to enjoy the extra free time I have (while job-hunting) and using it in somewhat productive ways...most of the time.

-Today was just a really good day. I think it was better because: a) I woke up feeling relatively rested, b) I read my scriptures in the morning, and c) I did something that scared me...and it turned out more than just fine.

-It is Friday. :)

Have a great weekend, blogging friends!

photo from Britt's and my trip to Jacksonville & Grant's Pass (Oregon), a couple summers ago


ten honest things

My dear friend Micaela tagged me to do this. Micaela is one of the most honest, genuine bloggers I've had the pleasure of getting to know. If you haven't stopped by her corner of the web, you're missing out!

ten honest things about me:

1. Sometimes I get scared easily--life, love, loneliness...most of all, I think I'm scared of losing my way and forgetting who I am. But every day I feel a little more confident in who I am and how I love this life I've been given.

2. I think with my heart. I make decisions based on how I feel about the situation. It's not always logical and often unexplainable. But I trust my heart and that gives me peace.

3. I compare myself to others and care what other people think way too much. I don't like admitting this because it makes me feel vulnerable, but it's true. It's not that I have low self-esteem, because I'm actually pretty happy with who I am. But sometimes I get caught up in wanting to be exciting and fun and attractive and unique, when really I just need to be me. Because that is enough.

4. I'm really bad with goodbyes. I tend to just avoid them. Just leaving without a word is easier for me than reminding myself of what I'm leaving behind.

5. Sometimes I worry that showing too much of the real me is a turn-off to any potential love-to-be. At least, showing too much, too soon. Being that open is liberating but terribly frightening at the same time because it gives someone else the ability to make judgments about my heart.

6. I love sad movies. And I love a good cry. It is such a natural release. "The Way We Were" is one of my all-time favorites.

7. I love my brown eyes. I used to not like them at all, and was envious of girls with beautiful blue or green eyes. I even considered buying colored contacts. But I realized that they are the same as my mom's eyes, and I wouldn't trade them for anything.

8. These things make me feel loved: heartfelt hugs, sincere smiles, and the overall ease of being with people who know you well.

9. I have come to realize that sometimes I am braver than I give myself credit. I'm willing to do scary things, even if I'm terrified. These experiences have taught me not only that I can handle whatever the scary thing was, but also that I can take a chance.

10. Music will always be my first love. Oh, I will love someone more than music, that is certain; but I doubt I will ever find something I love so well.

I tag...whoever wants to do this! (Jayne, Pepper, and Niki, I know you love these things, and I'd love to hear your 10 honest things!)

image via weheartit

{Love-to-be, if you happen to be reading this: This might scare you; this much of me, all at once. It's a good chunk of my heart. But be gentle with it, and understand that I'm a work in progress. Honestly, aren't we all?}


Lost Generation

My mom sent me a link to this:

I believe in the power of words, and the conviction of those who speak or pen them.

Farmers Market

Katie (aka Katya) and I went to the Farmers Market Saturday and discovered all kinds of goodies. We sampled honey made 20 minutes up the road, two kinds of homemade barbecue sauce, and vegan cookies, all of which were excellent, but a little out of my college-student budget.

I went home with:

a glass of fresh squeezed mint limeade (it was delicious, by the way)
a steaming pork tamal, (my favorite Mexican dish)
a loaf of Asiago cheese bread
and a dozen or so red potatoes (I plan on using this recipe for dinner group next time I cook)

I love farmers markets and I love paying with cash. I'm sad that I didn't get to enjoy this one more, and that it's only open until the end of the month.

image via deviantart

ps: I've actually been to this farmers market, Pike Place in Seattle, WA!


Yesterday was my birthday.
The big two-one.
{Okay so maybe this birthday isn't quite as monumental, considering I'm LDS and don't drink}

But still. We had a pretty rockin' Black and White "Mocktail" Party complete with:

-21 original non-alcoholic concoctions (Upside Slammer with a Twist? NCMO on the Beach? AuPear? and, of course, the "Laura."*)
-a fierce game of Nerts.
-Oreo Truffles. (and homemade Oreos, courtesy of Katya)
-an impromptu dating panel, instigated by Mario, which ended up with both sexes complaining about how confusing the other is.
-michael, frank, and ella, singing me some jazz in the background.
-and plenty of incredible people dressed to the nines in black and white garb.

It's official: I have the greatest friends.

image via vi.sualize.us

*gilmore girls, anyone?


Happy thoughts.

I love...
  • when tests go well
  • dinner group and the wonderful men of Ave 123
  • my old ward
  • my roommates
  • my amazing friends
  • cruising university ave
  • feeling accomplished and productive
  • the slowly forming calluses on the tips of my fingers
  • holly brook's music
  • cute waiters
  • red starbursts
  • when Britt comes to visit
  • Mary's Song by Taylor Swift...and the fact that I can play it on the guitar
  • fun plans for the weekend
  • mocktail parties :)
  • birthdays
  • packages
  • dancing the foxtrot in my new standard pumps
  • the smell of autumn air

Happy Friday!

image via deviantart


I have nothing in particular to say, and will therefore compose yet another list

This week feels like a never-ending Monday so far. Except for the hilarious hour and a half spent watching "The Dinner Game" with Katie's French Club (I highly recommend it. The movie. Not the game.), I spent the whole day getting ready for class, doing homework, going to class, and studying for a test. Oh and then I ate precisely 3 otter pops (green, red, blue, in that order. In case you were randomly curious.) at La Casa, and spilled precisely 2 of them on my jeans.


Guess what else? I have an assignment due in the morning for which I have only a heading and title.

Blogging/writing is such a guilty pleasure. How come it is all I want to do when I have so much else to get done?

Tomorrow will be...
...exciting. My standard (dance) shoes came in the mail and I get to dance in them for the first time tomorrow!
...3 days before my birthday.
...hump day :) (halfway done with the week!)
...fun? hopefully?
...the day before Britt comes into town.
...a day to learn how to strum on the guitar? {update on this post: I can now decently play a few songs, but only with chords splattered intermittently throughout.}
...a day to brown bag it? (or more accurately, red bag it. I just bought a lunchbag for the lovely price of $2.99)
...a day for confidence, because I can always use a little extra ummph (does anyone actually know how to spell "ummph"?)

That's all for now.

Goodnight world.

image via vi.sualize.us


To Do:

-read 4 New York Times front pages and take a quiz before midnight tonight.
-Try not to stress about all that I have to do tonight/this week.
-finish watching "Doubt" with Katie.
-read many, many articles about early American Christianity and respond.
-FIND A JOB (preferably, that does not involve food unless tips are also involved)
-sleep, eventually.
-do my foxtrot critique for my dance class.
-keep practicing how to not stink at using computers.
-finish reading Ch. 5 and study for Advertising; Test #1: Thursday.
-practice the few chords I know on the guitar.
-eat food.
-go to many, many hours of review sessions/study groups/team meetings for Advertising BEFORE Thursday.

...and yes, I'm blogging. Oh boy. It's gonna be an interesting week.


I'll be true, I'll be useful...I'll be yours, my dear.


I need you to know that I'm really not that needy. I think that some of these little letters only tell you what I want you to be and do and say.

This one is different. This one is about what I will be and do and say. This one is for you, from me. From the me that will someday be the girl you want to spend forever with.

For you, my dear:

I won't always be the perfect woman, but I will always be your imperfect woman.
I will say the wrong thing sometimes, maybe a lot of times; but I promise to apologize. And I'll try to be quick about it, because I detest going to bed angry.

In this letter, I asked you to fight for me and to never give up; I promise to never give up on you, and to fight for us.
Because I've never been much of a quitter.

Sometimes I'll be stubborn. And cry about nothing, or everything. And I'll want to be alone. And sometimes when I tell you I want to be alone, what I need the most is for you to take me in your arms and never let go.

{But I'm getting sidetracked, because this letter isn't about me; it's about you.}

What I'm really trying to say is that I promise to love you, and to love loving you.
Even when your hands aren't as steady as they once were, and mine are a little cracked and wrinkled.

Let's be the ones that grow older, but never grow out of the newlywed stage.

Because as scary as it is for me, I will give you my heart. More importantly, I will want to. The whole messy, fickle, ridiculous thing. All I ask is that you take it and never try to give it back. Because in this game of love, I play for keeps.

image via le love

*Dashboard never fails me. Their lyrics are the voice of my heart so often it's almost frightening.


Am, Em, C, and the D-A-G...

...that's what I've got so far.

{On another note:} Today I let myself daydream a little bit. About life and love and what may or may not be. But it was the good kind of daydreaming, the kind where you still feel content with the way life is right now, even if it's not as much fun as the fantasy. It's the kind of thinking that makes me believe in my dreams. And believe that I deserve to have them come true someday; that I'm enough to make them real.

"The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams."
-Eleanor Roosevelt, (such an articulate lady)

image via vi.sualize.us

{side note}: this is currently hanging on my wall. in poster form. and I absolutely love it.


the tips of my fingers are a little bit tender.

I'm starting a new adventure.
And I'm allowing myself to be hopeful.
And not allowing myself to be lazy.
And it feels really good.

Can you guess what it is?

image via this


"I think that I think too hard, and don't give enough credit to my heart"*

Sometimes someone else composes the music of my heart better than I can, at least right now. I love Holly Brook's entire album, Like Blood Like Honey, but especially the song Curious.

Someone tell me what to do
I feel like I must be a fool
For ending up right back at the start
You know I've tried to do my best
But maybe we weren't meant to strike gold
Will I learn to let go
Give into love and listen to my soul?

I'm so...curious to know
And there are too many unanswered questions

like you

image via deviant art


There is no confusion like the confusion of a simple mind*


I want you to disagree with me, sometimes.
Not all of the time, because that would be annoying.
But if you never have an opinion of your own, that's kind of bothersome.
It's okay to tell me that you like the other shirt better. It's okay to say you prefer Italian over Chinese food. It's okay to enlighten me on a subject you know more about; in fact, please do.

And I need you to "wear the pants," as they say.
I don't want them.
I've never been that girl.
I've always been the easygoing, it's-okay-if-we-do-it-your-way-this-time kind of girl.

Actually, I won't be surprised if your strong opinions and confidence (note: confidence, not arrogance) is one of the first things that attracts me to you. The way that you'll kiss me without asking. The easy and natural silences we'll have, coupled with the passionate discussions about life and all that matters to us. The way you'll show respect to everyone, not just me.

I hope this doesn't seem like too large a request, or too tricky a balance to find: between confidence and consideration of others.

My reasoning is this: I have the feeling I'm an "opposites attract" kind of girl. I'll need to feed off of your confidence, every now and then, because mine has never been too stable.

image via google images

*I do hope you've read The Great Gatsby, and that you understand that being suave is never out of style. Also, you could be Tom, but I will never be Daisy. Ever.


fun fun fun

The lovely Jayne, of the Little Passenger has nominated me for a Kreativ Blogger award. I feel so honored and loved. I know I've mentioned her blog on here before, but really, if you haven't moseyed (sp?) on over there yet....do it!

According to the rules, I must:
1. Thank the person who nominated you for this award.
2. Copy the logo and place it on your blog.
3. Link to the person who nominated you for this award.
4. Name 7 things about yourself that people might not know.
5. Nominate 7 Kreativ Bloggers.
6. Post links to the 7 blogs you nominate.
7. Leave a comment on each of the blogs letting them know they have been nominated.

My seven things:

1) My handwriting changes all the time, depending on my mood, but it is consistently rather large and generally kind of sloppy.

2) I was in my first car wreck when I was about 7. I was driving. The car: a pink Barbie Jeep, (not mine, but the Christmas present I asked for every year after that.) My friend let me drive, and I got us stuck in a ditch. No joke, we had to get out and push. Somehow I feel that this was a defining moment in my life and the formation of who I am: I stink at driving, and I really don't like being in charge.

3) My dream job is a tie between: an actress or a T-shirt designer.

4) I've never cared too much about flowers. I mean, I think they are pretty and all, but I don't dream of a guy showing up on my doorstep with a dozen red roses. When people say "ooh, smell these! Don't they smell so good?," I generally smell and say yes, purely out of courtesy. I actually think flowers just smell....like flowers, and can't really tell the difference. Chocolate, however, is always welcome.

5) I actually like filling out forms. Especially handwritten ones, like at the doctor's office. I don't know why, I just do.

6) In kindergarten, I had a purple sweatshirt with Barney on it. One day, some little female twerp told me Barney was stupid and for babies. I never wore it again. Secretly, I still think Barney is not stupid.

7) The first music group I search for on someone's Ipod is usually Three Days Grace. The first band that comes to mind when people ask what I want to hear is Third Eye Blind. And my favorite number is 3.

And now I nominate....

Amanda & Dave from a liberation broadcast
E from all about the wordplay
BigEyes from BigEyes in a small World
Melissa from Operation Nice
Britt from No One Can Remember the End
Colby Ranae from Pray Hard. Live Easy.
Franziska from The Catcher in the Rye

happy blogging!


"The heart has reasons that reason does not understand" --Jacques Benigne Bossuel

Let's strip down.
Take it all off.
The makeup, the fake smile, the layers of clothes.
Or better, the things we make up, the false assumptions about you and me and us, and the layers of padding we smother our hearts with.

Let's really see each other.
Let's share our imperfection and maybe find affection.
You'll admire my blemishes, and I'll kiss your scars.
Let's get down to who we are. And forget about who we aren't.

Being perfect would be so boring.
Flaws make life interesting.
Let's strip down to just our two hearts, a little broken but still beating.
And see if we can't find something to talk about.

And maybe even fall in love.
Because all the garbage you've been told to think about me is gone.
You can see my naked heart for what it really is; for who I really am.

Let's strip down to two hearts, and find a common rhythm.
And maybe we will see that we really aren't that different after all.
Let's not be afraid to be real.
Let's not be afraid to feel.

"Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius, and it's better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring." -Marilyn Monroe

image via this


Take your pick.

Ballroom dance is sort of like:

a) an abusive boyfriend that I love too much to leave.
b)Edward Cullen--perfect, enough that I never feel quite worthy of it.
c) the carrot in front of the horse--just tempting enough to make me look like an idiot chasing it.

And now, cast your vote...

I should now spend my "spare" time:
a) learning to play the guitar.
b) focusing solely on my schoolwork
c) dancing on my own, in preparation for another game of "who's good enough for Gold Latin?"
d) all of the above? would I die from that?

Ok. I'm done wallowing. I'm so moving on. Honest.

Also. I need to go job-hunting tomorrow. Ugh.


Food for Naught

Tonight I had resentment and regret for dinner,
With a side of self pity and a big glass of "woe is me."
The pièce de résistance was a whopping slice of humble pie, for dessert, of course.
I crunched and chewed and chomped until there was nothing left.
And then vomited my frustrations out of my timid brown eyes.

And now I have that slightly sick feeling of doubt, self doubt.
And wondering where and how to begin again.

I'm thinking about brewing some hope for tomorrow,
If my stomach is settled by then.
But it's kind of temperamental at the moment.

image via deviantart


"te amo con toda mi fe sin medidas"*

Life/Love can be tricky. Two choices are presented. To ease into something that is good and comfortable and easy, or to venture into the something foreign and scary and unsure.

Sometimes you have to choose between something great and something that might be even better. Or it could also be disastrous. That 's the risk.

The logical mind thinks: What's the point in letting yourself become attached to someone who may or may not be at all attached to you. Or at least not in the same way. You are such good friends, why risk losing that?

But the hopelessly romantic heart says: You will never know for sure. What is life if you don't let yourself feel with your whole heart. And too late, the damage is already done. Bring it on. All of it.

The catch is that the decision is not whether or not to let go of something bad for something good, but to let go of something lukewarm and stagnant for something that puts your heart in motion and lets it do what it does best: love.

It makes sense to me that, a lot of times, you have to fight to enjoy the best in life. By fighting, you are acknowledging that whatever or whoever is worth it. By taking that risk, you realize that whatever the outcome may be, however much it might kill you in the end, you'll take it because the chance of being with that person is worth it. And because of the undying hope we all have somewhere in our hearts (buried as it may be) that things will work out, someday.

*so I'm on a maná kick...love them.
image via deviantart