"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)

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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!

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When your secret heart cannot speak so easily

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



Love-to-be:
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.

Love,
Laura


*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.

Awakening

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.
Listen.
Love.
Share.

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....

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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?}