Saturday, April 25, 2009

i know, i know, i really like giving everything a yellow tint

I hope he's not embarrassed that I am putting this picture up, but... I just think it's a great picture.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

tip my cup

Who here is terrified to even begin to think about writing their finals for Modern American Lit. and Beat? Me. Papers scare the dickens out of me. You guys... I just said the word "dick". I am so embarrassed. Shit! I just said the word "ass"!

Here's something that will be stupid to explain, but I'm going to anyway. So I think you are technically supposed to put the punctuation inside of the parenthesis above (unless there had been a question mark), but I don't think that makes sense. I started to explain why it doesn't make sense, but then I deleted it because it was sooo boring, but if you are on the edge of your seat wanting to know why I refuse to follow the rules on this one, fax me. Otherwise, I'll just leave you hangin'.

I am a human Mad Lib. As simple (and as complicated) as that. My dear Jack said that we are all Mad Libs, which I thought was so perfect. We fill in the blanks all the time. I fill in the blanks constantly. It's pretty much what I do best (aside from avoiding writing papers). And filling in the blanks without any previous knowledge gets me into trouble! Remember the movie Double Trouble with The Barbarian Brothers? Cool. Anyway, I am working hard at being less fill in the blank and more fill in the cat:

Let's talk more about The Barbarian Brothers. Just kidding.

Today while driving to work, I realized that I tend to give strangers nicknames that are both stupid and a little bit rude. For example, I saw some dude with dumb sneakers and I just called him "Shoes". A chick with a dumb cowboy hat on became "Hat". Then there was the douche wearing a douchey V-neck who was known as "V-neck Douche". I wonder what I would call myself if I wasn't myself and saw myself (who's not really myself) walking down the street... I would probably call myself "Mad Lib" or "theoretical physicist". But that's just filling in the blank.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

if you leave me comments, i will not kill you

things to do:
see a therapist
eat mindfully
write in my journal
meditate regularly
talk to girls
hang out with girls
stop procrastinating everything
organize something
sleep more, much more
have a talk
have a few talks
become enlightened
become ordained
pass the sacrament
cliff diving (psych)
learn to swim (meh)

Monday, April 20, 2009

cathedrals kind of freak me out

I am sad today. Well, maybe sad isn't the right word. I am panicked. Yes yes, about school/finals, but there is something else contributing to my panic/anxiety... Maybe a couple of something elses... And it is driving me nuts that I can't quite put my finger on what is bothering me. So... Can anyone tell me what's wrong? Does anyone want to completely take away this anxiety for me? All I need is someone to write my papers for me and to give me an bottomless pill bottle of Xanax. That's all I need. That's not asking for too much, right? OHHH and a hug would be okay, too.

finals? more like week long caffeine binge.

So we all know that I love writing. But when what I am writing will be marked up with a red pen, pointing out all of the places I am wrong, and when what I am writing will ultimately determine the rest of my life, I freeze up a bit. I get extremely stressed out. I eat a lot of cereal. I spend hours on one page. I take Facebook quizzes. I update my Twitter. I create a blog post. I send texts. I do anything I possibly can to distract myself from what I initially loved doing. Maybe if the pen wasn't red. Maybe if instead of grades, professors gave emoticons. Maybe if we could turn in blogs instead of scholarly papers. Maybe if all of these things happened, I would be less terrified.

But until then, I am terrified.

I am also terrified about a bunch of other (and more serious) things. But I can worry about and obsessively eat cereal over those things after finals.

Who here is, like, sooo bored that they wouldn't mind writing a ten page paper about, you know, Modern American Literature and shit? Because if you don't mind doing this for me, give me a call or fax me. I'll be waiting.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

give me an apple and i'll give you a blossom

I don't know if what I write on this blog really matters... At all. I don't really talk about anything of "importance" or give any sage advice. I usually tend to just make trite lists or throw out a few one liners. But maybe when you have nothing to say, that's when you have everything to say. Hey! I DO give sage advice!

Remember the foot of snow we got last night? Now imagine Cathy (from the beloved comic strip) with her wide eyes and her aggravated "AAARRRGGGHHH!!!" This is how I feel about the whole snow situation. I know I know I know I know I know I know-- griping about the weather is so overdone. Well you know what else is overdone? Uh... Your mom?

Do you, masked readers, ever worry about being overbearing? Because I do. Constantly. But at the same time, I worry about being too distant from friends and loved ones. Not completely opening up, being honest, etc. Do I latch on or am I a loner? Loner or latcher? Gemini or Taurus? I can answer that last one-- I am a Gemini. Which means I am probably both a loner and a latcher. It also means that Mary-Kate and Ashley and I share the same sign. HoLLa to your mother!!!

I feel very insecure about this post.

It is full of words I do not know if I used "correctly." And it references Cathy. I feel naked.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

leave me comments and i will give you forty-seven dollars

Warning: I am in one of those moods where I want to write a post about everything and nothing. Nothing in the sense that none of my everythings will mean anything. This post will not be linear in any way. It is guaranteed to be too long (that's what she said). It may also contain boring and potentially embarrassing material. It is also flammable. Yes, you heard correctly-- this post is flammable. Do not light your cigar while reading Her Fog and Pearls. Warning.

I just told a guy and a girl exiting the museum to "have a good day." But for some unexplainable reason, I said it in an Australian accent. What the fuck, right? (I apologize for the "fuck" word, Mama. But you are French, so you understand.)

I am so super good at British accents. Terrible at Australian accents.

Last semester I sat around and did nothing. I mean, I did all of my homework. I got good grades. I taught a few classes on the Pledge of Allegiance (which was disgusting). But man oh man it was boring. And kind of depressing. I sat in the same classroom for four hours each day with the same group of very Utah county girls way out in the Education Building. I didn't even feel like I was going to school. I missed out on a lot. And then I decided, "Hey, let's give English another shot." I also decided, "Hey, let's microwave a burrito." I microwaved a lot of burritos that semester. A girl gets hungry when she is lying to nine-year-olds about how totally awesome the Pledge is. So anyway, long story short, this semester back as an English major has probably been my best semester so far. And I think it has to do with me finally feeling at peace/comfortable with my academic decision, and also how involved I have been. Now I haven't been super crazy involved with anything and everything school related, but I am sure as hell being much more proactive than I have in the past. I am in clubs. I finally joined Phi Kappa Phi (the National Honor Society), which I have been invited to join multiple times, but just recently got common sense and realized, "Hey, maybe it would be a really good idea to actually join. Also, where's my burrito?" I want to write for the newspaper. I help out in student elections. I submit things to Touchstones. I actually read all (okay, most) of the assigned readings in my classes. I deserve a small pat on the back. And a burrito. (That last burrito reference was too much. Not funny. And not even true. That's why it wasn't funny-- because it wasn't true. I apologize.)

Okay, I think I will publish this post now. There's definitely more I could say, but it's time for me to write someone lovely a letter. I will put that letter in a bottle, but I will refrain from throwing it into the sea. Perhaps I will throw it into a bathtub instead.

Post Script: Here is a cool picture of a giant typewriter.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

leave me comments

I have had a tummyache for the past two days. I think it's due to what I have been eating. Digestion problems. Or something. Okay, gross. Anyway, this under the weather feeling plus lack of sleep plus normal school stress plus probably things I have repressed have turned me into a deflated balloon. I have no energy. I feel kind of sad. And boo hoo hoo wa wa poor me. Things really aren't that bad. In an attempt to get myself out of this funk, I am going to list all of the nice and pleasant things that have happened today:

*I was able to meditate this morning.
*I got a good parking spot.
*While walking to class, I ran into Jack, which NEVER happens. Possibly the best person I could have run into.
*It was and probably still is a beautiful day outside. Like, REALLY beautiful.
*My professor really liked the piece I wrote in my creative nonfiction class.
*I found out this kid in my class in gay and for some reason that made me really happy. Gay that he's gay, right?
*A girl complimented me on my shoes.
*I was able to see Jack for an hour or so before work.
*I drove with the windows rolled down.
*My coworker saw me in the parking lot and gave me a big hug.
*People have been leaving me nice comments on Facebook.
*I just discovered that I am god.

I am going to hug tackle all of you.

Sunday, April 5, 2009

"the master's gone alone herb-picking somewhere on the mount, cloud-hidden, whereabouts unknown."

I slept until noon today, which is quite late for me. Of course, I didn't fall asleep until 5am, so sleeping in wasn't actually sleeping in. Anyway, having a late start to my day has thrown me off a bit and I think it has made me somewhat anxious. I am feeling better now, though. I think a lot of it has to do with going for a walk and then sitting in a park while reading Alan Watts. God bless that Mr. Watts. No matter what I read of his, it is always enlightening and it always excites me. I want to buy everyone in the world a Watts book. It is my mission. I will go door to door and spread the word. I will tell people that I am a special witness of Alan Watts and that I have an important message to share with those who will open their minds and be.

One particular line that stood out to me when I was reading Watts today (I read from his book Cloud-Hidden Whereabouts Unknown: A Mountain Journal) was, "If ever I have to get away from it all... there is simply nothing better than to climb out onto a rock, and sit for hours with nothing in sight but sea and sky." For those (Jack) who know what happened in Moab, this line is even more beautiful. To put it simply, I agree. This is exactly what I do/would want to do if ever I have to get away from it all... Or if ever I have to be with it all. Be. Be be be be be.

While sitting in the park, a black dog happily ran up to me and nearly jumped into my lap. Then it happily ran off. That dog is so much wiser than I am.

Friday, April 3, 2009

let's all hold hands and tell each other it will be okay and then let's go out to get something to eat, like a hamburger minus the ham and burger

Lately I have had extreme difficulties in expressing myself. The words that come out of my mouth don't sound like me at all. I dance around the subject, I don't even know what the subject is, I trail off, I speak far too abstractly... What is it that I am trying to get at? Why do I no longer write at night (blog doesn't count)? Why do I just want to keep sleeping? The last question can be answered easily and non-poetically: because I am tired and sleep is awesome. Anyway. Here are a few things that help keep me feeling okay. Nature. Buddhism. Tea. Books. Sleep. Sundays. Quiet. Jacket.

I need to get rid of the rug and the broom and start confronting myself.