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.

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.

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.

"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.

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.

hiding from salesmen

There is a poet that I like named Scott Poole. He is from Vancouver, Washington and is the resident poet of Oregon Public Broadcasting's monthly show, "Live Wire!" Today I was reading an interview he did a few years back. When asked what his writing routine was, he answered...

"Well, first I drop into a cold sweat. Then I lie on the floor and wonder if I'm dying. Then I see if there is anything on television that I can steal. Of course, there never is. Then I sharpen a #2 Ticonderoga pencil and throw it into the swimming pool. After that I consider becoming a Barista or Phlebotomist. Then I panic again. Then I watch the movie Barfly, if I haven't done so in the last month. Then I drink a six pack of Fat Tire ale and fall asleep under the living room rug. When I wake up hungover I do seven hundred jumping jacks and then prepare a meal out of nothing but extra virgin olive oil, leeks, and the latest issue of Sports illustrated. Then I eat a box of cookies and read a few lines out of The Old Man and the Sea: "I have seen lions on the beach..." Then I burst into tears and roll down the stairs. At this point I'm just about ready. I play every CD I have that mentions Johnny Cash or is influenced by him. Then I put on my writing underwear with a picture of Emily Dickinson on the crotch. Then I stare at the wall for 17.5 minutes. Then I start writing with no clue, and eventually I produce some piece of trash that I take out and throw in this deep pit I have dug in the back yard. Then I burst into tears, make a sandwich, and tell myself that I'm a freakin' hack and that I don't deserve to live. As I am driving the car at breakneck speed towards a cliff to kill myself, a great idea usually pops into my head at that moment and I have to stop and write it on my leg with a pen I keep in the glovebox for just such an emergency. Well, maybe it doesn't always work exactly like that, but that's how it feels."

Amen.

ich liebe dich

So I am at work right now and I can hear bagpipe music coming from some mysterious location... And it's not just any old bagpipe music, but rather Star Wars theme bagpipe music. Okay okay okay, makes sense. Nope. It doesn't.

I am sweeping the entire museum floor right now. Which is a pain. But then I get to mop! And I genuinely enjoy mopping floors. Mopping floors is like raking sand in a Zen garden for me. While sweeping and mopping, I usually listen to podcasts. Today I have listened to an Alan Watts podcast and will maybe listen to a Radio West podcast. Pod pod pod. Cast cast cast. You know the trailers that schools sometimes use for extra classrooms? Are they called pods? They are, aren't they? And what's the deal with the caste system? Maybe I can create an entire comedy routine based on caste systems. And genocide. No? No, probably not.

I wrote a poem last week about God letting everyone walk on water for one day only. Did I already mention this? I am a teeny tiny bit pleased with it. It has a LONG way to go, but the idea I am working towards is something I kind of like.

You know what else I kind of like? Cleansing the doors of perception. And by "kind of like" I mean "kind of really love". I love you!