The Secret Life of B

love (and a happy vday to all of you)

2012-02-14T08:39:00.001-07:00

When you say the word love, your tongue drops to the basement of your mouth,

and the space grows there in the middle, between your cheeks;

and your teeth catch on your lips for the most satisfying vvvvvvibration.

When you say the word love, you should be sitting hip to hip on a cement curb in July.

You should be eating Thai food in the living room--

you should be in that place where the stars are the brightest, to you at least.

When you say the word love, you should really, really say it.

You should save that word for the times when it is the only word that can possibly be.

When you say the word love, your heart just drops to the bottom of your heels

(and floats all the way back up).

There should and will be all of this space inside, new space carved out to make room for your new heart.

The words will catch on your spirit, for the most satisfying vvvvvvibration.

photo of Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward via

a bridal shower

2012-02-07T11:29:00.001-07:00

A fabulous night (in honor of my best friend Amy)

of turkey burgers and raspberry tarts,

great gifts and advice,

and lots of friends who care:

cafe trio

2012-02-03T11:40:00.002-07:00

Last weekend, I spent an evening with two of my best friends at Cafe Trio in SLC. We waited an hour for a table, huddled against the wall under a coat rack. There were too many people, and the small foyer smelled strongly of stale smoke and consumed alcohol. But it was perfect really. The food was divine and the conversation was genuine. I left feeling so warm and hopeful--only the best kind of friends can do that to you.

to put it simply, now

2012-02-01T11:56:00.001-07:00

"There may be more beautiful times, but this one is ours."

Jean-Paul Sartre

I sit here, writing. There's this way that my fingers dance on the keyboard--skipping frenetically for materializing thoughts. My eyes are presently dry from urgency, and will be until my lids remember to quench the lenses the allow me sight. And I do in actuality, bite my bottom lip--my tongue and teeth pin it in unfelt pain.

But I do not write about these things; I don't write about what is happening right this very, very moment. My words are most often about the past, soaking in and learning from it. And of course they're often about the future, about charging forward and summoning moxie and jumping off of figurative brave cliffs.

And that's too bad, I think. Some of the best things and purest thoughts are happening right now, and it'd be such a shame if I let the past swallow it all whole or the future fade the vibrance. I'd like to learn to do that illusive thing we call "living in the moment." I'd like to love my own seconds, much more than Paris in the twenties and more than that dinner last week.

There have been wonderful times in the history of everything. And I have such beautiful pasts and futures of my own, I know. But it's nice that today is mine, and it is all I need to shoulder for now.

image: a still from one of my current favorites

instalife

2012-01-20T13:22:00.002-07:00

1. I could not love grapefruit and blood oranges more.

2. Loving on Gretchen's little Jude (again and again).

3-4. Shopping for my best friend's wedding.

5. New reads.

6. My sister, on stage.

7. Love catching up with old friends (and marking the moment with every camera).

8. Moody clouds.

9-10. Lunching with mom at our favorite place.

11. After a crazy warm spell, it's starting to feel like winter.

12. Rain at night.

13-14. Veggie burgers with Gretch at Station 22.

that magical place, and a book review

2012-01-12T11:19:00.004-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about technology and about our digital lives. As a lover of the humanities, I've always felt some kind of responsibility to protect things like paper, pens, books. Like there should be some of us that aggressively disdain products and practices that usurp nostalgic creativity. So when I started taking design and internet rhetoric classes at school, and decided to start this blog, and even got a job writing for an online audience, it seemed like I was betraying my people and some great communal cause.

I'll tell you something--I believe in progression. I think this digital age has done more for art, creativity, and human-ness than we really know. I think technology is an astounding tool for the artist.

And so, Walter Isaacson's Steve Jobs biography was a kind of revelation. A really fabulous read, at least. Honestly, I can't say that I respect Steve Jobs entirely--he was rough and even cruel (as we all can be, of course). But I also admire his vision, his taste, his intensity, and his loyalty to family. My contradicting feelings are just what the author intended I think--Isaacson wrote a brilliantly balanced account of an incredibly interesting life. I loved reading about a man (and his projects) that shaped our culture and changed modern human communication.

A few of my favorite parts (from Jobs himself):

"Edwin Land of Polaroid talked about the intersection of the humanities and science. I like that intersection. There's something magical about that place. ... The reason Apple resonates with people is that there's a deep current of humanity in our innovation. I think great artists and great engineers are similar, in that they both have a desire to express themselves. In fact some of the best people working on the original Mac were poets and musicians on the side. In the seventies computers became a way for people to express their creativity. Great artists like Leonardo Da Vinci and Michelangelo were also great at science. Michelangelo knew a lot about how to quarry stone, not just how to be a sculptor."

"What drove me? I think most creative people want to express appreciation for being able to take advantage for the work that's been done by others before us. I didn't invent the language or mathematics I use. I make little of my own food, none of my own clothes. Everything I do depends on other members of our species and the shoulders that we stand on. And a lot of us want to contribute something back to our species and to add something to the flow. It's about trying to express something in the only way that most of us know how--because we can't write Bob Dylan songs or Tom Stoppard plays. We try to use the talents we do have to express our deep feelings, to show our appreciation of all the contributions that came before us, and to add something to that flow. That's what has driven me."

To his wife, Laurene, on their 20th wedding anniversary:
"We didn't know much about each other twenty years ago. We were guided by our intuition; you swept me off my feet. It was snowing when we got married at the Ahwahnee. Years passes, kids came, good times, hard times, but never bad times. Our love and respect has endured and grown. We've been through so much together and here we are right back where we started 20 years ago--older, wiser--with wrinkles on our faces and hearts. We now know many of life's joys, sufferings, secrets and wonders and we're still here together. My feet have never returned to the ground."

the holidays

2012-01-05T14:55:00.001-07:00

(Mostly instagrammed naturally.)

2011

2011-12-31T13:11:00.001-07:00

Even though my relationship with blogging is fickle (at best some days), I am so thankful for my blog today--on the last day of the year. I love that in twenty minutes I saw just what I've done and remembered some of the things I've learned in 2011.

And I didn't even blog about it all. 2011, in my mind, is the year that I graduated from college and left behind my Provo and a university experience that I can only call glorious. It's also the year that my brother returned home from his two-year mission and my family was finally all together again.

I also learned that I cared so much about Harry Potter, about Shakespeare, about dance, and about writing. I cared so much about my best friends' weddings (one and two). I actually didn't hate winter so much this year and I celebrated weather. I realized what I want to be, but I learned to be thankful for what and where I am now. I threw parties. I met amazing people. I made some good steps.

Happy new year, friends. I'm excited to face it together.

aly's wedding weekend

2011-12-30T12:10:00.004-07:00

A few photos from the wedding weekend:

I'll tell you something--there's really nothing better than seeing people you love incredibly happy.

It's just the stuff of life.

christmas wishes (and elsewhere)

2011-12-22T09:18:00.000-07:00

Christmas is practically here.

To celebrate, I'm over at Good day, Sunshine guest posting about one of my favorite Christmas traditions. Elesia's blog is one of my newest must-reads--she is so genuine and her blog is so bright. Check out my post here.

And to all of you bloggy friends (and the real-life ones who lurk here),

Merry, merry Christmas.

on the darkest day

2011-12-21T07:09:00.003-07:00

"The human potential is the most magical but also the most elusive fact of life. Men suffer less from hunger or dread than from living under their moral capacity. The atrophy of spirit that most men know and all men fear is tied not so much to deprivation or abuse as it is to their inability to make real the best that lies within them. Defeat begins more with a blur in the vision of what is humanly possible than with the appearance of ogres in the path or a hell beyond the next turning."

Norman Cousins, Saturday Review, 6 February 1965
image via

an update (more to come)

2011-12-20T11:39:00.004-07:00

I took a little trip to Denver with my best friends for our Aly's wedding weekend.

I'm feeling so thankful for these ladies of mine and for forever families.

I have lots of photos and memories to share after the holidays--

I hope your weekend was wonderful too.

let's bring back...

2011-12-15T12:48:00.000-07:00

In 2007, Leslie M. M. Blume started a column called "Let's Bring Back" that celebrated, in her words, "forgotten-yet-delightful fashions, pastimes, objects, and personalities." She released a book based on her hundreds of articles just last month (which I can't wait to get my hands on) and inspired me to make my own short list of things that I think should make a comeback.

1. Balloons at any and all celebrations. photo

2. Carrying a pen to write when inspiration strikes. photo

3. Saving pretty packaging. photo

4. Signature scents. photo

5. Going to the ballet. photo

What do you think? What should make a comeback?

this wild heart of mine

2011-12-13T06:52:00.002-07:00

“The difficulty for me is that I’m interested in so many different things. I could never really imagine myself doing one thing, and I’m pretty sure that I’ll end up doing four or five things. I want to be a Renaissance woman. I want to paint, and I want to write, and I want to act, and I want to just do everything.”

Emma Watson

See her full interview here.
Read more about my Renaissance woman aspirations here.
photo via

a new place i love

2011-12-12T17:31:00.001-07:00

Between my wonderful internship, more frequent shopping excursions, and my brother's away basketball games, I've been spending a lot more time (read: most all of my time) in Salt Lake City. I've seen the summer end, the leaves dry up, the winter smog settle in. I've eaten breakfast in the car as sun rises over the mountains. I watch the sun set beneath the skyline each afternoon.

It's exciting to know a new place a little better, to have another set of streets feel like your own.

scenes from thanksgiving

2011-12-01T20:42:00.000-07:00

1. The holidays in full swing at work.

2. My Aly's wedding invitation in the mail.

3. Baking all morning with Mom.

4. The main event.

5-7. A day with family at my grandparent's home.

8. Traditional post-feast movie (at Thanksgiving Point naturally).

9-10. A Friday matinee (of one of my favorites) at Hale Center Theatre.

seasonal

2011-11-29T19:32:00.000-07:00

Someone quite acute,

some years ago,

noticed the darker sky and vapid air

and thought to dress bare trees in light.

givingthanks (written 11.25.11)

2011-11-28T22:30:00.000-07:00

weekend of weekends

2011-11-22T23:14:00.000-07:00

1. My friends know how I love white dinnerware (from our new Crate and Barrel).

2. Tis the season for peppermint hot chocolate and long drives with Stacey.

3. My new watch that I just can't stop looking at.

4. Gretchen and Griffin's little Jude Matthew--my high school bff is a mother!

5-10. Shopping in downtown SLC with my people.

11. These sunsets make traffic almost bearable.

12. I'm a fashion magazine junky (and I still adore the Olsen twins).

a weekend find

2011-11-21T12:50:00.010-07:00

I spotted Lauren Bush and David Lauren's love story and wedding photos in Vogue over the weekend and haven't stopped thinking about them. I'm dying over Lauren's dress (Ralph Lauren, naturally), and the easy chicness of the mountain backdrop. I love the idea of a black-tie affair in the most natural setting. My taste is usually a little more modern, but romantic rustic Americana has never looked so good--I think I've found myself a new dream wedding.

Postnote: I love that Lauren legally changed her name to Lauren Bush Lauren.

reported snow: a farewell to colored fall

2011-11-17T18:05:00.001-07:00

I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields,
that it kisses them so gently?
And then covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt;
and perhaps it says
"Go to sleep, darlings, till summer comes again."
Lewis Carroll

I'm so inspired by the seasons, and by their fluttered colors--
it feels even Wordsworthian, or Keats-ish inside.
I'm thankful, this year, for the most genuine autumn,
and for shared anticipation of silencing winter.

a thankful thought

2011-11-10T12:02:00.000-07:00

It's not all that hard to feel grateful when you live in London, and when you eat fig gelato under the Eiffel Tower on Bastille Day. And it doesn't feel very hard when your wallet turns up in the lost and found at Target. And when you unwrap just what you want on Christmas morning.

But I've been thinking about thanksgiving and about gratefulness--it's what November does to all of us I expect. You know, it shouldn't be harder to feel grateful when you don't have long-term plans, or even short-term plans--when your pay checks really aren't monumental and you live in the basement of your parent's home. It should be just the same. Different of course, but the same.

Different because I've never commuted with my dad every day before. And for four years, I didn't get to eat dinner with my mom each night or see my siblings on Halloween. Different because I have some time to think. And the same because, well, all of it is just as good as the other stuff--that fig gelato stuff.

I'm so thankful for the lives I've lived, but more importantly I'm trying to be thankful for the life I have now.

"Gratitude expressed to our Heavenly Father in prayer for what we have brings a calming peace--a peace which allows us to not canker our souls for what we don't have. Gratitude brings us a peace that helps us over come the pain of adversity and failure. Gratitude on a daily basis means we express appreciation for what we have now without qualification for what we had in the past or desire in the future. . . .We express thankfulness for what happens, not only for the good things in life but also for the opposition and challenges of life that add to our experience and faith. We put our lives in His hands, realizing that all that transpires will be for our experience."
Elder Robert D. Hales

image via

same old

2011-11-08T22:16:00.007-07:00

If you didn't know, I'm actually pretty good at making the smallest things the biggest thing:

I can't even tell you how many times I've eaten a grilled chicken salad at Cafe Rio. My friends and I, we pick up food to nosh on in front of our favorite (trivial) television. We take it to parks and to living rooms and sit in big circles, pinching off bits of tortilla and prattling with black beans in our molars. We huddle around the small painted tables and talk about graduating from the life that put us all here together. And we go, just two of us sometimes, to make bigger friendship over guacamole. We take pictures all inside and outside of this place; I can't even tell you how many pictures I have of myself at Cafe Rio.

These--well they're just some of my favorites.

a new favorite

2011-11-01T21:56:00.000-06:00

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Mary Oliver, Wild Geese

image via

lately

2011-10-28T06:58:00.000-06:00

1. I don't mind the later sunrises.
2. Last treats (from my favorite bakery) shared with friends before the fall of healthy eating.
3. Halloween pumpkins all lined up.
4. I can't even believe I took this picture. For the record, I am against bathroom iPhone photos.
5. Tour of the press. I was much more impressed by the old stuff.
6. Pretty flowers that last into autumn.
7-8. Watching my brother play as a Cougar for the first time.

to come

2011-10-24T22:32:00.000-06:00

In apartment 2008/9, I slept up high, right next to a window. Each winter morning I'd hope that the sun had stolen winter away, and that the ice wouldn't be so frozen. I'd carefully poke a few fingers out to tug the kissing curtains apart. The cold and winter and dark would swirl into my small room and I'd hear the people cracking across the parking lot in their boots on their way to chilled cars and classes. I'd hear them laugh and talk. I felt boundlessly lonely then, on those mornings.

I'll tell you something though--something that I won't admit to ever saying if you bring it up in conversation--I'm almost wishing for the winter this year. I could welcome the quiet and comfort. And the hibernation--the chance to nestle for brighter, burning things.

Image: Monet, The Magpie (a favorite of mine)

for all of them

2011-10-14T17:52:00.007-06:00

Today, I am thankful for women who are good friends. And for friends who are good women.

the weather, and the morning

2011-10-12T21:29:00.001-06:00

So I'm here today. I'm here today because this morning was soft and quiet at 7:28 a.m. The world was midnight, and I a voyeur of morning. The full moon still clung high to the pink sky and it shone so brightly on the blue mountains. It looked so big--of course the moon is big, but it seemed so much bigger than the mountains this morning.

The morning was beautiful.
This fall, it's been beautiful.

I've been thinking about the world and about its weather. When strangers or acquaintances or even friends have nothing to say, they talk about precipitation and about sky. How 'bout that rain? So did you see the moon this morning? We talk about these things as if they were the most mundane of topics--the weakest of conversation. Small strands that barely tie all of us together.

Small strands that cradle us all. Small strands that change what we wear, how we feel. The rain can be right.

It can set me right.

Admittedly, my friend Laura and I have been on the same wavelength. Read her ode to the big small things.

to the crazy ones

2011-10-06T18:09:00.000-06:00

A Disclaimer:
I have no particular interest in technology.
Nor have I followed the (apparently) triumphant career of Steve Jobs.
I only passively love my Apple toys.

The Point:
I do really really appreciate people who do what they love.
People who do what they love well and differently.

life lately

2011-10-03T21:31:00.000-06:00

1. Clever music and bright colors at Mary Poppins with my family and Nik.

2. Letters and checks in the mailbox.

3. Spending lunch in the Joseph Smith Memorial Building.

4. Celebrating Gretch and her little nugget with the cutest cheesecakes and cobblers.

5. Making friends with coworkers and loving our end of summer BBQ.

6. My darling grandma turned 66 years young!

my new job

2011-09-15T20:05:00.000-06:00

I'm mainly here to fill up the silence that my blog has become.
I love my blog, but I love living in the moment more.

I've started a new writing and editing job and it's totally filled my days for the past couple of weeks. I'll say that I love it. And that the people I work with and for are incredibly smart, helpful, and funny. I feel thankful that I'm checking sources and verifying copyright in a beautiful city in perfect almost-autumn air. I'm happy to be writing about things that matter to me--I'm inspired by my research daily.

So excuse the quietness for now. I'll find the balance (soon) and be back in some capacity.

My great grandparents Jo and Mel

2011-09-12T22:49:00.000-06:00

These people who are my family, the ones I never knew and can't remember--

I'm so happy that they're mine.

That many things tie us together,

things like old stories

and new movies watched by three generations on one bed.

being a lady, and a guest post

2011-09-01T09:19:00.001-06:00

Yesterday I guest posted on Mandy's blog, Love You Long Time. I've known Mandy since high school and she was one of the first people I connected with in the blogging world. I think the world of her--she really is intelligent and refined. I like her and her blog so much. Mandy and women like her have really inspired me to become the best kind of woman, and I decided to write about what being a lady means to me. You can find my post here.

And make sure to read the other guest posts this week! Kelsie posted today about her summer stay in New Zealand and I loved what she said about traveling and the perspective it gives.

Happy Thursday friends!

image

all us kids

2011-08-29T14:59:00.002-06:00

I spent a few days with my little cousins while their parents were away. They explained to me why their hair wouldn't curl and how to wiggle shin guards on over long black socks. And how Hawaiian pizza is cooked over those beachy volcanos. We were all just children together--I the oldest and most allowed to use sharp knives and stay up late reading catalogues in bed.

California with friends, part II

2011-08-23T10:52:00.002-06:00

After hanging out in Newport Beach all weekend, we made a trip up to Anaheim for a little bit of Disneyland. I can't resist this place. People complain about the crowds and the commercialism and and cheese, but I'll tell you something--it's actually all magic. When you're singing along to Disney songs in the car, when you're screaming for your hair on Splash Mountain, when you're eating churros and ice cream and fried chicken all day, when you're flying over London with Peter Pan--it's all magic.

See the first CA post here.

California with friends

2011-08-19T13:44:00.004-06:00

My long weekend in Orange County with friends--

Half Crescent Beach on an overcast day. Wandering the PCH in Laguna. Fish tacos on the patio. Dancing with old friends at Laura's beautiful wedding. Frozen bananas and hippo cookies on Balboa Island. Picking out our favorite waterfront properties. Visiting the Newport Beach Temple. Dinner and a long chat at sunset at the Newport pier. Being with two of my best friends 24/7 again. Realizing that I could easily settle in the hills by the beach.

Plain

2011-08-04T07:58:00.008-06:00

I sat in church, sharing a hymn book with a new friend
and clumsily harmonized with his deep voice.
He held the pages in the just the right spots so I could see all the words.

I walked home in the good sun
and the mud from the storms clung to my heels in great gobs.

I clapped with my uncles and aunts and parents and grandparents
when my littlest cousin took her some of her first precarious steps.

I closed myself in a dressing room with pretty dresses and I
swiveled to peek at my reflection over my shoulder. I will wait for a sale.

I ate dinner from a communal pizza box as we drove to the mountains.

I read my book about Americans in Paris aloud for a little while
and I prayed for my short plans, for my mother, and for my friends who need help.

I know that life is pretty plain,
that happiness is simple if you look for it in the right places.

A renaissance woman

2011-07-28T13:48:00.004-06:00

School ended quietly, and I fell into the familiar summerly pattern of working days and outside nights. I forgot that August would bring a flat-topped cap and tassels hanging in my graduated face. And when I remembered, it all felt so dim and gaunt.

I'm a student. I don't know if I've ever really said that--

I have written a lot about my university experience, about how it has been the very thing that filled the gaping hell it erected. I've written of professors and classmates and the things I've learned and built, but I've never really told you how much of a student I am. I love school. I am a student. Learning is what I'm good at. Being curious is my skill. Creating is what I want. Sitting in classes with brilliant minds and kindred spirits, talking about art and literature and performance and humans, writing about the things I really care about--it's the best thing I have ever heard of. If they'd let me, I would have triple-majored, or quadruple. I could have been a psychologist, a neuroscientist, a chef, a graphic designer, a museum loiterer. I would have spent decades here, learning about the things of the world, of other worlds, of self.

So the end of my student-hood (at least for now), well, it has seemed deathly to me. So dim, and like I said, gaunt. We students need swirling poetries and colors to paint our eyes wide. We need discoveries (to us) and beliefs. We need rebirth.

And so, I can't tell you what I will be when I grow up. There are too many options. I have so many interests and inclinations, and I hate to toot my own horn, but so many talents too (toot, toot). I'm not sure how to put all of my self to good use yet. But I will do a lot of things. I will write, teach, paint, travel, read, dance, love, testify. I plan to study all of the things I want to study, with or without awarded degrees.

I will recreate myself over and over, reteach the things I love, remake previous catastrophes, revive my mind.

I will resurrect dedication and occasional frenzy.

I am a renaissance woman.

of cousin and college

2011-07-19T10:36:00.003-06:00

My sweet cousin Kailey came to spend the weekend with me in Provo. As she moves into her first college apartment, I'll be leaving my last (terrible luck), so we treated our little weekend like an unofficial college life orientation. We went to movies, indulged in yummy food, walked around campus, drove up the canyon for the view, and took late night swims. Though campus is pretty quiet in the summer and Provo seemed a little empty and sleepy, I was so proud to show my places off. She is so smart and confident already, but I'm excited for her to live this life.

We ate lime and strawberry popsicles on my bed and I tried to tell her about the fullness of college. About the sometimes loneliness of it all. About the shocking things you learn to think and the small ways you stop being a child.

But I stopped myself before I said too much. I'd hate to ruin her surprise--it's almost the best part.

the current

2011-07-18T09:33:00.001-06:00

I look just like a girl and her window.

Stained blue, because of eyes and new markers.

I would most like a grilled cheese sandwich and pistachio gelato,

and good dreams and silenter opinions.

I am a woman and not a baby that needs petting and correction.

(so) inspired by

an author, a boy, his friends, and the end

2011-07-13T15:12:00.000-06:00

The blogosphere will undoubtedly be inundated with Harry Potter farewells, and I want to add my own bit.

I enjoyed the company of some other Potter-philes over the weekend and we gushed together--about late nights under lamps and in theaters. We credited J.K. for being honest about evil, for giving us a Hermione, and for making glasses sexy. We've been spoiled by Dumbledore's wisdom, by Dobby's loyalty, by Snape's conflict. We learned friendship, goodness, bravery, and love.

We saluted our childhoods, at a late 22, and swore that we would convert our own children to reading and to adventuring. It's been a fourteen-year fantasy that at times seemed more real than real life. It is a world that has meant the world--and I'm only just realizing that.

I lost it watching this, from the London premiere.
image

mexican food and life in general

2011-07-11T10:18:00.000-06:00

I uploaded these photos a few weeks ago, and I've been thinking about what to write. I could say that gosh Red Iguana was so good. The salsa singed our tongues but we ate four baskets of chips anyway and reveled in the spicy and cooled with godly fried ice cream. I could tell you that these three friends of mine couldn't be more different, but the same. I could tell you about late celebrations and the birth of inside jokes.

But I've decided to say, simply, that life is made of restaurant loitering, immature jokes, and unrepressed shrieks of laughter.

Utah Shakespeare Festival

2011-07-07T10:00:00.001-06:00

One night of our St. George getaway was spent in Cedar City--we drove up to finally jump on the Utah Shakespeare Festival bandwagon (they've been festival-ing over there since 1961). We had no idea that this little Utah Globe replica was so renown and had such a religious following--but I'm starting to understand why. The little Shakespearean grove they've created is completely magical and opening night of A Midsummer Night's Dream blew me away.

I was surprised by the rawness and honesty of the live performance. It was so evident that great theater and literature have seeped into the community and into the lives of the actors, producers, costume designers, and audience members who have been celebrating art for fifty years. I was inspired and I'm totally hooked.

St. George

2011-07-06T11:05:00.005-06:00

A few hours south of home and twenty degrees hotter than delightful, St. George is one of my favorite summer getaways. My family has been visiting for years to hang out in the shade and see the most incredible regional theater. This year, my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins came along for the extra-long weekend. I slept in every morning and changed right into my swimsuit and shades after late cereal breakfasts. Our condo was airy and our little private pool was perfectly chilled--we swam with cousins for two days straight, eating fruit out of cardboard boxes poolside. At nights we cooled off with snow cones and watched Broadway-caliber performances against the red rock at Tuachan. Sunday was spent at church and on the temple grounds with family.

I love St. George every year, but this trip felt just like summer and made coming home even harder.

Fourth

2011-07-05T10:16:00.003-06:00

On the shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep,

Where the foe’s haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze, o’er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning’s first beam,
In full glory reflected now shines in the stream:
’Tis the star-spangled banner, O! long may it wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

O! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand
Between their loved home and the war’s desolation.
Blest with vict’ry and peace, may the Heav’n rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation!
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto: “In God is our trust;”
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

(vs 2 and 4)

I sang The Star-Spangled Banner at church on Sunday.

And I am determined to sing each verse of that great poem, loudly, each July 4th--

to remind myself of the grand history of it all and the booming future if we make it.

Happy Independence Day friends. Hope yours was great.

photo

home (nostalgia, again)

2011-06-29T11:39:00.007-06:00

Its a funny thing to find a home.

While I've been in school, I've moved so much. Every nine months or so, I've picked up my little life and moved it across streets and down blocks. I've smoothed sheets on so many new beds in new rooms in new places. I've created my own home with stacks of books, walls of art and photos, piles of clothes, and trash cans full of apple cores. With clean kitchens and enough space to breath, I thought I could feel comfortable almost anywhere. And I have--I love those little rooms that I've made mine.

I thought home was here, in me. That my stacks of stuff pale next to all the things I have hung up inside. That place was almost irrelevant.

But last night I packed a suitcase for a little vacation, and I thought of how I'd be packing everything in just a month or so. I'll pull the unworn socks from my drawers and disassemble that little white bookshelf. I will take all of my stuff away from the tree-lined streets and away from the bumpy roads with hidden stop signs. I will leave the hellish winters and the frozen yogurt places and I won't see Y mountain from my window.

I would just wrap it all up in bubble wrap if I could, and tuck under my elbow and into my ribs.

I'm all about moving forward, but I'll live off of this place for years I expect.

for summer's sake

2011-06-24T11:10:00.007-06:00

I'm becoming the worst blogger ever. But it's all in the name of open windows, bright sunsets, live music, long dinners, floral skirts, and inspiring reads (I really am talking about July's Vogue). I'm learning to rest again. I've traded in my laptop for a thick canvas bag full of notebooks and pens and novels I've never gotten to. I'm writing things down. I'm making all of these things permanent and real so that they will be when they're not anymore. I'll start using my camera again soon.

I'll regret these slow and sweet habits when September comes with its very real obligations. But I won't.

Happy weekend, kids.

one year ago

2011-06-20T10:21:00.005-06:00

It's been a year since I studied abroad in England and France. I really can't believe that it's been so long, mostly because I think of my experiences there so often. I've hung pictures all over my walls of last summer, pictures of the places and people I met and fell in love with. Sometimes I really do feel sick that I'm not still there--I can't believe I'm not exploring cities, seeing shows, eating new food, hiking in mist, and waiting for the tube. I can't believe that I really did get on that airplane to come back to real life (which, to be fair, is also a bit of a dream sometimes).

As I've finished up school, I've been wanting new places and things so much. I'm ready to travel again (always, really). And I have a few little trips planned this summer, but I've decided to spend my entire summer traveling, even when I'm just at home in Utah. I'm going to live like a tourist. I'm compiling a little list of all the museums, fairs, shops, restaurants, national parks, etc. right at home that I've never seen. I'm going to do it all. By the end of the summer, I'll feel about Utah like I do about London and Paris.

It's going to be a fabulous summer.

(But of course I wouldn't mind winning this insane Paris giveaway from Oh Happy Day. Today is the last day to enter!)

big things and small things

2011-06-17T14:00:00.007-06:00

Yesterday I took the last test and turned in the last paper of my undergraduate education.

It doesn't feel like all that much now, but it will be soon I think.
It will feel like all that much.

I'm sure I'll be back here, to write it all down.

For now, I'm breathing in all the late mornings and sugar syrup.

I hope you're doing the same. Have a wonderful weekend.

rumbled and dies

2011-06-08T12:55:00.003-06:00

I was typing a paper and I tried to tell a friend on speakerphone about some close future things and about some future things that are seeming farther away.

And I reached to touch the cold wall above my head, letting my inside arm rest on flaking face skin. The side of my small living space trembled under my light finger pads, trembled from the passing trucks on the street just outside. I listened to the small bit of air I allowed in through the summer screen and I watched the faraway lights from the side of my soul. My eyes danced in their sockets and my left fingers died there on the keys of A, S, D, F, spacebar.

Would you have it any other way? the glowing phone crackled.

Ah gosh, would I.

image

lately (in instagram)

2011-06-01T08:58:00.001-06:00

Gilmore Girls in bed in the early morning.

Mountains at home (still getting snow!).

Red, white, and blue a day late.

Spring blossoms sticking through spring storms.

Hoping your lately is feeling this fabulous too.

Stolen

2011-05-31T11:45:00.010-06:00

I'm all about original blog content. In fact, I'd say I'm fierce advocate of using your own mind to think, create, and articulate your own thoughts. Writing my own words and taking my own photos (and reading your own words and seeing your own photos) is what keeps me here in this funny little blogging world. That said, I'm shamelessly stealing this whole post. Please see the obscene credits linkage at the end of this post for full effect. But I really can't help it. Good words are good words, and good words inspire me so much.

On to the main event...

Date a Girl Who Reads

Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas, and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by God, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.

Written by Rosemary Urquico
Emphasis added by me

Originally read via
Recommended by
Just posted by
Image

my eyes can see all the colors

2011-05-26T10:23:00.003-06:00

I know two things (among others) about myself:
1. I am such a fan of neutrals. My current style and my dream home are and will be white, navy, black, and grey.
2. I'm a word person. This blog exists to entice me to write; you know that. Because of this, I usually feel that an image-heavy post is kind of a cop-out.

Lately, I'm noticing that two really strange things (among others) are happening:
1. I'm all about color.
2. I'm all about visuals.

I'm not sure if it's this slowly emerging spring, my habitual online summer shopping, or the neon snow cone huts on every corner--but guys, I can't get enough of bright things to look at. I'm even abandoning my books to read National Geographic Traveler (which isn't a sin, let's be honest). I actually read recently that creative minds of all mediums are drawn to images. I'm hoping that's true, because I fancy my brain to be a creative one. Looks like it's just needing more inspiration.

Speaking of--

images 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

birthday birthday

2011-05-23T15:42:00.003-06:00

Having a blog is actually kind of funny--it's the only place where I offer personal information, like unabashedly announcing my birthday. In my real life, that is wildly out of character. In real life, where I generally don't gush and chatter about myself, I'm not one for surprise parties or blowout BBQs with millions of friends (though I've had both).

But this secret life has been good for me. I get to tell all you fabulous people about my birthday and you comment and tweet and email me so much love. So thanks. Really.

I just wanted to share a few photos of my non-electronic birthday. In real life, I just like quiet dinners with the people I love the most. I've had the most wonderful week of family, friends, and food--I only wish that I'd remembered my camera more.

favorites

2011-05-19T09:27:00.001-06:00

Have I ever told you that my favorite kind of food is a sandwich?
And my favorite color is always a shade of blue or pink?

Or that I secretly listen to show tunes and country in my car.
That I prefer small groups and best friends.
That if I understood science, I would be a doctor.
That I think peas and corn on the cob are divine.
That my future home will be all too black and white.
And that my sixth grade teacher, Miss Fisher, told me I was great--
so I believed her.

I must have shared that spring is the best, even when it's short.
Crinkled eyes and broad shoulders just do it for me.
Big jewelry is the best.
Ranunculus and anemones, the prettiest.
Whole Foods is heaven on earth.

And that I still watch Gossip Girl for Chuck and Blair.
I would suffer (more than I should admit) without my iPhone.
I wear my hair in waves most days.
I may never throw my magazine collection away.

What are your favorite things?

22

2011-05-17T08:22:00.003-06:00

Oh hey it's my birthday.
The twenty-second one of my life.

And I'm not wearing a crown or even leaving class early.
I know, I know.
But I am eating good food with the best people all week.
I'm avoiding most real work in favor of blissfully doing little nothings--
Browsing for books, driving to the mountains, staying outside till the rain starts.

All of which sounds a lot like what I do on my unbirthdays too.

In any case, it's been a good way to live.
I've got 22 years of proof.

A new season to mull with

2011-05-13T15:21:00.005-06:00

I've been thinking about summer.

Not so much about salty air and carpet warmed by sun,

but about what what this one will be for this girl.

For me, I mean. Excuse me, third person is the most easy after lunch.

I'd like it to be the last of something--a conclusion to some part of some life of mine.

But mainly, I'd like to create a genesis of sorts.

I'll start that overall healthiness my body and spirit writhe for.

I'll say what I want to--

the things I think will need to be more considered.

I'll rewatch every season of The Gilmore Girls,

I'll dance at weddings, scream at fireworks,

and sing along to shows, sonnets, and sleeps.

I'll abandon my dripping striped laundry to genuinely do, something.

I'd like to dilute the venoms of silence and noise.

Firm assurance will be given, along with stubborn caution, to the wind.

New people will become old people.

And I don't want any of it to be small.

image via

let's be honest, 9

2011-05-06T07:57:00.000-06:00

my pinterest addiction is fairly obscene.

organizing jewelry is indulgent housework.

i aim to never be long-winded.
one bunch of celery is actually a whole lot of celery for one person to eat.
two thumbs up for sequins and perpetual three day weekends.

europa-lust.

hello i'm an editing minor with little interest in editing.

i die for sleepy smiles.

sunshiiiiiiiine.

photo via

a gentleperson morning

2011-04-29T10:59:00.003-06:00

I planned on waking up to my alarm clock at 3:00 a.m. to catch Kate M. climb out of the queen's Bentley at Westminster. But I must have sleepily pressed snooze over and over. Over and over as Kate M. became a princess in her dress and diamonds. But, I saw it all this morning as I did my makeup. She was beautiful and he was happy and I thought, you know, there just may be some goodness left. There may be space for decorum and pomp--space for lightness and celebrations. Places for gentlemen and ladies, everywhere. As I blushed my cheeks, I hoped so hard that they will stay happy.

On another note entirely, all this processional coverage is making me miss London in the worst way.
Happy weekend, folks. I hope it's the best.

all i really want

2011-04-28T11:00:00.005-06:00

ending up

2011-04-18T08:00:00.002-06:00

I just feel like I'm gushing all of the time. In fact I know I am--I just gushed about pistachio frozen yogurt yesterday. I gush about nostalgic grilled cheese lunches. I gush about smallish tornados at the park and about Sunday chats with my aunt and uncle. I gush about everybody's new everythings.

Don't be mad--I'm gushing again. You'll see it in a second.

Here's the thing. I thought I'd care so much more when I found three errors in the final printout of a majorly serious portfolio. But I handed it to my professor and she smiled and she told me how much she's enjoyed having me in class. And I said, hey I feel the same about you. We chatted about grad school maybes and about her summer plans. I left her office, thinking about the three errors. And thinking of all of the errors and mistakes that are mine. So many, you know? But I'd claim them all again, just to make sure that I'd get the same unmistakes--the people, the classes, the small spaces, the BYU, the ahas, the growth.

I'd do it all again.

Gush gush gush.

(photo: Nik and me at Laura's shower--also gush-worthy.)

for sure

2011-04-13T09:16:00.007-06:00

sdf
I do the same thing every Sunday, a ritual I guess. After church, I change out of skirts and curls into my most unflattering comfy clothes. I drive home to my parent's house for a real dinner and free leftovers. I go there to chat on the napping couches with mom and dad about neighbors and tithing and Texas. I go there because my sister sings loudly in the study and my brother is silently funny. We pray on our knees.
I also go there to read the new magazines. I flip past the news in the Sunday paper and pluck out Parade to read about celebrities and polls. I gather my mom’s stack of two or three magazines by the phone, usually Real Simple, House Beautiful, and O--Oprah's magazine. I turn the pages at the counter while my mother stirs the roast gravy and steams the asparagus. I flip them cover to cover.

Oprah writes a regular little bit on her last page called, "What I know for sure." She writes about politics and about her own credos and about a unifying power that some people call God, and sometimes she invites a famous friend to share their own for-sures. She's been writing these bits for 11 years--that's one-hundred-and-thirty-two bits. One-hundred-and-thirty-two bits are lot of bits to know.

I'm going to go out on a limb and say that I don't care much for what Oprah knows. What I'm saying is that I don't think Oprah knows that much because I know for sure that gold rings with jadey beads are the prettiest. I know how to park in tight parking garages. I know that stripes are better than dots, and pink is better than brown. I know that bookshelves are for books and not for obscure trinkets.

I know for sure about Harry Potter. I know that Hermione’s parents are muggles and Dobby is a house elf. I know that butterbeer is not really beer. I know that every boy and girl wants Hogwarts to be real, and I know because my best friend rapped about red Ron in an wishful audition tape for the films. I know for sure that Dumbledore had to die and Harry had to live. I know that J.K. Rowling is more than a millionaire—she is an author.

I know for sure about Café Rio. I know that they have crushy, good ice. I know for sure how to say, black beans, no cheese, and extra cilantro. I know that pork is the best, followed by steak and grilled chicken. I know for sure to avoid it on Friday and Saturday nights, but I know that I love to ignore that rule at least twice a month. I know that the tables are small and the dressing is spicy. I know about Free Meals and flying limes.

   I know for sure about basketball because the men in my family are rockstars. I know for sure not to walk down the bleacher stairs when the time starts and I know that sometimes fouls aren't bad. I know that, if asked in the middle of a play, Dad will quickly hand over a couple of bucks for a vending machine drink. I know that 6'11 is probably a good idea.
   I know for sure about travel. I know to bring extra cardigans on the plane and I know that I don't need lots of gum to pop my ears on the decent. I know for sure that mini-vans are inferior to SUVs and that tourists should always eat local. I know about Fast Passes and how Disneyland lines are for the weak. I know that Coronado is perfect and Café Constant will always be the benchmark. I know for sure about coming home.
   I know for sure about that unifying power Oprah talks about. It's called God. He is God. I know that God is real and that he is everywhere, even in me. I know he rigs contests and makes 69-minute hours. He works with text messages and bright yellow flowers at Costco.

I know for sure that love is pretty much everything.

I know that it's okay to not know what I'm talking about most of the time.

I know for sure that magazines on Sunday is the best kind of ritual.

And napping couches the best kind of home.

one through three, tonight

2011-04-07T07:15:00.004-06:00

1. I went to Smith's in grey sweatshorts, a white v-neck, flakey mascara, and my cargo jacket with the collar standing up because it makes me feel in charge. I thought about wearing my new red shoes instead of the old brown loafers--the new red suedey shoes that were $6.24 and have a mini wedge heel. They are a size too big and I bought them anyway because they remind me of a pair from Cos that I wanted and I love them. I thought about gliding into them and smoothing all around the grocery store to buy cookies for my classmates tomorrow.

2. There is this one girl that I sit next to in class. She wears ruffled blouses and tortoise clips in her hair and the way she crosses her legs is just the most graceful thing I have ever seen. We are friends. We became friends on the warmest day in February. I remember that because we had class on the roof and we didn't even listen to the teacher because the sun was out, huzzah. My friend and I don't know each other very well, and we may never to be honest. But we are the same. She writes about her Scrabble club and I write about my little sister and we hide our smiles during the ridiculous comments. My friend was accepted into a creative writing graduate program, for creative non-fiction. She will be a master of her fine art. And I found out what real envy is.

3. I'm going to write. I'm going to find out how to make it a real thing and not only a thing that kids profess they want after they find out they can't grow up to be ballerinas and Buzz Lightyear. I just want to write about my red shoes, that's all.

a month of

2011-03-30T11:10:00.002-06:00

Lately, I'm really loving illustrator/author Leanne Shapton. She writes beautiful prose, but I keep finding myself swooning over her paintings. When in London last summer, I inevitably spent a lot of time in museums and I surprised myself with a new desire to paint. To be honest, I haven't even bought brushes or canvas--but if I could and did paint, I would do it just like Leanne. Her casual strokes and luxurious colors convey such easy sophistication.

Her New York Times online series "A month of..." features little paintings of Sunday walks, Monday shower songs, and Tuesday blooms. Ingenious, really. I love the idea of recording everyday details, like tree trunks and shampoo bottles, through beautiful art.

rich

2011-03-26T01:36:00.013-06:00

I am graduating from a university in a few months.
I should be feeling worried and apprehensive and scared.
I should be distracted by my future--

I feel full, and rich. And very present.

I am profoundly feeling the professors that have taught me how to be and the greatness of my classmates-turned-kindred-spirits. I am profoundly feeling my friends who listen so hard and my friends who psueudo-sexy dance all night and my friends who force me to know what I require. I am feeling my lumpy mattress that I hate and I am feeling the wild, quiet support of my family.

Knowing that this life, the one that I have, is mine and that these things will always be mine--well, the joy of it all crushes me. I cannot stand it.

image

a summer wedding

2011-03-23T09:58:00.001-06:00

I have this best friend who is classy and witty and stunning.

We've known each other since we were crazy freshmen in the dorms,

but we only recently became close (thank heavens for London).

Even though our friendship is pretty new, I think the world of her.

There aren't many neater ladies or greater friends.

She is fabulous and top-notch,

and her husband-to-be is an incredibly lucky man.

Congrats Laura and Austin!

Can't wait for Newport in August. Huzzah.

magic

2011-03-16T11:47:00.000-06:00

I am a defender of magic.

I believe in magenta sunsets and dew on new blades of grass.
I believe that youth is powerful and birthdays are for ordinary royalty.
I believe in loud laughter and in the joy that we create for ourselves.
I believe in people who are refined and poised.
I believe in sequins and in shining moments of summer.
I believe in understanding the abilities of human beings.
I believe in healing and in growing taller and swelling bigger.
I believe in hope and in the dreams we barely let ourselves dream.
I believe that things will be as they should.

I am a defender of magic--a very real kind of magic.

image

saturday

2011-03-14T07:03:00.000-06:00

On Saturday, Bod and I cruised down State Street to Springville.

After getting lost a few times--a lot of times--we found the antique shop we were looking for,

and spent an hour or so picking out jewelry, old postcards, and silk scarves.

We lunched at the Art City Trolley while talking about jet lag and cities to visit.

I came home, hung my new scarves on an empty wall, and took a little walk,

all before spending the night with friends that make me laugh like I am eighteen again.

Saturday wins.

tap tap

2011-03-07T20:00:00.001-07:00

The rain has been deftly tapping my window since I came home at 4:15. I know rain is terribly romantic and we all rave about it now and again--but this rain is mine. Really, it rained for me and I wished it here. I wished it when I saw the mountains sitting in their fog this morning and I said to my window, rain would be nice. It came and it licked my heels and watered my ambition, and I probably grew three inches today.

So when I came home, I napped in and out of it and curled under it and prayed it would just never stop.

photo: National Geographic contest winner

refined

2011-03-02T07:35:00.014-07:00

Refined is the word of the day.

Word of the year, more like. My father recently told me I was refined, and I felt like a wild success for a moment. But then I actually laughed at that word, because I am still trying so hard to pull it together. If it means a fresh haircut and the broadest vocabulary, refined I am not.

I do know what my dad really meant. Or what I hope he means--

I have carefully constructed my adult life as a place where I could feel comfortable and secure. Safe, you know? But I've recently decided I don't want some of the things I've build up around me, and inside of me. I'm cutting all the unecessaries and all the unpriorities out. It sounds violent because it it. It's a part of the I-want-to-be-real-or-be-nothing self campaign I'm designing right now. This cutting is creating more space, space I didn't necessarily want, but space I'll be happy to have when I choose what to fill it with.

What I'm saying is--I'm refining over here. Pardon my dust.

photo from this MOA exhibit

live the language

2011-02-25T09:52:00.000-07:00

i'm currently a big fan of these live the language videos (i'm partial to london and paris, but actually they're all neat). i love they way they highlight our cross-culture similarities. i guess all of us are the same at some level, regardless of country and language.

EF - Live The Language - London from Albin Holmqvist on Vimeo.

happy friday, folks!

sleeping beauty and related things

2011-02-23T11:49:00.003-07:00

After a week of consuming projects and too little sleep, I joined my mother and sister at the Capitol Theatre for Ballet West's Sleeping Beauty (oh, irony). The night before, some friends and I saw our university's stellar dance team perform for the third year in a row. I grew up in that dance world. I forget that, and when I remember I almost don't believe it. I hear that world criticized a lot--the resulting body image issues, the materialism, the politics. And I did experience plenty of confusion and disappointment when I was a dancer; sometimes I think those fears and doubts may always be a part of me.

But I will always be grateful for dance. It taught me grace and silence. It taught me that I can work, even through pain. It taught me that I can achieve and I can be the best sometimes.

Dance taught me about my body too, but I didn't know it until now. Is that weird, that I didn't recognize my own body when I moved it like that everyday for thirteen years? I know that our bodies are miracles, they really are. We breathe and we memorize. We twist our ankles and pop our knees. Then, we heal and do it again. We stay up until 2 a.m. finishing portfolios and speed-reading novels, and in the morning our bodies pull something from somewhere and make it to class alive and alert. That is amazing.

But more, I know that our bodies are beautiful. Dancing is beautiful because the air reaches your very fingertips and you press your feet through wooden shoes into the floor, really feeling the floor, and let your neck pull as high as it will go. And your arms are so long you may just loose them and the music plays in your spine and your spleen and your spirit. Dancing is beautiful because your body knows, maybe more than any other part of you, how it is to be human. Your body offers movement and rhythm to your soul. I think that's why my body screams at the ballet--because pulling shoulders and battered toes are liberating, creative, and honest.

That is amazing.

For more on the ballet, Ann Marie summed it up beautifully here.

writing, and a book review

2011-02-22T07:51:00.003-07:00

I haven't written in a while. I don't just mean here on my blog, but in general for life. I haven't forgotten or decided not to anymore, but I haven't known what to write. I wouldn't call it writer's block really--I still feel inspired, urged, to write. But when I have stared at blank screens and waved blue pens over notebooks, I haven't liked what has come out. I don't recognize it.

I have decided that when I write, I want to be honest. I want to admit my challenges, my weaknesses, my failures, my profanities. I want to create only images that exist, and enunciate feelings that I more than half-feel. I want the things I write to reflect my whole self, no part left out. I want my writing to be as real as I feel I am. I want my words to be fresh. I want my ideas to be distinguished.

A big part of this realization happened when I read Fugitive Pieces by Anne Michaels. This is a novel written by a poet, which, I am now convinced, is the best kind of novel. The book is about Jakob, a Polish child that barely escapes Nazi death and hides himself in the bogs near his home. He is discovered and saved by Athos, a Greek geologist. Athos swindles Jakob out of war-destroyed Poland, raising him in Greece and teaching him about the earth, history, poetry, people, and love. The book is about Jakob struggling as the remnant of his murdered family, and his discovery of new familial and romantic relationships. Throughout, Jakob finds great comfort and peace in writing his experiences.

A few of my favorite passages:

"To share a hiding place, physical or psychological, is as intimate as love."

"All the years I felt Bella entreating me, filled with her loneliness, I was mistaken. I have misunderstood her signals. Like other ghosts, she whispers; not for me to join her, but so that, when I'm close enough, she can push me back into the world."

"I became obsessed by the palpable edge of sound. The moment when language at last surrenders to what it's describing: the subtlest differentials of lights of temperature or sorrow. I'm a kabbalist only in that I believe in the power of incantation. A poem is as neural as love; the rut of rhythm that veers the mind."

"Every recorded event is a brick of potential, or precedent, thrown into the future. Eventually the idea will hit someone in the back of the head. This is the duplicity of history: an idea recorded will become an idea resurrected. Out of fertile ground, the compost of history."

"She sat at the small, round, linen-covered tables at the Royal York and seductively dangled her leftist ideas like high heels....Alex shocked me, just as she intended. She shrugged off expectation with language; her hardness was a form of swearing. She swaggered the delicious phrase 'following a skirt' and I ached with tenderness for all the frustrated innocence in her extravagant tongue."

"When a man dies, his secrets bond like crystals, like frost on a window. His last breath obscures the glass."

"I am deafened by the buzzing drone of Michaela's body, the power lines of blood, blue threads under her skin. Cables of tendons; the forests of bones in her wrists and feet....How beautiful the blood's pull towards trust, the warm weight of the sleeper entering her orbit, pulling her towards me, fragrant, heavy and still as apples in a bowl. Not the stillness of something broken, but of rest."

Within the first twenty pages of this novel, I was weeping from the beautiful honesty of Anne Michael's language and the vivid reality of fictional Jakob's situation. Even as I read, I knew these words would mean a lot to me always. They make me need to write. They inspire me to capture life as it is. Because now, I believe that even terror can be beautiful when written honestly. I'll read this book over and over. I have never read love so clearly. The story is heartbreaking, but hopeful--and I like those kinds of words. I hope to make my own like that too, someday.

[Image: Fugitive Pieces, the film, is also brilliant.]

vday

2011-02-14T16:23:00.003-07:00

folks, i've been running a marathon this past week--and it's still not over. school and work and new plans are keeping me occupied, but i can't let valentine's day pass without confetti or balloons or maybe a blog post. i'm waiting for some photos to develop, so here i am. here to make a list, inspired by my friend nik:

i love when the sun comes out. i love framed pictures. i love white plates. i love my iphone. i love to cook. i love soft music. i love e-mails. i love my friends. i love driving. i love eating out. i love being late. i love sweaters and scarves. i love sunday dinner with my family. i love netflix. i love paperclips. i love big mountains. i love good jokes. i love strawberry sorbet. i love going to the theatre. i love writing on my blog. i love stripes. i love singing in the shower. i love conversations. i love reading poetry. i love my window when it is open. i love red nail polish. i love closed renauculas. i love to organize. i love to feel.

happy valentine's, xoxo.

[image: check out these e-vday cards by kate spade]

the South

2011-02-07T08:33:00.000-07:00

I relatively recently discovered my love for my own home, here in the Utah mountains.

Not that I disliked it before, but now I feel a certain loyalty to it.

So when people criticize this place (which is unnecessarily often), I have to bite my tongue--

because I have a very long list of the things I love about it.

My life with my family, the friends I have met, and the earth that surrounds me

are so so important to me, so I will most likely always love my first home best.

That said, a friend told me about her Georgia home this weekend.

And I remembered when I went to Charleston for the first time, and to Savannah.

And if I had to choose another home for right now, I would choose the South.

Because even though my hair does funny things in humidity, I liked it so much there.

I don't claim to know it well or to understand the marbled culture,

but it felt like it could be a home. Comfortable like that.

And I wouldn't mind the warmer weather this morning, to be honest.

What about you?

What do you love about your home now?

Is there a place you'd like to live?

conversation cookies

2011-02-03T10:10:00.002-07:00

I wouldn't say I'm a Valentine's Day fanatic--but I don't mind a little pink and red every February. And after making some pretty heart-sprinkled cupcakes for class this morning, I am totally ready for this holiday.

I've been looking for fun Valentine's ideas and even though I'm not big on lots of food coloring or funny kitchen gadgets that you can only pull out once a year, but I am obsessed with Willams-Sonoma's Message in a Cookie set. Conversation cookies would be so much tastier than those little tart candies!

Find a recipe and more here.

meeting kelsie (and brittany!)

2011-01-31T07:24:00.001-07:00

Kelsie and I have been blog friends for what feels like ten years. This girl makes time machines and loves E.E. Cummings--I just knew we were kindred spirits as soon as I pored over her blog a couple of years ago. After a few failed attempts, we finally met up for lunch at Guru's this weekend. And I really can't say enough about her. We spent a long lunch talking about blogging, the men in and out of our lives, and Boston. She seriously is just as wonderful and passionate (and beautiful!) as she is on her blog--and I feel so grateful that we are real life friends now.

Ohhh but that's not all. As we left lunch, Kelsie and I were asked to be in a small commercial--we'll be famous soon probably maybe. And then we turned around to see another blog friend, Brittany, heading to lunch with her husband! Guys, I am not making this up. After lots of ohmygoshing and hugging and cameras, Kelsie and I completely intruded and joined Brittany and Jacob on their lunch date. Brittany has the most adorable closet, home, and blog. And of course, she was just as wonderful in person.

To be honest, I sometimes feel weird about this big blogging world and wonder about the connections I have made. But after Saturday, I feel lucky to have met so many wonderful women through blogging--I was so impressed by Kelsie and Brittany's sincerity. It's exciting to create friendships with women who share my excitement for life. Like Brittany said, it's just online BFFing. I love that.

So here's to blogging.

To blogging and to new friends.

friends at night

2011-01-28T07:02:00.001-07:00

After writing an ambiguous paper and cramming for a test, I needed a mega-break last night. Melissa and Gretchen and I headed to The Riverwoods to shop at our favorite boutique. After admiring springtime blouses and perfect jewelry, we wandered into Blickenstaff's--it's a toy store, kids. The best toy store. They sell pretty glass bottle sodas and retro candies. And the Hogwarts Express, princess mosaics, and a $1,600 tailless rocking horse. Clearly we found our happy place (see photos).

Eventually, we ended up at a bookstore, sharing a caramel apple, ~~criticizing~~ critiquing celebrity style, and designing our wedding dresses. We laughed and whispered loudly, totally annoying all the serious bookish types I'm sure--but we didn't care all that much.

Because a little bit of happy never hurt anyone.

just now

2011-01-25T18:56:00.008-07:00

It was supposed to rain, but it snowed. It snowed until the oxygen was opaque and the trees were erased and no one could walk just right. I was so mad. I shouldn’t have been because I had my umbrella for the forecasted rain—to keep my hair nice and my hands cold. But I didn’t even unzip my soddened pack for my umbrella. As I left my feminist class, humbled by all the voices and especially by my own, the little flakes pricked my hot cheeks over and over until I felt like radio static—like the time a simpleton told me what I was and was not and my lungs boiled and my fingers curled hideously and my insides fizzzzzzed. I remembered that time as I brushed the melted drops on my coat. Snow sugared my hair and I knew because I saw my sizzled self in the darkened windows of the slushing, speeding cars. And I hurried to my car and I typed all this here because I’m so glad it storms outside too.

[photo of my mountains by me]

at Velour

2011-01-24T07:31:00.000-07:00

On Friday night I met up with my friends Taylor and Brighton in downtown Provo to see Allred and Benton Paul perform. I'd been to a couple open-mic nights at Velour before, and I really love how intimate the shows are--Benton sang his last song sitting in the middle of the crowd with his guitar while everyone sang along.

To be honest I wasn't feeling terribly social on Friday, but I ended up being so grateful for happy and heartfelt music. And for the friends I leaned against brick walls with and for the ones I laughed with.

on my mind (let's be honest nombre 8, kids)

2011-01-21T07:35:00.001-07:00

I really prefer just early-morning-cold or almost-nightime-cold.

I want to go to Disneyland so much.

One time I saw chevron in a really old cathedral/abbey/whatever.

So very tired. What gives?

I admire those people with effortless bangs, a lot.

The top of my right ring finger hurts because I slipped on the ice two weeks ago blaaaah.

People should paint their walls navy.

I am pro at rolling my eyes and ignoring car horns.

Remember when Play-Doh was the best thing ever?

Sun is back...goshit'sabouttime.

Clearly interning is enthralling ^^^

apples and books

2011-01-17T12:50:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, I visited Park City with my mom and sister. We noshed on (my new favorite) sweet pototo fries at Bandit's, perfectly tart and crisp caramel apples at Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory, and browsed new titles and little kiddy books at the cozy Dolly's Bookstore.

I love that Park City has become my nearby getaway during college. The draping lights and the pine covered peaks are so quiet and have been the backdrop to some of my favorite memories. I am so excited to head up again for the (louder and star-studded) Sundance Film Festival soon. Life is good.

or so I have been told

2011-01-07T20:44:00.001-07:00

Just look at my icy mountains.

Just look at them.

Happy weekend, friends.

photo with

S

2011-01-05T07:21:00.000-07:00

This is Stacey.

She's a rockstar and my best friend.

And she left for Jerusalem this week.

To live there for awhile.

Because she's neat like that.

We go way back.

We drove the canyon often.

She listened to me everyday.
She let me be honest.

And she made me happy always.

And I miss her terribly.

photo

my 2010

2011-01-03T12:04:00.000-07:00

Twenty-ten started quietly, but it turned out to be a wonderful, filling year. I learned so much about myself, about others, and about the world. I made fantastic new friends and learned to treasure the ones I already have. I traveled a lot, but realized how much I love home. I recognized the goodness around me and the goodness inside of me. I wrote more, ate more, laughed more, thought more, and jumped more.

In January, I decided to learn to play the guitar and spontaneously signed up for (and finished!) a semester-long class. My love for sweets intensified when I made the best coconut cupcakes. I also wrote my very first honesty list, and went to Park City every weekend.

In February, my roommate/BFF Bod and I ate cupcakes for breakfast. I also found out I was going to spend my summer in London. I celebrated Valentine's Day (even without a man) and discovered what I am passionate about and what I want to do.

In March, I went to Ogden with my mother and sister and I grew up a bit more. I spent a day with Gretchen shopping for dresses and falling in love with blooming spring. At the end of the month, I attended a beautiful black and white birthday party, where we played musical chairs and pretended like we were adults.

In April, I meticulously dyed pretty Easter eggs and learned to be by myself and love it. I also flew to Florida to spend Spring Break eating frozen Mickeys and floating in a tropical lazy river with my family.

In May, I hesitantly turned twenty-one. But the week long celebrations (including mocktails at Spark), made me so excited for the start of my twenty-first year.

In June, I ate a lot of frozen yogurt and hiked Ensign Peak in a skirt with Bod and Jocelyn. I also wrote a haiku (and they became my favorite). At the very end of the month and after an endless flight, I finally landed in London!

In July, I got to know my new city. I made new (beautiful) friends, climbed St. Paul's, visited Oxford, rode in a coach for hours and hours, fell in love with England, and spent some time in Paris and the French countryside.

In August, I visited the Queen and had tea twice, loved the North of England more than I imagined I would, danced on the London Bridge before finding Diagon Alley (among other final adventures), and flew home to America.

In September, I came back to school and while looking at photos from my northern England trip, I established my new mantra. I also and traveled to Jackson Hole for a long weekend of campfires and singing with old friends.

In October, I ate a bagel and realized I am just as cool as Lauren Conrad. I also fell in love with the rain, heard Ingrid sing, and kept moving.

In November, my best friends got married, I discovered my food philosophy, and I said some goodbye to two of my favorite friends.

In December, I felt a little glamorous and visited SLC with Aly and Stace. After finishing up school for the semester, I took a much-needed break and celebrated Christmas with my little family and went to the ballet with my best friends.

The new year is just what I need. Bon-jour, twenty-eleven.

my 2009

the nutcracker

2010-12-30T16:45:00.001-07:00

On Monday, my best friends and I dressed up and went to the ballet. We snuck in some treats, whispered during our favorite parts, and applauded loudly. I was reminded how much I miss ballet and how I actually am just a little girl. As we flounced past the twinkling downtown lights and watched our breath in the cold, I felt so grateful for this season. I will miss the holidays. It was the perfect way to end my Christmas weekend.

merry christmas, baby

2010-12-29T13:27:00.005-07:00

Our Christmas morning was surprisingly sunny and warm outside. I loved slowly unwrapping our gifts with each other all morning, only breaking for warm sweet rolls and Dad's omelets. Since the 25th I've been sleeping in, shopping, playing games, eating out, and going to movies with my family (aka blogging hasn't happened). Here's a little look at our magical morning...

habits

2010-12-15T13:55:00.011-07:00

I doodle in cursive.
I sing show tunes in the shower.
I order anything with avocado.
I twirl my hair while chatting on the phone.
I stick my tongue out...all the time.
I always choose navy or gray or white.
I curse the beginning of winter.
I never forget birthdays (it's hers today).
I check my email incessantly.
I wear thick scarves and call it style.
I bop to the radio.
I sometimes speak in a British accent.
I peruse Williams-Sonoma when I have an hour.
I stay up too late every night.
I rarely remember my dreams.
I like simple.

What are some of your habits?

the ones with the light

2010-12-13T09:34:00.004-07:00

This weekend, instead of studying for finals I made a spontaneous trip to SLC with two of my favorite girls. So spontaneous that we forgot our coats (46 degrees folks), a fact that I could not get over. We took advantage of photo opps, ran into* some of our missionary friends at Temple Square, loved the Christmas lights, and noshed on waffles and frites.

I am so encouraged and inspired by all of these beautiful women! They are wise and committed and hilarious. I laughed hard. My faith was strengthened. I was warm.

Weekend: success.

*read: purposely hunted down
thanks aly archer for the photographs