school days

Every one knows I love school.
It took me a few years.
It took me losing a few heart-warming things.
It took me time for literature to sink in.

For a few years, I felt like every other student was smarter than me, and that they all knew something I didn't. Or worse, that they had taken a class that taught them all about Lacan's mirror theory, or about how to ace MLA for writing papers. Or maybe I needed to smoke weed to get the deeper meaning of everything. But it turned out I was just young and was only taking 2 or 3 classes a semester, so I really wasn't reading as much as the other English students who were wearing weird clothes and didn't have real jobs.

Now, I love school. And it's not like I feel part of this elite academia like "Skinny Harvard Girl" (see "Harvard" label) or Pilar*, and it's not always just about the learning and the knowledge. It's just about being there. It's just about taking the bus or the train to this place.

The university...it feels secluded. It feels far away from my house (it is) and it feels like there are no children there. (Sometimes I see a child, and it is like, where the heck did you come from?) It feels like a place I travel to.
The iPod is involved in getting there. Moody music and This American Life.
Snacks are involved. Packing your bag for the long hours.
Reading books you never would have read. Forcing yourself to learn and think in a second language, just because it is required for your Bachelor's in Art.

But besides being a road trip, College is full of surprising people. You put them under a certain amount of pressure, and watch them start to boil. OR, you just take away their parents, and find out that they are actually primates.
You see girls who are wearing sunglasses to class because they are hungover. You see a boy in the Library commons trying to get you to vote for a ficus tree instead of the students who are running for office. You see a kid walk down the hall in a shark costume.

And one day, maybe you are just washing your hands in the girls' bathroom after spending an entire class period searching for the deeper gender politics in the British Horror movie The Descent and standing there, staring at you, is an old man. A very old man. And you are embarrassed to try to think how to tell him he is in the women's restroom. He is giving you an awkward smile because he is trying to think how to tell you that you are in the men's restroom. You know there is another girl in the stall, but you think, This old guy is pretty harmless, so you don't say anything, and as you walk away, you see him looking for urinals and not being able to spot any. And you hope the other girl doesn't see him, and you hope no other girls see him.
And perhaps they don't.
And you reassure yourself that it was definitely an old man, because he had a real beard.

"And all the wine is all for me."
-The National

*Character bio: Pilar
Pilar sits next to me in Spanish, and makes me feel old because she is 18. She has no job, but takes like a buttload of credits and plays Lacrosse. She is the most fluent in our Spanish class, besides our professor. She also takes Greek, because she is Greek. I have a deep and undying need for her to approve of me, because she is a way cooler 18-year-old than I ever was.

photo courtesy of Discovery Channel

Philip got me hooked on this show. It's called Out of the Wild.
I caught up on two more episodes over the weekend, and it's all I see when I close my eyes.

The premise is that they dropped these (nine?) people off in a desolate part of Venezuela and they have to trek 70 miles over mountains, jungles, and Savannah. They got 3 days of survivor training, but for the most part they are just ordinary people from California, Michegan, Illinois, etc. There is no prize at the end if they make it.

I think that's what gets me most, is they are out there in these horrible circumstances, and just because they want to accomplish this goal. They usually trek for a day, set up camp, and then spend a day or two trying to find food. They never find much: they catch a couple of fish, or eat some larvae or termites, and these hard disgusting bark-fruits. They are eating an average of like, 300 calories a day.

And the funny thing is, that watching them keep trekking together, emaciated and dizzy, I want to be there with them, doing it.
Or do something like it.
It makes me want to do some kind of fun summer adventure.
More to come.

i have dreams

In my daydreams, I am sitting next to someone who smells nice. There is Russian music in the background, and when I touch the skin on my face, it is soft like summer and I no longer crave sugar. I crave to run through the fields and have itchy farm-legs. To run until I gasp for breath and Rosy runs next to me, and in the end of the dream, we both jump into the lake, and no seaweed will wrap its arms around me and drag me down into the snapping turtles on the bottom.

The real dreams I have at night are stress dreams. Stress dreams of leaving children very much un-babysat. I leave them before their parents come home, and then always in the dreams (with or without the children) I have to run from Sandy to Murray. Or from Salt Lake to Holladay, and I never know how long this will take me. I run to babysit these kids. Or I run for other reasons.

Every time I see a white Land Rover, I recall the red-faced couple who came to get their extra-dry 1 pump white mocha soy cappuccinos and sandwiches with the sausage taken off. I quickly recall the nightmares that they gave me.

Lord, have mercy on me.

I got 100% on a Spanish quiz, we had an interesting Horror/Gender discussion today, and I was able to name the perfume that one of my clients was wearing while I was at work. So, pretty successful day I would say.

Well somebody has a hot date
and I think it's Noah. I think he smells like Usher. Whatever cologne he is wearing, there is a lot of it, and it is flavoring my Chinese food in the wrong direction.

To live here is confusing. And you may say, "Rachel, remember that time you said that one has to become a mind-reader to survive?" Well I did say something like that. I think it was pertaining to relationships.
But something you aren't prepared mentally for, is to hit your 23rd birthday, and to still be living with your parents, and jobless, and still going to college.
You aren't prepared to stand next to a skinny 20 year old in front of the library, and hear her talk about graduating next year and moving to Boston, and living a really exciting life.
And maybe you look at this skinny girl, and you think about how she loves Arrested Development and Joe Vs. the Volcano as much as you do. And you sigh, because this other girl, she gets up in the morning and wears a skirt and tights, and lives in the dorms, and takes a shuttle to Spanish. She is living out the Harvard dream instead of you. She is more Betty Draper than you, too.

It might be a heartbreaking moment. But you pull yourself onto the bus, and the guy next to you chats you up, and you still got it, a little bit. Dave is looking at you, wanting to know your phone number because you are a good wholesome girl, born in the Midwest and sensible in all the Prairie Home Companion type ways.

I close my eyes, lean my head against the window. There is a place in my mind, where I don't have to share a car. Where I ride my bike or the bus to Everywhere. Where I talk 12 credit semesters, and have 300 Bible verses memorized. Where I have never let a boy hold my hand. Or I have been married to a handsome black man, and we always iron our clothes, and at the end of the day go to Jazz games and drink Bud Light out of clear plastic cups. Depending on how I'm feeling on this particular bus ride.

But ultimately, I am happy here. I love my family. I enjoy the privilege of driving a car when it is inconvenient to take public transit. I am still going to an amazing university, and the "Harvard" girl sitting next to me heard the same Jorge Luis Borges words that I did today. But maybe it affected her differently. Maybe I am the lucky one.

So there are these little pills I been taking
And my doctor, she says that they're safe
But I been sleepwalking down to the lake
And waking up in the water
-Jenny Lewis (with Johnny)

I think, "Adam and Eve, did you have to take these pills to get rid of allergies? To keep your guts from rotting within you? To settle your stomach so that it didn't come back up? Did you take antibiotics after you had strep throat?" And the answer is no. No they didn't.
Our DNA keeps breaking down more every year.

Well. I can't prove that. I don't know anything that has to do with science. But that's what my dad says, and he is the only person I believe about science, and I think it's because he knows about as much as I do.

I might take more pills than the average person my age. I get headaches, I get allergies, I get other painful problems.
With the more preventative pills, I think to myself, "What will happen if I stop taking this?" But it is just a really bad idea.
And it ends up being,
that this is real life.
That sometimes diet and exercise are not a cure-all.

But yes, one day we will be on the other side, and Adam and Eve will be like, "Wow, it really escalated quickly down there." And we will nod.
All the old grandmas and I. The old men will nod with me, and the other 22 year old girls who are taking 7 pills a day. "Yes it did," we will say.

life in Utah

One thing I still haven't figured out, is staying hydrated. I drink more water than anyone else I know, but I am constantly thirsty.

I thought I would see a huge difference after I quit alcohol. But, I haven't. And yes, I usually have one cup of coffee a day. And I take an allergy pill, which sure doesn't help. But it doesn't seem like it should be this hard. I typically drink 3 liters of water a day, and any of my coworkers I've ever had could tell you how often I have to run to the bathroom.

I can only think that it comes down to living in the desert, and how dry the air is here.

So.
It's Friday night, my family is gone who-knows-where. Celisse hasn't answered the phone. I think it's going to be a quiet night to read, watch my dogs pace back and forth, and cook a fish in my toaster oven.

I was thinking I'd be excited that it's April 1st, but it is making everything loom over my head. I have to start thinking about my hard conversation I'm going to have with G. I am going to the dentist next week. And then finals are coming up, and at the same time packing, and having my things in order.

I feel like I am getting on a boat. I will be out at sea for a month. Judy will be there. There will be lots of books to read, and comforting silences.
And yes,
there will be Long John Silvers there.

And you can use my skin, to bury secrets in,
and I will settle you down.
And at my own suggestion,
I will ask no questions
While I do my thing in the background
But all the time, (all the time)
I'll know.
Fiona Apple 

It was kind of a gloomy day to come back from Spring break and back to school and work. I didn't mind going back to my crazy Spanish Spaceship, but I just had a lot of mixed emotions upon waking and deleting text messages, and no milk to have cereal. My life isn't hard, but I just love to self-pity on the bus. I love to romanticize things that have long been dead, while listening to Fiona, or Bob Dylan, or This American Life, or the National.


I think I was also scared to go to work.


But upon arriving and finding that G was not there, things were certainly brighter. I also have tomorrow off, (due to working New Year's Eve, get a load of that...) and a date planned, and I am now finishing my editing of my paper on Carrie and her various gender problems.

Life does go on after Spring break. 

Two Bryan quotes

"I thought you were going to be a big, fat, bald guy with a beard."
- said to me as I walked into his house (he thought I was going to be his dad)

and

"They couldn't bring sexy back, because it never even left."
- on Scarlett Johansson and Ryan Reynolds splitting up

I'm too tired from decadence to really say much more right now.
Spring break has been one big sleep-in/Rocky Road/eating out/TV and movie fest. Sprinkled with lame work-out video sessions. Three days in, and I still haven't started my paper. But! I haven't been drinking either.

I'll tell you what, though. Being a nobody is restful.

Staycation.

I'm technically in Iowa today. But I'm actually in Utah. I ended up playing video games, working out, drinking three or four cups of Tribute Blend which Philip has been bringing home from work. I finally hit the point where I can start enjoying Starbucks again. (5 months, 13 days) After several jumping-jack/Jillian Michaels inflicted injuries, I became subdued enough to meet Celisse for another fancy dinner at "Fancy Restaurant". I got the pumpkin risotto again, because I have been having daydreams about it for weeks.
And none of this happened in Iowa.
I looked at Celisse in the light of the 7 Eleven and I said to her, "I am having a really nice time."
And she said, "I am too."
We watched a movie and ate Rocky Road by Breyers. I don't even like ice cream unless it's soft serve, but this ice cream is good.


I will start my Horror Gender paper tomorrow, I am hoping.
I feel like a bum.
But when I wake up, everything feels too good to be true. But there is a place out there that will give you free underwear of good quality every few months. And this is a reason to stay in America.

"Please forgive me for my sins. Yes I swam dirty waters, but you pushed me in."
-Adele

on sitting in a Harmon's parking lot after a long day.

I let the setting sun light my pages, and read until the street lamps came on. I'm not trying to be poetic, I was just killing time waiting for Celisse to get off work. Numbers is not really poetic. It's kind of graphic though. God just swallowed some dudes up into the earth. And all their stuff. No big deal. And I was like, Whoa God. I'm going to try to not make You that mad at me.

I haven't had an alcoholic beverage in 8 days. I quit out of frugality, mostly, and in hopes of losing weight faster. I haven't really noticed a difference, but I'm a little more awake at night to get stuff done.

Out here, it gets to be that everyone is celebrating, all the time. Which is not bad, to celebrate. But we're all spending too much money on eating out, or bottles of Sailor Jerry. In these United States, we are constantly hosting these holidays. Or I mean, looking for holidays. I feel, anymore, like I don't even have time to prepare because of the frequency of these holidays.
I should have read one of Joyce's Dubliners stories for St. Patrick's day.
I should have sent out more Valentines.
I meant to give something up for lent (I always do), but here I am, still finding myself with a mouth full of Girl Scout cookies every time the phone rings. 
And I can't really remember what the Cinco de Mayo is celebrating, but I want to be there. I mostly want to be eating Mexican food and I even want to make it to throw colors this year for Holi. I want to do this kind of partying more than the Don Draper kind of partying, I tell myself.

But in that parking lot, I realized how fast time flew by today.
Life is so short and painful, and fascinating.
I can't wait to meet Jesus and see all the puzzle pieces put together, and feel real love.

a tired hello


This is the first year I've actually liked the Daylight Savings Switch.


At Starbucks, I never worked past 3pm, so the light didn't matter. But now, when it's five o clock, and it looks like 3pm, that is a pretty cool thing.

Everything is becoming very real, now. 
I'm missing some clients. I'm missing some coworkers. 
I'm trying to think how to tell G without being rude, but also to let her know I have valid reasons for leaving.


I'm trying to figure out what a month away from my Utah family (blood and brethren) will feel like.


It's big. It's scary in a breathtaking way. 
I listen to the clock tick at night.
My God, who is so much bigger than I am, please make my seconds count.




"I need you so much closer."
-DCFC

you spill jack and coke on my collar. I melt like a witch and scream
I'm so sorry for everything.
-The National

I have the bad feeling in my gut. The kind like you get during a horror movie. I found a huge mistake that I think is my fault, at work, at the end of the day. And so what do I do? I leave it for tomorrow because there are a thousand other problems on my desk to fix before six.

I don't want to have a desk anymore.

I don't want the water-cooler-office thing anymore. I don't want the men coming in, and being grateful that they got in my line. I don't want to make anymore calls to people who don't want to hear from me.

But I am going to make this work as long as I can. Because in the end, my reward is this.

Which is better than........anything.

I just watched The Social Network since I had the afternoon off of work, and can I tell you


I wish that college was really like that.
I mean I know that college is really like that somewhere, but I wish I'd gotten to be that somewhere. In really old dorm buildings. The kind with old doorknobs. To have fellow students who were trying to live up to the name of the college. 


I sat there thinking, that maybe if I'd gotten to live my life over again, or at least the past four years, I might have taken out loans and gone somewhere really great.  Not worked my way through.


I guess God's idea was for me to stay here, and go to a suitcase college. But I know it also means He can pick me up and move me somewhere else just as easily.
I imagine Him doing it with tweezers, like on Roller Coaster Tycoon. Except, hopefully he doesn't drop me in a lake, like I would do with my park visitors. I'd be liable to drown.

Do you ever have those moments, when your friend remembers something really YOU, about you, and you didn't think she/he would, but then it just popped out of their mouth in front of your other friends?

And then you realize why you always forgive them for the bad crap they do to you.
And then there is love in your heart.

I ain't gonna work on Maggie's Farm no more.

By Friday, I'm usually so exhausted that my steering wheel directs me home instead of anywhere I probably should be.

I should get out more, for single-white-female-age-twenty-two. Oscar says, "Come dance with me." And it was like, when did you come to know my name so well? I should be at Alison's birthday party. I should have multiplied my time.

But instead, I pour myself a drink, eat my sisters' home made soup and lobster shaped biscuits, and watch Drunk History with Philip. My phone turns itself off, as it permits itself to do because it is old.

I find myself, here, Sharon. Admitting these things to you.
I admit that the admirers I took in my youth are married and are having children now.
I admit that I rub my arms on perfume samples in magazines, sometimes.
I admit to avoiding going out because of the rising prices of fuel.
I admit that I have dreams involving Fred Armisen showing up to church more than fortnightly.
And I admit that I will never buy a Mac because I am too old to bend to change, and too lazy to learn other technology.

And the thing I can never admit to the hipsters is that: I took a shower every day this week.

Forgive me Sharon. I should keep these things to myself.

where.but.for.the.grace.of.God.go.I.

One thing about worry is, that if you really never worried, you would lose that high--the rush--when all your fears are relieved.

Last night, after working with my Spanish partner via Google Chat to work out what we thought we'd do in our reviews this morning, I'm like, oh my gosh. we are going to fail. But then I couldn't find my bus pass card, and I worried about it til I fell asleep, and then when my alarm went off this morning, I hit snooze, and the first thing I was thinking was what I was going to say to the bus driver, and I have no idea how to actually pay for bus fare, and get transfer tickets and all that because students tap on and tap off.

BUT I found the pass in my jeans pocket, which I had already checked last night. I even caught the early bus and had time to rehearse my questions and answers in Spanish before my partner got there and I felt pretty good about it after it was over.

I started jumping up and down in front of the library, and Ashley just laughed. She doesn't understand relief. She is a med student. There is always another test to take.

And Wednesday is my comp-day so I don't have to work. I got home, ate Reese's cereal and drank coffee and ate a whole pound of strawberries and watched Be Kind Rewind. It was pretty cute.
Then I watched a couple episodes of You're Cut Off and went to the gym.

I am extremely happy. God is good. I'm starting to unwind from all of the running around. I feel ridiculously blessed.

When you get back, there will still be soap suds in the sink. The oven will still smell like taquitos. The light bulbs will still be warm.

But I won't be here.

My perfume might still linger in the air. I might even leave a glass of water sitting on a desktop.

Goodbye bowl. Goodbye brush. Goodbye bowl, full of mush.

On Children

I don't really spend that much time with Children who are older than one. As in, Children who can talk.

The other night I went to spend a couple hours with Celisse while she was babysitting Olivia. I'd heard a lot about Olivia. She is a very precocious three year old. It's like she is a very small, normal person, but she is really three. My favorite Olivia-ism is that she always says. "Well you can if you want to, but if you don't want to that's okay too." Also she calls her mom "Mother" which is a very foreign thing.

But the next day, I had a weirder encounter. Kylie told me that a kid might come over and knock on the door, but that I didn't have to answer it. And I didn't think this would actually happen.

Daisy started barking, and was clearly looking at someone who would be at the front door, so I looked out the window, and down on the porch was a young boy who was knocking softly on the door.
Then he was banging on the door. I couldn't ignore him, because there were lights obviously on, and my car was in the driveway.
I cracked open the door.
"Hello?" I said, into the one inch of open space, where he was looking at me, shyly.
"Hi."
"They're not here," I said. Because I didn't know what else to say.
"That's okay, they told me they'd be gone."
And I waited for him to state his name and purpose.
.
..
...
"They told me I could come in and pet the dog."
I thought about saying sorry, and please come back another time, but it struck me how lonely he must be to come over and have his excuse to come in be that he wanted to pet the dog.
"Okay." I said. And I opened the door and let him in, and I just sat on the steps and wondered what to do. I thought to say, Sorry I'm not wearing real pants. Or, Would you like a cookie, or something. But some people wear leggings as pants, and he shouldn't know the difference. Also offering a cookie would extend this awkward visit.
"How old are you," he asks, trying not to look at me, but also trying to see what I looked like.
"Twenty-two." I said.
"Oh you are old. You are thirteen years older than me." He immediately calculated.
"How old are you?" I asked, not immediately calculating.
"Nine."
Somehow I didn't believe him.
"My birthday was September 11, 2001." He said.
"What?"
"September 11, 2001. The day the twin towers fell."
"Oh my gosh."
"Yeah," he said. Still trying not to look at me. "They told me you'd be a kid."
"Oh really?"
"Yeah. I guess they were wrong." He said. I didn't try to explain to him that kids can't drive to other people's houses and stay the night by themselves. He thought I'd be a kid who would want to play guns or Xbox or something.
I silently sat there, watching him pet the dog, who was enjoying the attention.
"Okay, I guess I should go now." He said, and walked out the door.
"It was nice to meet you," I said, and locked the door behind him, and then ran up to the window to watch where he would go.

He looked around the neighborhood for a heavy moment. Just spacing out. And then he picked up some snow and turned it into a snowball. I felt weird to keep watching him, and went to finish lunch.

I thought about how many hundreds or thousands of people out there are really lonely. Maybe there is even another person in this neighborhood who is lonely.

But it's kind of reassuring to me that kids can still do weird stuff, like we did in the 90's. That he could just walk up to the house and start knocking.

If you are going through hell, keep going. - Winston Churchill

I walk much. I walk in the cold. I walk the dog. This is not the exercise I am used to. This is not squats, push-ups, crunches, lifting, or even really strenuous cardio.

Today I admit that being a college student is killing me right now. Or rather, being a college student who works as well. Everyday with the Spanish, and the traveling.

I am a full-time traveler. I have to plan my whole day and carry along other outfits, pack food, stash second pairs of shoes, make sure I am in the right car for the day. Catch the buses. Try not to over or under-eat. Try to drink enough water but also worry about when I will be able/allowed to go to the bathroom. Wear leggings under my pants. Live at different houses, try to remember where I am going to shower, and how to set my alarm clock.

I get just plain mad at people who don't have to do this like me.
But then I remember I signed up for it, and that I get bored when I am not doing it. But I can't wait for Spring Break.

And I wish I could get their TV to work, here, so I could turn off my brain for a minute.

I am learning

That if my brain is tired enough, it will just start to spit the Spanish out.
My life is a weird thing of going to Spanish everyday, and right now I am thinking of it like a spaceship and I show up there, and we all get in the spaceship and speak another language the whole time, and I like everyone there. I like that there is a med student who looks at me like I am a million bucks every morning, even when I don't wear make-up, or I am wearing weird clothes and tennis shoes. I like that I have girlfriends, and that I can rely on them to be my spanish speaking companions. I like that I can eat my PB&J and they don't care. I like that my teacher barely has any accent, so I can understand her Spanish in increasing amounts. I like that it is only an hour.

I travel approximately 8 hours a week because of the Spanish schedule. And every night I do the Spanish homework. I am a slave to spanish.
I am knowing too much about Hugo Chavez than I ever wanted to.

I am delirious and my knee hurts from crashing in front of the hipsters, still.
And my hair got shorter. And I am living with a dog who is really nice. She doesn't poop on the floor, and she doesn't even bark at me.

Live from New York, it's Saturday NIGHT!!

I've been watching old episodes of SNL from 1975, their first season. It started when I was looking at Chevy Chase's filmography, because I am so repulsed by him in Community. Who knew what it was going to become. The tradition.

And Chevy Chase used to be so handsome.

But as I continued to watch (I've been watching old and new episodes for about...hmmm...four hours) I started to Google each of the old actors, wondering what they were up to these days, and why the propulsion of SNL had not kept them classical. A lot of the actors and singers have died. John Belushi, Gilda Radner, Andy Kaufman, Madeleine Kahn, George Carlin. Just some of them that I Googled out of two episodes.

Watching the old tapes was like...historical. It made my mortality so real to me, all of the sudden. If those guys could die in their thirties and forties and early fifties, then it can happen to me. It could happen to Andy Samberg. It could happen to Will Ferrel, or Bill Hader, or God forbid...Kristen Wiig.

And if I don't die young from ovarian cancer like Radner and Kahn, then I will grow old enough for my looks to fade like Chevy's.

Such is life. So it goes.

I don't know if I'm even a borderline feminist anymore.

I realized this when I was listening to "Sexy Back" by Justin Timberlake and he says, "Let me make up for the things you lack." And I was like, Hmmm. If I was still a feminist, this sentence would bother me for reasons X, Y, and Z. (I mean it is a pretty loaded sentence, Freud would say.) But it didn't bother me. It just made me want to dance.

I still have two more days left of weekend, which is amazing. Thanks, Presidents.

Last night I laughed harder than I can remember happening for a long, long time.

Life goes on.

"Who won Best-in-Show?"
"I don't know."
"Wait a minute, you've been watching people walk their dogs for four hours? You guys are like the sophisticated rednecks watching NASCAR."
-Philip talking to my mom, with love


I think a lot of people were sad it was Valentine's day today. I don't really mind, but when I got on my bus, I could tell something was off. I said hello to my favorite bus driver who LOVES to talk so much that it usually holds up the bus, and he didn't say anything in return.

But then on the way home, I was finished with This American Life's episode/podcast called "Tough Room" and the last part was about people who cry on airplanes by accident, watching Freaky Friday or AMEX commercials. And I thought, that's funny. Must be something about the altitude. But I remembered that sometimes I do this suddenly on public transportation. Always on airplanes, because I'm leaving the midwest, but sometimes by accident I do it on the bus. And then this blind guy got on the bus, and the driver was giving him verbal instructions on where there was an open spot. And I just burst into tears, and had to hold back my sobs. And like the blind guy cared. He didn't. He put on his headphones, and I was compelled not to take my eyes off of him. When the bus would slow down, he would take off the headphones to hear if the woman who lives in the speakers would say it was his stop. And I wanted to spend the whole day with him, but I couldn't.

A lot of old single guys who came into the bank were sad too. Really nice guys with tired faces, that I had never before noticed them not being married. But you know what? They're going to keep going. It's not that big of a deal in the end.

Even Richie was married once, and he screwed that up.
And then he was hitting on 17 year old girls, and that's just not cool. Not for a strange milkman. He is one person I don't mind not seeing at 5am. But I do miss grumpy old guy.

Now I'm just rambling about old guys. Crap.

I guess they're the ones I worry about. They don't know how to take care of themselves if they don't got no woman anymore.

"Time you enjoy wasting, was not wasted."
John Lennon

I think about this during the weekend. Not that I feel I waste a lot of time, but when I am not being extremely productive, I am at least recovering from the week.

Weekend thoughts.

I like to wake up at the Edwards'. I like to wake up anywhere I do not have to say "Good morning." I hate to say good morning. It's like you don't know where you stand with a person, that between sleeping a few hours, you can't just start off a new conversation where you left it.

I watched Cat People which was more progressive than Dracula or Bride of Frankenstein. They mention divorce. They show a woman's shoulders and bare-back. There is a man-scream. I watched this movie instead of writing my paper which is due on Tuesday. I have an outline, and a thesis, and I owe Dr. Smith four more pages than that.
I don't know why I took another Gender class. It is more fun to write about Gender when you are in an ordinary English class. You sound smarter.
But now I read these articles, and I can't take it as seriously as I did when I was 19. I got more fired up about injustices when I was 19. But now it's a stretch. I will do my best.

AND. The weather was beautiful today. I wish I could put a lock on it, and have it be this way every day of the year. Snow on the mountains, slightly warm, but you know it will be cold at night. T-shirts and clean cars. Clean air.

I have become an OPTIMISTIC person.

E. E. Cummings

Judy is in the hospital still, but doing a lot better. I wish I was there now, but I still have 37 days. (I know you think I count a lot, but I have a Google counter app on my home page, so I can't help it. I like to know when exactly I am done waiting for things. Especially Jillian Michaels workouts, I watch the minutes on the DVD player so I know exactly how much longer I have of getting my butt kicked)

So this is the Valentine I made. This is the only time of year you will see me get Romantic, I hope.

And here is a toast to new beginnings. I'm going to record everything G. says from here on out, so that Tanya and I can prove we are not crazy. And I applied for 3 jobs last night, instead of drinking away my troubles. Because otherwise, G. wins. And I will not be taken down so easily.

I promised to my wife and children: I'd never touch another drink as long as I live. But even then, it sounds so soothing, to mix a gin and sink into oblivion... (Coldwar Kids)


I watched The Bride of Frankenstein last night, and they finished making the girl monster, and she hated the other monster. And I was like, seriously girl? He's kind of cute.

I wish they would do a remake and follow the book more closely.

But after that I watched the ABBA movie with my dad and Philip, for some reason, and it made me love to live here. I have the good life.

My grandma is in the hospital right now. She's not doing so hot, so if you could shoot a prayer up for her, that would be awesome. Her name is Judy, and she is the brightest sunshine in my life. (And I don't take superlatives lightly.)

It's a hard time for us to not be there right now. But our family... we always try to find the humor. And humor can make anything bearable for a few minutes.

My aunt is sending us text messages of the things Judy is saying on drugs.

"I'm in so much pain but I don't know who is responsible. Probably Karen Ritchie. Shouldn't say that too loud."

My dad says Karen Ritchie is someone who went to their Lutheran church in the 70's. Nobody has seen her in 25 years.

A nice thing is that God lets us take things one day at a time. I think Abe Lincoln said that, but I can't be sure.

"Mom thinks she is at church and wants to leave. Wonders if there are underpants on the floor."

a lovely time

Today I had, what resembled a vacation, for 6 or more hours. After classes this morning I went with Celisse for a sushi lunch with a Groupon. So cheap! And then watched TV all day long, pausing only to get snacks from the store.

What a good break from the stress. I've left my phone at Celisse's house, which I might not have back for several days, depending on how lazy I am tomorrow night. So I am really going 1960's for a little while.

But a bad idea was putting a bunch of corn meal in my hair. This website said it was a good idea for dry shampoo, but I think every dry shampoo was invented for blonds, because now my hair is white.

Good night, Nurse.

Letting the days go by, let the water hold me down

I have these momements, at the bank, when I look around and say, "How did I get here?" Like the Talking Heads' song. Except I don't say, "This is not my beautiful wife." But it feels very surreal. The same thing used to happen to me at Starbucks, when I would think I was playing store, like when you are a little kid.

But more, at the bank, I walk past the water cooler, or stare at the commerce of the town I am working in, and I think, how did I get here? How did I come to be working in a place with a water cooler?

And when I sit at my desk and try to think what my job would want me to be doing, it is surreal that this is the thing I do to make money show up in my bank account every two weeks. I sure do work, but then there are times that are slow, and I just stare off into space because it makes me feel a lot less guilty than if I were to surf the internet.

And with each disdainful look she gives me, I know my days are numbered. She has no reason to fire me, but I am getting few reasons to stay.

Frankenstein was good. Read it.

I love February. I mean love it. It's the shortest month, it doesn't get sentimental with you, or drag things out. It lives fully and when it's done, it's done.

I think of February as more sunlight, but still wintry. I love the red and pink colors in every store. I love Valentine's day, simply because it is a day invented to give cards, and candy. (I love stationary. I love sending and getting mail. And I love candy) I love the colors. I like that it is a reminder to tell your honey that you love them before the earth warms up. It's Celisse's birthday, too. I never got depressed about Valentine's day when I haven't been having a boyfriend. It's just fun.

Today was just about the coldest day I've ever been in Utah. And I forgot to wear long-johns. But the cold is still beating the hot any day.

I don't know why I keep using the present progressive, but it probably has something to do with Spanish. And that I feel free to do anything I want right now.

And what I'm wanting....is the progressive.

by boopsiedaisy on Etsy

with love, from Frankenstein
I'm reading Frankenstein by Mary Shelley right now. It's slow moving, but kind of touching. I'm not done with it yet, so I don't know how it wraps up. But Frankenstein wants nothing to do with his creation, and the monster just wants his friendship so badly. The monster disappears to live in the mountains for a while, and just watches this poor family and wants to be their friend, but can't reveal himself because he's been beaten by villagers before.
It's kind of heart-wrenching.

I only got one day off this weekend, but it has been a really good one. I got to eat at Wild Grape with Celisse which was pretty fancy. It was a treat, because I haven't been eating out much at all these past couple weeks in order to catch up with the Christmas and Tuition, and plane tickets that I have put on my credit card. It is going to be a busy Spring, I can already tell.
Kelsea's band played last night, which was also amazing. They are my favorite band at the Rock church. :) It was really good to catch up with all of my good friends from Provo.

Back to the grind, tomorrow, but feeling fully refreshed.

Bob,
I say these things to you now from some distance, because I came to you on my knees. I came to you a broken woman, but you wormed your way out of my arms.
I was ready to become clean. I was willing to take back my opinions on spending all my years with just one man.
I was re-reading your love letters to me, and starting to feel something.
But you set me free.
You let me go, and somewhere down the road I'll be happy about it.
I'll move back into my selfish ways and move through rooms alone.
I asked you for this, and I know about too late. I'm feeling too late now.

I'll lock up the map back to the first moments you needed me.
These are the first moments I've needed you.
If our affections could only happen at the same time.

Goodbye. I'm yours sincerely.

"if there's anything you want, come on back 'cuz it's all still here. I'll be in the back room drinking my half of the beer."

I'mma tell you this straight. If there is anything I have learned in life from my various employments and more frustrating relationships, it's this: you are never going to get anywhere until you become a mind reader.

Here and there, in this world, you meet a few people who are very decent communicators. You meet a few people who are actually thinking the next couple steps ahead.

But for the most part, you better be anticipating and planning your counterpart's move before he does. These are the success stories.

And that the world is run by tired people.

"we go through all the same lines, and sell out to appease, but go to sleep in a bed of lies. I've made my own more than once or twice." Spoon

waking up strong in the morning, and walking in a straight line. lately I'm a desperate believer, but walking in a straight line.

Missed you Silverchair. Missed you a lot.

This is a photo of MY vitaminwater flavor. I have the sneaking suspicion that they are discontinuing it, and I'm getting kind of traumatized. I've been drinking one of these everyday since the beginning of May of last year.
I don't know how I'll move on. The new blue one is disgusting.

I'm kind of in a funk, is the truth. I didn't think it would happen to me this winter. Nobody close to me has died. I'm getting pretty decent sleep. I'm doing well in school.

I think it all comes back to my boss, and how she is making me feel as a person. It makes each day harder to get through.

I start to question God why He laid this job in my lap and made look like the right thing after I'd been praying about it for 4 or 5 weeks. But I guess going over Ruth in small group tonight reminded me that this hurdle happened for a reason, and maybe something good enough will come of it. Or maybe He is just telling me to stay out of sales for the rest of my life.

I'd rather end Wednesday on a happy note though. I was reading about Mae West today on my own time, and yes-she-was-a-hussy but she was funny. Here's a less sessuál(as Liz Lemon would say) quote.

"You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough. "
-Mae West

today I am a fraud.

I know a lot of other people are fraudulent, but today, I am a much bigger fraud than usual.

I'm pretending I know Spanish.
I'm pretending I don't feel like a failure at my job. It is hard to do this when my manager keeps telling me that I am a real failure.

I'm pretending I did not wake up on the wrong side of the poverty line.
I'm pretending I didn't just drink 32 oz. of Dr. Pepper at work, or that I do this on a regular basis to calm down, or to face my afternoons at the bank.

I'm fake-smiling. And I don't smell good. My hands have smelled like a sandwich all day, which, if you know me, this is a reason I usually avoid sandwiches. And you also know how important smell is to me.

And no Dr. Smith, I didn't finish reading Freud's article on the Uncanny.

FRAUD. FAKE. IMPOSTOR.

Okay, cool. Tomorrow is a new day and this season of life has an expiration date.

fragments

The weekend was beautiful and short lived. After I was done house-sitting for good, it actually felt good to come home this time. My dream, after house sitting while every one was gone to Grand Junction, was to get a little house by myself, and grow plants, and live alone for a few years. Basically, what my dad did in the 80's before he became a Christian.
But then I realized that when I am left by myself, I see shadows and reflections that aren't there. I get spooked. But living by oneself during the day...it sure is nice.

It is Spring time, here, now. And what I mean by that is driving with the windows down. I am not ready for it to get warm yet. I am lamenting the end of January, to an extent.

Everyone I know should go rent the movie Devil by M. Night. It's the one about the people in the elevator. I cried at the end. I like it when movies can make me seek God. It's not scary. Maybe a little bit, but it's mostly a thriller. I want to watch it again, already.

I also watched Mama Mia, this weekend, with my family, by accident, and Iron Man 2, on purpose, with my dad. I got to spend time with the Roberts, which was magical. I don't know anyone else I would rather spend time with, in the dark, in front a fire, smoking and listening to Nat King Cole and Billie Holiday. Well...maybe one day I will meet that person. And he will be tall, black, and handsome. And he will be wearing a three piece suit.

And you know what? I forgot all the words to the ABBA songs, which is really making me question all of my memory stored from before 2004.

"I'm sorry that you've been caught up in another Liz Lemon adventure."
"NO! I am the protagonist."
-Liz and Jack on 30 Rock

he thought i was in love with him, but during our embrace, i was looking over his shoulder at a computer screen and he has his head next to mine, and he digs his claws in until I scream.

He is, what Dr. Smith would call my Demon Lover.
Demon Lover being the guy/monster we know is bad, but are attracted to anyway. For no good reason. And he'll probably kill me.

His name is Magic. I don't have that much experience these last couple of years with cats. Margot stays outside. Celisse's cat Zwingli either loves you or hates you.

But this Magic cat is a creeper. One moment he is purring, and then the next he is mauling me. He screams at 1 a.m. at other cats in the carport til I think I'm going to shoot him with the revolver that helps me sleep at night. He is black, and I didn't used to be supersticious but my Horror class has got my heart beating in my throat at night. He is sudden.

In other news. There is a customer that I appreciate. I say this in leiu of customer appreciation week, which is next week. Come open up an account, we'll give you a donut and sanitizer spray that comes out of this plastic thing that looks like it should actually be a calculator.

The customer I appreciate, his name is Sergio. I am guessing he is in his mid-forties or close to fifty. I'm not very good at guessing age, but he looks older than my dad. Anyway. I can't understand half of what he says.
"When are you due?" he says to me a week ago.
"Oh....soon." I say. Always willing to play along with this sad imperception. (I swear, it was the shirt I was wearing. Or my burrito/beer baby)
"Like, 10 months?" He asks, aware of his mistake very quickly.
"Yes," I say. "10 months."
"How many kids do you have?" He asks.
"Four boys," I say, counting his hundreds carefully.
"Oh MY GOSH. Four boys, really?" He says, and then, "Bla bla bla," that I can't understand, through his thick accent. At least he tries to speak English. I barely let on to customers that I know Spanish, except accidentally when I nod at something they say in Spanish, and they catch me.

So now he always asks about my kids, and I feel like Philip, and his made-up children. And I don't mind lying to the clients. Sometimes they like it. Sometimes it's necessary, when the men ask you out, or track you down.

It was a beautiful Spring day, and after being stabbed repeatedly in a staff meeting, I think: "Only 59 more days. Fake it until I make it." Fake it 'til I make it.

I will conquer these present obstacles.
"Meekness: Uncommon patience in planning a revenge that is worth while.”
-Ambrose Bierce

Bad Dreams

One of the hardest parts these days is waking up after bad dreams. 4 or 5 nights a week I have a bad dream that makes me wake up regretting. Regretting things I never said to her, or sometime I wake up physically sobbing because I was back at the farm for a few hours while I slept only to have it ripped away when I wake up.

But I would rather wake up sad than not have visited them while I was asleep.
I fear the day that I won't be able to recall in the crystal clarity every object from that house. The wallpaper. Every field.

I don't want to move forward. I want to stay a child, and have no one grow older from this moment.

El ojo en la nuca.

"I want to show you how I love you, but there's nothing there." Spoon

My room is a mess, and my suitcase is still out, from house sitting. I'm just going to fill it back up.

I'm taking a horror movie English class that is focusing on gender. Reading the 700 page Mysteries of Udolpho. Already have my Spanish homework done. Everything is strangely in control. My sense of calm is probably because I've been on top of my Bible readings. My dad got me a Kindle for Christmas, which was an amazing, extravagant gift. But for the first time in my life, I'm reading the Bible everyday, and the Kindle is making it so easy. If I had known about this sooner, I would have sprung for one a long time ago.
Now I just have to work harder at Prayer. Prayer is a hard one for me, for some reason, because I know God already can read my mind, He knows what's going on. Also, because of predestination, I never think that my prayers are going to change things. But I know that prayer is good, and we're supposed to do it, so I'm working on it.

My goals for this semester:
-find a job that doesn't constantly make me feel like a failure (I am a very hard worker, this shouldn't be that hard! ha)
-get out of debt (so I have savings if I get fired. also, ha)
-pray out loud more
-pass Spanish with a B

I know I have other cool ideas that I will remember later.

Lastly...my dad sometimes will try to understand football, for my mom, which is pretty cute. But if I marry some dude who loves football, I just can't like it for him. I've tried to do like it way too many times by now.

"Everything has a solution, don't worry," Gloria told me, in her thick Colombian accent, an hour after we closed the doors. She spent an extra hour of her personal time, because I was on the phone with operations support to help me figure out a huge problem that I had created. I think how sweet she is when we are not talking Sales. I think how this job has stretched me like taffy. I almost break, but always get folded back in. I think back to my first year of college, when everything did not have a solution. I confess to her when I used to lock myself in my room and not leave my house for two or three days out of fear. The fear is unexplainable to someone without anxiety, but I am blessed enough to have those days behind me for now.

These days, all I see is how God is providing for me. How I have bread for each day. I know I need to be a better steward. But I do know, that if I was fired suddenly or lost my job for other reasons, that God will still provide. I do not have the same crippling fears I grew up with. I know God comes through because I've watched it. I see it everyday.

In my ways, I have survived several different armies.

I keep forgetting that I asked God to be an Eskimo, and that I wanted this cold winter. But I always remember how much easier the cold is for my head than the summer allergies and hot sleepless nights.

Sleep is so enjoyable in the cold. I never want to get out of bed.

Today was the first day of school, and I found out last night that one of my courses changed times, and is the exact same period as another class, so I have to choose between the two of them. I think this is probably a good thing. A God thing. This way, at least 2 days a week I can take the bus to save gas money. Also, I have a better chance of getting grant money for Fall semester, so that would be a better time to take 3 courses.

I immediately made friends with the girl in front of me in Spanish class, since I didn't get the class with Matt Nanes. She is as far behind as I am, so it should work out great.
I've finally learned how to be outgoing and have classmates I can rely on.

[x] go ice-skating at Gallivan

No. I don't actually have a list of things I need to get done, I just love checking things off anyway.

Went ice-skating with Kelsey G., Darrell, and Philip tonight. It was really good to get out and do something fun and wild even though it is freezing, and the valley is a fishbowl of pollution right now. Then we went to Denny's, and seeing Kelsey with short hair makes me want to cut all of mine off.

3 days left of Winter break, and my Spanish is still terrible.
2 days left of sleeping in.

A little thing called Victory.

So far, January is awesome. I'm getting toned by Jillian Michaels. Celisse is texting me every day to make sure that I'm reading the Bible and I really think I'm going to get through the One-Year this time. Probably because I started in the beginning of November. :)
I'm eating less crappy foods, and drinking less. I think that I haven't had a Vitaminwater in 4 or 5 days either. I haven't been on FB for weeks. I'm feeling mentally good.

My job might be really hard, but I hope for the future. I'm going to push through this semester and hopefully speak some Spanish by the end of it. I'm going back to Iowa in March. I'm looking forward to everything.

I love Joan Holloway. This is where my winter break has mostly been spent, besides the Edwards' house. But even when I was dogsitting Patty and Kiki, I was really hanging out with Don Draper.

come on and get the minimum, before you open up your eyes

I used to get so reflective for the new year. But I think as I get older, I'm not as much in anticipation of what it will bring, because the last two or three years have been basically the same. So, two thousand ten, you were a pretty good year after April. I got my life back together at the farm, I got out of Starbucks, and I got an A in a senior level English class which I'm really proud of. I went on a cruise to Mexico which just makes me want to travel more, especially on boats.

I feel like I am capable of everything at this point. Except time travel, which is a shame. I wish I had been born in 1940.

I don't know if it's because she's from the midwest but my grandma says these phrases or euphemisms that I have never heard before.

"They don't have a pot or a window to throw it out of." I don't know if it's a Lutheran thing, or a Midwest thing, or what.

Another thing I learned from watching Jerseylicious, is that people in Jersey are really good at similes. I haven't watched it for a few weeks, but when I do, I will try to take note for you. I feel like this is something I missed out on in Utah's Public High Schools. They don't teach you fun things to say, or how to get your hair big. The cheerleaders kept that one to themselves, but Tracy Dimarco sure filled me in.

"Well, it is a good movie. She might be really dumb, but she's dumb like a fox."
"I think the saying is crazy like a fox."
-my grandma, on Legally Blond and then my dad's quiet response to her

The holidays...

Work has been stressful, and I couldn't figure out why, because I didn't get a single e-mail from my boss all week about stuff I was doing wrong. Because she was on vacation. But then I realized maybe I was grumpy every day because I'd worked 6 days straight and I've been wearing uncomfortable cute shoes in effort to look more professional.

Celisse and I exchanged gifts on Thursday night and then Bryan made us go see Skyline, which was a fun experience and a terrible movie. I love the feeling of the apocalyptic movies though. There is something I crave about leaving your day-to-day circumstances of showing up to work, and then suddenly becoming a part of a group of people who are fighting or struggling in some way to survive. Maybe all of America loves this, and that's why they keep making those movies. But it also goes back to my thing of Freud and his discontents. I seriously want to go live in a commune, with little cabins and no air conditioning or furnaces. To have a community garden. The boys would go hunt or farm and the girls stay home and do laundry and get to read books and actually cook meals. I'd get to hang out with my awesome Christian brothers and sisters all day. Like the beginning of the United States of America. Maybe Heaven could be something like this.

this thing of being out of
school. My job wouldn't really give me more hours for the holidays. But they want me to spread the hours out over the week. So I work these baby shifts which are too short to do anything really important. So I end up watching too many episodes of my newest favorite TV series.

Without 19th century literature to tie me down, I end up going to bed wearing my bathing suit by accident. I enjoy standing in long lines. I enjoy making fake boyfriends so that I don't have to date any mechanics. I wake up in the night thinking about check holds, and Earl, and french toast, and Jillian Michaels. I do that thing of falling asleep on my drives home, in the dark. I choke down coffee. I leave my phone at work until the next day.

19 days. 11 hours. 37 minutes. 12 seconds.