Hungry likes the wolves

It's a full moon tonight. Normally on a night like tonight, I'd be worried about wolves. Werewolves! I've been thinking about wolves a lot lately because of an article I read in National Geographic a few days ago.

Perhaps minutely worse than being surrounded by a pack of werewolves is being surrounded by THREE PREGNANT WOMEN!! Yes, I am surrounded.

My sister announced yesterday she is pregnant! Just shy of three months. Mr. TrevTrev will have a playmate (hopefully female) come Christmas 2010. Becky carries her babies high in her belly, which means her pregnant body's shape resembles a fat little kid. Think Chancho in Nacho Libro.



My landlord/friend Alison is upstairs, and pregnant. I sometimes wake up to her pregnant lady yoga DVD. Other than that and hearing her talk about how fat she is (lie), she's a pretty average pregnant gal.

My crazy circumstantial roommate is eight months pregnant, and easily is going through the weirdest pregnancy I've ever been exposed to. Sometime, when I'm more removed and not wounded by it, I will tell you all about it. Poor little soul.

I'm going to Houston tomorrow to see my Jeffy!

The woes of online life

I have what some may feel is an archaic sense of custom and etiquette with certain things. Prominent in my mind lately is the looming task of collecting invitees and addresses for the wedding.

The modern protocol for young 20-somethings undergoing this process is to send out a Facebook group invite, where you post your address on the group wall and you'd darn well better if you want an invitation because that's the only way you're going to be contacted about it. No personal telephone call, no e-mail, no text, no personal message. Probably because the extent of your contact has been on Facebook (which to me means we're not really good friends anyway, unless you live in a foreign state or country).

Tell me if you think I'm being a drudge, but I just can't get on board with this. I've denied myself six wedding invites in the past three months simply because I refuse to add my name to a generic list. I feel like my present is being invited more than I am. One time I received a group invite to the wedding of a girl I'd only interviewed for the Daily Universe. Granted she and I were in the same social circle, but I doubt she knows who I am anymore. I was stunned to get that group invite, which is probably the instance that turned me off to the whole group thing in the first place. I think that's really the kicker, is that often these group invites come from people I'm not close to, and in reality, I wouldn't invite them to my wedding, so why are they inviting me?

On Thursday I lazed around fighting a 102 degree fever all day. Now I feel almost completely better! Thank you Regan for tending to the sick and needy, and thank you Amoxicillin! You are a miracle worker, even if you taste disgusting.

I am excited to marry my Jeffy :) This time next week I'll be visiting Jeff in Texas!

Why does Monday always come back so fast?

I wonder why we as humans are so fascinated by how other humans live their lives. Why do we post intricacies of our lives on the internet for all to see? (Why do I write this blog?) Why do kids from my high school, whom I was never really friends with, add me as a friend on Facebook? Why, in my ward's Relief Society, do we have a "Good News Minute"? Why do you read my blog (if you don't know me personally)? If you haven't made an effort to talk to me in six months or more, and we have no potential need to stay in touch career/networking-wise, why should I keep your phone number? Your friendship on Facebook?

As previously mentioned, I'm currently purging from my life many of my earthly possessions in preparation for My Big Move to be with my One True Love, my Jeffy. My measurement of an item's worth is this: Have I used or worn this item since I've been home from my mission? If yes, I keep it. If no, I will attempt to sell or donate it. It is working well so far. And I guess what I'm wondering is if I can use the same philosophy with my many Facebook "friends." Or my profile in general. I haven't used my Myspace profile since I've been back. I didn't use my Facebook for 18 months. Obviously I don't need it.

I saw "Babies" yesterday. It is not for the faint of heart. Mainly because the film exhibits breasts in their primary function so graphically I'm rethinking my desire to bear children. Though PG, there is A LOT of nudity. It's in context, but altogether it's excessive. (Or perhaps I'm just a prude). The film follows four babies in various parts of the world. You will see all but one mother in the nude. Of course you will see every child in the nude, and you will see one child discover his nether regions. The little Mongolian baby boy won my heart the most.

I should have retired to bed 47 minutes ago.

Friday, I'm in love

I have no shame. I go to movies by myself on Friday nights and I don't feel bad about it. I saw Robin Hood tonight and I liked it. I have always been a sucker for knights in shining armor though. And Russell Crowe.

I try not to feel sorry for myself, but I'll be honest that tonight I do, pathetically enough. Just a little bit. Because the movie got out 45 minutes ago and I've come home, eaten a PB&J and I'm debating between watching a movie here at home, going to get birthday cake ice cream, or going to the gym. Really I mean and/or because by 11 pm tonight I will probably have accomplished all three in random order. But if I go to the gym it means I'll see my hairstylist who always wonders why he sees a girl like me at the gym Friday nights (as if he's the only person with no friends, or few). And if I get ice cream first then I'll have to bring it home before I go to the gym. But if I go to the gym, then to get ice cream, I'll have to go to Smith's in my workout clothes, and that is just too much for me.

But I have no shame :)

Texas, oh Texas. Wherefore art thou Texas?

What is it about a full time job that makes my brain too numb to do anything articulate? Until 11 pm, apparently, when I've recovered.

Many changes are afoot. Yes, I'm talking about getting married to my beloved Jeffypoo. There are many, many things that must happen between now and then. Like moving to Houston, which is going to be much sooner than we'd originally anticipated. One would think that I, after having been so transient the past six years of my collegiate life, would feel nothing but confidence in moving to Houston.

I am happy, scared, overjoyed, sad, excited, insane all at one time. I am currently ridding myself of many material things, ranging from clothes to bicycles, an antique steamer trunk to a very comfortable bed. If I possess something you would like, please consult me and I may give it to you. No you may not have my ceramic bald-eagle-in-mid-flight statue.

I have always been able to sing songs about going home to California. Joni Mitchell's ode to my great state hits a chord. Phantom Planet's is cliche, but it'll do. Tony Bennett croons my lost heart's anthem. What ballads are there about fair Texas?

Des Moines. What's Des Moines?

I would first like to say that being engaged, even long distance, is really great and I highly recommend it when you get the chance.

I am on day three of my Wells Fargo-funded training trip to Des Moines, Iowa. I have the difficult choice tonight of either accompanying the more raucous of the group to see one of our classmates fight in a scheduled bar fight (think Robert Downey, Jr. style in Sherlock Holmes but with girls in bikinis nearby), or to accompany the conservative girls (another Mormon, a Muslim and a recent divorcee) and the one femme male to the mall. Hmmm. Tough choice but I think I know what I should do.

Aside from all the enlightening sales skills I'm being indoctrinated with, I'm experiencing a bit of culture shock. Not for the area itself but for the popular pastimes among my WFF peers. Like drinking. Swearing every other word. Gossiping. Talking trash about other people, particularly one of our more loud-mouthed classmates. And this is all normal outside of Utah. Is it? Or are these people excited to be away from home and still in the "Don't tell mom" phase? I, at an old 24, am particularly glad my perpetual adolescence ended long ago, or really never began.

The word is out around here that my coworker and I are Mormon. We've had many questions, mainly about the Word of Wisdom. Answering inquiries on alcohol and tea is easy. But really now, what do you tell people when they ask why we don't drink coffee? With people on my mission, "Because the Lord said so, seek your own answer," was often good enough for coffee and tea. It doesn't work when you're talking to coffee-guzzling twenty-somethings who want concrete facts. I need to figure this out. Today my new Philadelphian friend Bobby asked me, "So since you're Mormon, you don't use machines, right?" Our table of six had a great laugh about that. How frequently we are still confused with our Amish brethren. And Mennonites. But we are among good company in that regard.

I miss the mountains.

Just thought you should know...

Jeff and I got engaged yesterday at my most favorite place in San Francisco, the Sutro Bath ruins. It was a gorgeously windy day. No fog. Just sun and lots and lots of wind.



We don't know much about marriage, but we're excited to find out. Our date is set for September 4 at the LDS Oakland Temple. We will be married not just for time, until we die, but for all eternity. If you are not familiar with LDS temples and the concept of eternal families, please watch this short video.



I would like to write a short ode to my Jeffy, who went so far as to have a friend of his in SF leave cheesecake and blankets on a rock down on Ocean Beach, below the Sutro Bath ruins, for us to enjoy immediately post-engagement. It was so sweet and unexpected. Sorry ladies that this tender, sensitive, selfless manly man is off the market!

History: We've shared a unique and loving friendship over the 6.5 years we've been friends. Jeff and I met freshman year in our freshman ward. We were in the same FHE group. We immediately became close friends. Our friendship continued to deepen as he served as a missionary for the LDS church in Uruguay. He later commented that I wrote him more than anyone outside his family. Of course, we had no romantic inclinations toward each other at this point. When he returned we continued our friendship. I don't remember at which point we decided this, but we made a pact long ago that if we weren't married by the time we were 30, we'd marry one another. Then I went on a mission and he wrote me, again with no intentions of romance ever. When I returned in November, we began talking again. He invited me to visit him in Houston. I did. And that's all she wrote.

:) :( :-/

I just wanted to confess that I didn't go to the gym today :(

Because I failed to get out of bed when my alarm went off at 6 am to propel me to the gym :(

Because tonight I saw Megan and then other Megan who I haven't seen in three years :)

Second Megan and I ate Five Guys and it was cold :(

Then I came home and I was sad because Jeff went to bed and I didn't get to talk to him :(

And I decided I didn't want to go to the gym after all. But I feel really guilty and now that it's almost 10:30 pm I wish I had gone I should have gone :(

My allergies are really bad and I have a killer sore throat and I am achy all over :(

I know it's allergies and not the flu :)

I am going to go to bed now :)

We're on a road to nowhere

I'm still wondering why not more people were at the Retribution Gospel Choir show at Kilby Court last night. Maybe Low isn't a cool band among the newest hipsters, so they didn't know that one of indies most influential musicians was in town. Maybe Subpop isn't deemed "with it" in 2010. I hope it was just finals.

It was an odd crowd. A few neo-hippies/hipsters. The avid, activist SLC cyclists. The girl who looked like she just stepped out of Forks, Washington (or wished she had). The too-eager couple, whose male counterpart met band leader Alan Sparhawk while serving his mission in Duluth and hadn't heard of Low until then and has overbearingly idolized Sparhawk and family since then. There was the other boy there who was alone, also wearing a chambray shirt, cuffed dark denim jeans. Basically he was wearing what I was wearing, only definitively masculine. And of course the older couple, the wife who didn't look like she'd been out of the house recently enough to realize that wearing cropped cargo pants with heels just isn't done anymore. But you know, she rocked the mom look nonetheless.

And as I sat alone on my red-bench-for-one, I thought, "What are these people thinking about me based on how I'm dressed? On how I'm sitting? On the fact I came alone?"

I cleaned my whole house today, territories I use at least, and I'm loving it. After about week three of living here, I realized (and Jeff help me realize) that my efforts in cleaning were unappreciated and abused. So I stopped. I've been wearing slippers around my house and setting NOTHING on any countertop since. But now everything is disinfected and glistening.

I started washing my face with olive oil last night. Extra virgin. Ladies and gentlemen, you must try it! My skin feels so supple, my skin tone more even, redness diminished. Oh, the wonders of nature!

I am making a goal this very beautiful spring moment to blog more and also spruce up my blog! I used to write a lot about interesting things and now I'm so boring. The lending industry has made me boring.

I got to watch Trevor for a few hours today. We had the best time! We bought "Where the Wild Things Are," and he's understandably obsessed with it. We ate lunch at the Cougareat. As we walked out, Trevor stomped and waddled and hollered: "I'M A ROBOT I'M A ROBOT!!!" at the top of his lungs until we were out of earshot of anyone else and he'd had his fill of being cute. Of course everyone who saw him was cracking up. He looked so cute today, dressed in a kelly green polo, plaid shorts and orange crocs. The kid is a dream. As we crossed the street outside the Wilk, a lady actually yelled from her car window as she passed: "He is SOOOO cute!!" Boy, he just soaked it up all day, until the cashier at the BYU Bookstore scared him so badly with her oo's and ah's that Trevor made me carry him for ten minutes until he wasn't scared anymore.

I want a baby. Someday.

Lastly, my current favorite song is "Road to Nowhere" by the Talking Heads. 1. Because it's a good summer song. 2. Because I feel like I'm on the beach with Fred and Ben Savage, having just climbed out from under a bum's lawnchair, i.e. portal to the monster underworld.

Betterment

I've been taking great strides to better my health and my life lately. For example, I acquired a membership to a local gym. I've cut most fats out of my diet. I'm down to 1-2 cans of Diet Coke per day, and I juxtapose that with 3-4 L of water.

My current dilemma comes from the idea of a colon cleanse. I've had friends do various high-fiber cleanses over the years, and they swear by them. With almost too-good-to-be-true results, and a $100+ price tag, I think anyone would be skeptical of such miraculous results. Do I try said cleanse? Are colon cleanses needed anyway? Surely Heavenly Father designed our bodies so immaculately that they'd cleanse themselves.

Guess I won't know 'til I try it.

I went to Dallas last weekend. It was really nice. I met Jeff's family. They are really nice.

Life is nice.

It's not the most politically correct, but...

It's when I hear songs like this that I lust after being born 80 years ago.

Daniel Day Lewis and the Thieves

I had three different dreams last night. One involved me and Daniel Day Lewis hanging out and eating British food: fish and chips, shepherd's pie, lots of other meats and sausages and artery-clogging eats. The next involved me and Daniel Day Lewis going to Chuck A Rama (I must have been really hungry when I went to bed), where we kept eating and eating and eating. And close to this one buffet bar sat a table of jocks, who guffawed at this oddly dressed slightly older man and his radiant companion. Then at one point, I couldn't find Daniel anywhere. I searched the entire restaurant and finally found him sitting with a table of 19-year-old, Zoobie-ish girls. They were having a great time and I felt left out. The third consisted of an impeccably dressed Daniel Day Lewis and this other man who I can mostly readily compare to a quiet version of "Booger" from "Better Off Dead", giving a washboard and saxophone concert. Daniel Day Lewis sang some songs. It was an amazing show from what I remember. Maybe he should take to the life of a troubadour. I will go with him.

Bagging of the bird

I just wanna say thanks from the bottom of my heart to Tess and Adam, for finding this gem of a song. Find the "Bird Dogs Forever" theme song at the bottom of the screen.

My sister and I went to the DanceSport championships tonight. I haven't much to say other than I definitely know what I DON'T want my wedding dress to look like. Or any dress I ever wear, for that matter. What? Beadazzle my entire wardrobe? No, no, thank you. I'll pass.

I like wearing dresses.

Do you ever have those weeks when it's just better for you to not see anyone and stay inside or be alone? I am trying my hardest to stop this week that I speak of at tonight so I can continue my life the way I prefer it. Happy. Patient. Giving. Loving toward others. But you know I guess I can't be that way all the time.

I heard back from Teach For America. I am waitlisted, and I won't hear any further until April 19. The lengthy e-mail basically said, "We had a lot of applicants. We really like you. There aren't as many spots to fill this year. Just hang on because we're finding you a spot. We just don't have one for you...yet." Of course, Jeff is extremely optimistic as to what this means, and he would know because he's in TFA, and he said all the waitlisted kids got in last year. How dearly I appreciate him for this perspective. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't battling a smidge of hopelessness right now. (How pathetic. I really am anything but).

The ambiguity of the future that I've felt since I've been home has been alleviated significantly by starting a job. By applying for opportunities like TFA. By dating Jeff. By playing in a semi-defunct band with my best friends. By attending the temple weekly. I find that many things, no matter how important or insignificant, give me little reasons to be. Or not to be. That isn't my question.

Maybe I am just emotional because I'm tired and probably PMSing and that's the only reason why I'm feeling this way, because basically I have a major identity crisis once a month around this time. Ugh.

Yeah really, I just read over this blog post, and it's completely ridiculous. I can't believe I wrote it. It's all a lie except the part about PMSing. What is it about hormones that distorts reality so much?

I have an incredible life. I live in a great place, with a good job. I'm blessed in myriad ways.

Paul said it best: "We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair. Persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed." I especially love these verses up until despair. I think that describes each day of mortality, as long as we love one another and do all that good stuff we know is right. There will be much uncertainty and much exploration, but we can be guided in what we do. Just keep going and everything falls in its place. Everything has its place and everything in its place, as Brother Wonka used to say.

I'm going to bed. Goodnight, Sweetheart.

P.S. Megan Stay, I've been thinking lately that I miss you a lot and I am going to come to Las Vegas to see you real soon.

Takes me back back.

My homegirls from Waterloo Branch made up their own version to Tik Tok. I love it! I love them!

wake up in the morning feeling like p diddy.
grab my scriptures im out the door im gonna hit seminary.
before i leave, brush my teeth with a bottle of crest.
cause when i leave for the day i aint comin back.

scripture mastery on our mind, mind.
movies all the time, time.
no texting on our phones, phones.
im talking lessons at the dossetts.
pullin in the driveway.
were not gonna be late today.

CHORUS:
dont stop make it last.
seminarys such a blast.
tonight hit the hay.
no more stayin up late.
tick tock 6 o'clock.
but the party dont stop, no.
WO WO WAH OWHH. WO WO WAH OWHH.
(repeat)


those who are lazy they get no biscuit n' gravy.
but if we get there on time, we would be totally fine.
&& now alarms are goin off at nearly 4 in the morning.
our friends think were crazy, but their life is just boring.

im talkin bagels on friday- day.
p diddy dont get paid paid.
it's okay cause he like it that way, way.

now now we goin until six thirty.
or maybe we be late, late.
cause school starts at eight, eight.
school it starts at eight.

CHORUS.

spirit, you build me up.
dont break me down.
my heart it pounds.
yeah, you help me.

im on my knees.
you got me now.
i got that feel.
yeah you got me.

spirit you build me up.
dont break me down.
my heart it pounds.
yeah you help me.

im kneelin down.
put your head down.
put your head down.

now the party dont start til the mormons walk in.

CHORUS.

Today I find out about TFA!! Today I will listen to "Today" by the Smashing Pumpkins on repeat! Today is going to be a good day.

Well, today meaning tomorrow. Because it's still Sunday for 20 more minutes.

Song of the night

And I love her so
I wouldn't trade her for gold
Walking on moonbeams
I was born with a silver spoon

Hell I'm gonna be me
Gonna be free
Walking on moonbeams
And staring out to sea

And if a door be closed
Then a row of homes start building
And tear your curtains down
For sunlight is like gold

Hell you better be you
Do what you can do
Walking on moonbeams
And staring out to sea

'Cause if your skin was soil
How long do you think before they'd start digging
And if your life was gold
How long do you think you'd stay living

And I love her so
I wouldn't trade her for gold

-- from the movie "Once"




I started at Wells Fargo Friday. It's going well. Nice people. Okay computer. OK Computer. It's a job, and I'm grateful for it. I miss being with kids already.

Life is good. Way good.

The best thing about being a woman.

I can't get her out of my head!!!!

SHANIA!!!!

SHE WON'T LEAVE!!!!

(Update: The beautiful Megan and I just spent six hours deep cleaning my house. Now it smells of ammonia, only I can't smell anymore because of the ammonia. But I'm told it smells clean in here, and that's what I wanted).

I find out about Teach For America soon. I want to hear tomorrow. Or I don't want to hear at all. Real life. Why does life keep moving? Maybe I don't want it to. Really I do.

First I need to get Shania out of my head...

This summer I might have drowned.

Well, here I am, penning my first blog entry since moving into Alison (formerly) Faulkner's basement. In Provo. Where I didn't want to be. But you know what? It's going to be all right.

Already I've been issued a calling by my bishop. I've been reacquainted with many kindreds and friends. I've found lots of old letters written to me long ago (a few from Grandma Betty, who I miss more fondly after re-reading her notes). I am giving away some movies, like "Volver," "American Beauty," "The Squid and the Whale," and a few others. Well, what do you think? I don't want them anymore because for me they aren't conducive to my spirituality. So, should I impose that on other people or just throw them away?

The past few days have been relatively difficult. I don't know why. But I appreciate the reality check. The sweetness of life is so much more sweet when the taste of a dismal, dreary day is fresh upon my tongue.

Unfortunately, upon my inspection earlier today, I've found this basement apartments' common areas to be much too dirty for my preferences. Horror stories already. I remember vividly why I wanted to live alone. I have my work cut out for me.

Ode to L'Ete: 1

Have I really not posted anything since February 9?

Is my mind so empty that I had nothing better to post on February 9 than that video?

These past few weeks have been amazingly insane. I start my job on Friday, finally, which means I'm moving back to Provo, like, in eight hours. Yay.

My parents came to visit last weekend. So did Jeff. I miss one quite a bit more than the others. Someday I will write all about it. It being a non-gender specific reference to him. I quite like him. I think I'm allowed to say that.

My current Internet browsing obsession is finding me a swimsuit. I really want a new swimsuit because I plan on doing a lot of swimming this summer. Me and Loudon Wainwright.



Now, I must say that I cannot wait for summer. Do you remember several posts ago, my photos I posted and I wanted you to guess the common element? None of you guessed it because if you had guessed it right you would have said summer.

I LOVE SUMMER. I was born in summer. I've always wanted to be married in summer. It is by far my most favorite season, and every pivotal event in my life should happen in the summer--birth, marriage, death. It is the most magical of the seasons. I am a child of the summer. All of my childhood memories occurred in the summer. Or maybe they didn't, but for some reason the setting is summer. Christmas in summer. Thanksgiving in summer. Sword Lake in summer. Salmon fishing in summer. As soon as I finish moving, or maybe tomorrow, I'm going to make my summer mix CD and I will post the track listing on here when it's completed. I was so worried and sad to give up two whole summers as a missionary. No swimming, no picnics, few barbeques and cook-outs. No chili cook-offs. No camping. No moonlit walks, stargazing sessions. No river floating. No sitting outside on the stoop. No "Late in the Evening" by Paul Simon. No New York. In retrospect I really didn't miss those aspects of summer very much because I knew I'd get them back. I almost have them back. Four more months and I have them back. Utah summers are so very magical. I don't want to be in Utah this summer. I want to be running around on the water wall.

Is he saying 'burrito'?