Passing fancies

Today I am crying. It started 20 seconds ago. I have tried to cry all week and couldn't.

I'm crying because my house is a mess. More about the reason than the mess. The bulk of my belongings are in storage. It's snowing in Provo and my winter clothes are packed away.

I'm crying because you stayed behind in the crowd. I'm crying because you didn't care if I left you. I'm crying because you didn't care to follow me. I'm crying because you'd rather be with other people than with me.

I'm crying because this is how I turn the page.

I'm crying because I still haven't sold my Mackbook Pro.

I'm crying because I give my farewell talk in two weeks.

And I'm crying because I'm listening to Chet Baker, and he's just so darn gorgeous.

Let me not be too consumed.

My new friend Martin isn't just any kind of friend. He's a duck. A baby duck. A duckling. He's soft and furry and yellow and makes this delicate little "cheep cheep" sound all day long. Only problem is in that last sentence--the "all day long" part. Because Martin won't freaking SHUT UP! I am just counting my blessings that I don't have to sleep in the same room as that annoying little brat! You can read more about him and watch videos of him on Tess' blog. It is definitely worth it, because I doubt any of you have seen a duckling in an attic apartment before.

Today I had my hair did by the magician Patrick Hoyal at Shep Salon in Provo Utah (book at least two weeks in advance). It is my mission haircut. Here is a picture. (Please excuse the bathrobe and poor lighting).


It is layered all around, which will work nicely with my waves in the humidity. It is also much darker than the blond it was only earlier today, which was necessary to soften the growout blow. It is the mark of beautiful craftsmanship all around, but I won't look like myself for a few more days. I guess I mostly don't like it because I left my dark hair behind a while ago. Dark hair is old Lisa. Blonder/lighter hair was new Lisa. And that was the Lisa I know. I guess I should probably stop defining myself by my hair though.

Things are changing very quickly. I move home to California next Tuesday. I leave on my mission three weeks from today (Wednesday). Sometime during those short weeks, Alex and I are breaking up. Suddenly I feel like my life is moving around me while I stand still. I have prepared for these things for a while, so now that they're happening, it only feels like a natural course. Like moving from one class to the other during passing period. There are little occurrences in each class period, but my sights are set on the end-of-the-day bell.

In anticipation of these changes, my brain has been blessing me with vivid and horrific dreams. Last week, I found myself the oldest of four siblings. My brother in the dream, who had terrifically blond hair, decided to murder everyone who was in our house at the time, which happened to be our old neighbors' house, which happened to be everyone we knew because we were hosting a party. After killing everyone but me and our other siblings, my brother fell exhausted in the master bedroom. During this time I swiftly packed my bags and left the house. I made it to the driveway and then the dream was over. No driving away. No walking into the sunset. It ended on the driveway.

"To dream that you are murdered, suggests that some important and significant relationship has been severed and you are trying to disconnect yourself from your emotions. It also represents your unused talents." - taken from Dreammoods.com

"To dream that you are a hostage, indicates that you are feeling victimized and powerlessness. You may also be feeling limited in your choices or physically immobilized. Perhaps this dream is paralleling some situation/difficulties in your daily life or relationship. Alternatively, it suggests that a part of yourself is not being fully expressed." - dreammoods.com

"To dream that you are being chased, signifies that you are avoiding a situation that you do not think is conquerable." - dreammoods.com

Last night I dreamed that I couldn't stop throwing up. I threw up on everything, like Chunk in the movie theater.

"To dream that you are vomiting, indicates that you need to reject or discard an aspect of your life that is revolting. There are some emotions or concepts that you need to confront and then let go." - taken from Dreammoods.com

Now that you know everything about me, I'm going to go stay out of sight for a long time.

My dreamcatcher

I have always been good at removing myself from the present and forgetting the past. Like going on vacation. I always know I'm going on vacation. I anticipate it. I know it's coming sooner and sooner but I don't really grasp that's what I'm doing until I'm there. And then when I'm back it's as if it didn't happen. I know I was there. I remember being there. But I'm not there anymore so it didn't happen.

This is how my whole life feels. Like a mirage that I know I saw but that I have no proof of. Like how the highway 100 feet ahead looks like water in the summertime, but then you get close to it and it disappears.

Yesterday I got a notice in the mail saying my car registration had been revoked because my dad forgot to notify the state of Utah that my car was indeed insured. Today the radio and clock shorted suddenly and came back on even more suddenly. And then I got a flat tire. And Alex and I missed Summer and Smoke for the second night in a row.

In honor of myself

I once felt this really described me. It still does, but not right now.

"So she had to satisfy herself with the idea of love - loving the loving of things whose existence she didn't care at all about. Love itself became the object of her love. She loved herself in love, she loved loving love, as love loves loving, and was able, in that way, to reconcile herself with a world that fell so short of what she would have hoped for. It was not the world that was the great and saving lie, but her willingness to make it beautiful and fair, to live a once-removed life, in a world once-removed from the one in which everyone else seemed to exist." --Everything Is Illuminated

Sing me to sleep, Morrissey.

Earlier today I saw the best art show I've seen at BYU, probably ever. It's a graphic design show that joins art, top notch design and current affairs. There is a fine line between preachy and well-done when the state of the world is involved, but, my friends, this show is amazing. Do yourself a favor if you live in Utah and go the fifth floor of the HFAC.

Tonight I rode my bike for four hours, so I'm in a weird frame of mind. It is a Big Fish night.

Riding my bike is one of the only things that puts me into an elevated mental state. I'm not sure what it is about it--maybe the constant motion, the wind in my hair, the alone-but-not-aloneliness, the logical sense that bicycles make--but I just know I feel like a different person when I'm on my bike. I feel like I'm more myself than any other time. This is at least true for Provo.

I said once that I forget who I am in Provo, and it's true. For some reason my being has never been able to fully integrate here. There have been admirable stretches of time where I felt completely at home, but I've never been 100% settled. I have dissected this time and again, but I always reach the same conclusion. Or maybe I'm just over-thinking this like I always do.

There have been quite a few men in my life who've referred to me as the coolest girl they've ever met. Ironically, these men have always been my best friends. Some briefly lovers, but mostly just friends. I have dissected this time and again also, but I always reach the same conclusion: I am still waiting for someone other than Kimba who always wants to be with me.

Doo-wop, doo-wop

The one month countdown starts today.

Yay!

Outdone

My favorite improv troupe--Improv Everywhere--has finally outdone itself. I love you, IE.

Ode to Sorrow

It is with great sadness that I inform you of two things.

1) My car was egged last week. I failed to notify you. Here is evidence.





2) I am selling my Macbook Pro, which severely breaks my heart. Included is a Mighty Mouse, rad computer case, and AppleCare. I also have a good Canon printer--never opened the box--for sale. I'm willing to sell one or all of these items to you or someone you know. Put the word out. Help a sister missionary out.

I'm breaking up with you, Ziggy.

Here is why.

1. In high school when we were in my room with my door shut, my parents would get really mad at me.
2. You are too needy.
3. You've sucked my little brother under your spell.
4. You make me act silly and goofy.
5. Last night, because of you, I got a speeding ticket coming home from Park City. It was your fault Ziggy, not mine. If the buildup from "Moonage Daydream" to "Starman" were less good, it wouldn't have happened.

I'm sending you the bill, David Bowie.

In honor of my brain.

Megan posted this lovely link recently. I would love it if you all would indulge me (although many of my readers read Megan's blog as well. In that case, don't bother overlapping). But if you don't read Megan's blog, please go to this link, and then leave a comment telling me which way she spins for you!

For the record, she spins clockwise for me, which means I'm right-brained. If I try really hard, I can get her to spin the other way.

I ask you this:

How is Billy Joel so amazing?!?!

No man makes me feel the way you do, Billy. Not even Jeff.

Oh-oh-oh, the sweetest thing.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Life would be pretty bad without Jeff Buckley. He is all I want and all I need.

Today I thought, "I should call Dave and see if he wants to go for a walk or a bike ride. I haven't spent quality time with him in awhile. Wait. I don't think Dave rides bikes." And then I imagined Dave on a bike and it seemed awkward to me, so I didn't call him.

A few hours later, I found myself riding my bike down the Provo River Trail, my bum sore from my ride the day before. I soon came upon a couple walking along. The man was in a green shirt, much like Dave's. Hey, that's just like Dave's shirt, I thought. Then I got closer and said, Hey, the back of that head looks like the back of Dave's head, only with a haircut. Then I said, "On your left," and the guy freaked out just like Dave. Then the guy stopped and the girl stopped and then I stopped because it actually WAS Dave!

Tonight Tess and I went to FHE for the first time in ages. It was at Brother Miller's. Brother Miller and his family are the absolute best and I really hope I can be just like them someday. Brother Miller teaches a Japanese Lit. class at BYU about Haruki Murakami. Yes--THE Murakami. One day in church we had a brief discussion about "The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle." I'd just finished reading it and was completely thrown. He didn't have much to say though, other than, "Yes. It's a very weird book."

Their kids invented this spin the bottle game where you have to kiss the person the bottle lands on, so we played that at FHE. Okay, JK! Not even funny. They did invent a spin the bottle game, but not that one. They spin the bottle, and then whoever it lands on picks a topic out of a little basket. I picked "Annoying Little Kid," so I proceeded to tell a story about how annoying I was as a child, how I always broke stuff and made up songs to taunt my siblings. I still make up songs, but luckily they're not to taunt anyone. Tonight my friend Annie and I did my taxes, and I made up this song: "Giving money to the man is no fun/I hope my taxes are almost done." That's as far as I got before the Accounting Lab populace turned to look at me for doing something non-left brained.

Anyway, it's 10:36--past this missionary's bed time! I LOVE YOU (as long as I know you in person).

Chain of events ending in bad cologne.

This morning I arrived at the school I work at twice a week. The doors were locked. No school today, I thought. Someone came and opened the door for me.

Shortly after I'd launched into my work, the phone rang, so I answered it like a good little receptionist, even though that's not what they pay me for. It was a man named Kim and he needed to speak to someone. I took a message and that was that.

So just now, there were a few loud knocks on my window. It freaked me out! I am pretty jumpy with stuff like that. After hearing this nut walk up and down the side of the school knocking on all the windows, I decided to go check things out. It was Kim, locked out of the school!

"Are you Pat?" I asked. Pat? Now where did I get that?
"No, I'm Kim."
"Oh right, Kim. I'm sorry. I spoke to you on the phone earlier."
"Oh, nice to meet you," Kim said, extending his arm and placing his hand on my shoulder.
Wait. What?
Kim smelled like 20-year-old dollar store cologne. I held my breath as I said,
"Let me walk you down to the kindergarten."
Luckily the kindergartners weren't there today, because Pat/Kim, in his BYU hat and nauseating scent, was too much for even this 22-year-old to handle.
"You saved the day my darling," he said, his hand finding its way back to my arm, lingering too long to be considered socially acceptable, his eyes doing the same with my face.

I can still feel his hand where it caressed my bare flesh. Gross!

Pumping iron, the best kind around.

This is a special time in my life.

It's special because I feel like I'm finally getting to know myself. Which is ridiculous. I've always known myself really well, really thoroughly. But only recently have I begun feeling connected with every emotion in my body. More alive. More focused and more driven.

Today I saw my freshman year second counselor's wife at the school I was at. Who knew she taught there? I sure didn't, and I've been to that school half a dozen times. She immediately recognized me. We chatted. What love! This woman had a gift. I felt so special and memorable. I love her!

Last night I got a phone call from my mom. Seems my mission president sent me a nice little addendum to the fat packet he sent me a few days before. Sister Ruefenacht will be a BIKING sister missionary! That's right! I'll be speeding through the streets of St. Louis on the best mode of transportation of all--the bicycle!

I cannot express accurately how excited I am for this. I will tell you this, however. I wanted to go stateside, English-speaking. I was called to the work speaking English in St. Louis, MO. I wanted to find cute clothes and red shoes. I found the most amazing outfits ever, and those slick shoes. I wanted to ride a bike. I wanted maximum efficiency in terms of touching people with the gospel--through the spirit--and the happiness it brings. I was granted my request!

So people, what I am really saying is that I have a testimony of the gospel and I cannot wait to share it!

But back to the bike issue: unfortunately, it is really cold in Utah right now, and I am a chicken when it comes to the cold. Which means my bike is still locked up out back and hasn't seen the light of day since November or so. Whatever! I will have legs of steel come October 2009!

I am often forgetful.

Now I'm getting down to the nitty gritty.

One of my favorite things when I come home is how my dad wakes me up sometimes. He doesn't do it so much now that I'm older and keep a regular schedule. I mean come on, I said in my first entry for today that I woke up at 7:15. What parent would complain with that?

But this morning my dad had to leave pretty early to get to Oroville. I don't know how far away it is, but it's far enough that he had to leave before the sun was up. So he came into my room right before he left and woke me up gently with a few pats on the shoulder as he always used to do, and said goodbye. It always hurts saying goodbye to my dad.

I sat up halfway and gave him a big hug. Somehow my mom found his most favorite cologne online, a scent so atrocious it had been discontinued by most stores. Thank you, Amazon. So I sat up and hugged him, his Realm scent accosting my nostrils.

But my favorite part is after he's left. He's always just barely sprayed on his Realm, so in the process of our hug some of it jumps over to my neck from his neck. And then I can still smell him after he's left.

My dad used to do this same thing every morning when I was little, and I used to like it because I got to carry around a little bit of my dad every day, even though he was off drilling people's teeth and I was at school doing stuffs.

It's just one of those days.

For the record, I hate those days when I know I should wash my hair, but I won't because I don't want to blow dry it. So I end up just washing my bangs, because somehow I feel like washing my bangs freshens up my whole head of hair. Really, it doesn't. The rest is still dirty and I still feel like I'm camping, but at least my bangs are looking hott.

Today is one of those days.

It's good enough for me.

There are few things I like better than the morning I just had.

Awoke at 7:15, laid in bed until 7:41. Got up to discover I had a horrible neck-ache.

Ate some fruit snacks and a Diet Coke, watched Saved By The Bell, then my TiVo'd episode of CSI with Phoebe on my lap.

Went upstairs and checked my e-mail, surfed the web. Text from Thayne. Did my makeup while listening to Loney, Dear and OPD. Still listening to OPD.

Chatting with Bob online. Blogging. Watching Price is Right. Listening to OPD. Trying to convince myself to dress. Not so bad for 10:20.

Today we are not shopping for clothes. Today I am going to World Market to buy Alex his favorite licorice candy and to Trader Joe's for my favorite soup and to Whole Foods for my favorite English muffins. Then I am going to the DMV to get a copy of my driving record for my mission prez.

Then I'm going to In and Out burger for the fourth and final time. Then I'm catching my flight. Then Alex will pick me up. Then I will give and receive a big hug and kiss. Then I will be smiling.

I feel like my entries have been boring and uneventful lately. Sorry.

Special things a-brewin'.

There are few nights when I feel like listening to Elliott Smith, mostly because I think his music is depressing, but tonight is the perfect night. I'm not sad or anything. He just fits. It's comfortable.

I've been home the past week shopping for mission clothes. Here is my outfit that I will only wear when I'm around my mission president.



Last week I went through the temple. I really loved it! What a cool place. I am going again tomorrow with my mom and her Relief Society. Here I am with my mom and my sister. Guess which is which!



Okay, I'm giving it away. Here is me with my mom and dad, who I love so very very much! They are the absolute most.



I had no clue how much planning and preparation my mission wardrobe would take. It has taken us longer than expected to organize and purchase everything. I got here last Tuesday and I was supposed to go home last night, but we still weren't done so I changed my flight.

My mom and I have been shopping non-stop since Thursday morning, excluding Sunday. I HATE shopping in the first place, so this weekend has been a nightmare. Like I said in an earlier post, it's been like "What Not To Wear" gone bad! Today my mom, the ultimate shopper, said, "I didn't think I could ever get burned out on shopping, but I'm about to reach my limit!" I couldn't believe she said it. Her favorite pastime is shopping! Some of my earliest memories consist of shopping in the very shopping center we shopped in! But one can only buy so much before consumerism is a curse.

All in all, I feel really good with my purchases. I don't think I would wear any of the skirts outside of a mission, but they're still cute, cut in flattering, feminine styles with nice fabrics. Luckily Banana Republic saved me on blouses, so I have a bunch of nice shirts in really rich colors. (I have always liked rich colors. One time during my amazing year living with Capree, she said, "I really like wearing rich colors." "Do I wear rich colors?" I said. "Yeah, duh!" she replied. "You're wearing purple and yellow right now, none of that stupid faded crap." And I still dislike stupid faded crap. Give me primary colors!)

Guess where I found the bulk of my clothes? Sears! My mom has raised me on Nordstrom, Gap, Macy's, etc., so I have never even been in a Sears before except with my dad for the power tools section, but I just had a good feeling about Sears. We went and found so much cute stuff! I got this really great linen suit, perfect for the summertime (but not perfect for my ironing pet peeve). Even my mom got a skirt! It was a great experience for us all.

If you know me in real life (Google Analytics tells me some of you probably don't, but that's okay), you know I LOVE red shoes. They really define me and my fashion sense. Luckily, Ecco makes a delightful pair of red, patent leather mary janes, that are stylish AND practical! Of course I HAD to have them!

Here they are!
I love them so much.

My mom and I have had a blast hypothesizing the things ward members will say about them. "Have you seen the sister missionary with the red shoes?" "Hey, Dorothy!" "Where's Toto, Sister Ruefenacht?" But basically I am in heaven, and so are my feet. To quote Elliott Smith, "Dontcha know that I love you?" Yes, red shoes, you should.

And with that I retire. Goodnight and love to you all.