helter-skelter

this has been a rather helter-skelter semester.  it wasn't supposed to be.  (sidenote: i almost wrote "wuddint" instead of wasn't.  like i'm gangster.  why do i have this irrepressible urge to talk like that ALL THE TIME lately.)  anyways, back to me and my semester.  (laughing to myself)

it was supposed to be a smooth sailing one.  only taking one class, only teaching one class.  i was going to prepare my thesis and otherwise conquer the world.

then i got the photography job.  and then i got the TA job in london.  and then i decided to backpack europe in june.  and suddenly my life got crazzy!  (two z's intended.  repressed the desire to write "currrrrazy.")  often i wondered if i was just faking being busy, and often i felt that really i prolly (not even gonna try to repress that one) could have accomplished a lot more.  it's all resulted in me feeling pretty inadequate all semester.  i mean, what have i even been accomplishing?  what is my purpose?  i'm getting nowhere!

today i had to write the email to my professor--the one i want to work with on my thesis.  the one who i want to be when i grow up.  you know.  i had to sheepishly admit that i've not gotten anywhere on said thesis, and that i'm being whisked away to london (fistpump) and can't talk to her about the project till fall.

here's what she replied:

That’s fine, Carolyn – you’ve been involved in a variety of good things that will pay off in the long run, so I’m not worried about your thesis just yet.  Let’s plan to meet in late August and set up some timelines.

Have a great time in London!

....

(sigh) and suddenly my semester feels a whole lot less meaningless.  i've sure been trying to be involved in a variety of good things!  my fingers are crossed that somehow they will pay off in the long run!  sometimes my blinders get a lil crooked though and all i want is immediate rewards and all i fear is that i'm wasting my days.  patience, little girl, patience.

of heavenly filing cabinets. what else!

i used to think what a wonderful thing it would be to have a record of your whole life.  every conversation, every action, every silent prayer recorded somewhere, some heavenly file cabinet of me.  so nothing is lost.  so if ever i wanted to fact-check or remember or return, it'd all be there.

it'd mostly be nice for all the things i should have written about in my journal but never did.  like the days spent so in love that i couldn't take 5 minutes to record the comings and goings of "us".  and transcriptions of the beautiful conversations: spencer the nights before he left on his mission, nathan the sundays before he got married, the goodbyes, the hellos, the first-meetings of people who changed my life, though in the moment i had no idea they would.  a neat notebook of all the advice my mother has given me.  another notebook of all the advice my father has.  it'd be nice to reread those things.

there'd be a drawer full of all the letters i've written and all the ones i've received, organized neatly to form entire epistolary conversations.  (and there'd be a box or two of all the notes i wrote/received in middle school and high school...complete with a glossary of all the nicknames we gave boys so in case the note was intercepted, nary a soul would know who our crushes were.)

there'd be several rows of shoeboxes full of snapshots of the moments of my life that i was too involved in living to get a snapshot of.  

4 yrs old: going to the corner candy store for lemonheads and sixlets with mom and nate.  

7 yrs old: throwing up at the dentist after he ripped my front tooth out.  

11 yrs old: riding bikes to king's for penny candy.  

14 yrs old: first church dance (holy awkward)  

16 yrs old: matthew and i in art class, whispering.  

21 yrs old: hugging jimmy goodbye before pyper and i got back on the ferry.

there would probably be a yearbook of every person i've ever known, with a brief bio next to their picture of their involvement in my life (and i in theirs).  

and best of all, there would be shelves and shelves of the things that were too ephemeral for my seive-y brain to capture:  the songs my brain invents when i am coming out of dreams but that evaporate as soon as i open my eyes.  the paintings i would have painted if i had the time&talent.  the emotions i could never quite figure out how to express in words.

needless to say, sometimes i become obsessive about documenting everything.

today, over a little death cab at our weekly music at 10, i had the very odd thought "what if gmail collapsed".  you know, one day it just doesn't work, and all your emails are gone.  all those chats, all those contacts, all those witty dialogues between you and x.  in a way, email and texting have become that heavenly file cabinet.  and our conversations are shifting from being mostly the face-to-face, unrecorded sort to email's long reply-reply-reply email chains.  which is great.  there's nothing quite like being able to search your entire web interactions for the past five years and bring up a conversation in a matter of seconds.  if only my brain worked that way, what a different world.

but for what good?   to have a handy search engine of my contacts so at the snap of a finger i can email anyone i'd like?  to actually have the transcription of every conversation?  so i can relive the reasons why x relationship didn't work out?  or all the reasons why i wished that it had?  to spend precious Present hours looking back to photos and conversations and memories of a Past i loved, but that is still a Past? 

perhaps it's a grace to only have snippets.  to not be able to record everything.  to remember just wisps, just the very fuzzy edge of the feelings of moments rather than silver gelatin prints in all their crisp clarity.  perhaps it's good to let some things be said just between you and me, and then to let them float off, unrecorded, into the ether.

perhaps sometimes, it's good to know how to let go.

overheard: on judging

OVERHEARD: at the drinking fountain outside of the honors reading room in the maeser building.  a mother and daughter.

MOTHER: can you explain to me that jerk in the honors reading room?  why he had a beard and was as grungy as all get out?

DAUGHTER: he was probably a grad student.

MOTHER: so that means he doesn't have to follow the rules?  that he doesn't have to live the honor code?

DAUGHTER: well he probably just thinks he's above it.  and he's probably older so no one bothers him about it.

first of all, excuse me?  he was probably a grad student?  so you're saying that grad students are all
a) grungy,
b) jerks,
c) above the rules, and
d) "older", which means WHAT exactly?!  oh please.

and to the mother:
1) it's finals week, lady.  if there is a time when grunginess is acceptable, this week would probably be it.
and 2) ever heard of a beard card?  maybe he has a skin problem.  maybe he isn't LDS and a beard is part of his religion.  or best yet, maybe he's acting as one of the apostles in an upcoming film about Joseph Smith or Jerusalem or something.  now wouldn't that be ironic.

the thing is, i know who they're talking about.  not "know" in the sense that i know him, but "know" in the sense that i've sat across from him for the last two hours.  he has a stormy face.  tousled hair.  and a very very serious expression.  i've seen him a lot, actually...around.  and only today, sitting across from him, when i've seen him smile, when i've gotten a good look at him (and his beard, which, might i add, is very cleanly trimmed.  and nothing about his dress or demeanor says "grungy" in any sense of the word), do i feel like maybe i see a little bit of who he is.  a very little bit, granted, but not so small that i'd push him off as a grungy grad student in between sips at the drinking fountain.

my brother spencer, who i love with all my heart, always had beef with people who'd judge others solely on appearance.  spencer, the one who had me cornrow his hair and wore tie-dyed tee-shirts every other day one summer.  (i don't know if these were personal statements against appearance-based-judgments...more likely it was just that thing that some boys do when they're seniors in high school.  yes, it about killed my mother.)  and yes, appearance says something.  but often we're so quick to stamp labels (maybe it's a defense mechanism, maybe it's just human nature), that we don't get to love what there is to love in other people.  and we don't consider that maybe what we see is exactly opposite of what's there.

that's all.  (a sprightly hop off my soapbox)

so go find someone you'd like to stamp and sit across from them for two hours and maybe you'll see something different.

the elegance of T9

i find it incredibly endearing that T9 puts "atop" before "bump", that "Jimmer" is a recognized name, and that it doesn't acknowledge the words "fart" and "crap".  thanks for keepin it classy, T9.

speaking of Jimmer, today I called him "Basketball hero Jimmer Fredette" in a cutline for a photo for tomorrow's paper.  cross your fingers it makes it in.

flamingo wars

this is camille.  usually i call her camilleee.  she is my sister, and yes i am lucky.  in my family, we like to make up games.  we've invented such gems as mission impossible and rolf in the graveyard.  last weekend, in a moment of post-conference exuberance, we invented FLAMINGO WARS. and it goes a little something like this: 

two people, facing each other.
each person holding one of their ankles up to their bellybutton-ish (or as close as they can get) so that their knee is pointing out to the side.

rule 1: you have to hold onto your ankle with both hands.
rule 2: you cannot let go of your ankle.

objective: knock the other person over.

so we got really good at it.  camille is a vicious contender, and her ballerina balance gives her an added edge.  but i have a game face like nobody's bidnis.

yesterday i was teaching the roommates how to play, and when i texted camille to tell her i was spreading the message of flamingo love throughout provo, here was her response:

CAMILLE:  oh my word!!  we were just playing that and i almost poked Lissy's eye out.  whoops
ME: hahaha i laughed for ten minutes when i got your text
CAMILLE:  good.  i love to make people laugh.  well i am about to enter the enchanting world of dream, where the beautiful colors of my subconscious mind come forth and paint the infinite canvas of my imagination.  love, peace, Justin Bieber.


"the colors of my subconscious mind come forth and paint the infinite canvas of my imagination"?!!  seriously?  what fifteen year old writes like that on the fly?  all i have to say is Justin should be honored his name traveled airwaves with hers.

a sleepover

tonight my little sister melissa (aka: one of the coolest kids ever born) is coming to sleepover.  when i asked her what she wanted to do at the sleepover, this is what she said:

well, i want to make muddy buddies, and then put on makeup, and then watch a barbie movie!  or.....maybe not a barbie movie but one of my favorite movies i'll bring it.  and then i want to sleep on the couch--the little one--and you can sleep on the big one!  and then in the morning we can eat breakfast, just like.....cereal or somethin....and then let's do a puzzle i'll bring it.  


meliss, that sounds like so much fun!  is there anything else you want to do?

weeeelllllll, you are going to think this is a silly thing, but i really like it when big kids give me hard math problems to solve, and then i solve them.

rockstar.

overheard: smith's grocery store, deodorant aisle

overheard: boy on cell phone, standing in front of the women's deodorant:

yeah i'm sure, i've looked through all of them--they don't have it.
...smith's.
walmart?  no, i don't want to drive all the way there.  are you sure you have to have that one?
well, i mean....are you sure coco butter kiss won't do just fine?