i would like to bring the following to your attention:

a sampling of lines from the last five songs i have listened to:

i've got a twenty dollar bill that says no one's ever seen you without makeup. you're always made up.

back in school they never taught us what we needed to know--like how to deal with despair, and someone breaking your heart.

if you ever loved somebody put your hands up. now they're gone and you're wishing you could give them everything.

everything's gonna get lighter even if it never gets better.

i finally made it, i made a clean getaway.

driving home from the grocery store, i put in my sister's ipod. leave it to rosie to provide a little classiness to my listening for the evening. please compare the above lyrics with a smattering of the frank sinatra i drove home to:

When somebody loves you
It's no good unless he loves you all the way
Happy to be near you
When you need someone to cheer you all the way

Who knows where the road will lead us
Only a fool would say
But if you'll let me love you
It's for sure I'm gonna love you all the way.

what a charmer...

my point is this: no wonder we're all so jaded about love! all we listen to is music about the demise of love! i say, change your listening habits, change your life.

p.s. i did two brave things this weekend:

1) i knocked on a professor's door for the first time ever. i was trained that if the door is closed, it means they're unavailable, but i am a grad student (? as if that holds clout?) and it was during his office hours after all! talking to professors always freaks me out. pretty sure every time i've left a consultation, i say out loud to myself as i'm walking down the hall, "good job, lady!"

2) i asked my first citizen if he wouldn't mind me taking pictures of his children swinging in the park. i introduced myself as a photographer and explained the situation (that i'm on assignment...sa-weet!). he acquiesced to my request. (mike if you're reading this, i know what you're thinking--just because i gave candy to that one kid at the fireworks show does not make me a creeper.) this required bravery because he was a stranger...it would have been easier to not approach him, to take mediocre pictures from afar...but i'm committed this year to keeping myself nice and out of my comfort zone.

The Chocolate: an unabashed, whole-hearted, autumnal endorsement

are you looking to buy happiness? are you looking to buy love?

well at the Chocolate (212 s State, Orem) you can buy both!

listen men, if you take a girl here some chilly fall night, buy her some Spice hot chocolate, sit her down in one of the cozy sitting rooms, and go to work figuring out what makes her tick, she will be YOURS. i make this guarantee sans equivocation.

listen ladies, be careful what men you allow to take you to the Chocolate, as you will enter with your wits about you and leave with your heart in their hands.

on days when i walk around a lot on campus, i have a lot of thoughts.

i say "have a lot of thoughts" instead of "think a lot", because really there is very little of the active verb going on, and very much of rather odd thoughts hitting me like oncoming trains. which usually results in me laughing or gasping as i am walking around. that's right. i'm that girl.

today i had two thoughts:

1) the brunettes with bangs have a special understanding. we see each other on campus, and we always say hi. like, "oh hey i bet you're a really great girl." and the brunettes with bangs who dress like they shop at garage sales and vintage stores are all but a secret club. like, "oh hey i bet we could be really great friends." which, as we all know is a step up from just thinking someone's a really great girl. i feel like i have secret friends everywhere i go, in this lovely and exclusively friendly group of bang-girls.

2) walking through the business building (in which all the attractive boys on campus tend to be) while eating an apple is not a good idea. trying to smile at cute boys with cheeks full of apple = really, really unattractive.

with any luck, i just might have a third thought today. stay posted...

false conceptions of time

SCENE: melissa, seven years old, playing carolyn a song she wrote on the guitar.

melissa: "you play the guitar, carolyn--you should be famous. but your life is over. too bad."

carolyn: "wait, what? my life is over?"

melissa: "yeah, you're old. all you have left is to get married, and then you die a few years after that."

camille: "no, melissa, she has a long life ahead of her! think of how long mom and dad have been married!"

melissa: "yeah, they're going to die as soon as carolyn gets married."

[uncomfortable pause]

melissa: "sooo....what should i write my song about?"

carolyn: "why don't you write it about how my life is over?"

melissa: "your life isn't over! you might not even get married! you might be a nun!"

and that thought is supposed to comfort me? either i get married and die, or else i live a long, nunly life? awesome melissa, thanks.

but you know, when she said, "your life is over" the first time, it cut me to the quick--oh my oh my. you know that song by baz luhrman, the sunscreen song, about how "in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you"? not to mention images of uncle rico throwing his football into the sunset? yes, these thoughts all came rushing forth with frightening ferocity.

so here's what i think: there are two ways to look at life:

TAKE ONE: the "i coulda been a contender" approach. man, i have missed so many opportunities. i could have really gone far with ballet/piano/ballroom/spanish/art, but none of them really took off. if only i had really applied myself!

TAKE TWO: i have an ENTIRE LIFE plus ETERNITY to learn everything i want to! enter photojournalism class and ballet class, enter deciding i can be famous at 24. man, i'm just a youngin'! and i'm well on my way to learning everything there is to know about everything AND becoming famous and married in the process, which are apparently the two most important things to life-happiness, according to a seven year old girl. what an adventure!

national relaxation day

today is national relaxation day, aka: be-as-comfortable-as-possible-all-day-long day. i am celebrating said holiday in many ways. for one, i wore my cardigan to church. cardigans are one of the most comfortable things in the world (next to that amazing blanket that kristen and i found in our apartment two years ago. it was magical: you'd wrap yourself up in it, go to sleep on the couch, and have the happiest, most peaceful dreams of your life!)

a second way i am celebrating is by cooking. jackie and i got home from church and started cooking. she made cookies (i say, is there anything more comforting than a warm chocolate chip cookie? especially when it's rainy and dark outside? nothing!) and i cooked beans. before i go on, i need to explain these beans. i was at an asian grocery store this week. (a very odd string of events including a thrift store, a nauseous girl, and Five Guys, and i end up in an asian market). it smelled like fish and flavorings that my nose didn't really like. somehow i ended up buying this huge bag of fresh green beans. and when i say huge, i'm talking basketball-size bag of green beans. so today was the day to cook them. we found a recipe with pecans and onions and so on and cooked up the bag--the whole of it--into this warm, buttery pan of goodness.

and that was dinner kids! no main dish, no bread on the side. just the beans.

one hour later, we're still sitting at the table, eating beans, until we get here:

a-mazing. so gross, and oh, oh so good! now we're taking naps on suede couches and lovesacs and we couldn't be more content, comfortable, or relaxed.

rainstorm day

woke up to rain.

torrential rain.

the kind that screams: SHHHH! on your window and walls.

i nestled back into my blankets,

a tightly packaged bundle right up against the window,

and fell back asleep.

woke up next to the criss-cross of sunshine across my room,

and a bird unweaving the angry mess of a storm

with her sweet song.

a little late night letter

dear boy,

i am six years old when it comes to you. i giggle nonstop, i say things trying to sound smart but just end up sounding like i'm trying to sound smart, i flirt in the most bashful, obvious, six-year old ways. it really is a sight.

i'll try to think up something clever to say to you tomorrow, but judging by my track record, i'll stumble all over my words, stumble all over the sidewalk, and otherwise look like a complete fool trying to catch your attention.

silly me,

carolyn