Friday, August 31, 2007


THE DAY:Friday August 31st 2007
THE TIME: before843inthenighttime
THE MUSIC:Yellow; By Coldplay
THE MOMENT: My new self stretched out on my new bed inside my new apartment.

* * * * * * *

Tonight I had a spaghetti dinner with a boy that wants to marry my friend. My friend wasn’t there. I made the fruit salad. I asked him so many things: his favorite things in the world, the reasons why he loved her, the flavors he likes in his ice cream, but could find no reason not to like him, though I’m sure that was the goal at the beginning. I cannot say which conclusion would have been more comforting.
In my room across from me, there are four round pill boxes on top of a pillowcase, on top of a table I stole from a dumpster. I bought them from a hippie type store on the island I’ve gone to every summer I can remember. In the living room, some stow-away island sand suffocates in a glass Sundrop bottle. Brooklyn's seashell stares it down alongside our other sideline attempts to create an ocean in our land locked apartment. It’s not quite convincing, but there is something unseen in the air around here that squeezes sunsets into you and filters down through all your back stage foundation thoughts… and so our tabletop beach, though meager, is enough.
Today I sat on the edge of this bed with a boy I know I could love. I think he knows it too. I don’t think he plans on letting me. (There is an anticipation, a longing in me for who he is, the kind that compels me to wear a white sundress when I see him again, but not to change it when I drip red popsicle all over myself.) As I think of him, all that we were, the absent feeling of what is now left over, the knowledge of what we could work to be… half of me is overcome by a comfort that silences all surplus thinking… though still, in an undeniable corner towards the back of my mind, a dial tone rings out.
It is him.
I catch myself wishing he would reach for me.
There are five girls in my life here. I am one of them. The other four waited for me to come home from home. When I did, they were ready for me. This alone is a baseboard blessing inside of me. We made a beginning though we did not actually end. They know my summer. We know our fears, our intentions, our stumbling blocks. We know the strengths, the forces of the women we are. We are a flash flood, a sand storm, a funnel cloud, a natural power watched from a distance.


Thursday, August 23, 2007

Oooooooooooo Oooo

THE DAY: August 23, 2007
THE TIME: 1:07 Pm
THE MUSIC: Walkin' On Sunshine: By Katrina and the Waves
THE MOMENT: like Yellow flipflops.

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.” Nelson Mandela

I got my Stephy back yesterday!
I just surely love life, even the bad parts.

Also, on account of this sweet breast cancer fund raiser I now have a pink streak in my hair.
This has filled me with the insatiable desire to punk my face off and dye myself every obnoxious color that was ever on the earth. Hello BYU! I am like a box of highlighters!

I love the fall for one reason especially... Heaven bless school supplies. I LOVE that kinda stuff. The other day my Mom brought me skinny markers and fat markers and classic colors and bold colors and just... holy cow. I love that woman. She knows me. I used to get pens and pencils and post it notes instead of toys. No barbies for me ya'll. Holey Jeans, Footballs, and Kickballs and lisa frank notebooks were my world.

I feel the need to add that actual school doesn't excite me. I was thinkin about my first year of college the other day... I rocked my fall semester towards the beginning... and I couldn't think of why. I don't remember swooning over acedemia. I had physical science, sociology, stats, HEPE, and book of mormon. Then I remembered.
Physical Science- There was Jon Swift. Oh man. Talk about motivation for attendance.
HEPE- Brody Day. Okay.... a big Oh Yeah for that boy at the time.
Sociology- I sat with the baseball team. Howww did I get that? I did that. YES.
Stats- No foxes. Bummer. But then again, I never went to Stats.

Part of me wants to be disgusted with myself for that realization. And then theres the other part that says, No Shame. No no shame.

Especially now after my life revoloosh... I just want to bust into provo like a firework.
I am here.
I am new.
I am strong.

Chuck some life at me.

But... my new eyes have never seen Provo. I wonder what they'll think.

Also I'll be surrounded by return missionaries. Good thing?

Maybe I'll just continue to run around in my base ball hats and bare feet and be a spaz and then no one will try to marry me.

Monday, August 13, 2007

Feathers In The Pages.

THE DAY: August 4TH, 2007
THE TIME: 12:45 AM
THE MUSIC: Light Years Away; Mozella
THE MOMENT: There's sand in my hair. I smell like a fire. I am both.

"There's no poetry between us
said the paper to the pen.
Something's burning in the attic...
that a tongue will not defend."

I have sat in this beach house bunkbed room, green carpet, one dresser, musty pillows, traditionally salty air, so many summers of my life. Last July, I remember, I had three things I wanted to work on during the week I was here. The first was something about being healthier. The second was about reading my scriptures and being more in tune with the spirit.

The third was to find peace about leaving Zach behind when I went to Utah and he went to UT.

I think about that girl. I loved her. I love her still. But I am Not her tonight, or ever again. I remember the girl that decended from a plane into this idea of home on April 26th. I am not her either. I step off the battle grounds soon: I will be a sophomore in college: I will live in my own apartment: I will carry new loads.