The Sight of Stars

Song Challenge, Day 30

2011-04-30T10:00:00.000-06:00

My favorite song from this time last year: "Sometime Around Midnight," by Airborne Toxic Event. I know that because I used the words from this song as a "Song Selection" post on my poetry blog during National Poetry Month, plus I saw them live around this time last year. Bonus: I still enjoy this song!

This ends the Song Challenge journey. I hope you've enjoyed it!

Song Challenge, Day 29

2011-04-29T10:00:00.003-06:00

A song from my childhood: "Annie's Song," by John Denver. Really anything by John Denver. I grew up listening to him; this one just happens to be one of my favorites.

Song Challenge, Day 28

2011-04-28T10:00:00.000-06:00

A song that makes me feel guilty: "Rootless Tree" by Damien Rice. There are a lot of swears in this song, and I really shouldn't love it as much as I do. However, I do love it. A lot.

Song Challenge, Day 27

2011-04-27T10:00:00.000-06:00

A song I wish I could play on an instrument: "Moonlight Sonata" by Beethoven. (Also, Suite No. 1 in G on the Cello; see Day 3).

Song Challenge, Day 26

2011-04-26T10:00:00.000-06:00

A song that I can play on an instrument: I can't really play any instruments. I can pick out some things on the piano, but I generally carry my "instrument" with me. I used to be able to sing this song:

Song Challenge, Day 25

2011-04-25T10:00:00.001-06:00

A song that makes me laugh: "Hang Down Your Head, Tom Turkey." Not an inherently funny song, but it IS funny when sung at full volume on my voice mail or in my ear or at random times during the Thanksgiving season, which is something my sisters and I do. You kind of have to hear it, I guess.

No video, no audio. Just use your imagination...

Song Challenge, Day 24

2011-04-24T10:00:00.001-06:00

A song I want played at my funeral: "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing."

Song Challenge, Day 23

2011-04-23T10:00:00.000-06:00

A song I want played at my wedding: "The Three of Us" by Ben Harper. It's just a simple. beautiful song.

Song Challenge, Day 22

2011-04-22T10:00:00.000-06:00

A song I listen to when I'm sad: "How it Ends" by Devotchka.

Song Challenge, Day 21

2011-04-21T10:00:00.000-06:00

A song I listen to when I'm happy: "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," Iz-style.

"Life Has Loveliness To Sell"

2011-04-20T18:20:00.000-06:00

I'd like to interrupt this Song Challenge month to bring you two websites I have found vastly entertaining lately. The first, Letters to Dead People, is just what it sounds like. A few of my favorites:

The second, Five Words Tell a Story, is lovely. It combines words, typography and pictures -- some of my favorite things.

**Title taken from the poem, "Barter," by Sara Teasdale

Song Challenge, Day 20

2011-04-20T13:57:00.002-06:00

A song I listen to when I'm angry: "Uprising" by Muse. They say your music should match your mood, and this is good and pissed-off.

Song Challenge, Day 19

2011-04-19T10:00:00.000-06:00

A song from my favorite album: I fudged on this one a bit, because this is only one of my current favorites, but "Someone Like You," from 21 by Adele.

Song Challenge, Day 18

2011-04-18T10:00:00.000-06:00

A song I wish I heard on the radio: "Don't You Want Me" the Glee version. I have always loved this song (originally sung by Human League). I used to rock out to it when I was younger, and had no idea what it meant. I like it a lot more when Darren Criss and Lea Michele sing it. Just something about their voices; they really work well together. You can judge me if you want...

Song Challenge, Day 17

2011-04-17T10:00:00.001-06:00

A song I hear often on the radio: "Marry Me" by Train and "Animal" by Neon Trees. These songs are flippin' everywhere... Thankfully, I don't hate them.

Song Challenge, Day 16

2011-04-16T10:00:00.000-06:00

A song I used to love, but now hate: "Almost Lover," by A Fine Frenzy. I'm totally over it.

Song Challenge, Day 15

2011-04-15T10:00:00.000-06:00

A song that describes me: "Fat Bottomed Girls," by Queen. 'Cause I am one. Obviously.

Song Challenge, Day 14

2011-04-14T10:00:00.000-06:00

A song no one would expect me to like: "Love the Way You Lie" by Eminem and Rihanna. I shouldn't like this song, but I do.

It has some language, so I'm not going to post the video, but you can watch it here.

Song Challenge, Day 13

2011-04-13T10:00:00.001-06:00

A song that is a guilty pleasure:"Grenade" by Bruno Mars. It's damned enjoyable, what can I say?

Song Challenge, Day 12

2011-04-12T10:00:00.001-06:00

A song from a band I hate: Anything by Nickleback. If you want to listen to something from them, you'll have to find it yourself...

Song Challenge, Day 11

2011-04-11T10:00:00.000-06:00

A song from my favorite band: "Hands Down" by Dashboard Confessional. I love Dashboard. It reminds of some of the best times in my life, and I love this song. The video, however, is lame sauce. Sorry about that.

Song Challenge, Day 10

2011-04-10T10:00:00.001-06:00

A song that makes me fall asleep: Pachelbel's Canon in D. It makes me sleepy in a good way. I know it's a favored wedding song the world over, but I prefer to use it as Sleepy-time for Teddy Bears music.

Song Challenge, Day 9

2011-04-09T10:00:00.001-06:00

A song that you can dance to: "DJ Got Us Fallin' in Love" by Usher. It's totally catchy!

*This is a hip-hop video. Viewer discretion. Just sayin'...

Song Challenge, Day 8

2011-04-08T10:00:00.000-06:00

A song I know all the words to: "Give, Said the Little Stream."

Seriously, though: I know a lot of songs. I've sung a lot of songs. There are all kinds of words going on in my head. So, I told Jeremiah to help me come up with something random, and we did.

Song Challenge, Day 7

2011-04-07T10:00:00.000-06:00

A song that reminds me of a certain event: "One" by U2. This reminds me of Evan Caldwell, standing on my front porch, singing this song and giving me roses one night in 1996.

Song Challenge, Day 6

2011-04-06T10:00:00.003-06:00

A song that reminds me of somewhere: "Friday, I'm in Love" by The Cure. When I was younger, my family would go to Bear Lake every year with 3 other families. In 1992, I was nearly 14, this song had just come out, and I was desperately in love with a boy from one of the other families. One day, he and my older sister, Sara, were having a debate about whose music taste was better. He was relentless about this song, claiming it was the most ridiculous thing ever recorded. Sara was equally disdainful about his tastes (rap and hip-hop), and while I was secretly in total agreement with Sara, and very much a fan of "Friday," I had to stand up for him, didn't I? Imagine my devastation when he didn't realize that we were meant to be. I defended his music and he didn't even care! (Oh, to be 14...) Anyway, I am still very much a fan of this song, and The Cure, and this song always reminds me of that picnic table, the smell of sunblock, and the taste of Black Cherry Shasta.

Song Challenge, Day 5

2011-04-05T10:00:00.000-06:00

A song that reminds me of someone: The Water is Wide. This is an American folk song, and it reminds me of my mom. She used to sing it to us when we were younger. I can't ever hear this without thinking of her.

Song Challenge, Day 4

2011-04-04T10:00:00.002-06:00

A song that makes me sad: Accidental Babies, by Damien Rice. I heard him play this live. It was just him and a piano. It was devastating in its beauty and heartbreak.

You can listen to it here.

Song Challenge, Day 3

2011-04-03T10:00:00.001-06:00

A song that makes me happy: Suite No. 1 in G Major, by Bach. I love this song. It's evocative and beautiful and everything music should be.

Song Challenge, Day 2

2011-04-02T10:00:00.000-06:00

Your least favorite song: Icky Thump by the White Stripes. It literally makes my skin crawl.

30 Day Song Challenge

2011-04-01T16:33:00.002-06:00

I'm going to participate in this. Because I can. And I want to.

Anyway, 30 days, 30 songs that mean/represent/express different things.

Day One: Your favorite Song

This is hard, because I don't pick favorites (You say commitment phobic to the point of ridiculousness, I say fickle. Potato, Pohtahto). So, we'll just say my favorite song of the moment, shall we?

It's this one: "The Cave," by Mumford and Sons. I have to be honest: I like this song in large part because of the banjo. What is it about a guy with a banjo? Hot...

Tender Mercies

2011-03-17T16:07:00.001-06:00

Because I will take them where I can find them.

*I had a meeting at the hospital the other day, and as I was walking in, I heard the piano. There is a Steinway in the lobby, and they have volunteers come and play during the day; it helps detract from the whole hospital feel. Anyway, as I came flush with the piano, I looked to see who was playing. It was an older lady, playing -- improvising -- without music. She was playing "I'll be Loving You, Always" an old song (1925) written by Irving Berlin. I could hear the words in my head, which was a nice little reprieve from my own thoughts, but what really lifted my spirits was the look on the lady's face: she was grinning: ear-to-ear, all-her-teeth-showing grinning. She was having the time of her life, and I felt so grateful that I got to participate, even for a moment, in unadulterated joy.

*I could see the North Star the other night. The night was clear and beautiful, and it was bright. It was comforting to be in the presence of constancy. It was more comforting to remember that even though the world is big, and the universe bigger, I have a place in it. I know who I am (which is also a mercy), and I know I'm loved (another).

*The simple joy of a sugar cookie, proffered by a friend.

Today I'm Loving:

2011-02-25T20:32:00.000-07:00

* My eyebrows. My cute stylist colored and waxed them for free! They're a normal shape and all!
* My Kindle. I always love it, but I'm super fond of it today. Probably because I really needed something new to read, and I had oh, so many books at my disposal.
* This song:

* Cupcake Wars on the Food Network. It is good, clean fun!

A Thought

2011-02-03T21:12:00.000-07:00

It really sucks, a lot, when you realize that no matter how old you get, or how confident you try to be, or how emotionally strong you've been feeling, there are still situations -- and people -- who can make you feel pathetic; like the pity friend; like you are still, and will forever be, the delusional, fat, geeky, [insert disparaging adjective here] friend whom they are laughing at behind your back. And perhaps they are. Laughing at me, I mean. I can't care anymore. And while I did spend much of today feeling rather "less than," I'm going to be okay. Because I'm old enough now, and brave enough, to tell them to go to hell, with a sidecar of kiss my ass.

And I think that's amazing.

An Original

2011-02-03T12:31:00.002-07:00

An old friend made this picture for me in assurance that I didn't utterly offend her when, as I am wont to do, I opened my mouth and shared an opinion. It was a kind and gracious thing to do; I'm grateful. And I love it.

Click to view in full size

Thank you, Mary Sunshine

Things I'm Loving Today:

2011-01-31T19:58:00.001-07:00

1: The album Sigh No More by Mumford & Sons -- it is quirky, kicky and fun

2: Chocolate Peppermint Stick Luna bars -- they are so delicious. I have one every day as my afternoon snack

3: 21 by Adele -- near perfection

4: Audiobooks -- every once in a while, I just want someone to read to me

5: The fireplace in my bedroom -- there are perks to living in your parents' basement...

Everything is Okay

2011-01-18T18:36:00.003-07:00

Yes, it has been almost exactly 2 months since I posted something, and that's okay. I'm also going to talk about resolutions on this, the 18th of January, and the month is half over. But, remember from my last post that I said I had some emotional purging to do? It took longer than anticipated. Not just the purging part, but the refueling part. So, here we are. I have emerged, finally, fully, from a dark place.** I feel vulnerable and slightly thin-skinned; wobbly and new. I have a secret, though (one I just remembered myself): underneath that thin skin is steel. I'm vulnerable and wobbly while I work on remembering that it's there, but I'm strong. I am. And I'm not going to feel bad about trumpeting my own horn. I'm strong, and I'm going to be okay.

With this newly rediscovered strength comes determination. Determination to make sure that I'm okay. I've given myself permission, and I've made plans. Most people call these plans "resolutions," but since I have been staunchly anti-resolution for the last decade or so, I'm calling mine "me-solutions." For me, it's not about writing down what I'm going to do every day, or not do every day, or "this year I'm going to..." or "by the end of the year, I'll have..." Because guess what? I'm not concerned about the year. I'm not concerned about "I must do this" or "I must not do that." I'm concerned about being okay; I'm concerned about me: knowing who I am, being happy with that, and finding a balance for my life. If it takes me longer than this year, fine. I refuse to beat myself up when on January 1, 2012, I'm still working on me. 'Cause I'm still gonna be working on me. And that's okay.

Thus, my me-solutions:

1) Budget. I have one. And it works, mostly. However, I have a tendency towards retail therapy, which can play serious hell with a budget. So, a firm goal for a certain amount in my savings account by the end of the year (some goals require a time frame), and a set plan --already implemented-- for getting it there. A more strict plan, which will restrict my retail therapy-ing.

2) Food. I have a weird relationship to food. I'm going to figure it out. I will learn to see food as fuel for my body and mind, rather than as the emotional crutch I've been looking for. I also have a plan for this, newly implemented. I think it will work.

3) Balance. I need some. My life has become so work heavy that sometimes I forgot I have a life outside of it. This is the biggy, folks. I'm going to gain a greater work-life balance. (I also have this sneaking suspicion that if I can get this figured out, the retail therapy won't figure so heavily, nor will eating my feelings....) I have a plan for this, too. Several plans, really, to factor in all parts of my life. I will still be working. That isn't going anywhere, and I haven't figured out how to leave it in my office when I leave. I'm praying that these other things will help. I have made time for more communication with God. I'll continue to fulfill my calling in the best way I can. I'll spend as much time with my family as I can. I'll still snuggle with Daisy at every opportunity. I have agreed to tutor a neighborhood kid in reading. I will continue to make time for reading for pleasure. I have found some old crafts I was working on, and started again. I have figured out an exercise schedule. I'll continue singing in my small choir. I will start taking singing lessons again, for the first time since high school, this Thursday. I am terrified and ecstatic. I feel good, friends.

I like my plan. I see balance in it. I see this: "May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you’re wonderful, and don’t forget to make some art — write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself." --Neil Gaiman

God bless all of you in this coming year.

**Thank you, from my soul, to my family and friends who have stood by me while I wallowed in that dark place, and for your help in emerging. Thank you for loving me.

Here Be Dragons

2010-11-17T13:41:00.007-07:00

I know I promised something more positive, but before that can happen, I think some emotional purging is in order. I used to just eat my feelings, but since I'm trying really hard not to do that so much these days, a blog post it is. The following will most likely be an emotional rant AND a whiny rave; you've been warned...

First of all, I freaking hate the move from Daylight Savings Time. For some reason, this year has been so difficult for me to adjust to. I have spent most of the last 10 days in tears for no discernible reason.

I am really struggling with my job right now (in all honesty, that may be where many of the tears are coming from...). I just don't feel like I am doing any good, and no one cares. It isn't a job that's going to change the world, but I would like it to be a job that makes a difference. It isn't. At least, not right now. I'm not making a difference, the quality of my work these days is mediocre at best, and I'm really tired of walking into a place where I feel almost universally disliked. I don't like knowing that I'm talked about behind my back, by adults who are supposedly professionals; I don't like knowing that these same adults are calling me names. I really hate that they -- these "adults" -- won't take any kind of responsibility for their own performance, but rather blame it on me. I don't need to be adored in my workplace, but I at least deserve to be respected.

I am working on losing weight these days. While it has been successful (so far), I swing wildly between being proud of myself, being able to notice the changes and liking them, and feeling utterly unattractive. Sometimes I am so angry at myself for getting to this point, and have to fight to find some perspective (yes, but I'm doing something about it now). In extra bleak moments, I'm convinced that it won't make any difference. People will still see me as the fat girl; I'll still see me as the Fat Girl. Perspective is somewhat more difficult to find in these moments. Intellectually, I know that there is much more to me than my appearance, particularly my weight. Intellectually, I realize that if someone is going to love me, they will love ME as I am. Intellectually, I know that I have a lot to offer. Emotionally, however, none of this matters. Emotionally, I am just a shy fat girl, who hides behind snark and disdain. Emotionally...

I am vastly concerned about my body image. Most of the time, the best I can do for myself is "I'm not ugly." My friends and family tell me I'm pretty. I've even heard the word "gorgeous" a time or two. What is wrong with me that I can't see that? How do I fix this? Am I foolish to hope the weight loss will help? If it is this bad, can I allow myself to be loved?

You know how most people get married in the Spring? I can't dig it. If ever there is a wedding for me, it will be in the Autumn. Naturally, it makes sense (in my head) that I also want to fall in love in Autumn. I think the final months of the year are tailor-made for falling in love. I did once. I fell in love in the Fall. That relationship is long over, and while I don't miss it, or him, I miss that. I genuinely grieve for the time when I felt loved.

Can I just tell you that sometimes the Universe is a big asshole? (I'm totally calling the Universe out right now, and I WILL regret this, but seriously!) I went into the Top Stop the other day, to get a Diet Coke (or 3), and the gent behind the counter was very cute. Very. (I can hear some of you now: "But, he worked in a convenience store." I know, I know. That isn't really the point. And, yes, I know how snobbish that sounds.) He was also kind of flirty. He was very flirty. He complimented me on my sweater. (Yes, I know: that was really a veiled compliment to my boobs, but they did look amazing in that sweater...) I was flattered. I laughed. He laughed. He was married.

I'm trying to write a novel this month, and it isn't going that well. I may not finish. That's two years in a row. I feel like a huge failure. I've been working on this weepy, maudlin blog post for a week. Not a whole lot of perspective here, either. Oh, well. I'll do what I can.

If you've read this far, thanks for attending my pity party. I'm really not fishing for compliments here, nor am I looking for compliments. I just needed to vent. I have. Now, I will find some boot-straps with which to pull myself up by, and continue working on an attitude of gratitude (my goal since October's General Conference).

Blah.

Oh, Hey, I Have a Blog!

2010-11-12T11:06:00.003-07:00

Well, I missed October entirely. Which is too bad, because there were some perfectly lovely days that I should have noted. But, I got busy. Very, very busy.

More recently, I have been having a string of terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad days. Plus, it's dark by 5 pm. And I just.... can't...

I will post something more significant -- more positive -- soon. If only because I need a goal.

A Whiff of Fall in the Air

2010-09-07T16:37:00.006-06:00

It was right chilly this morning. The leaves on the trees highest on the mountains are just starting to change colors. The air is more breathable. It's like welcoming home an old friend.

Thus begins September

2010-09-01T16:59:00.004-06:00

I can't help thinking how lovely it is that this September started on a Wednesday. It just feels so synchronistic. Of course, this may have something to do with the Personification Synesthesia I enjoy. (And I do enjoy it, make no mistake.) September and Wednesday just feel the same. I won't take it personally if you don't understand that. Or look at me like I'm a little bit crazy.

I came across this little delight earlier:

"A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness." --Robert Frost

Is that not perfect?

I write the first drafts of my poems in pencil. I think it's because I want to make sure I have the "sense of wrong" perfect. And a first draft isn't perfect. But I don't erase. I cross out, and write above, and scribble arrows, and interject. I want to see the journey. When it's right, then I put it in pen.

I contacted an old friend today, and thought of others I'd like to say hello to. Told myself I would say hello. And I will. Soon.

This Wednesday also graced me with the strength to forgive, and a dear friend made me laugh.

Not a bad start to September.

100th Post, In Which the Universe Provides a Gift...

2010-08-10T20:51:00.008-06:00

This is officially my 100th post. One hundred should be marked by something, right? A list of some sort? Pictures? Perhaps. But I'm not feeling any of those things at the moment, so I'm going to mark it with this:

I really like dragonflies. They are delicate, lovely little things. In Japan, they represent strength, courage and happiness.

I was beginning my drive home one day last week, and it had not been a good day. It hadn't been a good week. I was exhausted, headache-y, and a little heart sore. I pulled up to the first of the many stoplights I'd have to wait through, and sighed. Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw a flicker of wings. I looked, and fluttering right outside my window was an absolutely massive dragonfly. It stayed there, outside my window, until I began to drive again; then, it kept pace with me, flew to the front of my car, fluttered there for a moment, and took off just as I made my turn. It helped. I was no less exhausted, and the headache lingered, but I felt decidedly lighter in heart. And I smiled.

Thank you, Universe, for the reminder that we are never alone. That there is One who knows our names, knows our needs, knows us. That we will be provided for, even in dark moments. That we are loved. That I am loved. Thank you for the dragonfly.

Sensing a Memory

2010-07-20T10:00:00.001-06:00

There is a certain smell of plastic that reminds me of my childhood toys. Smelling it is pure nostalgia. The first poem I ever memorized was "El Dorado," by Edgar Allen Poe. It was one of my dad's favorites. I was 12, and I can still recite it. Suave hairspray, the cheapest kind in the pink bottles, reminds me of being 13 and in the throes of my first major crush. An unexpected whiff of Crush cologne is like a punch in the gut. I remember where I was when I first read "Labysheedy," and "Digging," and "What lips my lips have kissed..." I have eaten potato cheese soup at my grandma's every Christmas Eve for as long as I can remember; it tastes like Christmas now. The first word I remember actually reading, on my own, was "mountain." The first song I ever learned after starting voice lessons was "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." When I hear it now, I am swimming in emotions, if only for a moment: gratitude for my mother for allowing the voice lessons, Mrs. Sullivan for providing them, tenderness for the little girl I was, humility at the gift I was given, and even after all these years, a genuine liking for the song. (These days I'm partial to the version Iz Kamakawiwo'ole sang.) Every so often, the sight of the mountains -- this place I call home -- takes my breath away. I can always tell when someone is smoking a Camel cigarette, and for a second, I desperately miss my old friend Tyler. I remember the first time I found the Big Dipper on my own. Leather reminds me of my dad, since he always smelled like his gun belt, Doublemint gum is my mom. I don't think I have ever borrowed a tissue from her that wasn't redolent with minty sweetness. I will never forget the first time I saw "The Kiss," by Klimt. The first John Denver song I learned all the words to is "Annie's Song;" it is still my favorite one to listen to, and to sing. I still have a copy of the first poem I ever wrote. The smell of wood fire is the smell of home.

There are other, more vague sensual experiences that prompt a memory. Although I can't really define them, I know them when they come. And I'm grateful, even for those that are hard to remember. They remind me of where I've been. Of who I am. And that I'm alive.

Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known. *

2010-07-19T15:36:00.005-06:00

I have felt vaguely unsettled the last few days; mildly restless. As if I am standing outside a door; the door is locked, and I don't have a key. On the other side is something for me; I don't know what. Something good, perhaps? Something wonderful? Simply something new? I am waiting for the key to come to me. Then I can open the door.

I know learning to trust the universe means learning to trust the timetable the universe uses, and I know that life is a series of doorways; sometimes we are outside, sometimes we are passing through, and sometimes we have found ourselves on the other side of a door. I've been waiting at this door for a while. And on this particular porch, I've found peace. But now, waiting to actually open the door is something else entirely. It's slightly disquieting...

*Quote from Carl Sagan

My Kingdom for a Pensieve*

2010-07-15T17:06:00.004-06:00

Oh, friends, there has been too much to blog. Nothing earth-shattering, but all of it new or different, and I have found it terribly difficult to filter it into something coherent. I have some posts in the works -- they almost make sense in my head -- but for now, a quick update (because I tell myself this is relevant...):

My sister and her kids were here in Utah for much of June. Sara is pregnant with a girl and due in November! I love being an auntie.

I joined a choir. It is an all-women Celtic group run by Anne-Marie Hildebrandt. You can check out some of the music here. It has been an adventure so far, and fun to sing again.

Two weeks ago, I was called as the Primary Secretary in my ward. I'm still reeling a bit from this.

I read the first two Hunger Games books, and loved them. Big recommendation.

I jotted some notes for a poem the other day. This is the first time I have done this in months.

There are more things a-swirl in my head right now, but they will have to wait.

*P.S. Extra points for those who get my ultra-nerdy reference!

I Write Like...

2010-07-14T16:32:00.005-06:00

So, I saw this neat little tool come through my Google reader this morning, then two of my friends posted their results on their blogs, and then I tried it. Rookie got Jane Austen and Miss Melissa got Margaret Atwood. I keep getting Stephen King... I have not read one single thing by Stephen King. Nothing. (To be fair, I tried a poem and got Oscar Wilde, and a rant and got J.D. Salinger.)

I don't know how I feel about this...

Yay! Friends!

2010-06-10T11:03:00.005-06:00

I was able to spend Tuesday night with friends as we were celebrating the imminent arrival of Baby Boy Bryner (Hooray!), and it was absolutely marvelous!

These ladies have seen me through it all, from Joy School to High School Graduation and beyond; I don't have any memories of my teenage years without at least one of them in it. It is amazing to me that we can still meet and laugh and talk like we used to (although the conversations have matured -- somewhat...). In fact, what began Tuesday evening stretched into the wee hours of Wednesday morning, and while I'm still a wee bit tired ('cause I'm an old lady now), I am full of happy nostalgia and recharged.

Jessie, Julie, Jenn, Laura: I love you. I really do. Thank you for liking me in spite of the fact that I talk too much, in spite of my cynical attitude, and in spite of the fact that I sometimes use swears. Thank you for your recent support while I've figured some things out. Thank you for being who you are, for your examples and for your friendship. Thank you. For everything.

I'm still not going on a date with Mr. Jeff...

I have a Confession...

2010-05-28T16:57:00.003-06:00

I'm not sure at what point a song becomes an addiction, but I may have one. An addiction, I mean. To "Bad Romance" by Lady GaGa....

I know!

She scares me a little, and the video for "Bad Romance" scares me a lot, and the song is actually not uplifting in any way, and I CAN'T STOP LISTENING TO IT!

(Also, the song "The Word of Your Body" from Spring Awakening. It isn't quite an addiction yet, but it is a strong predilection.)

I'm a big enough person to admit that I may need an intervention.

Don't judge me.

A PSA, Because the More You Know...

2010-05-27T14:20:00.003-06:00

Skinny jeans are an abomination. They don't look good on ANYONE.

I saw a girl walking down the street last night, wearing a pair of skinny jeans, and while she was slim, two words: saddle bags. She kept tugging her tiny shirt down, trying to hide her midriff, and I just wanted to roll my window down and yell, "Sweetie! The shirt is the LEAST of your problems right now!"

Texts I Would Have Sent Last Night

2010-05-19T10:34:00.003-06:00

Had I been able to find my phone last night, I would have sent the following text messages:

Dear Jeremiah,

I take back nearly everything I ever said about Pink. I heard "Glitter in the Air" in its entirety on the way home, and it was simply lovely. I'm (mostly) very sorry.

Love,

Stephanie

And then, later (also to Jeremiah):

OMGaGa! She is coming in March! Tix on sale Saturday, we get paid Friday: Thank you Universe!

He reads my blog, so he'll get them...

Random Mumblings

2010-05-11T15:44:00.005-06:00

I can't decide if there is too much going on in my head, or nothing at all. Maybe it's the insomnia... Whatever it is, I'm suffering from blog-block. Seriously: I got nothin'.

I suppose I could mention that some things have worked out, and the little black rain cloud that has been dogging my steps for far too long has dissipated. I feel like the old me, and it's nice to be her again.

I should say that I adore my family and I'm grateful for my friends. Also, that I am grateful for my family and adore my friends. They make me a better girl.

I'm currently a little peeved at the rain. I don't mind the rain itself, but I DO mind that it ruined my hair. I am not generally fussed about my hair, but right now I have a really big, really awkward lump on the right side where it got very wet, and consequently, very poofy.

I'm allergic to my dog, which is sort of inconvenient. I'm going to the doctor on Thursday, and am planning to tell him that if his solution is to get rid of her, he can stuff it.

It was really hard for me just now to spell "inconvenient."

On tap for tonight: Thai food and Glee. In that order. I can't decide which I am more excited about. I also don't care if you are judging me for being excited about either of them.

I really, REALLY need to get more sleep...

Sometimes, Being an Adult Sucks

2010-04-27T15:52:00.003-06:00

I imagined leaving work early today. Escaping into the sunshine with a diet coke and a book. Embracing an afternoon sans email, phone and paperwork. It was a visceral longing; I entertained it for a few minutes, then went back to work.

In Supplication...

2010-04-15T17:11:00.004-06:00

Dear Sleep,

It has been a long time since we've seen each other. Too long; I feel your loss keenly. I need you in my life. Can we work something out? Will you come back? Please?

Regards,

Stephanie

The Wisdom of Pooh

2010-04-07T16:57:00.003-06:00

For a "Bear of very Little Brain," Winnie the Pooh has some good stuff to say:

*It is more fun to talk with someone who doesn't use long, difficult words but rather short, easy words like "What about lunch?"

*Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. "Pooh," he whispered.
"Yes, Piglet?"
"Nothing," said Piglet, taking Pooh's paw, "I just wanted to be sure of you."

*If the person you are talking to doesn't appear to be listening, be patient. It may simply be that he has a small piece of fluff in his ear.

*Sometimes, if you stand on the bottom rail of a bridge and lean over to watch the river slipping slowly away beneath you, you will suddenly know everything there is to be known.

*You can't help respecting anybody who can spell TUESDAY, even if he doesn't spell it right; but spelling isn't everything. There are days when spelling Tuesday simply doesn't count.

*Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day.

*A little Consideration, a little Thought for Others, makes all the difference.

*Don't underestimate the value of Doing Nothing, of just going along, listening to all the things you can't hear, and not bothering.

*When late morning rolls around and you're feeling a bit out of sorts, don't worry; you're probably just a little eleven o'clockish.

*Nobody can be uncheered with a balloon.

*"Well," said Pooh, "what I like best -- " and then he had to stop and think. Because although Eating Honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn't know what it was called.

*Poetry and Hums aren't things which you get, they're things which get you. And all you can do is go where they can find you.

*Before beginning a Hunt, it is wise to ask someone what you are looking for before you begin looking for it.

*If you want to make a song more hummy, add a few tiddely poms.

*If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day so I never have to live without you.

*If ever there is tomorrow when we're not together there is something you must always remember: you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think, but the most important thing is, even if we are apart, I'll always be with you.

Thank you, A.A. Milne...

Just so you know,

2010-04-06T16:39:00.003-06:00

I will mostly be publishing poems for National Poetry Month to this blog: http://www.psychescandle.blogspot.com/

In case you want to check it out.

A Haiku

2010-04-06T10:53:00.004-06:00

To fulfill the needs of National Poetry Month, and to reflect the weather today:

Utah weather sucks.
Snow that's sticking in April?
Really Utah? Blah.

The Most EPIC Poetry Thursday. EVER!

2010-04-01T15:12:00.005-06:00

That's because this Poetry Thursday falls on the first day of National Poetry Month! It's my favorite, most geeky time of the year! An entire month dedicated to the wonder of words and the magic of language. Hooray!

I like to post a poem every day during National Poetry Month (it doesn't always work out, but I try). Thus, in honor of both NPM 2010 and Poetry Thursday, a poem:

Where The Sidewalk Ends

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

--Shel Silverstein

I think the "sidewalk ends" in a different way and in a different place for everyone, but I hope we are able to find it; even those of us who are no longer children.

Boys in Books are Better

2010-03-31T15:51:00.003-06:00

Like other single women who embrace certain literarian (not a word, but should be) persuasions, I have dreamt of certain types of men. (We can admit that; right, ladies?)

We dream of our own Mr. Darcy, whose stern and haughty demeanor we can change, merely by being ourselves. Our own Mr. Knightly, who will help us, kindly and firmly, to be our best selves. Our own Mr. Rochester, who... no, wait... no; I've never gotten that one, sorry... We want a kind and steady Colonel Brandon, who will love us even when we are impetuous and silly. And while crazy and vengeful Heathcliff is not necessarily a dreamboat, there is something mildly appealing about that much passion. I don't think I'm alone in declaring these men Prince Charming 2.0.

Last night, I was reminded why these fictional men are generally so much more appealing.

I was at a Relief Society function, at the church, in the gym. Around 9, the activity was over, women were starting to clear out, and some of us were working on getting the tables cleared and put away, dealing with the leftover food, and trying to get out of there at a reasonable time. Around 9:15, guys began to arrive, adorned in long, shiny shorts, with basketballs in tow. It was "church ball" time, and we were clearly in their way. As they walked in, I was rolling a large, round table across the gym to put it away. They kindly waited until I moved from under the basket to start "warming up" (read: throwing practice shots), but they sure did let me wrestle that table by myself.

A few minutes later, I came trudging back across the gym, this time carrying a long rectangle table. This time, they didn't bother to stop shooting baskets, and they still didn't offer to help. 15 guys stood there, throwing that damn ball around, watching me wrestle yet another table. The only bright spot for me was the conviction that if I got hit in the head with a basketball, I would be perfectly justified in kicking somebody in the balls.

One guy finally detached himself from the Cro Magnon horde and came to help me with the table (it was longer, by a couple feet, than I am tall...). I'm not sure if he was genuinely trying to help, or if I was just in his way.

After that, we continued to clean up, and they continued to "warm up," although by this point, that included turning around every couple minutes to check our progress. They didn't offer any more help, nor did they try to hide their annoyance that we were "taking so long..."

Seriously, guys? Seriously?

Mr. Darcy would've helped.

Maybe I should've just kicked somebody in the balls anyway.

Um...

2010-03-29T16:47:00.004-06:00

It is probably not a good sign that I have two posts, in as many months, which have the title "Sigh...", is it?

Sigh...

2010-03-25T16:31:00.003-06:00

I have no motivation right now. Absolutely zero. It is guilt alone which is prompting me to post this. There is too much going on in my little world, none of it important; none of it far-reaching. I'm just tired and... blah. But, it is, as I have decreed, Poetry Thursday; and as words generally make me feel better, a poem:

First Fig

My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends --
It gives a lovely light!

--Edna St. Vincent Millay

I can relate to the candle burning at both ends, but this week, I'm waiting for my "lovely light"...

Thursday Smile

2010-03-04T09:27:00.004-07:00

I have seriously neglected my little blog (and several other things, like laundry and sleep), because I was trapped in the serious time-suck that was the Olympics. I think I watched more Olympics during those two weeks than was healthy, but whatever. So, I'm trying to regroup, and I'll have something real to post soon, but in the meantime, because they made me smile:

"Dear..."

2010-02-05T20:38:00.005-07:00

I recently finished reading The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, an epistolary book I recommend to anyone. It is a lovely story, well-written and sweet without being sickly. (Although it is easy to see where the plot is headed, it is equally easy to get lost in the characters.) While I enjoyed it, immensely, it made me miss letters, and the time when letter-writing was the norm.

Lest you think I have become nostalgic for a time I have never experienced, allow me to become an old woman for a moment: I remember the advent of the World Wide Web; when the now ubiquitous -- and expected -- business website was a novelty. I didn't have my own email account until I was 22. When I was in England, my family and I wrote letters -- that was how we communicated, and a large part of the joy for me of writing those letters was trying to determine which news and happenings deserved letter space. When I was in high school, I was not emailing my friends or texting my boyfriend: we were passing notes.

I miss that time. There is such a sense of connection when you read a letter that the other person has touched, when you can see their handwriting. By necessity, email has become a massive part of my work day, because it's faster, I text more than I talk on the phone, for convenience sake, I bank and shop online, and this blog is clearly not a handwritten missive. But I miss letters.

Perhaps it's time to write some.

'Tis a Gift

2010-02-04T20:32:00.003-07:00

There is a Shaker song called "Simple Gifts", and the first line is "'Tis a gift to be simple, 'tis a gift to be free." I rather like this song, and I've been thinking about it a lot lately. In an effort to pull myself out of this funk, I've been trying to focus on the simple gifts I have in my life, the small things that I can be grateful for, the tender mercies that lighten my day. Here are the simple gifts I've noticed over the last few days:

First of all, my new blog layout. When I realized that even looking at my blog made me feel blah, I decided I needed some color. See that "ribbon" on the side? The lovely blue one? That is my color for the year.

Plus, the scritch and flow of a new pen across my journal, the several new books I have to choose from, the flowers I've been wearing in my hair, the fact that I got 8 free tampons in the last box I bought, the Glee soundtrack -- because it's peppy and makes me smile, the fact that I got to work on the gas I had in my tank this morning, the little boy in Target last week who told his mom that the next song he wanted to sing was "Families Can Be Together Forever", the cute Valentine's gifts that I found for my co-workers, the full moon last week, the fact that I didn't have to wear my sweater when I came out of work this afternoon, semi-flirtatious emails from the cute boy in the corner cubicle, Russell Stover Coconut Cream hearts, and 8 full hours of sleep last night.

And, this: "Stupidity in a woman is unfeminine." --Friedrich Nietzsche

Oh, and I've lost 5 pounds this month.

Simple gifts, but enough. And I'm grateful.

Sigh...

2010-01-29T19:23:00.004-07:00

It's been a rough couple of weeks, and I haven't had the heart (or the time) to blog. I have some poems to share, though, and some thoughts. They will have to wait, though, until I've had some sleep, and some quiet, and some more diet Coke.

Happy Thursday

2010-01-14T18:22:00.003-07:00

It's another Poetry Thursday, folks, and it's been a doozy! So to counteract the dooziness of it all, something lighthearted and fun.

Thanks to my dear friend, Miss Melissa, for first introducing this poem to me a few years ago.

Crayon Pirate

There was a single blue line of
crayon drawn across every wall
in the house. What does it
mean? I said. A pirate needs
the sight of the sea, he said and then
he pulled his eye patch down and
turned and sailed away.

--Brian Andreas

Poetry Thursday!

2010-01-07T12:56:00.007-07:00

In honor of the New Year, I have decided to add a new little feature to this blog o' mine: Poetry Thursdays. (I'm also pondering the idea of "Picture Tuesdays" but we'll see how that goes.) This idea was born out of my love of poetry, and my desire to share it. Thus, the first poem on the first Poetry Thursday is brought to you by Edna St. Vincent Millay:

Sonnet 42

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply.
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in winter stands the lonely tree,
nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.

In the next life, I am going to find Ms. Millay, and I'm fairly sure that we are going to be BFFs.

Second-Rate Superhero

2010-01-06T17:17:00.005-07:00

Superheroes have arch-enemies (think Superman and Lex Luther, Batman and the Joker). The forces of Good are always opposed by the forces of Evil (Frodo vs. Sauron, Harry Potter vs. Lord Voldemort). We who are mere mortals will always have someone we just don't get along with; I prefer to refer to this person as a nemesis (it sounds more significant, right?). I think everyone should have a nemesis; it balances us out.

My current nemesis is a woman at work. We are as polar opposite as two people could possibly be, which wouldn't be a bad thing, except that she simply cannot see my point of view. Ever. I generally know where she is coming from, even if I rarely understand it. The difficulty comes from the fact that I am in a supervisory position, and I am the department trainer, which means I'm usually telling her what to do. It doesn't go over well. She cries, I get frustrated, she "tattles on me" to my boss, I defend myself. We never come to a consensus, or get any actual work done.

This would not be all that problematic -- or different from thousands of other awkward work situations -- if it were not for the added complication that this woman is crazy. Seriously. She suffers under some MAJOR delusions, and has very little actual grip on reality. She may or may not hear voices, I don't know. (I'm serious.) She wonders why I can't "just be nice to her." Her version of nice -- that I never offer feedback, suggestions, or anything that isn't rainbow-tinted rays of sunshine, as I constantly build and uplift and tell her what a marvelous human being she is, all while praising the (mediocre - my word) work that she does -- differs distinctly from my version of nice. Besides, nice has nothing to do with it. I'm just doing my job.

It's exhausting. And yes, I know that Lex Luther and the Joker and Voldemort are crazy, but they are crazy + evil genius. MY nemesis is crazy + tears - genius + delusion - money and/or explosive devices and/or magic. I'll never get my cape at this rate...

This Year, I Will...

2010-01-04T16:29:00.003-07:00

I discovered this delightful little website today. It will automatically generate a New Year's Resolution for you. Even though I don't like setting them, and I'm still not going to, I did see a couple that seemed like good ideas...

So Long 2009

2009-12-31T15:35:00.004-07:00

I don't make resolutions. I never really have. I figure life is hard enough without adding the additional burden of resolution guilt. Instead, I try to go into the new year with optimism and joy, with the intention of doing my best each day. That is all anyone can ask of themselves, and it is enough.

To you, my friends, I say: May 2010 bring you joy, success, and love. Happy New Year!

So...

2009-12-29T14:51:00.002-07:00

Mr. Morgan? I'm available. Just sayin'...

Merry Christmas

2009-12-24T20:43:00.004-07:00

"And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

"For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord." (Luke 2:9-10)

Who Needs Deadlines?

2009-12-04T21:33:00.004-07:00

So, it's December, and I missed the November 30th deadline for National Novel Writing Month. However, I can't be too sad, because: a) I am more than half-way done with it, and b) rather than writing I was spending quality time with my family over Thanksgiving. (There were some truly epic rounds of Rock Band to attend to...)

I am still going to finish said novel -- it has yet to be named -- and I have set myself a personal goal to be done with it by the end of the month, and thus the end of the year. 2009 will be the year I wrote a novel, and no matter what happens with it after that, I'll have succeeded.

Some things I have learned thus far:

1. 50,000 is a hell of a lot of words.

2. 30 is not very many days.

3. "Writing what you know" as writers are so often counseled to do is vastly easier said than done, I think. I have been so worried that what I'm writing sounds too close to a real person, place or thing that it won't count as fiction, and what if someone reads this and gets upset, and blah, blah, blah, that I've hamstrung myself a bit. Frustrating, to say the least. Am I the only one who struggles with this?

4. I can't think about who is going to potentially be reading this novel when it is done, especially my mother, because it makes me censor myself. It's not that what I'm writing is porn-y, but, you know, some words and thoughts just don't come easy when you think "My mom might read this..."

5. I just need to turn myself off, if you will, and write.

In Thanks

2009-11-26T09:41:00.007-07:00

I find it difficult to celebrate Thanksgiving without pondering the things I am thankful for. And there is much to be thankful for. I am thankful for my family who loves me, and my friends whom I love. I am thankful for my job, and thankful that it allows me to take care of myself. I am thankful for a place to live and food to eat, because I know others may not be so blessed. I am thankful for the education I received, and the things I believe. I am thankful for talents. I am thankful for the mountains around us, for seasons and beauty: the colors of autumn, the sight of trees dusted with snow, the hot, bright sun of summer, and the rebirth of spring. I am thankful for moments of grace and tender mercies, because they give me a glimpse of God.

I am Thankful.

"Song of the Heart.."

2009-11-20T22:10:00.005-07:00

When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a singer; any kind of singer, I didn't care. By the time I was in high school, I had narrowed it down, and cared rather a lot: I wanted to be an opera singer. I wanted to Sing on stage, sharing my passion with those who came to listen to me. Singing was everything to me: it was how I identified myself, it was what I did, who I was, how I worshipped, why I did anything I did. I'll admit I was a diva, but I honestly thought I had reason to be.

Cut to the beginning of my senior year. I get a call from my long-time voice teacher, the one who could've helped me get where I wanted to go, telling me that she didn't want to be my teacher anymore. I was devastated, and all these years later, I'm still not entirely sure what happened. Thankfully, I was able to find another teacher whom I loved, who really cared about me, and who did wonderful things for my voice. But, when I had been dropped by my other teacher, I wondered if she had dumped me because I wasn't good enough for her to want to help me.

I graduated and went to college, where I declared my major as Vocal Performance. But, I didn't get a scholarship, I didn't get into a choir, and none of the professors knew me. I was invisible. An opera star cannot be invisible to her teachers. I tried to tough it out, but it wasn't going to work: I wasn't a favorite, I wasn't even known, and that was that. I knew then that I was clearly nowhere near as good as I thought I was, and decided to cut my losses. I dropped out of the music program all together. If I couldn't Sing, I didn't want to sing. It was like carving out a piece of my heart. What does a girl do, when her entire identity is stripped away? In my case, she stops singing, and decides to major in English, because she likes to read.

I found a new voice with words, and fell in love with the magic of language. I am grateful that I was able to find something else that I enjoyed and had at least a little aptitude for. Words have treated me well, and made me happy, and given me opportunities that have changed me. They are my new identity, if you will.

Cut to a few weeks ago, when my dear friend Jennifer (she of the lovely doe eyes and beautiful voice), called and asked if I wanted to see a play called "Master Class." Who doesn't love a play? Of course I wanted to go. We got to the playhouse, and I asked Jenn to tell me what the play was about. It was "about" Maria Callas, the opera star so world renowned they called her La Divina. The idea of the play is that Maria Callas is teaching a master class, and the audience is meant to feel like her students, in addition to the few "students" she helps on stage.

I was enjoying it, far more than I ever enjoyed any of the real Master Classes I went to; the music was beautiful, and the woman playing Maria Callas was incredible. Then, halfway through the first act, Callas is trying to convince a student to enunciate, and tells her: "Words mean something! Vowels are the sounds our hearts make, and consonants give them their specific meaning, eh?" I couldn't breathe for a second. That one line seemed to embody who I was and who I am and I felt them both, together, in equal measure for the first time. The place where singing used to be in my heart ached, and I wanted to Sing. It was a poignant moment for me, and one of grace, I think.

I have thought about that moment, that line, a lot. My heart is still tender, and while the ambition I had to be on stage is long gone (good thing, as it is years too late), I miss Singing. Words do mean something, and they are powerful. But there are times when words need help. When they need music to help them mean more. Sometimes, words need to be sung. I don't know yet, what to do with that moment. I don't know if I'm allowed to have both, but I find myself humming a lot more...

In Which I Attempt to Cheer Myself through Poetry

2009-11-12T16:17:00.007-07:00

I'm feeling very blah today. In an effort to alleviate the blah, a poem:

Love or Otherwise

You are the smell of rain,
the spiced breeze,
the apple-tang fog,
the strange, familiar scratch of wool,
the bitter note of wood-fire smoke,
the sound of leaves,
the red-gold pallet.

You are the autumn damp through my window.

You are all these things,
whether I am in love or
otherwise.

This is my homage to my favorite season. I have never been able to write about fall successfully. I've tried. So, I snuck it into a love-ish poem. Whether it is successful or not remains to be seen.

But, I feel slightly less blah.

Oh, My Hell!

2009-11-03T16:07:00.005-07:00

So, I may have just lost my ever-loving mind, but I've signed up to participate in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo)!

Basically, you sign up, and by November 30th, upload an original, 50,000 word novel. AAAAHHHHH!

Wish me luck!

Because Autumn Demands Poetry

2009-11-03T12:13:00.003-07:00

I thought of this poem this morning, as I was sorting through my fall "trinkets" (I went with an autumn flower in my hair...):

Autumn

The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry's cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.

The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I be old-fashioned,
I'll put a trinket on.

--Emily Dickinson

Oh, the Shame

2009-11-02T20:29:00.006-07:00

The following is a maudlin rant.

Be ye warned all who enter here (or, you know, keep reading...)

I have this desperate desire to be liked. By the people I work with. Which is a little silly, all things considered, but I do spend a vast portion of my life with those people. On the drive home, I was thinking about it...

I am a Blue - Red Personality, which is The Color Code equivalent to Multiple Personality Disorder. The Blue part of me is motivated by feelings, which makes it a natural that I want people to like me, while the Red part of me is motivated by power which means that I don't really care if they do. At least that's what I've always thought. It makes sense, right? That whole Blue-Red thing. Except that I DO care if "they" like me or not. To a certain extent.

This is what I figured out as I was thinking about this on the drive home: I care if some people at work like me: the "cool kids," the people at work whom everyone likes. They are popular. And (here's where the shameful part comes in): around them I still feel like the chubby girl on the playground. The one who didn't have a best friend, but who was more like the third wheel. The weird one who didn't play sports, but liked to read and sing.

There are some people who always make me feel like that girl, on the outskirts, in an ill-fitting jumper, glasses sliding down my face...

For some reason, I still want them to like me. And it kills me when they don't.

Paving With Intentions

2009-10-14T16:26:00.003-06:00

After my last post, I really, really intended to start sharing more of my "moments" here on my blog. I want to notice more of them, embrace them, and what better way to do that, than by sharing them? Plus, and this seems selfish, but it's a good way to practice my writing.

So, I'm going to try harder. I am. To that end, here is a moment I had yesterday:

I was driving away from IKEA, headed towards the on-ramp for I-15, when I looked up, and saw the Draper Temple misted in fog, against the backdrop of brilliant red foliage on the rugged Wasatch Mountains. It was so beautiful, and I was grateful that I saw it. Grateful that I noticed. Just grateful...

The Things I Know

2009-09-25T20:30:00.004-06:00

I turned 31 last week, and although I honestly cannot believe I'm 31 (I still feel about 19), I'm okay with it. Birthdays always make me reflective as well, in a positive way. I take them as an opportunity to make goals, take stock, and just generally review my life and the things I know.

I wrote the first incarnation of this list of my truths several years ago in college. I had just turned 24. I have revised it a few times since then, and discovered new truths. I revised it again for this birthday, and these are the things I know...

On Turning...

1. There is a God.

2. Serotonin is tricky.

3. Hope is good.

4. While risky, real relationships are infinitely more rewarding than the passionate love affair you have created with Mr. Darcy.

5. Hearts break. It hurts. A lot.

6. Heartbreaks heal. Eventually. Give them time.

7. Superheroes don't exist. Heroes do.

8. The warm weight of a dog on your lap is therapeutic.

9. There is nothing wrong with self-esteem.

10. A person's heart is truly what counts; in beauty and otherwise.

11. Solitude is okay. Alone and lonely are not the same things.

12. Friendships are to be highly valued.

13. Kissing is very often seriously undervalued.

14. It's okay to cry.

15. It is not a weakness to ask for help.

16. Being in love kicks ass.

17. Love is not enough. Life is not a Disney fairy-tale.

18. Learning to respectfully disagree is important.

19. The world is big.

20. Lipstick should change with the seasons. Or with you.

21. It is okay to trust people.

22. Hobbies are important.

23. Words are powerful. Metaphors are not to be trifled with.

24. One should never be without music. Hum if you must.

25. Who you are now should place no restrictions on who you could become.

26. A mother's love, real and powerful, is a force. So too, a father's. This is true no matter how different the two may appear.

27. Sisters make the best friends.

28. It's okay to take chances. Sometimes they don't work out. That's okay, too.

29. Everyone should have a signature -- a color, a phrase, an accessory -- just don't overdo it.

30. Everyone is at least a little unique.

31. Life is made up of moments. Some epic, perhaps, but moments just the same. Embrace them. They are yours.

First Day of Autumn

2009-09-21T22:11:00.003-06:00

The Autumnal Equinox. That's what my calendar tells me, and the cooler weather today would seem to confirm that. So too, would the splashes of russet and gold I'm starting to see more often. I'm looking forward to more patches of color on the mountains, brisk mornings, and return of wool.

I love autumn. I always feel more comfortable, more myself, in the fall. It's like I settle back into my skin and I can breathe...

Ahoy, Me Hearties!

2009-09-18T14:33:00.004-06:00

It's that time of year again! Break out the grog*, and tune the hornpipe! International Talk Like a Pirate Day is upon us! It's tomorrow, September 19th. For more information, or tips on HOW to talk like a pirate, visit the official website here.

*Please enjoy your grog responsibly...

There's No Place Like...

2009-09-11T16:49:00.009-06:00

A few days ago, my friend Melissa posted this. It was fortuitous, because right before I read it, I was thinking about writing this post.

You see, I grew up in a small town, much like the one she mentioned, and I spent the majority of last weekend there. I loved growing up in a small town; it shaped me into who I am today.My parents moved away from there a few years ago, and so I'm not there anywhere near as often as I used to be. We went there for Swiss Days, an annual event, and although the town was crowded with tens of thousands of people, I still felt like I had come home.

There is something so comforting about knowing a place so well you can close your eyes and picture anything there: a home, an intersection, a person. It was steadying to see people whom I have known almost my entire life, and talk to someone with such shared history. I loved seeing the familiar scenery, smelling the air and drinking the water. I was happy to be there, and so proud that I grew up there. I've been back since my parents moved, but for some reason, this time really struck a chord with me. I had a powerful sense of belonging somewhere; of having a place in the universe. I felt grounded and content. The beauty of the valley spoke to me, and I was soothed. I was home.

I Spy

2009-08-31T21:14:00.004-06:00

I'm a people-watcher from way back. All through college, I worked at a kiosk in the local mall. I'm telling you, mall kiosks offer prime people watching. (Mall benches work equally well, by the way, and you don't have to work retail...) On a side note, I generally look at people's shoes first, one, because I really like shoes, and two, you can tell a lot from a person's shoes. Plus, and I'm just snobbish enough to admit this, I like to see if the shoes match the outfits...

Regardless of the shoes, I like watching people. And my absolute favorite part of people watching is catching a glimpse of someone who feels like a million bucks. You can tell from the set of the shoulders, the tilt of the head, the spring in their step. I'm talking about the people who feel great, feel like they look amazing, and are ready to kick some metaphorical ass. Something about this makes everything all right, for just a moment...

I saw this in a skinny blonde lady earlier tonight, in the parking lot of a strip mall. I smiled; I couldn't help it: I was absolutely thrilled for her.

In Gratitude

2009-08-24T15:34:00.005-06:00

Dear Universe,

Thank you for sending that little quail family this morning to brighten my day. I certainly needed the smile...

Sincerely,

Stephanie

Time Flies

2009-08-03T13:12:00.004-06:00

It is August, and I realized that, yet again, I have managed to post absolutely NOTHING to my blog for a more than a month. And yes: Time Flies, and whatnot, but I should be having WAY more fun than I'm having considering how fast July flew by...

Because They're Funny

2009-06-25T18:31:00.001-06:00

Priceless

2009-06-23T21:42:00.007-06:00

I still talk to, and occasionally get together with, my girlfriends from high school. We have made an effort to stay in touch, and try to see each other at least once a year. Last night was such a get together. There are six of us, and despite having vastly different lives, and being at different places in said lives, we still find things to talk about. Mostly we laugh, sometimes we cry, but I think we always leave each other feeling grateful for the others. I know I do. I am so grateful for them, and for the long-standing friendship we share. They are tolerant when I talk too much, and over share, and whatnot, but more importantly, they are wonderful, amazing women, whom I love and admire so much. Laura, who works so hard to take care of her family, and does so with a smile on her face. Jenn, who is going back to school, while raising a beautiful trio of children. Jessie, who has chased her dream, and is an artist (an incredible one to boot). Cynde, who is smart and a fantastic mother. Julie, who has a strong and touching testimony, even after enduring hardships most of us will not be called upon to face. All of them are lovely, gorgeous women, who have the most exquisitely beautiful souls I've ever seen. I am proud and privileged to call them my friends. Thank you, ladies, for your examples to me, and the love and support I have felt from you over the years. I love you!

I think we can relate to this:

We're 50!

2009-06-18T21:21:00.007-06:00

As I was looking at my blog earlier, trying to decide what I wanted to say for today, I realized that I've hit 50 posts (this makes 52, but who's counting?), and to that I say, "HOORAY!" To think that mere months ago, I started this blog, and now I have reached literally tens of people... To celebrate this momentous occasion, I am going to reach into the ol' mental grab bag, and share 50 Random Facts!

#1: I am a maudlin gal. In describing myself to a friend the other day, I told her, "If I'm not just a little bit depressed, I'm not happy." It makes sense to me... In my less (or more, depending on how you look at it) maudlin moments, I prefer to call this "suffering for my art." Don't judge.

#2: I believe in the Loch Ness monster.

#3: I admire FANS. You know, the Disney people or Star Trek folks or Marvel geeks or whatever. The ones who have stickers, posters, toys, tattoos, mugs, collectibles, sheets, costumes... I don't love any one thing that much. But I appreciate their passion.

#4: When I was younger, I wanted nothing more than to be a lounge singer, so

#5: I was determined to find a job on a cruise ship, which at the time was really the only venue for a wannabe torch singer. Which leads me to:

#6: Sometimes, I feel I was born in the wrong time period. The time period I SHOULD have been born in varies depending on mood, or how much I like whatever period piece I'm reading, but

#7: I know that I would have adored the 20's for the art, the 40's for the shoes, the hats, the matching red lipstick and nail polish, Regency England for the balls (and Mr. Darcy), Elizabethan England (for Elizabeth, of course), which leads me to:

#8: I absolutely love Queen Elizabeth I, and admire her for the strong woman she proved herself to be. I find her story, and that of her parents, completely riveting.

#9: I'm one of the biggest Tudor geeks you'll ever meet.

#10: I'm also convinced that Elizabeth and I would have been friends, even if she was a ginger.

#11: I can safely long for another time period because I am safely ensconced in the 21st century, where I am rather fond of my cell phone, laptop and Nintendo DS.

#12: I have never had a surgery, although I have had stitches a few times.

#13: I recently learned that there is a "Hobbit Day." It's September 22nd, which is the birthday of both Bilbo and Frodo Baggins. As far as I can tell, celebrants go around barefoot for the day. No word on whether hairy toes are required.

#14: I don't speak any other languages, and

#15: I don't really care if I learn one.

#16: I love John Denver (thanks, Dad!).

#17: I miss encyclopedias. With love to Google, but it just takes all the searching out of research, and thus removes a lot of the joy.

#18: If adjusted for inflation, Gone With the Wind is the highest grossing film of all time.

#19: I am almost ridiculously stubborn. Pretty much anyone who has ever met me can attest to that...

#20: I vastly prefer Fall and Winter to Spring and Summer, even here in Utah, where Winter can be especially brutal. I HATE being hot.

#21: I don't like socks, and

#22: I refuse to sleep in socks unless frostbite is imminent.

#23: I want a pet seahorse. What? That's a normal thing...

#24: I cried after I watched the last episode of Pushing Daisies.

#25: I loved Pushing Daisies. It appealed to my sense of whimsy, plus

#26: Lee Pace is HOT!

#27: I belong to a book club, and have for 3 years.

#28: I love to cross-stitch.

#29: I HATE the word moist. Ugh. It gave me the heebie-geebies just typing it. *shudder*

#30: I am painfully shy, and

#31: I hate parties, and

#32: Trying to talk to strangers in a social setting is so hard for me, I cry.

#33: Prayer works, because I served a mission and talked to strangers --tear free -- every day for 18 months.

#34: Belle is my favorite Disney Princess, because she's kind of nerdy and a reader. I can relate.

#35: I don't believe in love at first sight. At best, one can fall in lust, or intrigue, or desire, but love takes work, and more than 20/20 vision.

#36: John Adams and Thomas Jefferson died on the same day, which also happened to be July 4th, 1826.

#37: I share my birthday with National Talk Like a Pirate Day, which is really convinient, because

#38: As I've mentioned before, I love pirates. Argh! (Sidebar: Ask me to share my favorite pirate joke...)

#39: I love Law and Order: SVU, and

#40: I have a huge, and alas, unrequited, crush on Elliott Stabler. He is my one true love...

#41: Sometimes I develop crushes on fictional characters. Don't look at me like that. Everyone does it. Although, I would like to take this opportunity to go on record as saying:

#42: I have NEVER developed a crush on any fictional "vampires". I think you know the one I mean... I may be the only woman in America who didn't fall in love with Edward what's-his-face, but I like my vampires non-sparkly. Just saying.

#43: I also may be the only woman in America who didn't read Twilight or any of its sequels. I'm okay with that.

#44: I have probably spilled Diet Coke on every single thing I own.

#45: Robert Frost, American Poet Extraordinaire, was home-schooled until he was in high school.

#46: My favorite painting is The Kiss, by Gustav Klimt.

#47: I generally don't like picking favorites. I get bored easily or I'm fickle by nature, or something, but I really can't commit to a "favorite" movie, book, poem, song, whatever. (This is also why I don't love any one thing like the people I mentioned earlier in #3). For me, there is too much to love. But, this is also why

#48: I have never gotten a tattoo. I'd want something else as soon as it healed.

#49: You don't even want to know the level to which that whole commitment-issue thing screws up relationships. What can I say?

#50: I have finally admitted what I want to be when I grow up. But, that's another post for another time...

Okay, so that was long and utterly self-indulgent, and if you have read this far: Thanks! And thanks for reading my blog. All 52 posts of it.

Just So You Know...

2009-06-11T21:40:00.003-06:00

I love the rain. It's romantic.

Quant au Coeur

2009-06-09T23:55:00.008-06:00

I recently got together with some old friends. It had been awhile and during the "fill-in/catch-up" conversations, the topic turned, as usually happens among women, to relationships. Among single, LDS women of a certain age, the commiseration these conversations provide can be balm to a spinster soul, but they also lead me to wonder why such commiseration is necessary. Why must we feel the need to build, and help others build, defenses against pity or disdain? Why is "single" a dirty word?

Yes, I am single. True, none of my relationships have gone the distance. Okay, my relationships have failed. But, does this mean that I have failed? That I am a failure? Am I?

I have been twitterpated and had butterflies. I have had crushes, and been crushed upon. I have suffered the sting of love unrequited -- as both a teenager, and an adult. I have flirted, I have laughed, I have shared ice cream and onion rings, and parts of my soul. I have danced, talked, discussed, and fought. I have walked hand in hand with someone in the rain. I have shared music and poetry, and have in turn been taught. I have kissed. I have cried. I have hurt and been hurt. I have lived with the poignant pain of a broken heart.

But, I have also LOVED, and have known the absolute joy of being loved in return...

Is this enough? Perhaps.

More Bragging Rights...

2009-06-05T18:33:00.006-06:00

My little sister, Molly, just had her first baby, and he is adorable! Best. Face. EVER...

Oops...

2009-06-05T18:26:00.003-06:00

Somehow I missed posting anything at all in May. I'm not convinced anyone noticed, but I feel guilty when I don't post anything, and this long stretch has been hanging over my head. I think I didn't want to post anything because I've been feeling blah, and I more than recognized the irony in posting a blah/ranting/pissy entry directly after the last one which touted the beauty around me. So I didn't post anything. I can't guarantee that the next few posts won't be blah, but the guilt is starting to get to me...

"A Thing of Beauty..."

2009-04-15T19:36:00.004-06:00

After a particularly evocative book club last month, I have been thinking a lot about beauty, but not necessarily esthetics. I've been thinking about the things that make a life beautiful, and the choice that we all have everyday to find and focus on beauty around us, rather than getting bogged down in ugliness. There is no doubt that the world can be an ugly, terrifying, wretched place; focusing on that will wither the soul. I'm not advocating that we, as the world's inhabitants, ignore the darkness completely -- that would be naive and dangerous -- but I am saying that we should find the balance.

I've also been thinking about the things that are beautiful to me. Some things are inherently beautiful -- a perfect orchid blossom, the Queen of the Night Aria, a sunrise -- and there are things that make my life lovely:

the first sip of a cold Diet Coke, the wonder of a full moon, the sight of snow on the mountains, the sound of a jet plane in the quiet of the morning, the whistle of a train in the dark of night, the smile of an infant, the comfort of an embrace, sharing my day over the dinner table, belly laughing, a good hair day, my favorite earrings, a new tube of lipstick, conversations with my sisters, the warm weight of my dog on my lap, starting a new book, finishing an old favorite, hearing my favorite song on the radio, feeling a flash of inspiration, putting pen to paper, a text message from a friend, catching up with old friends, Thai food, the smell of rain on hot pavement, clean laundry, holding hands, perfect Fall days, and days slowing fading into softening dusk...

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

2009-04-01T18:37:00.008-06:00

Today marks the beginning of National Poetry Month, the only thing I love more than National Talk Like a Pirate Day! I love that there is a whole month dedicated to celebrating language and creativity and the joy of words. My favorite way to celebrate is to read a poem a day; now, through the wonder of the internets, I can share them with everyone! I will be posting daily poems on my nerdery blog Psyche's Candle. I hope you will take the opportunity to enjoy!

5 Pictures that Made Me Laugh

2009-03-10T19:36:00.002-06:00

Things I Don't Understand

2009-03-02T19:29:00.006-07:00

At the risk of sounding silly, stupid, or both, there are just some things I don't get. For example:

*Why people think a turn signal is optional
*Why my best ideas invariably come in the wee hours, when sleeping is generally thought to be the best course of action
*Why Americans don't kiss on the cheek like Europeans do
*Why people still listen to Pearl Jam
*Why more people don't listen to Damien Rice
*Astrophysics, Quantum Mechanics, Organic Chemistry, Aerospace Engineering (thankfully, nothing in my life will ever require me to understand these, so I'm off the hook!)
*What gives lipstick its magical properties; you know, the ones that make everything a little better, at least for a few minutes
*Why people can't just do their jobs, when the term "job" became synonymous with "hobby", and why people think that they need to go to work to have fun
*Bjork
*Why I love Diet Coke so much -- seriously, sometimes, it tastes just like dirt
*Why we are still in Iraq -- I'm not trying to be a smart ass, I really don't understand
*Where babies come from ... (Just Kidding!)
*What happened to imagination
*Why my car is getting such sucktacular gas mileage these days (Note to self: get that checked)
*What happened to Artie Fufkin
*Why I allow myself to be so ruled by my heart; it's dangerous
*Why I don't just cut my hair, and get it over with
*Why I still can't decide what I want to be when I grow up
*Who the hell some people think they are
*Where dreams come from
*What happened to magic
*Where I am going to put all my shoes
*When, exactly, my love affair with words began
*Who put the bomp in the bomp-sha-bomp-sha-bomp, and ultimately, who put the ram in the ram-a-lam-a-ding-dong

Twilight Madness

2009-02-23T17:11:00.009-07:00

And I do mean madness. I get that the Twilight series is popular (I don't understand why, but that is another blog post all together); I get that crafts abound when people love something -- how many kids ran around in Gryffindor scarves, a 'la Harry Potter? What I don't understand is this:

No, that isn't a felt walnut you see there, because it also opens:

That, my friends, is a felt representation of Bella's womb, complete with fetus.

W. T. F.

I have thought about it, and I'm fairly sure this is the weirdest thing I have ever seen. Seriously. It's fiction, people, and maybe it is time to put the book down, and go outside.

P.S. I found this monstrosity on Craftastrophe

An Open Letter

2009-02-20T20:03:00.004-07:00

Dear Corey O'Brien,

We need to talk. Seriously. I have just about gotten to the point that I can tolerate listening to your show on X96, and believe me: it took some doing. I want to make it perfectly clear that it really has nothing to do with you; rather, it stems from my deep-seated love for X96. I have been a fan since the beginning, and some of my earliest music/radio memories revolve around listening to Todd Nuke' Em, and warning my sister not to "cross my line of death". You, on the other hand, I really don't like. I know that's a bit unfair, since I don't know you; nevertheless, I don't. You seem so arrogant, and just...smug. And apparently, you golf. I'm willing to bet that at some point in your life, you have worn a visor upside-down and backwards... You cannot possibly be nearly as cool as you seem to think you are. I should love you: your name could not be more Irish if it was Paddy O'Malley, but the fact remains: you are the embodiment of every guy I have ever loathed (because, really, you seem like such a smug ass). Sorry about that. But, that isn't really what I wanted to talk to you about. No. We need to talk about JT, the traffic girl. Okay, you are bad enough, but having to listen to her flirt so desperately with you -- ON AIR -- is just more than should have to be borne. I cannot express to you how squirmy and uncomfortable your awkward little exchanges make me; I literally squirm in embarrassment on behalf of both of you -- and I don't like you. Either of you. Can you just stop encouraging her? Please? And maybe sit her down, and have a frank discussion with her about how oogy she is? Or better yet, just be rude to her like Kerry Jackson is in the mornings: that shut her down beautifully. Seriously. Please. I don't want to have to kill you, and I desperately love X96; don't make me have to find another radio station. If not for me, do it for the children.

Thank you,

Stephanie

You Gotta Have Friends

2009-02-20T19:56:00.004-07:00

This time last week, I was hanging out with (some of) my girlfriends -- we missed you Jessie and Cynde! We had a fantastic time, and I am kicking myself that even with camera phones aplenty, none of us got any pictures! Still... I have known a couple of these ladies my whole life, and the rest for a really long time (what: like 15 years?), and I am grateful for each of them. They are all such special women, and they have taught me so much. I am in awe of the wonderful people they are. I love that we can get together (which we don't do near often enough), and that we can pick up where we left off, and it's just like old times. I love that we can share secrets -- some dirty little, some not dirty and others not so little -- and it's okay. We can laugh together, cry together, commiserate, and just be ourselves. Thank you ladies, for everything, and I love you!