Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present the college graduate

I’m officially done with college. I don’t know if I should celebrate or dramatically wander around the JFSB sobbing uncontrollably. I wonder if they would sic security on me. I almost want to try just to see.

Tuesday afternoon I had my first final. It was for my Poe and Hitchcock class and instead of a standard test we stood in front of our class while they questioned us about our final essays. I believed this would be better than a final. I was wrong. Instead of getting out at 3:00 like I estimated, we stumbled out at 5:00.

On Wednesday I had my Russian lit final at 7:00 in the morning. Just let that sink in. By the time I had successfully bundled up the sun still hadn’t come out. So I trudged my way to campus and realized something, I love walking to school without the sun glaring over the mountain. First of all, it’s dark. Second, no one’s out so I don’t feel rude ignoring people. And third, it’s dark.

When I hit the ramp I fell into step right behind the neon clad tyrant from my first semester. It was quite poetic as I followed the glow of his bright purple jeans all the way to the basement of the JFSB. Well, poetic and kinda creepy on my part.

Today was my last final and it was for my Senior Course. We had to do a 20 min presentation on the senior thesis we've been working on all semester. This paper is supposed to be the best thing we’ve ever written. No pressure or anything. I still haven’t turned my essay in. I don’t want to talk about it…

I've spent my life thinking about what this moment would mean for me. I've always heard that graduating is wonderful because you finally can do whatever you want. That’s a lie. I would rather spend my days with literary geniuses trying desperately to keep up with their lectures and my nights eating and laughing with my friends.

I didn't mean for this post to take such a negative turn. Let me start over.

I’m done! No more hours spent studying obscure references in hopes that I can find that one quote that proves my entire argument. No more restless nights worrying over thesis statements and concluding arguments. And no more editing classes, thank goodness.

Now I get to kick back and relax…

Well that moment was nice. Now I need to get a job. They hire English majors right?

Provo vs. Mesa

I am entering the final moments in the fourth quarter of my game of higher education. You would think I would have a game plan, something snappy or clever or really anything at all. But that’s not my style. I like to let the audience sweat. I like to make them believe I don’t know what I’m doing. And I have to tell you, my performance is rather convincing.

So convincing that my brother Adam—in total concern for my well being—called last night to remind me that I only have one month left to get married before I leave ol BYU.

This idea takes me back to my freshman year when people said is was IMPOSSIBLE to get out of EAC as a single person. And the very idea of leaving BYU without a ring was inconceivable  

I like to believe I stayed single on purpose, but more than likely I just never got around to it.

It’s not like I want to be married right now, but I have to say, it would help in the decision process. Just last week I went to a career counselor for humanities majors to decide where the best opportunities for me were. Instead the session started with this question “Is there a boy” and lead to a 30 minute discussion on how my decision should work around where my husband is. Awesome

I plan to not do that {though he did bring up some great points on the advantages of marring rich}

Now I only have one week before I need to decide for sure. Here are my options: Provo or Mesa. And knowing my obsessive love for lists, here is a list of the pros and cons.

Provo

Pros:

1. I love it here
2. I love my room
3. I love my roommates/friends
4. I know my ward
5. I don’t want to have to pack up all my stuff (yes laziness will factor in).
6. I’ve recently discovered the best antique book store nearby {I want to live there} 

Cons:

1. My friends will be leaving within the year.
2.  I don’t want to be one of those people who are afraid to leave Provo so they just stick around pretending they’re still in college.
3. I feel my life becoming stagnate here. 

Mesa

Pros:

1. I get to live within 2 minutes of three of my siblings
2. Most of my extended family lives there.
3. I love Mesa and I know the area
4. There are more opportunities there
5. No snow 

Cons:

1. I have to start over
2. I’ll miss all my friends
3. I will have to be the new kid in the ward
4. I don’t function well in city traffic and frankly I fear for my passengers
5. No snow (I have a hard time deciding if I hate snow or not) 

All of this life planning I’ve been doing has made me realize that I shouldn't be in charge of anyone’s life, least of all mine. 

"A woman must have money and room of her own if she is to write fiction." Virginia Woolf

For the past four years of college I have shared a room. And I’ve come to one conclusion: I hate sharing a room. Hate hate hate, loath entirely. This is why: 

1. I have a DEATHLY FEAR of being watched while I sleep. I will mummify my face with blankets before I let someone see me.
2. I’m not a morning person. In fact, if you see me in the mornings, don’t say anything, it will only fuel my disgust with life and with you.
3. I need my own space. I grew up in my own space, and it’s the only place I can regenerate after a day surrounded by people. And you really don’t want to be around me if I don’t have some time alone.  

SOOO I decided that this year was going to be different. I was going to get my own corner of the world. A place where I could lock the door and read and write and breathe undisturbed. This dream, unlike many of my other dreams, came true.

 In August, I inherited the corner room in my house. It is warm, sunny, and most importantly, private. Sure I still have 8 roommates, and yes my room has thin walls and an intricate ventilation system that carries my embarrassingly loud laughter to every corner in the place, BUT it’s still my own. 

The most interesting thing about my room is the unwanted advantage it gives me to listen in on private conversations. A memorable experience was the time a boy had a complete breakdown outside my bedroom window. I just lied in my bed, unable to stop his passionate and tear-filled phone call to his best friend. But I agree with his buddy, his ex-girlfriend sounds like a real flooz. 

Other than the unwanted Rear Window action I encounter, I really love my room. I love the knickknacks that have no purpose, I love my bed overflowing with feather pillows and blankets, but more than anything I love my bookshelves filled with my favorites.

Anyhoo, I now realize that I need my own room always. I don’t know what that means for my husband. I can’t help feeling that if the kings and queens of old could make separate sleeping areas work, so can we. Although I’d rather avoid the whole getting your head chopped off aspect of those marriages. 

Senioritis

I was ambitious when I started this semester

I was...

And yes, my hair is getting shorter...and blonder. No, I have neither cut nor dyed it.  

Ultimately Ridiculous

In the last post I mentioned the introductions we all have to make on the first day of class. The one introduction that I did not mention, mostly because it didn’t fit my purpose, was Charley's. While everyone else was listing their accomplishments, dream careers, and inner most secrets, this is what he said.

Charley: Hi my name’s Charley and I love ultimate Frisbee”

Me: BOOOOOOO OOOOO OOOO O O O

Oh how I wish booing was socially acceptable, then Charley could have felt the soft rumble of shame flow over him and sink into his very being.

But seriously, ultimate Frisbee? Really, that’s all you have to say about yourself. 

Since when did this game become a life defining attribute? Or better yet, when did this become the bees knees of all college sports? Does adding ultimate to a simple game you used to play with your dog all of sudden make it not only a sport, but a central figure in your existence?

It’s not that I hate this game. I don’t. But if you look at the descriptions of the stereotypical players that make up an Ultimate Frisbee game, you’ll see I just don’t fit the Ultimate type:

• 
  

  The Tools - 5 guys who are WAY too into it and even find tackling and fist pumping acceptable. These are the same guys who refuse to pass to anyone who hasn’t logged at least 5 years practicing for this asinine sport. 

• Sporty Chicks – the athletic girls who the tools are vying for because they too are awesome at Ultimate

• The girls- The other girls who showed up because they like the tools mentioned above. These girls have limited experience and are content to merely run back in forth in tight clothing

• The Nice Guys - the guys who cheer on the girls that continue to drop the Frisbee. These guys have a healthy relationship with ultimate and people actually respect them.

As you can see, Loralike figures slip through the cracks. But more than anything I’m not deeply invested in having a plastic sliver chucked at my face and if I do happen to gasp drop the elusive devil, I’d rather not be glared at by a blur of faces as I run back down the field.

I have to say I’d rather play a lively game of ultimate eating, or ultimate reading, or even ultimate movie watching with a bowl of m&m’s mixed with popcorn. I would own at those games. 

So yes, I do turn away from this current obsession that has infected the entire BYU student body. And no, I don’t think you should proudly proclaim it as the one defining feature in your life.

But if you do happen to have a hankering for some pointless good ol fashion running about, please do try to broaden your horizons and find other ways to define yourself. And above all, don’t be a tool. They may win in Ultimate, but they lose in life. That’s a lie, they’ll probably succeed in life, marry, and produce more toolish spawn. But will they be happy!? Yeah, they probably will. Huh, that really makes you think about the positives of being a decent human being…

Anyhoo. 

My Last Semester!

My first week of school was interesting to say the least. See this summer I had come up with 4 different life possibilities and there were several schedules, pros and cons lists, and even some intense charts that I could show you that went into my decision making process, but I won’t put you through that. Just know that I had no idea when I was graduating and what I was graduating in and that resulted in me spending my first week going to far too many classes whilst juggling my job and internship.

In order for you to get a real perspective of this week I’m going to lay it out, all nitty gritty style. I have no idea what that means, but here we go!

Monday:

Goal: Go to Russian Novel in English, Basic Editing Skills, Writing for Adolescence, Film and Lit, work and Senior Course.

Russian Novel in English – Why did no one mention sooner that there were lit classes that were chalk full with guys? Typical that I finally find it just as I’m entering my senior year, but seriously, this class needs to start advertising. Though the 8 Russian novel course load may deter some...

Writing for Adolescence – Skipped and got a biting email from teacher. Forever changed my perspective on children's lit writers.

Basic Editing – Sweated profusely throughout

Film and Lit – A two hour class where we study the relationship between Poe and Hitchcock. Who wouldn't want to be in this class. Note: get energy drinks, must not fall asleep during movies.

Senior Course – Focus on Ben Jonson and the economy of 1600 Briti…..zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Work –  Minor argument with lady who won’t accept the fact that her introduction paragraph sucks. Note: don’t use suck in future tutoring sessions…kidding…sort of.

The first day of class is always hilarious to me because in every class they have you introduce yourselves and say something interesting about you. I’m sure many kids look forward to this. Those kids are probably the ones that said things like this “Hi, I used to be a figure skater” or “I lived in China for 10 years” or they probably just got back from an amazing summer interning at Newsweek or Penguin Publishing House. You even have the ones that say “I just got married” and all I think is “No, I will not clap for that.”

By the time they get to me all I want to say is that I used to be a Russian Gymnast that immigrated to the U.S to be a published author and in the process fell madly in love and married a wealthy Italian diplomat’s son. 

Also, I can moon walk.

That oughta do it.

Tuesday: 

Goal: Start internship, try out a new Senior Course, and go to work and Print Publishing

Internship –  Working with a curator in special collection organizing famous author’s materials. Day’s awesome level just went up 3 points.

Work – Answered emails

Print Publishing – Two hour class and the teacher made us stay 20 minutes after. Not pleased.

Senior Course – Emphasis on city life. I hope it’s better than ol Benny. They asked everyone if they lived in a city and if they wanted to. I said I lived in a town with no street lights and I liked it. They laughed. I wrote this post instead of paying attention and I drew a picture of the country side. Picture not included, I’m not an artist. Note: apologize to Ben and hope he lets me back in to his class.

Wednesday:

Goal-  Russian Novel in English, Writing for Adolescence, Basic Editing, Film and Lit, Tutoring, and I’m back in Ben’s version of the Senior course

Russian Novel in English –  It’s raining men…and depressing literature. I loved every second of it.

Basic Editing – um... no thank you.

Writing for Adolescence – Teacher called for our character descriptions of ourselves. Of course I didn’t do it. Quickly located my online journal and snagged an entry from two years ago and read it out loud. It wasn’t great, but I didn’t get a nasty email this time, so all in all a good day.

Film and Lit – Awesome

Senior Course – Learned how I was going to take over the world. Everyone should be frightened.

Tutoring Class – Skipped

Work – Same ol same ol

Writing for Adolescence – Went to a different version of writing for adolescence. The teacher is a famous published author which makes me believe the three hour class is worth it. Dropped other children’s lit class.

This was the day I went and saw my counselor. First, I should tell you that she terrifies me. Terrifies me! I asked her if it was possible to graduate in December. She said it was if I dropped editing, then she proceeded to drop my minor before I could stop her. I guess I’m no longer an editing minor?

BUT I’m graduating! And I finalized my semester. I do believe this is the first time in my life that I actually know what I’m doing. It’s amazing and terrifying all at the same time.

Now I just need to figure out my after graduation plans. Who wants to house a poor college graduate!? 

My Last Semester?

Summer is gone and there is nothing I can do about it. Since I regularly describe my life through others’ words, I do believe that this quote aptly explains my last four months.

“Good friends, good books, and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life,” -Twain.                                                              

Yes those months were ideal, but alas they are over and I am in for a rude awakening. This semester is when I finally have to decide what I’m doing with my life. So far, my indecision has left me taking far too many classes that may never actually pay off. This week alone consists of me hauling my out of shape body to 10 + classes in hopes that I can choose five that I want to take. And that work load is on top of an internship and a part time job. Should be super…

In lieu of this class schedule from Hell, I think this will be my quote for the week.

“Let us advance and advance on Chaos and the Dark,” - Emerson.

Real pick me upper right? Ultimately, I know that all I can do is keep moving forward through the chaos until I find the light (Lora's definition of light: a career plan, a job I love, a rich husband, or stumbling upon a vast fortune).

Let’s just hope I can find that light before my hair gets any curler and I don’t dare leave the house. 

Hair Dye Strikes Again

Do you guys all remember the year long showing of Lora’s Technicolor Dreamhair?

If you don’t, here is a recap. I somehow manage to turn my hair red, purple, blue, and black…in one year. You would think that that vast experience in humiliation would have stopped me from ever trying again. But you know me, I’m no quitter.

False: I am a quitter. I have actually quit a lot of things: piano, violin, flute, basketball, volleyball, dating….

I guess a truer statement would be I don’t quit the things I should. In fact, I stubbornly refuse to quit the very things that are the worst for me.

Here is an example. I hate the show Dawson’s Creek. I am currently in season 6. Season 6! Do you know how many episodes I had to watch to get to that? A lot. And I hated every minute of it.

Anyhoo, I decided that my hair needed a little fall color to get me ready for the school year. I guess I should have been more specific. I was channeling fall in the sense of a rich brown color. Instead, I got a bright leafy orange.

Orange!

Now I shouldn’t be so dramatic. Technically it’s not completely orange. Technically, it’s only orange for the first few inches. Technically, it could be worse…but not by much.

It’s like I have a reverse melt. (Definition of Melt: Dark hair at the roots melting into a lighter shade towards the ends.)

Now before you start judging me for once again doing something stupid (this is directed to you mom), I actually consulted a professional. I guess I’m using ‘professional’ a little loosely; she was a saleswoman at Sally’s. BUT she did pick out my colors and promised a rich brown color and in the words of Pratt “And I believed her! I believed her!”

(Pratt was the unfortunate character on “Almost Heroes” that believed his straw women when she said it was ok to smoke. This resulted in her starting on fire and Pratt loosing the love of his life.)

Pratt and I have a lot in common

I guess the only great thing about this turn of events is I have now accomplished my 9th goal for this summer: Do something stupid.

Yay me!?

Also, I accomplished my 8^th goal: make my hair grow an inch. Unfortunately, only my left side fulfilled the goal and I ended up having to cut off my hard earned inch so my left side would match my much shorter right side. So let’s give three cheers to curly hair bobs!

Just a Taste of Luxury

I have always thought the day I make it in the world will be defined by how often I can eat bacon.  It won’t be the day I am dripping in diamonds, or organizing my Beauty and the Beast library, or jetting all of the world just to end up in my favorite villa in Tuscany. No the day that I am filthy rich will be the day that I can walk into my kitchen and hear this:

Armand {my personal chief}: Well, good morning Mrs. Marsden, would you like some bacon with your stuffed French toast.

Or

Armand: Mrs. Marsden, would you like a midnight bacon snack for you and James.

Or even

Armand: Mrs. Marsden, would you care for a bacon syrup smoothie for your jet to Italy?

As you can see, I am overly fond of bacon. So when Jill heard that Burger King just came out with a bacon sundae, I was the first person she texted {I sincerely hope this is true}

Unfortunately, I got this text at 11:00 in the morning and I was still at work {wa wa wa…}. And for some reason, it’s not ok to abandon a student mid-tutoring appointment to go try out a new treat filled with bacony delight…completely unfair if you ask me.

But fortunately, I work with my kind of people. The kind of people that would love to try out a bacon blend filled with childhood curiosity. So I sent them the news release premiering Burger King’s Bacon Sundae – A.K.A. the best decision since they started selling Hershey’s Chocolate Cream Pies - and we immediately formed a plan.

While I stayed to tutor little Timmy in adverbs, the boys went to grab the treat for all of us.

There were four adventurous souls that tried this tasty concoction and it got a unanimous mmm mmm mmm mmm.

It was smooth and creamy with light bacon flecks of salty pleasure woven throughout and laced with velvety caramel and rich chocolate. Then out of nowhere comes this large chunk of bacon that stands the length of the container. A tempting piece that dares you to try and save it till the last, but few fight the allure for long.

All in all, we loved it.

Anyhoo, now I know where to get a taste of the rich life I can look forward to enjoying once James and I get married.

P.S. Kel read this post and just had to try it for herself. I do believe my little bacon discovery knocked her sandals right off. Here are some pictures from our adventure.

Just look at my little face, only money could buy that kind of happiness....and that's why I need lots of it.

Park City and The Elusive Outlets: A Comedy

Last week, mom came down to help take care of little Boyd and the twiners while Candace finished up her undergraduate {congrats Candace!!}. This was wonderful news for me because - other than being able to spend time with my mom - I got to go to the eye doctor! A visit that has been in the making for three years.

See for the past couple of years my eyes have started to burn and itch uncontrollably. This misery also has an obnoxious side affect: my eyes are consistently red. A fact that makes it hard to maintain relationships with people who don't like hanging out with a red-eyed freak and ultimately results in my overuse of red eye drops: not an ideal fix.

Anyhoo, I went. I can see. I have friends once again.

But that is hardly the point to this story. Mom and I did more than just visit the Eye doctor {not that that isn't fun enough for both of us...}. On Saturday, I wanted to plan a fun little trip and I settled on going to Park City. A resort town known for its mining origins, fancy stores, skiing enthusiasts, and overall cuteness. And as a special treat we would go to the outlet mall rumored to be "right by" Park city.

The smart idea would have been to get directions beforehand so we wouldn't spend hours yelling at my mom's gps...but I thought modern technology would never lead us astray {HA!}. We found Park City main street just fine and we spent most of the day walking up and down visiting the little overpriced shops.

Our personal favorite was the Rocky Mountain Chocolate store. Since this was the last stop on our little tour of the town, we thought we would ask the store workers if they could direct us to the outlet mall. This is when we met Little Billy, a nervous little fellow estimated to be about 16, and Hans Hans, a German {this may or may not be their actual names}. The interaction went as follows:

Me: {directed towards little Billy} Could you tell us how to get to the outlet mall?

Little Billy: {whispering} Um...well, there's this street...mmmmm..and you go on it and then, then there's Walmart... um... gulp so, ya Walmart.

Me: {My thoughts: ok little Billy, let's focus} I don't know where Walmart is, sorry, could you explain it again?

Little Billy: {still whispering} um...ok...um, 7 Eleven on right side....go go past...and um gulp...

And this is where Hans Hans came in...

Hans Hans: Outlet Store ya? Youa go downa the road and it'sa at the end. Passa McDonalds and Walmart. {clearly my ability to write accents is atrocious, but I do the best I can}.

Me: Um, is there any way we can get street names?

That seemed to really confuse them so Mom focused on getting Little Billy to talk and I stuck with Hans Hans. For about 5 minutes I nodded, mentally trying out a German accent, while mom had little success with Billy.

We left the store 5 minutes late at a complete loss on how to get to these elusive stores, but we had toffee so all was right with the world.

I then texted my friend Jordan for directions. She told us to go North. We didn't know where North was. So we turned to Mom's "smart phone".

This trickster device found great pleasure in directing us away from main street and then forcing us to take sharp turns and random one way streets up the mountain and back down to main street. I threatened to toss the little cad if mom didn't turn it off. 

I called Jordan again. She gave us specific street by street directions. Bless her. Apparently the Rocky Mountain boys were right about it being near McDonalds, 7 Eleven, and Walmart. But they all left out one important detail: you must turn before you pass McDonald's. Failure to do so results in entering the freeway, freaking out, and being forced into driving 10 miles back to Park City.

I think our time in the car was divided between angry rants and uncontrollable giggling.

I say with great delight that we found the outlets.

Our little trip may have caused some unpleasant outbursts {gps and I still haven’t reconciled} but overall it was a wonderful day and I have cute discounted Banana Republic skirt to prove it.  

  

I enjoy this...

Climbing Something Awesome

I can’t walk today. In fact, I am currently wincing as I type this because I can’t seem to sit without wanting to die. 

I think my left leg is out of place…but I’m no doctor.

So why is my entire body throbbing? Let me tell you a little story.

I don’t know if you read my previous post on goals, but one of them was to climb something awesome. I originally thought this statement referred to climbing Mount Timpanogos, an intense climb that takes about 8 hours.

HA! What can I say, I’m a lot more athletic and sporty in theory.

I now realize I should have just applied my goal to hiking to the Y {30 min climb}.

So Wednesday night I got home from a long day of work…exhausted. My only goal was to read Tess of the D’Ubervilles and relax. A nerdy goal that explains why my recreational habits were not up to par with hiking.

But alas, my roommate Kelsi convinced me to join a group from our ward on a three hour hike up Squaw Peak. 

Maybe convince isn’t the right word. She really just asked me what I was going to do instead --I thought of my book, and then I immediately felt like a nerdy goob, and being a goob was not a summer goal. So I quickly changed clothes before my brain could make a list of reasons why this was a terrible terrible idea.

{Squaw Peak}

Now I want to clarify, I didn’t hate this hike. This hike hated me.

On the way up, I was stumbling about, gasping for air, pleading for the end of the hike or the end of my life.

Even in my desperate and frankly pathetic state, I couldn’t help but appreciate what surrounding me. To put it simply, the climb was beautiful.

I say without pride, that I barely made it to the top. In fact, I don’t have any pride when it comes to my health. Long gone are the first two years of college where I spent every day in the gym trying desperately to keep up with my atrocious eating habits. I’m out of shape, and my pride is nowhere to be found.

But, I made it to the terrifyingly high tip of the mountain alive--no thanks to me. Instead, a friend stayed behind and helped me: bless him, I will name my first born after him. Unless having children is as painful as that hike was: then there will be no first born.

I have to say that going down was glorious. I think I was so giddy that I didn’t have to go up anymore, that I was able to frolic about with ease. It was just nice to be able to enjoy my surroundings without having to suppress an incessant desire to throw up. 

Now I am crossing my goal to climb something awesome off the list and I am retiring my worn out hiking shoes. I figure if I limit my hiking to places I can climb in flip flops it will rule out extremes of all sorts.

On Top of the World

I am free.  And this is my anthem.

Blogging has been on a cease fire the last month. Why? Let’s just say Hell doesn’t have the best internet service.

But now it is summer.

I have emerged from the fiery depths. 

And I have made a list of things that must get done. 

1. Visit as many different temples in three months as possible.
2. Read 10 books that will change my life.
3. Read 10 average books that I won’t remember the plot to in 5 years.  
4. Get tan. Why? Because being an albino is getting depressing.
5. Climb something awesome.
6. Hit up Sonic happy hour every Saturday.
7. Go to the lake…often
8. Get my hair to grow an inch. I’ve been trying to for the past two years and in the process I’ve lost three. (How is that even possible?)
9. Don’t do anything stupid…do something stupid.  
10. Oh, and figure out my life. No big deal right...

By no means is this list complete, but it's a nice place to start. 

Happy summer everyone!

The Dating Games

In honor of the premier of Hunger Games I am posting this hilarious video our ward FHE made for our Oscar night. ENJOY!

Where's Waldo, BYU Style

One of my greatest loves in life is games; board games, card games, trivia games, ect. The reason why I love them so is, unlike the fam, I did not inherit the sporty gene, but I did inherit the desire to win at all costs and these games reward ruthlessness.

My longest going game is the BYU 'where's Waldo' hunt. Basically Kelly Kins and I have picked out random people, that we both know, and have assigned them points that we get if we see them on campus. The list goes as follows...

People from Saint Johns...............................................5 points
People from EAC…….....................................................5 points
Teachers we've had.......................................................5 points

It has even taken a more specific turn...

Guy with a tiny head.....................................................5 points
Person in wheelchair.....................................................5 points
Girl crying....................................................................5 points
People we're unsuccessfully trying to avoid....................5 points
Guy with old-fashion popcorn machine.........................5 points
Thatch Nastie...............................................................5 points
Boy with boombox........................................................5 points
Guy dressed as Pokemon……………………….........…………..5 points
Funky Fingers from ASl................................................5 points Jimmer........................................................................20 points

The list goes on and on and we've even started adding people who will give us negative points...

Spouses of people we know, but we've never talked to...-2 points
Couple making out at the computer next to you.........-324 points
{the exact amount of days it takes to recover from said experience}

Now I've often wondered if this game is mean spirited; after all, should we really be pointing out the unfortunate head size of some guy? But then I think of all the joy it brings Kel and me and I know that nothing bad can come from joy....right? {Same reasoning I apply to my overindulgence of nutella}

Fort, Sweet Fort

When I was younger I made forts. Not tree forts or bush forts – I left those up to my brothers whose trusty hands were more agile at wielding a hammer and saw– no, I built blanket forts. I built them in various places: my bedroom, around the pool table, in my 6th grade class….

These forts had three purposes: a nifty reading space, a nonjudgmental eating area, and awesomeness. Well two weekends ago my roommates and I were in the mood for reading, eating, and awesomeness. Our inspiration for the architecture was a mix between the inside of a genie’s lamp and an ancient concubine’s living space.

So how did this idea come to fruition, well I’ll tell you. Friday found us without plans and with an unquenchable desire to lounge. For each of us could not remember the last time we were left to read, to relax, and to be.

And so the fort came into existence. A place where problems were checked at the silky fold and we entered into a relaxing reality overflowing with desserts and literature…ok we also had what could be defined as the dumbest action movie courtesy of one Taylor Lautner.

What was a fun adventure for a lonely Friday night turned into a four day state of being. We sacrificed parties, homework, and hygiene, but by golly we were happy. We were happy.

But this way of life could not exist in the real world. Reality pushed against the blankets whispering “you’re going to fail your classes” “you should really be on a date” and “you should take that movie back before you get charged for late fees…” We ignored the whispers for as long as possible and then we gave in and the fort came down. Here are some photo's before the demolition.

The entrance to The Fort and yes, that is a fish tank and yes, I still haven't gotten over my fear of fish...

The ceiling: as you can see we have utilized our chandelier and it has proven a useful tool in keeping the walls up.

I wish there was a picture of the fort before we slept in it...it got o so messy after the first night.

Now whenever we think back on the fort we let out a blissful sigh and say in hushed reverent tones“oh fort, sweet fort.” Our fort was more than a child’s game, it was a way of life. We slept and read and lived and laughed within those cotton walls and we will forever be grateful for the time spent within them. Long live our fort.

Just a little something I found...

Date a Girl Who Reads
by Rosemarie Urquico
{with minor changes by Lora Patterson}

Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was eight.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her cup of caramel apple spice, the caramel is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup.

Let her know what you really think of The Picture of Dorian Grey. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas, and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in prose. Give her Shakespeare, Hugo, Austen, Wilde, Lewis. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does. She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.
Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching Harry Potter to her chest and weeping, make her chocolate milk. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or in Italy on a Gondola ride. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to Roald Dahl and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Emerson under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.

Although this is far from a ploy to get me married, you do have to admit it presents my attributes impeccably.... kidding of course. But it should be incentive for all to pick up a book and get to it!

Happy Thursday!

Face transplants can't be that expensive...right?

Do you remember that time that one guy thought I was African American {click here}...well things have taken a turn for the specific. Instead of being just any African American girl, I apparently resemble Tyra Banks. This is an offense of the highest order. I loath Tyra Banks.

Entirely

Here are seeds from which my disdain for her has sprouted.

1. I personally think she is the most obnoxious person on TV, and that's saying a lot when you have people like Spencer and Heidi out there. While watching ANTM, I actually have to fast forward all scenes involving just to make it bearable. This inevitable reduced the show from 42 minutes to 13.

2. Her talk show...

3. Her affinity for jumpsuits ultimately leading to more people thinking it's ok to don them.

As you can see this doppelganger predicament is devastating, especially since the boy who thinks I look like her has taken it upon himself to show random people her picture then mine just to prove how uncanny this whole situation is. This fact has led me to investigate for myself and after a maddening 2 minute search to see where this resemblance may lie, I found these and it all made sense. We're basically twiners....

It's eerie right!? {I'm the one on the bottom...}

There are no words to describe my devastation so I borrow those of my favorite author of October, "at the time of writing this sad relation, I am throned in a broken chair, within an inch of a thundercloud." That basically says it all....

To all those who have kept this truth from me, the sham is up. I now know my greatest fear has come true and I bid you all adieu.

You Make My Dreams Come True

Having a bad day? Having a good day that you want to make exponentially better? Well give this little beaut a listen.

So why did Hall & Oates “You Make My Dreams” make it on the blog? Well It’s not because I spent a great deal of my Friday night and my friends Friday night playing the best of Hall and Oates muttering ‘who knew’ over and over again.

And it’s not because I woke up Saturday morning, instantly turned it on, and selected replay for the next couple of hours. {I’m pretty sure my roommates loved it…pretty sure}

No, the reason this song makes the blog is because of what happened Saturday afternoon. This Saturday I decided that instead of doing homework I was going to Barnes and Noble, my happy place. The one place where I can plunge shoulder deep into my eternal love of books and in the midst of this love be wrapped up in the divine smells of fresh coffee and new books. BUT there was one problem....

In order to go to Barnes and Noble I had to leave my song behind. See I don’t have and ipod connecter in my car and I didn’t have a cd to burn the song to. Alas, I was going to have to abandon one love for another.

When I got in my car I started thinking how magnificent that song was and how disturbing my love for it had become. Then I made a simple wish, “I wish I could listen to it now.” So I twisted my radio button and bam “you make my dreams come true” came bursting out of my stereo. Bursting. The lyrics were right, this song made my dream come true. And that is why a song made it on the blog.

And no shouting my love for this song of the rooftops of my blog is not my clever way of telling the world I’m in l.o.v.e. In fact, the internet will be the last person who finds out. Mostly because we had a brief fling in 08 and ever since things have been AWKward.

2012!

One of my favorite things in this world is quotes. I have no idea why, but for some reason a well written quote just tickles my fancy. I guess it stems from the fact that I love finding a more articulate person who thinks the same way I do, but has a significantly better way of expresssing themselves. Anyhoo, enough quote talk, the point of my mindless chatter is to say I have found the quote for this Winter semester. After attending my classes and realizing exactly what I got myself into I do believe this will be my new motto...

"In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer" -Albert Camus

So here's hoping I can find summer in the day to day....and faith that winter can't last forever, even if I do live in Provo.