the long haul.

I've written down all of my graduation deadlines, figured out my schedule for my final two semesters at BYU, and downloaded the application from Sarah Lawrence.  Yay?

YAY!

your dose of "WTF...?!?!?!"

A Saudi man kept his son chained in a basement for six years.  Why?  He believed him to be possessed -- by an evil female genie.

{I am aware that this is part of Islamic theology, but still... this is ridiculous.}

feast your eyes on my new boyfriend.

Because I have an obsessive personality.  It's why I get bored.  Anyone know how to fix that?

Perception.

Dreams are supposed to give us a more unbiased picture of what we really think...right?

All I know is that I saw Inception for the third time tonight (haters to the left), saw it in Imax with the coolest dad in life, and I'm pretty sure we*** figured it out.  At some point I'm going to have enough time to jot down a legit review because this film warrants one (remember what I said about the tears?), but until then...

SPOILER LINE DON'T GET MAD AT ME I GAVE YOU FAIR WARNING IT'S YOUR OWN DAMN FAULT IF YOU KEEP READING AFTER THIS AND YOU SEE SOMETHING YOU DIDN'T WANT TO SEE.  [also, if you're like Whitney and are sick of all the Inception talk, then just go read something else because I'm SUUUUUCH a fangirl].

So remember the nifty little top?  His totem that marked his wife's sense of reality?

THAT'S JUST IT.

It marked HER sense of reality.  When she was in someone else's dream, it would continue spinning and spinning, endlessly, but when she wasn't in someone else's dream, it would topple.  The totem isn't a way of marking whether or not you're in a dream, but whether or not you're in another person's dream.

But who says it transfers to him?  The totem is connected to his projection of her; when he believes himself to be in another's dream, it spins infinitely, but in that place that he perceives isn't another's dream (and what we interpret as "reality"), it falls over.  He's created a dream state where she doesn't exist, for reasons that only a sequel can confirm, but as she says, he doesn't know he's dreaming.  It also explains the case of the vanishing ring.  Again - perception.  He believes his actual reality to be void of her, void of their marriage, void of their ring.  So when he believes he's dreaming, their marriage, and its symbol, is intact.

We could be completely off...but the first time I saw this, I felt immediately that he was still dreaming.  Why have the children not changed?  Why is Michael Caine not in Paris?  Why are things exactly the same?  The top is a red herring - it doesn't matter!

Now, who is everyone else?  Well, we believe that Mal is the person who is legitimately trying to bring him back, that others are assisting her (remember Michael Caine's plea for him to come back to reality?).  And if that doesn't convince you, remember what the keeper of the sleeping dozen in Mombasa says: Who are we to declare a person's reality?

More to come...


***By we, I mean James.  What can I say, he's smarter than I am.***

my new mission: meet Joseph Gordon-Levitt and marry him.

First step was seeing Inception and almost crying during the zero-gravity part.

NO I'M NOT KIDDING AND NO I'M NOT EMBARRASSED.

More to come.

follow up

With that piece, I went somewhere that might seem harsh, but in terms of betrayal, I'm still weak sauce.

Besides, it's all going to come out someday, right?

you humble me, Lord.

I am humbled by my own idiocy and incompetence.  As I stare at this sweet little boy that I get to tend once a week, I can't help but think about all this potential we have as human beings, potential squandered away by foolishness and mistakes.  How in the world do we ever make the right choices?

Oh what a funk I have managed to find myself in.  I'm pushing hard through the fog, grabbing onto familiar landmarks to try and find my bearings.  It feels a little bit like regression, but... I kind of have to regress to repair my mistakes.  One of these days, I'm going to look back and be grateful for what I was forced to learn, but right now, while I'm in the thickness, it feels like my fog lights are getting swallowed by the gray, wet cloud that never ends.

I hate myself a little bit.  I'm trying to repair the damage done, but all of my trying is futile because in the end, I just look desperate and embarrassing.

Perspective perspective perspective perspective.

But then I go to sleep and have the same dream and I wake up in a cold sweat and perspective seems a load of crap.

Whitney gets to listen to me whine every day about how stupid I am, how I've played the game wrong (sorry Freddy Mercury, I failed the game of love), how I am pathetic pathetic pathetic.  At least Whitney still loves me, despite my complete inability to make the right choice.  What am I so scared of?    And why am I obsessing over it now?  There's nothing I can do.  I made my choice. I can't do anything about it.

This is why my propensity for nostalgia BLOWS.  This is the time where my fantastic documenting skills mock me.  I read my journal and I see my concerns and I think, "Self.  You are masochistic.  You had something PLAIN IN THE FACE AND YOU BLEW IT.  You suck, so stop trying to fix it".

Dear _____,

I'm sorry.  I'm sorry I'm making a fool of myself.  Thanks for still being classy and wonderful.

I'm going to become a lesbian.

MOSES!

I just saw Moses run across our room!

How is he not dead yet?

p.s. Moses = the mouse in our room who is miraculously not dead yet despite spending a week with rat poison.  Maybe he's a smart mouse.

why my nails are black.

I like black nails.  It's not goth - it's en vogue.  But remember: patriotism is from within.

I'm proud of my country, but my pride is subtle, fitting my personality.  I like being an American; after all, I'm pretty sure we're the only country that eats sno-cones in great abundance.  Unfortunately, the fourth of July has become a little ruined for me.  All the talk about how we're God's chosen nation and the only country where men are truly free really bothers me, and I simply don't agree with it.  God loves all of His children, and in the eyes of a lot of countries, we're actually quite godless.

I don't love being an American because I think the United States is superior to every other country.  Besides, Henry Cavill is English.  And Chopin was Polish.  And gelato is Italian.  Even our best food comes from other countries!

I love it because it's what I know, it's what I have, and it works for me.  I'm grateful for the life that I have, the people I'm surrounded by, the blessings I receive daily, and the love that I feel from God on a continual basis.  Not because I'm American, but because I'm human.  I'm grateful for Martin Luther despising the Papacy.  I'm grateful for Henry VIII's need to get it on with Anne Boleyn.  I'm grateful for my ancestor, William Bradford's (okay, technically his wife that jumped off of the boat) rockin' leadership.  I'm grateful that most of my ancestors landed in Connecticut.  I'm grateful for my mom's ancestors, for pulling handcarts, and for their legacy of writers.  I'm grateful that I live in a place that embraced Anglicanism, Methodism, and Protestantism.  It's annoying that they didn't embrace Catholicism or Judaism, and it's annoying that they still don't brace Islamic religions, but we'll get there.  I'm grateful for Joseph Smith's bravery.  I'm grateful for my uncle who served in the Air Force.  I'm grateful for good patriotic colors - red, white, and blue look much better together than green or yellow.  There was some serious foresight there.

I'm grateful that France allowed us to beat the English.  I'm grateful that the English were willing to take us back and be friends.

I'm grateful that we've got Gershwin and Copland, but I still think Russia and Germany have better musicians (SHOCKER: out of horrible political systems!!).

I feel lucky because I have a really great life and existence.  I'm pretty sure my life would be good anywhere, but I'm happy being an American.  Carrie Underwood rocked the national anthem last night, but my heart swelled with pride when I heard the Olympic fanfare and theme.

Hey, Williams is American.

I don't think we're better than everyone else.  I don't think God loves us any more than others.  But I am content, and I am happy being an American, and I wouldn't want it any other way.

you're so right, Charlie.

nothing takes the taste out of peanut butter quite like unrequited love.

farewell, hot Henry VIII

rumor has it...

I'm going to have some new traffic thanks to BTDT.

I really have NO desire to start a silly little war, so enjoy your stay.  And remember - first and foremost, I am a writer who doesn't hide behind an anonymous handle in order to say malicious things.  If you want some idea of the kind of person I am, check this out, or this one, or perhaps even this.  Here are my thoughts on the Miss A program, some pictures of when I competed (including photos of the new Miss Utah, who was my roommate that year [I was also roommates with Jill Stevens - I'm cursed apparently]), and just for fun, I'm sort of a raging feminist, which makes my pageant involvement all that more ironic.

You stay classy, San Diego, and thanks for stopping by.

Whitney's words of...what?

The setting: I'm in my bed that doesn't have sheets on it because I forgot to dry my whites, my macbook on my lap, still working because tomorrow (today?) is D-Day, when suddenly Whitney does her characteristic shuffling around in bed followed by...

"I know...right?"

This is pretty typical.  Whitney talks in her sleep.  And laughs in her sleep.  And I LOVE it.  I have a hard time falling asleep, whereas Whitney conks out like a freaking log the second she shuts her eyes, so I always get to hear her sweet mutterings and giggles.  However, this is the first time I've decided to document it because it was just so freaking funny.

"Even much much much much much more.  Did you see it?  Did you?  Did you see the work I did?"
[two months ago, this would have been, "¡mucho mucho mucho mucho mucho mas!"]

This is where I decided to answer her.

"Did I see what, Whitney?"

"Did you see the roof?  The work I did on the roof?"

"....the roof??"

"YES, the roof!"

"Ummm...no?"

This is where I start laughing and cackling because it's just so damn funny.

"Jen, you know what they say about people who laugh alone."

:....huh?"

"Craaaaazy!"

"Haha okay.  Wait...are you awake?"

"Yes I'm awake"

"...are you sure?  How long have you been awake for?"

"Since I started talking."

More laughter.

"Okay, Whitney"

"You did the funniest thing in your sleep the other night, Jen"

"Oh really?  What did I do?"

I vaguely remember waking up this morning at the butt crack of dawn with Whitney's alarm that goes off at 6 (she has class at 7) and deliriously saying, "What day is it?" so I assumed that's what she was talking about.

"You said the pizza.  You were worried about being mad at ... at .... at Miss America.   Because my forehead is sweaty and I wanted to leave.  And the roof that's on top of our house. *unintelligible*.

*ZOOOOOONK*

This is easily my favorite night of our friendship, thus far.  Stay tuned for our reaction videos to Miley's Can't be Tamed, and Gaga's Bad Romance.

If you're red - it's voting day!

Just finished writing up a few different scripts for a certain former who is supporting Mr. Tim Bridgewater.  I have loved working for this campaign; it is run by top tier individuals who work hard, have integrity, and make the difficult campaigning easy and enjoyable.  I cannot wait to continue.

But, in order for that to happen, I need you to get out and vote for Tim in today's primary!  Now, I know some of you are Lee fans.  Some of you are even related to him.  You've already heard all the political and personal reasons why you should vote for Tim, but I'm going to throw one more in the mix.

Last Thursday, I helped with a fundraiser in a Provo home and Tim and I were discussing my relationship status.  He mentioned a friend who lives in California and said, "we'll have to give him a call!"  I agreed and went to grab a cupcake, when suddenly he shoved his iPhone in my face (ONE MORE REASON TO VOTE FOR TIM!) and said, "here, talk to him!"

Thankfully, the guy didn't pick up and I promptly ended the call and handed the phone back to Tim.  He was mingling with some donors, but stopped and asked if I had spoken to him.  After telling him that I just couldn't - the guy didn't answer - he quickly pressed call again and watched me leave a message for his friend.

Well, said friend has called me back and while I'm not sure if I'll go out with him, I just have to say: vote for Tim, because he worries about the little guy.  He even worries about one of his campaign worker's eternal salvation!

How's that for a glowing recommendation? ;)

I'm grateful for.

Good friends.  Erika.  Whitney.  Stefanie.  Lyle.  My parents.  Wayne and Leslie.  Natalie.  So many good people that I'm surrounded by.  People who treat others with respect.

Not to mention my friends from other states who put their necks out to stick up for me.

I'm a lucky girl :)

brilliant conversation #2340

Jen: I'm depressing and pathetic.
Whitney: You're not depressing.
Jen: But I'm pathetic.
Whitney: *laughs maniacally*

Father's Faith.

When I was young, I had this very strange habit of throwing up the night before, or morning of, a piano competition. Every single time. It never occurred to me that I was just nervous. It just seemed a strange coincidence that I ALWAYS was on the bathroom floor, barfing.

Without fail, the Bach or the Chopin or the Schubert competition would come and so would the puke.

As my mom would lovingly hold my hair, I'd look at my dad with "that" look, and he would give me a blessing. The knowledge of my father's priesthood power came from an early age, knowledge that has consistently stuck with me through the difficult moments in my life. Regardless of life's complications, I knew without a doubt that my father not only had the mantle of healing from the Lord, he had the ability to be the Lord's mouth piece through blessings.

I'm not perfect, and I have a lot faults, but I attribute much of my unwavering faith in the gospel of Jesus Christ and the power of the priesthood to a father who was worthy and a loving leader in our home. My family has struggles, but God blessed me with a remarkable father who loves the gospel and who honors his priesthood.

Thank you, Dad, for your testimony. And thank you for loving me uncondtionally. I am truly blessed.

today was a good day.

I stayed up all night working, got five hours of sleep, watched the baby, fed a screaming baby while talking to my boss on the phone, and had a one hour coma nap at 3:30 p.m.  Then I went to a fun fundraiser where Tim proceeded to set me up with a person in his own unique way (I'll elaborate further next week - just one more reason I'm becoming more and more enchanted with Tim Bridgewater).

All in all, it was a good day.

I was feeling like this.

Then I got on facebook and saw all the silly parents arguing about robo calls and politics.  And I heard some stuff about Miss Utah.  And despite my sleep deprivation, I can't sleep.  So now...I'm like this.

Stop the insanity!!!

my kind of negative campaigning.

Mike Lee's ties are ugly.

why hello there.

It's been a while, hasn't it?

When I go through difficult things, I turn to my private journal, both paper and in Microsoft Word, as my source of comfort and solace, partially because I don't feel like telling all of you about my personal problems and partially because I need to save the good stuff for my memoir.

The bottom line: I'm okay.  I'm doing alright.  I've made a few changes and I'm dealing with some unfamiliar personal issues, but I've got four great parents (ya hear?  I get four.  Because my parents are divorced and remarried.  WOOT) who love me, as well as two amazing best friends in Whitney and Erika, and some other people who are helping me through it.  All I can say is that this is going to make my memoir far better than I anticipated.  It's my way of squeezing out some lemonade.

The good news is that I have a job and am really enjoying it thus far.  I'm working with Tim Bridgewater's campaign, which might come as a surprise, but it's been a wonderful experience.  He's a really great, genuine, and prepared individual and is surrounded by a team of amazing individuals.  It's one of the most well run campaigns I've ever seen.  Back in May, my mom received 15 percent of the delegates' votes in the convention, a great number for a relative unknown, but not enough to launch her into the next round of voting.  She fought hard and, in the end, stood classy and gorgeous as ever.  Tim was extremely congenial towards her, and she has since, alongside Senator Bob Bennett, endorsed him to be the next Senator for Utah.

I'm helping with fundraisers, and I'm also doing one of my favorite things, researching.  I'm excited to see what else I can do for the campaign and I can't wait to work with them through the general election.

In other news, good luck to my friends who are competing for Miss Utah this week.  Eat lots of skittles for me.

Here's to a new beginning.  I put myself out on a limb tonight and it may come back to bite me in the end, but for now I'm continuing to do one of the only things I know to be true: I'm living dangerously, the Nietzsche way.