stream of conscious, like Hemingway.

I sincerely hope none of you read this.

Anne Hathaway and James Franco.  I like them both.  I do not like them both together or as presenters.

Melissa Leo is cray cray.


I also really like Mila Kunis.  But not with Justin Timberlake.  Boring.

Everyone is so awkward.  Oh goody - finally a winner who can speak without being insanely awkward.

So they'll bring the music out for the short film but not for the insanely annoying Melissa Leo?

Is everyone high????

Maybe Hugh Grant is Banksy.

"ehhscript is good.  ehhhhslips through your mind."  "The ehhhsocial network".  I love Javier Bardem.  And I love Spanish.  And I love Castillian Spanish.

I'm a big fan of people who memorize their speeches.  Wouldn't expect anything less from a writer. 

I loved The King's Speech.  I did.  But Inception was brilliance personified in a film.  So sad about that.  But again - I am grateful for writers who write their speeches and who do them in such a way that it actually means something.

Really though.  That award was Inception's.  Chris Nolan is visionary - why doesn't the Academy recognize his enormous talent?!

Ah yes.  Hugh Jackman.  Someone bring him back to host.

Russell Brand looks so normal without the fuzz.

Oh my gosh did that person seriously cut an animal with a pair of hedge clippers?!

Remember that one time what's-his-name jumped over a bunch of chairs when he won an Oscar?  I watched that movie for the first time, recently.  It was good.  And the guy was nice.  And a good kisser.  Yeah.  Life is Beautiful.

Christian Bale looks like Jesus.

And I love Geoffrey Rush.  Even with a shaved head.

Yay for Señor Bale!  I love him.  I love that he recognizes his foul-mouthed tirade.  And oh my heart!  He cried about his wife and child!

If Inception/Hans Zimmer doesn't win for best score, I'mma choke a w[b]itch.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.  The Social Network was good.  But Hans Zimmer OWNED them with his soundtrack.

YAY INCEPTION.  Really though.  The sound was phenomenal and the music was phenomenal and everything was amazing and I am sooooooo mad.

Also, Scarlett, brush your hair.

I love all the calls for Unions.  It makes me happy. 

haha Unstoppable was nominated for an Oscar?

YAY MORE INCEPTION.  That's right beeches - this movie was technically perfection.  If only you had given it to the artistic crew as well.

I'm loving all of the Inception people saying it is because of Chris Nolan.  It's true.  I'm SUCH a fan girl for this extraordinary person.

Marisa Tomei looks decent.  Except her hair is kind of funky.  And her skirt is weird.  And her earrings are ugly. 

I love James Franco.

Cate Blanchett rocks my world, but what in the WORLD is she wearing?

haha The Wolfman was nominated for something?  That movie sucked.  And yes, it is gross.  The Wolfman WON something?!  hahahahaha.

Alice in Wonderland was a dumb movie, but this woman has sweet gloves.

Of course she gets cut off.  No one curr.

I'm getting bored.  People sing songs.  I still need to see Tangled.

James Franco seems to be fitting into his groove.  I'm assuming it's because the booze is kicking in.

I sort of love Amy Adams.  And I love that she's wearing a dress that I could totally wear with garments.

I'm in love with the fro dude.  He rocks.  And I love it.  It's like watching a college sports kid get something amazing amongst all of the pros.

I'm loving the Harry potter thing.  Really.  It's kind of wonderful.  Okay, now it's not so wonderful.  Okay yeah, the Twilight thing is fantastic. 

I'm sorry, why is Oprah here and who told her that dress would be okay? 

Aw dangit!  Banksy didn't win.  That means no appearance from Banksy.  This is sad.  That woman is extraordinary at holding her hands at her sides.

Woot.  I'm in love with this man.  Let's send SOMEONE to jail.  I vote for Tom Hanks.

YES Rubber Ducky Jr. is coming next!  And my cheating husband, Jude!

Oh my gosh we are surrounded by Jeff Bridges in everything.  Oscars.  Movies.  Car commercials.

Never have I felt better about being a fan of drinking Coke.  I'm glad I have sent people to college.  Nothing gets me quite like a feel good commercial.

Is that MJ I hear on the Secret Millionaire promo?  That was lovely.

Someday, one day, somehow, I am going to be at the Oscars in some capacity.

Yes.  Billy Crystal.  Oh how we miss you.  Do come back and host.  You're better than Anne.  But do it with James Franco.  I'm fine with that.  Drink it in Hugh.  I agree.

I once dated a guy who really liked Bob Hope.  Thought he was the funniest person ever.  He is funny.  But so is Danny Kaye.  And Danny is more attractive.

YES RDJ and Jude.  They are beautiful.  I am SO glad they talked about RDJ being a former druggie.

INCEPTION BETTER WIN. 

YAY.  More Chris Nolan love.

But WAIT.  Is the top still spinning?!

Oh my goodness.  I'm so torn.  The King's Speech.  Black Swan.  Who do I want?

Boo Social Network AGAIN UGH.

Jennifer Hudson looks super fierce.

And you know what.  So does Gwynny.

On a serious note.  My cousin Shanna sang thing song all the time, and it was definitely better than Celine.  She was such a beautiful girl.

Poor Hilary Swank.  She is just not an attractive person.  I'm sorry.

GO BLACK SWAN GO BLACK SWAN GO BLACK SWAN.

Best director should have been Chris Nolan.  But I'll take Tom Hooper.  The King's Speech was the only movie I thought was better than Black Swan.

Annette Benning is super fierce.  But Natalie better win.

Oh my gosh Anne this is not a sporting event stop WHOOPING.

natalie

NATALIE!!!!

YEEEEESSSSSSSS.

SO HAPPY.  OMG ALL CAPS.

And so glad it's Colin.  My favorite two movies of 2010 honored.  That makes me extremely happy.

I don't like the Oscars.  And I don't like the MPAA.  And I don't necessarily like Hollywood.  But I love films.  Having seen all of the films nominated, I vote for The King's Speech for Best Picture.  Come on.  His speech and the Beethoven piece are the backdrop to all of this.

Oh, and by the way, I have a review of The King's Speech coming.  It was the movie that helped me out of my rut.  And no, I'm not kidding.

It did!  And he's gay!  Love it! 

Please go see it. 

James and Anne sort of sucked.  But that's a-okay.

JKJ led me to this.

true story yo.

Meeting the Queen was kind of the coolest thing that's ever happened.  It was so random.  We were just hanging out on a bridge.  I don't remember which bridge it was, but I can tell you that it was made of stone, and I think the stone was dark.  Descriptive, no?  Like I said, just hanging on this bridge around early evening, and it was a little bit chilly, but I was wearing this cream, wool coat that I love.  It has big, wooden buttons, and it also has a high collar that keeps my neck nice and toasty during these freezing months.  When I was standing on that bridge, she passed by me and complimented me on my coat.

Thus began our wonderful conversation.  We discussed the people I had dated, chatted about my Islamic humanities class, and realized that we had some mutual friends.  I know she's not our queen or anything, and even still, I feel like I owe her the same respect - but we couldn't help but talk and talk like we were old friends.  She's just so down to earth!  Truthfully, I can't remember what she was wearing because she said something that caught me off guard.

"Yes, I saw Tia earlier today, and I must tell you my dear - now I don't like repeating gossip, but I feel you must find out - that he has proclaimed to everyone that you have no soul."

well, true in the sense that this is legitimately a dream I had a few nights ago.

.

longing, we say, because desire is full of endless distances.

-- Robert Hass

I wrote a haiku

let's eat gross corndogs
go claim that beach house as ours
hope they don't notice

I'm pretty certain I am a poetic genius.

1:23

In a matter of a few short weeks, I'm going to have to leave my favorite living situation.

I don't think you all adequately understand.  Whitney and I *literally* share a room.  We sleep two feet away from each other.  We share a very cramped closet.  We both lounge in our garments.  We eat each other's food without needing to ask.  We borrow shoes, knowing the other person will say, "duh".  We do not like the same Sunday snacks, but we do like watching TV while doing homework.

I don't think I'm going to be able to fall asleep at night without her input in my life, in the room, in that moment.

Thank goodness for Skype.  yes, I am aware that Skype is for people who live a couple hundred miles apart, but we'll have 39.54 miles between us.  39.53.95 too many.

nearly blind.

About myopia--if you have it, be happy.  Numerous scientific studies have shown that near-sighted men and women boast a higher average intelligence than their non-myopic cohorts.  The precise mechanism of this association remains unknown, but there are two popular theories: nature and nurture.  

Those who support nature argue that during embryologic development, the eyes develop from the same neural tube as the brain itself.  Since large eyes tend to be myopic, big eyes and big brains might go together in much the same fashion as long arms and long legs.  

Those who favor nurture insist that myopia leads to high intelligence because of its effect on childhood development.  Most near-sighted kids wander around undiagnosed for years, and during this formative period - unable to see the baseballs, Frisbees, and rocks thrown at them by their playmates - they spend a lot of time indoors.  The non-athletic myopes who take up reading get high scores on their SATs, while those who take up eating give us claustrophobia by overflowing the seat next to us on airplanes.  Myopia also exerts a powerful influence on career choice: eighty-five percent of my fellow ophthalmologists are myopic, an incidence far greater than that of the normal population.  

Pathology breeds preoccupation.

--John Gamel

run.

Options.

Finish school.  Someday.  Somehow, amongst all of the chaos.  Because I can't not.

Compete at Miss Nevada.  Because I can.

Live with Mandy and Jim and baby Sam for the summer.  Dance in Samba clubs and kiss pretty people and rekindle connections.  Because Mandy makes me happy.

Move to Europe.  Become an Au Pair or something.  Work in a restaurant.  Live in a hut.  Read and write in museums and learn Spanish and French and Italian and Portuguese.  Because when else could I do this?

Put in papers.  Because, as long as I'm not a glorified tour guide at a pretty, pretty building or on a Square in Utah, I think I'd be kind of awesome.  Even if it's just talking about life and philosophy and questioning what eternity means.

Find peace.  Because I have no other choice... not if I want to be alive.

at least I write when I procrastinate.

Go back and read my entry about Valentine's Day.  I added some recollections from Valentine's past.

also.  I like pretzels as study food.

Additionally.  Hans Zimmer writes really great music.

Finally, you're loudly proclaiming you served in Taiwan while walking into the Asian Collection area of the library.  That makes sense.  Say it quieter next time.

it's a problem.

Do you remember those good old days when myTunes existed?  Click on a person's library while AT the library, shift + scroll, click a button and BAM!  Entire Radiohead catalogue ripped into your music library.

Yeah, iTunes wised up and fixed that one.

But you can still access a person's music library when connected to the same network, and I find great joy and entertainment in viewing what other people enjoy listening to.  More specifically, I find great joy and entertainment in seeing things like Destiny's Child next to Dave Matthew's Band.

So in my time of procrastination here, I present a few automatic judgments I make about you and your worth as a person while viewing your musical library.

1. Country music is an automatic fail.  If you're a girl, and 18, and from Arizona, I'll give you some time to fix it.  If you're a boy, then I promise to only make out with you, but not actually date you (on a kind of related note that is only slightly off topic: this holds true for all of my recent hook-ups).
2. Jack Johnson and Jay-Z don't make a whole lot of sense, but I'll give you props for being well rounded.
3. Arcade Fire?  Ding ding ding we have a winner.
4. Classical anthology along the lines of "Best Classical Masterpieces" or "The Most Popular CLassics"?  Nice work.  You are on your way to having taste.
5. Classical that includes Prokofiev, Liszt, Bach, Dvorak, or Saint-Sëans?  You have my respect.


all that said, I have Nintendo songs.  I fail my own test. 

However, apparent love of either Rush, Genesis, or Rachmaninoff will save you.

since it matters.

since any of this matters.

okay, now that I've made the case to ignore me and my thoughts...

more foo.

happy day.

irresolute differences.

For the first time in, oh, five years, I am single on Valentine's Day.  That hit me as I was helping Whitney put away my groceries (pizza, soda, Martinelli's, cheese, Sour Punch Straws, and some nectarines).  Five years.  I've had a "steady" in the past five years of my life.  But if you asked me about any of these five days spent with my "valentine" of choice, I probably couldn't describe them very well.  I'm going to venture a guess and say Valentine #1 (freshman year with a Mr. SAW) brought some Martinelli's around (a safe bet, considering he and JRod accumulated a hundred empty bottles or so in their dorm room).  The next three have blended together.  Mr. CSS had a birthday right around V-Day, so I don't remember much of what we did.  ADDENDUM: I went through old journal entries and discovered that for year 1 of our relationship, we had a bonfire at Utah Lake.  Yeah, forgot about that one.  Year two?  No comments.  Year three (yes, I did date someone that long; no I am not divorced - we only kind of got engaged, and by kind of, I mean I may or may not have gone wedding dress shopping assuming he'd propose.  Yeah, didn't happen.) involved my trying to convince him that we really needed a french bulldog because aren't they just the cutest dogs ever.  I had dinner last year.

Today was pretty wonderful, though.  First, I slept.  A lot.  Then I e-mailed in a paper.  Then I watched A Winter's Bone.  At some point I went to the library, because I miss being someone who regularly checks books out of the library.  I got Whitney a valentine.

I read an essay by one of my favorite modern writers, Brian Doyle, in which he described marriage.  I didn't mean to read about marriage or divorce or love or relationships, but on this day, I profess my love for that which makes me quite contented, quite happy, quite calm.

In the past, I have loved.  I've even loved pretty seriously.

But this is true love.

I love the essay.

be careful what you wish for.

I think yesterday's events have officially pushed me out of my rut.

.

when I counted up my demons, saw there was one for every day, with the good ones on my shoulders,  I drove the other ones away.  when you thought that it was over,  you could feel it all around.  everybody's out to get you - don't you let it drag you down.  so if you ever feel neglected,  if you think that all is lost...  I'll be counting up my demons, hoping everything's not lost.

files and folders.

Thank you for your words of encouragement, your text messages, your facebook messages, your phone calls.  I'm sorry I published that emotional drama.  I usually try to reign those things in.

Of course, as is life, things became much worse.  And they might continue on that path.

But my friend Travis gave me a few boxes to help lighten the load I carry in my purse.  Hopefully I can learn to use them.

Thank you Whitney, and Mandy, and Emily, and Travis, and Kelsey.  But especially thank you Whitney for being my pillar at five in the morning when I need to shake and convulse.

**********

Showing up at the temple at 6:30 in the morning is so unlike me.  There are too many questions that I can't answer right now, but I'm grateful that God felt it appropriate for me to enter that beautiful place and feel an hour of peace.  The second I took a look at my phone, the chaos returned, but instead of hiding in my bed, I managed to file the frustration into a box for a little while.

And I thought what I was dealing with in October was hard.

God's smart, in case you didn't know it. 

Things are probably going to get worse.  And I need to stop trying to date jocks because you may like the fact that I can talk to you about philosophy and politics and China, but I'm pretty sure you can't handle it, either.  And I love you, Dad.  A lot.

phoenix.

so keep on calling me names, 
keep on keep on.

Killing time before the temple opens.

This is one of those nights where crying doesn't solve the problem.  This is also one of those nights where I sit and I think, "really, God?  Really?!"

I'm not a perfect person, and I've made a lot of mistakes, and I feel like I've said this a MILLION times and I will keep saying it because it's true.

But right now?  At this time in my life?  I am doing the right things.  I've not said this bluntly, but here it is: I received my endowment a few weeks ago, not because I'm getting married, and not because I'm going on a mission, but because it was time.

And since that decision was made?



angst angst angst.



I read my scriptures.  I am consistently asking God to feel worthwhile.  I tell myself over, and over, and over that I just need to have faith, that I just need to fight through this.  That this will pass.

A friend suggested service, so I've been spending time that I don't have with people and organizations who need help.

I'm trying to develop thick skin, trying to learn how to deal with people who knowingly, and even unknowingly, say destructive things.  But I'm only human.

Many of us feel alone as we attempt to overcome life’s small frustrations and major disappointments. Of course, most of us can say that we know God loves his children. We can bear testimony to the principles of the gospel and the inspiration of our leaders. Yet it seems most difficult to feel that the Lord loves us personally and profoundly and that he acts upon that love to bless us, even in the seemingly insignificant details of our lives.

--Jeffrey  C. Jacob

I'm trying.  I really am.  I'm trying to have faith.  I'm trying to hang in there.  I'm trying to be there for my family and my friends and my dance partner and my teachers and myself and my nieces and my brothers and the people I don't even know.

I need it to be 7 a.m. so I can be inside the Provo temple, away from all of this.

.

I really wish the temple were open this early.

creative [literary] vomit.

Right now, I should be going through the world's most complicated study guide (Intro to Islam, test #2 aka Recognize Every Single Mosque That Has Been Built and Say Why Anyone Cares), and instead I'm agreeing with Phillip Lopate.  Let's change it from creative nonfiction to literary nonfiction, mmmkay?  He is also validating me.

I’m arguing more for reflective nonfiction where thinking and the play of consciousness is the main actor.

Bless you, Mr. Lopate.

I feel old and extremely unaccomplished.  I feel old and bored and boring and old and single.  I feel old and single and too self-aware and old and still in school and SINGLE.  I also feel inadequate.  Sure, I'm doing better than those kids who can't go to college or who can't read.  At least I don't have a communicable disease.  At least I'm not Lindsey Lohan.  You might understand the feeling, though.  The feeling that comes with being 23 and single and still working on an undergrad and the oh-my-gosh-I-have-so-much-potential-there-are-so-many-things-I-want-to-do-and-can-do-what-the-hell-am-I-going-to-do-money-school-family-job-cheese.

Roughly like that, right?

There are people who read this blog and I'm sorely tempted to name them.  People who are currently living what I would consider to be a dreamy existence.  Of course, we all know that's not possible, because everyone deals with their fair share of blah blah blah.  But just once I'd like to say, *coughKatieAPulsiphercough* I hate you a little right now.

This is also about the time that I smack myself.  What am I doing?  What do I want to be doing?  What do I even care about?  How do I synthesize all of my passions into a pretty little box that can be categorized in a three-word statement?  Why haven't I learned this yet?  Why did I stay the same exact weight for four months, trying EVERYTHING, only to gain three pounds in two days?

This is what I like to call a rut.  Not a depressive rut - I've dealt with plenty of those.  An existential rut?  Maybe - although, I don't need you to send me any videos of where I'm from and where I'm going and God's eternal plan of happiness.  A karmic rut?  Most certainly.  Boo Karma.  I'm willing to buy that I deserve this on some level.

Perhaps the correct word is boredom.  Being bored isn't fun.  Being bored and allowing yourself to stay bored?  That's just stupid.

That is also me.

Why am I stupid?  Well, let's look at the things I'm currently most passionate about:

*Writing essays
*Commentating on politics, philosophy, religion, and any other issue that causes lots of war.
*Becoming Miss Nevada
*Babies
*Chuck Bass
*Black Swan

School is good, and school is wonderful, but as of right now, the only classes that are helping me move forward in my passions are my creative writing class and my Islamic class (although apparently everything I'm being taught is WRONG).  Most of my time is devoted to school: going, not going, thinking about going, deciding to stay in bed, dragging myself out of bed, driving, studying at school, studying at home, thinking in the car about school, dreaming about school (including a series of dreams about Mrs. Abbott, a teacher from high school - I'd really love to stop having those).

I'm not very content with my life (shocker).  I've been in a rut.  I've been okay with boredom.

I vowed to be okay with not being perfect, not be okay with being a slug who eats lots of Rhodes bake-at-home rolls (Neil votes ice cream; I vote rolls).

So how can I work toward my passions?

Well, I do love babies, but I also love holding a temple recommend and I'd rather have them after I'm married.  Whining about my singleness isn't very helpful, and I'm pretty sure God is doing it on purpose, so I'm going to try to be zen about all of this and just let the Universe figure it all out (note: this is a lie).

I love Chuck Bass, but he's not real.  So that's a stupid passion.

I also love Black Swan, and I don't care if it's weird (and also not real) - I will accept my connection to Portman's character.  Thank goodness for the soundtrack and for Tchaikovsky and for lesbians and for Oscar DVD screeners.

Becoming Miss Nevada requires becoming Miss Something-or-Other in between.  No practicing can occur right now because I have to grow my nails out for Nationals, but March 18th?  Nails are getting cut and lots of piano playing will happen.  Tune back in sometime around the beginning of April to see if this is even going to happen.

This takes me to the two things that probably make me happiest (besides making out and babies; baby making will probably be included in this one day): I love writing essays and I love stating my opinion.  But why don't I read essays?  How do I not subscribe to The New Yorker?  How do I not own Lopate's numerous volumes?  How can I call myself a student and disciple of creative [literary] nonfiction if I don't actually read any?

So I'm making an addendum to my new year's vow.

I will read a nonfiction piece every day.  I will also read The Economist because I'm really bad with economic issues.  I will act like I actually want to pursue a career in TV/Radio by actually e-mailing a certain Mr. Hannity.  I will be okay with the fact that I like personal essays.  Lopate wants us to write nonfiction in a more reflective way, not just painting a picture of someone who did something interesting, but painting a picture of someone who thinks things that are interesting.

I will become someone who thinks interesting things.

Maybe I will become someone who thinks mostly-interesting things.

But dammit!  I will get out of this rut!

Rah rah go team.

Cue Divo's Whip It.

Today...

I suggested that sex education would help stifle abortions.

A friend on facebook then said that they love listening to a BYU student advocating for abortion.

......

Okay.  Sure.  I'll give you a REALLY wide scope on that one.  Whatever.

Then my boss' co-host (I'm assuming not connecting the dots...) said, "I know. I wish I could convince my co-host to dump her. But it's no go. She's seriously liberal!"

UGH.  Go to Connecticut.  Then tell me if I'm liberal! I don't say you should be gone because you're a tea party conservative!

{Instead of running to a hole to cower in, I'm going to assume that this means I'm doing my job, and that I'm doing it well.}