Reflection

People complained this morning at breakfast about waking up at 3 and not being able to go back to bed. I smiled as I ate my yogurt and reminisced about how I went to bed at 10 and slept soundly until 7. Not too shabby?

We were out shortly after 9 where we went to King's Cross to buy train tickets to Paris and venture a gander at J.K. Rowling's Platform 9 3/4. It's there. We found it with a luggage cart embedded in the wall. Took a few pictures, felt extremely and utterly touristy, and headed to St. Paul's to do a walk around the Financial District.

The Cathedral is beautiful. Old. Covered with mosses and lichen that seem as ancient as the stone. We peeked in only for a minute, anxious to get on our way and complete one of the 8 "London Walks" we have to finish up by Saturday.

St. Paul's Cathedral reflected in part by a building across the way.

I couldn't stop feasting upon the numerous reflections that seemed to consume every space available for reflecting. The buildings, the cars, the lamp posts, the railings, even the cement on which our shoes were treading was covered with slick rain that cast the world back in mirror image. Everything was a reflection of its immediate vicinity, even if that only meant the sky.

The Financial District

We met back at the center at 1:00 to have a quick meeting before heading out to see the this. Something I noticed that I thought was interesting was that the pit orchestra didn't have any strings. Fancy that. I mentioned it to the girl next to me who assumed I was talking about props on stage and quickly responded, "They have to use strings on the broom don't you think?" All in all it was fantastic and I have been humming the all-too-familiar tunes since we stepped out the doors of the theatre.

More walking was met with a delicious dinner. The couscous salad topped with lime-mango marinated chicken. Yum. After we headed to the theatre district for yet another rainy waltz around the city. The Thames is absolutely beautiful at night. I saw Big Ben and thought, "Yep, I have arrived." The reflections were more apparent at night as the black concrete contrasted with the flashes of golden light splashed on the walks by the cars and buildings. Unbeatable beauty.

Waterloo Bridge with Big Ben and light

Landed

The day started with a quick airborne jaunt to LAX where we were greeted with a nearly 3 hour layover. However, it wasn't half as bad as I expected. Why? Well I beat Mr. Apple 6 times consecutively in Reversi, I heard native German speakers rambling off oodles of Deutsch, and also waiting to board our flight was a soccer team from London waiting to return from their "tourney" in LA. Accents + Eurohair = Attractive.

I have a talent. It's called sleeping on airplanes. It is a much coveted talent and had D&C been written within the last 20 years, I'm almost positive "airplane sleeping" would be listed among the talents in Section 46. The 9 hour flight to Heathrow felt like one nap after the other interrupted only by meals and the occasional potty break. We landed shortly before noon and caught the Tube to a stop near the London Center. I lugged my red bag a few blocks (with the embarrassing yellow HEAVY tag proclaiming to everyone on the streets that I over pack) before we finally rounded a corner and saw 27 Palace Court. Home. I looked out the window. We were greeted with blue skies.

Soon after checking in, claiming my bunk and dressing my mattress with fitted sheets and a duvet I met some girls downstairs and we headed out the door to get our Oyster Cards. I felt like a real Londoner, long term travel arrangements and all. The walk in Kensington Gardens was beautiful with lupine dusting the vast green with vibrant purple. We watched the squirrels chase the pigeons (and vice versa), and little boys chasing dogs. I kept expecting Peter Pan himself to fly over the trees and sweep us away to Neverland. Am I really living here for two months?

After a brief meeting and a long prayer we had dinner and then headed to our rooms to finish unpacking and getting settled before our longer meeting at 6:30. The meeting was met with droopy eyes and glazed stares. It was apparent that we had all spent the day traveling. We were instructed to stay up and keep moving so we hit the streets again and pounded the pavement for a few hours before I wound up here in cyberspace sending off emails and recording my journeyings.

Departure

It feels so strange to walk past the rooms in our apartment and see vacant beds and open closet doors bearing their emptied sterile insides. Much of their entrails were donated and much more was packed into anything capable of containing them and stuffed in some home-bound car.

How did it end so quickly?

If you would have asked me a month ago I would have told you that March is interminable. You would have tried to persuade me otherwise, and probably would have made a considerable case based on past experience, but I would have looked the other way and pointed to the vacuum that March seemed to be. It sucked me dry. Well, as luck would have it, I was incorrect and not only is March completely terminable, but April passed in flashes of color and snow and now I'm finding myself at the door. Waiting.

Half of my things have moved home and figuring out how to Tetris the contents of my dorm room to my new room is going to be a trick. Boy commandeered my room earlier this year and now I have to learn to stop at the first room at the top of the stairs rather than walking to the end of the hall before turning right. It's harder that it seems to break a 9 year habit.

Last night Roommate crawled into bed with me. I was half-asleep and dreaming when I saw her and reminisced for a few minutes about the year before I drifted off. Much of the year seems like dreams now.

For weeks now I have been making a list of reasons I won't miss my home-away-from-home. Most of this was so I wouldn't be as sad to go. I won't miss the shower with a depressing excuse for water pressure, the fungal floor, or the water temperature that fluctuates on a whim and often leaves you burning. I won't miss my window with a view of the parking lot and that is so hard to open the last time I tried, I nearly fell off my bed. I won't miss the constant mound of dishes or crumbs around the toaster. I won't miss the couch. Period. I won't miss the sound of living in the same building of 75 girls. I won't miss anything about the bathroom or the kitchen floor, both of which tested my tolerance threshold and taught me to just let things be. But over the last week I have been making a list of things I'll miss, albeit a mental list, but a constant flow of imaginary ink has been writing in my mind recording things that I will miss terribly.

I'm used to missing things and dealing with change. I think I'm destined to marry a nomad or live and hunter/gatherer lifestyle just so I can't ever get settled.

i.

miss.

you.

true.

Recycle

Today was Earth Day. I hope we all did something to reduce our carbon footprint or take action against global warming. Me? Well I made biodegradable cards with wildflower seeds in it so that once you're done with your card, you can plant it. Nifty eh?

OlderAndWiserToo and I started the project by building a small frame (aka: "deckle" according the paper making cyber gurus) which turned out to be more of a process than we had anticipated. But a power saw, some wood, a hammer, six nails, a old window screen, a power drill, and a staple gun later, we had ourselves a fine looking mold to make our paper with. We got some seeds but were uninformed about the fact that if you buy a large bag of wildflower seeds, there are fertilizer rocks and other non-seed things in there. So then we set to sorting seeds before making the pulp.

We googled some instructions on how to make paper and compared instructions from several sites before coming up with a method. Eventually we were pumping out sheet after sheet of light blue, seedy paper, good for planting.

Updates to follow.

Happy Earth Day. Reduce. Reuse. Recycle.

Attraction

Falling into that beautiful thing called Love.
(Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can't-live-without-each-other love).
ATTRACTION: flirtation, euphoria, doubt, the truth (I don't know why I want you, but I really do).

Here it is. That inexplicable, elemental tug. That surprising sudden feeling you've been waiting for. This is yesyesyes. this is where you find something or someone, and just fall for them. Illogically. Irresistibly. And find yourself thinking of nothing else.

Because it's attraction, and the dream of love to follow, that keeps the imagination alive. It's attraction that makes life sparkle and pop and fizz . . .

Galaxy - Never stop falling in love . . .



It was on a chocolate wrapper and I must say, it was almost that good.

Windows

There has been a series forming in my mind for months now. When I get a second to sit down and sketch my pen always seems to trace the lines I picture in my head.

I think about windows, the empty space in between that leaves clarity and shining. It's through the void that light is allowed to flood through and wash everything in yellow light. Except when it's not and all the window does is provide a drafty view to the outside which is sometimes filled with gray clouds.

But what if we were creating our own windows every day through life experience? What if it was through those times of empty voids and loneliness that we finally understood what it means to have the warmth course through us? I think it's during the empty times that we find ourselves feeling that missing part growing larger and larger until finally something else can be felt: light; light never felt in such piercing and pure clarity. It is through our windows that others come to find clarity in their own lives. They see through us, through the filter that our lives have provided and in looking through the glass in our beings, find themselves understanding life with a little more clarity. Yes, the hole hurts, but in creating a window and healing over with a sheet of something fine and clear, our knowledge is deepened and our ability to provide insight for others is intensified. This deepening knowledge and intensified insight vindicates the pain.

And that's how windows are made.

Free

I'm free. Hooray, huzzah and hallelujah.

Eclectic

I feel so eclectic. Listening to Bob Dylan, writing about the Superstring Theory while eating organic rice and asparagus in my skinny jeans. All I need is a tambourine.

Free

There was only one thing that could tug hard enough to get me out of my bed this morning: news of free Jamba's in the Wilk. While standing in line I kept thinking, "Is this what BYUSA is all about? Free food? That's all they really ever advertise. Is that why I spent a few hours working on a campaign? Is that why I voted? Is that why I wore green to support them? Or was it just peer pressure from her or her?" It sent me into musings about the pointless things real government attends to instead of addressing real issues.

When OtherRoommate and I got to the front of the line we found they were not giving out free Jambas, but free Jamba shots! The only thing that would have authenticated my experience further was for the officers to be handing smoothies out in little glass cups with some sort of BYU logo or icon silkscreened on the front. You know, the tacky variety that seem to assault you when you walk into gas stations south of Sanpete County. I was careful not to slurp mine all in one gulp. I didn't want to look like I was too familiar with the art of downing shots. But just for the record, Strawberry Sunrise is not a palatable equivalent to Pomegranate Paradise.

When I was leaving I saw a guy wearing a shirt that said "I (heart) Girl Scouting" and I couldn't help but wonder, what is he trying to accomplish/advertise by wearing that? Is he trying to say, "I'm desperate and hormonally motivated?" "I'm free?" or, "I'm a pedophile?" Maybe, "I like girls who fall for lame shirts like this. Are you one of them?" Or possibly, "I need a shopping buddy." Whatever the case may be, I hope he chooses something different to wear tomorrow.

I saw a terrible, but funny, and seemingly true acronym today.

F*&%
I
Never
Actually
Learned
Smack

That was right before I saw the score of my first final. Blast! how true it is. Soon enough I'll be free from finals bondage and be able to concentrate on one thing: fleeing the country.

Note

When I cleaned out my wallet today I found a sticky note with a list on it.

• smores P712 (that one had a check by it)
• pudding on the rice
• einsteins to play games
• can't believe he's never been to spaghetti factory
• idawhere? when?
  
• fridays kids - need to sign up
  
• movies have to see
  
• juno (check)
• .

I threw it away. No use keeping reminders about things I never did.

Room

For some reason, studying keeps turning into visiting favorite websites and catching up on blogs. But this movie was rad. And he just posted the song he asked for my help with it. I worked on the end with him (about 2:50 minutes in).

Now I need to focus. STUDY. Study. Study. Study. Study. study. study. study. study. study.

Published

I got published.

Concerts

In honor of National Poetry Month (yes, April is National Poetry Month and I hope we all take at least a moment to read some and write some) Pseudosister and I read poetry at a local concert at the eerie Provo Castle while the musicians took a little hot chocolate break. The music was good, so was the poetry, so were the people. Love love love. The concert was followed by some block rocking with the girls. Not the above beauties, but Abbylane, Kar, Korihor, and two of Kar's friends. It's been a while since I've let loose on the dance floor (aka parking lot). Wonderful.
The night after was full of laughter, roommates and glowsticks (which are currently being preserved in the freezer right next to the tots). Thank you work for the hookups. Between the comedy sketches and pumping jams, we had a blast.
Thanks for the flowers. Despite recent weather activity, I still believe Spring is on its way.She was fantastic live. I forgot how young and tiny she is. I was reminded me of NeatPetite.
And then Jimmy came out and we were estatic. Their latest album is grand. The crowd was insane and sweaty and a I loved it. I love when people come together, even when it's too close for comfort. Half way through their set I was suddenly up in the air and soon found myself crowd surfing. I always thought they passed you along. Oh no. They throw you. So you're airborne for a few before landing on another group of people who catch you and throw you again. So intense. The girl that got up just after me got dropped. The only thing that happened to me is people tried to steal my shoes. They didn't get them--I flexed my toes.

The music was so intense I could feel it vibrating in my spine. It was like with every bass hit a sudden jolt of energy shot through me and I felt it in my toes. Thanks for the tickets Sam. It's nice to know that work has perks. 6 of them in fact.

Disapointment? OlderAndWiserToo pulled an "older and wiser?" move and sat in the SEATS in the back when she and her crew had floor tickets. Could. Not. Believe. Them.

Remember

Today I was impressed with how much of life is all just moments of remembering. Remember to say your prayers. Remember to brush your teeth. Remember to lock the door, zip up your jacket, get to class on time, finish your research paper, call your mom . . .

At church, remembering His sacrifice, remember how you felt, remember that reference . . .

If only I had an ability to remember as much as I needed to. The difference between something you know and something you do is simply remembering to do it.

Remember.

Boycott

Sleeves

It is easy to get caught up in a web of self absorption, focusing only on our hardships and shortcomings. Sometimes it is all we can do to get up and keep trying. But no one else knows that of course. We all put on our best smiles as we greet the day, dressing our countenances in carefree sunshine and stepping out the door with a springy, light gate. Everyone does it to some extent. No one likes to wear their issues on their skin. We keep it buried beneath layers of striving and sometimes, festering dressings.

But what would happen if we could see it all?

I thought about this while walking to class once, wondering what I would change if I could see a list of trials, even small ones, that the people I interacted with were dealing with that day. Would I be more kind? Patient? Could I find the time to serve more if I was more aware of the need? Would I smile to strangers? Or walk a little slower to gaze at the hearts of those I was passing in a rush from one thing to the next?

Maybe I would just get depressed, saddened by how many things can go wrong in somebody's life. But I don't think so. More than anything I think that our problems become empowering. The fact that everyone does it everyday--gets up, cheers up, steps up--is an amazing testament to the unconquerable nature of the human spirit. Defeat doesn't really resonate with us.

And that is why our stories should be recorded. Sharing our stories with loved ones is what makes us human. There are few people on this planet who are immune to the power or allure of stories. We are all guilty of unconsciously, and continually, casting our nets in the hopes of landing a good one. The fact is, as humans, we hunger for "the story." We long to be engaged in the wonderful play that takes place between the listener and the teller, the dance between voice, ears, and mind. Storytelling is a way of standing tall. When you tell a story using your own words, you are demonstrating that the way that you speak, your accent, your choice of words, and the most unique characteristic that is perceivable from the outside, your voice, are all good enough. Not only good enough, but worthy of celebration!

We need to pass along stories of the importance of loving ourselves and the notion that we can never stop learning. We have to feel free to laugh and lament. We have to pass down stories of the joys of linking with others and the courage it takes to lead. We have to tell of living, and impart sensitivity to the fact that leaving is a necessary part of human existence, too.
Through everything we do in life--not just what we have earned but what we have learned--we build a legacy to pass on to others.

There have been great societies that did not use the wheel, but there have been no societies that did not tell stories. [Ursula K. LeGuin]

After all, without stories, all we're left with is empty shirt sleeves.

Depends

We did it again. It was in celebration of another year gone by. It wasn't any easier or less painful. The experience was filled with increased empathy, once again. Babies have a right to cry. Loudly.

Happy (belated) Birthday. I finally uploaded my photos. And yes those are beads we so carefully sewed on to make sure the birthday girl had something special to don for the occasion.

Monkeys

Does this photo make you:
a. Think of an old Disney tune
b. Reconsider Nessie's origin
c. Sing praises because you aren't smelling them
d. Hungry


If you answered c., you are correct. Congrats.

Remember this? I counted, sorted, measured and identified all my specimens. And then I promptly doused my body in Lysol and washed my hands for a good 40 minutes before proceeding to write about the experience and analyze my results for 14 pages.

I guess I learned a lot. I learned one thing for sure: I am horrible at writing scientific papers. Writing should be lyrical and moving. We're trained our whole lives to analyze books, poems and plays, maybe a concert or two. But throw nearly 150 Copepoda, 200 Trichoptera and a handful of Plecoptera into the mix and you've got the makings for several nights staying up past three wondering why you decide to make things so difficult for yourself.


It was quite a weightless feeling as I dropped my weighty "Nature Experience" in the box outside my professor's office door. I got one monkey off my back. After the 15th, I hope to be left with only a few monkeys to rid myself of before jetting far, far away.

Snow

I have a daily ritual where after waking and rousing my brain enough to dial a phone number, I call Time & Temp for the daily forecast and then decide what to dress my body in that day. Dressing for the weather is probably something I got from my mom who watches the evening weather report while rummaging through her closet of clothes and mixing and matching until finally assembling the perfect outfit.

Today's report startled me. "Chances of precipitation accumulating up to 2 inches in the benches." I didn't want to bust out my Wellies just yet, so I settled on black flats and went out the door. It wasn't exactly a clear morning. On my walk to class I saw a gloomy, foreboding, black cloud waiting to eat me and spit me out all wet and mucky. By the time I got in the door of the HFAC it was just starting to sprinkle. It is spring after all.

Well someone forgot to tell April that it's the third week of spring and halfway through a 20 minute study I glanced up and was horrified by the silver-dollar sized snow monsters falling gracefully from some unknown, unkind source of weather mayhem. I wanted to thrust an icepick in my temple and sacrifice myself to the Winter Gods as an offering for warm weather. By the time I emerged from nearly 3 hours in the library the snow had stopped and nearly all melted and I smiled, thanking the clouds for saving myself from death by icepick.

Dominos

I had a chance to rejuvenate this weekend, just sit and relish. Become filled. While driving to a party with PseudoSister we talked about how impressed we have been with the interconnectedness of humanity, how no decision truly affects just one. It is both a beautiful and a frightening thing. I wrote an essay on this once while comparing passages of A Tale of Two Cities to the way that people's lives are woven so intricately. Humanity is like a seamless, undulating, wave of cause and effect.

We're all just dominos.

Mali

Silver-Lined Heart
By Taylor Mali

I’m for reckless abandon
and spontaneous celebrations of nothing at all,
like the twin flutes I kept in the trunk of my car
in a box labeled Emergency Champagne Glasses!

Raise an unexpected glass to long, cold winters
and sweet hot summers and the beautiful confusion of the times in between.
To the unexpected drenching rain that leaves you soaking
wet and smiling breathless;
“We danced in the garden in torn sheets in the rain,”
we were christened in the sanctity of the sprinkler,
can’t you hear it singing out its Hallelujah?

Here’s to the soul-expanding power
of the simply beautiful.

See, things you hate, things you despise,
multinational corporations and lies that politicians tell,
injustices that make you mad as hell,
that’s all well and good.
And as far as writing poems goes,
I guess you should.
It just might be a poem that gets Mumia released,
brings an end to terrorism or peace in the middle east.

But as far as what soothes me, what inspires and moves me,
honesty behooves me to tell you your rage doesn’t move me.
See, like the darkest of clouds my heart has a silver lining,
which does not harken to the loudest whining,
but beats and stirs and grows ever more
when I learn of the things you’re actually for.

That’s why I’m for best friends, long drives, and smiles,
nothing but the sound of thinking for miles.
For the unconditional love of dogs:
may we learn the lessons of their love by heart.
For therapy when you need it,
and poetry when you need it.
And the wisdom to know the difference.

The solution to every problem usually involves some kind of liquid,
even if it’s only Emergency Champagne
or running through the sprinkler.
Can’t you hear it calling you?

I’m for crushes not acted upon, for admiration from afar,
for the delicate and the resiliant and the fragile human heart,
may it always heal stronger than it was before.
For walks in the woods, and the for the woods themselves,
by which I mean the trees. Definitely for the trees.
Window seats, and locally brewed beer,
and love letters written by hand with fountain pens:
I’m for all of these.

I’m for evolution more than revolution
unless you’re offering some kind of solution.

I’m for the courage it takes to volunteer, to say “yes,” “I believe,” and “I will.”
For the bright side, the glass half full, the silver lining,
and the optimists who consider darkness just a different kind of shining.

So don’t waste my time and your curses on verses
about what you are against, despise, and abhor.
Tell me what inspires you, what fulfills and fires you,
put your precious pen to paper and tell me what you’re for!

Doorways

A feeling I don't like:

The one that feels like you're slowly being ripped apart, but whoever is doing the ripping won't just finish the job, so you're left there, suspended above what used to be your soft, warm, comfortable bed, and feeling a discontent so acute it seems strange that no one else can see it.

I just feel anxious. For what? I don't know. Maybe the anxiety is what is doing the ripping. Am I anxious to finish off the semester strong? Anxious to get out of Provo and cross the ocean? Anxious to lift off, to soar? To stop feeling so . . . suspended?

I just feel anxious. Antsy, almost.

But I don't know what I'm anxious for. To grow up? To get up? To clean up? Make up? Stop up? Go up? To finally get the song down on paper? To articulate more clearly? To hear back from committees? To hear back from him or him or her or her? To get caught up, whisked away and flying?

If this is what the doorway to my future feels like, I'm sure tired of standing in the threshold.

Gmail

I'm sure you Gmail users (aka, smart people) have seen the red link at the top of the homepage announcing "New! Gmail Custom Time." Being the curious person I am, I clicked it and started reading the testimonials after skimming the blurb about what it is and looking at the pictures. Basically the testimonials were hysterical. It is like people's ticket to cheat and lie and feel okay about it. Here are a few of my favorites:

"I used to be an honest person; but now I don't have to be. It's just so much easier this way. I've gained a lot of productivity by not having to think about doing the 'right' thing."

"I just got two tickets to Radiohead by being the 'first' to respond to a co-worker's 'first-come, first-serve' email. Someone else had already won them, but I told everyone to check their inboxes again. Everyone sort of knows I used Custom Time on this one, but I'm denying it."

There you have it. Gmail is fostering the falsifying of, as one testimonial calls, "a sacred truth that should never be tampered with," or in layman's terms: time. (And a Jimmy Eat World song just came on my iPod as I was writing that last sentence and is now piping, I'm finding out that cheating gets it faster in my ears. Granted, it's taken slightly out of context, but it was definitely an ironic moment just now.) They have, however, quantified the number of dishonest emails you can send in a year. The number? 10. They report,

"Our researchers have concluded that allowing each person more than ten pre-dated emails per year would cause people to lose faith in the accuracy of time, thus rendering the feature useless.

Their findings:

N = Total emails sent
P = Probability that user believes the time stamp
φ = The Golden Ratio
L = Average life expectancy

Good ol' Gmail. Keeping us mostly honest, 10 emails at a time. (April Fools?)

Tolerate

Currently tolerating:

• writing my research paper
• work
• school
• repeat Honor Code offenders
• snow

Currently being:

• tolerated
  

Foolish

When the clock struck midnight, Roommate got a brilliant idea and we sprung into action, christening the new day with our first act of mischief. We swiped Gun's and Mish's bras, soaked them in water and set them carefully in the freezer atop a bags of frozen peas, raspberries and edamame. They were out, and we were lying in our beds waiting for our giggly minds to drop off so we could get some sleep.

Just before leaving to the devotional, Otherroommate and I sneaked into the kitchen, snagged the bras and set them back in their room. The bras looked like they were defying all sort of physics laws with their suspended straps and balancing positions, and we were so excited for the two of them to wake up confused and befuddled.

Obviously we are out of pranking practice.

Today has honestly been uneventful. Maybe I'm writing this too soon, there are still a solid 8+ hours left in the day, but it has been incredibly blah, when it should be full of surprises, anticipation, laughter and sabotage.