jennsdaisypatch

A Heart

2012-01-07T20:32:00.000-08:00

I don't think anyone reads my blog anymore (at least not this one) and so I feel a sense of liberty in writing straight from the soul. There is something oddly purging about letting the pieces of me that have been struggling to form semblance ink to something tangible across the white noise of the interworld. There is a part of me that is still hesitant to write this, because there is something strange about scattering pieces of my soul like confetti into the inter-abyss- but the taunt of freedom is too alluring and I can only hope that if anyone reads this they will do so with forgiveness and a gentle sense of humor. Blogs are the new 'message in a bottle'. I'm writing from the heart and tossing it into the ocean. The only person I expect to find this is a pirate....or mermaid (preferably a merman mind you, dripping and wet with long-ish hair and a glowing six pack...)

So basically this year I have had a lot of firsts. I have used atrophied muscles in my heart:

Opened

Trusted

Loved

Grieved

Discovered

Believed.

Believed. This is a big one for me. I never believed in using my heart the way I've used it this year.

Let me explain something about my heart. My whole life I have been trying to protect it. Ever since I came home from school crying to my mom about the kid I didn't know who got pushed down on the playground I knew I had a different heart. We all have beautiful hearts, and they are capable of different and unique things. I have been cursed (blessed) with A tender heart. A big heart. The kind of heart that gets hurt by just watching the cruelly labeled geek in class get spit-wadded by the school bully. Not just hurt, but swallowing my tears and snot as I cried for them HURT. I used to hurry up to finish my schoolwork in sixth grade so I could go and tutor the resource kids. This is not the fastest way to make friends in sixth grade, and I had a few friends who were very special to me that understood my heart...and I understood theirs.

But I grew up. And in the process of bad hair cuts and teenage growing pains I discovered that I didn't want to walk around FEELING my heart. I wanted to protect it. And thus began the process of slowly piling brick after brick around my heart. It wasn't until this year, through some painful discoveries, that I realized this heart of mine is MEANT to feel. I am meant to love so completely that I feel empathy and compassion for everyone. I am meant to emulate Christ as closely as I can so that I can understand even the teeniest portion of what He understands. I am MEANT to use my heart in service of my God. I am supposed to open my heart, and even though it causes me agony it also blesses me with a sense of serenity and peace I haven't known since I was a kid.

I am meant to love.

I am meant to hold. To comfort. To console. To do my part and let go.

I am meant to TRUST my heart in the Lord's hands. If my heart is in His hands, it will be taken care of. He knows my heart better than anyone, and he knows what I need to feel and when I need relief. He also knows HOW to relieve me.

I have never felt God closer in my life then just these past few weeks, but especially days. I have felt pushed down (this has been a rough semester for me as far as semesters go), but instead of brushing myself off and getting back up (which is what I normally do) I have taken His hand. I am taking His hand and trusting His plan for me. His plan for my big heart.

The amazing thing about this is that because the Lord knows me, and knows how to take care of me...I feel WONDERFUL. If I was a fighter in the ring, I'd be ready to jump back in. I've never felt more free, because NO MATTER what happens...I am trusting the Lord.

I believe in love. So cliched...so cheesy...but so true.

Love has the power to CHANGE people in ways that are...for lack of more inventive word...magical. Love can soften. Love can move. Love can beckon. Love can turn back time and change what otherwise cannot be undone. Love can forgive. Love is patient. Love trusts. Love can bend the hardest knee and bring tears to the driest eye. Love can let go...but Love can hold on. Love can surround us and Love can leave us...but ONLY if we let it.

I choose to trust my heart. But not trust it to myself...or anyone other person...trust it to the Lord.

I choose to Love. Openly and Freely. Until I wear Love as comfortably as I wear my skin.

control

2011-12-25T20:32:00.000-08:00

I like to get what I want-- almost as much as I like fighting to get what I want. I'm not afraid to dive head first into battle, war paint on as I make my way through life. Recently I have come to realize that in my efforts to fight for what I want I have crossed a collapsing boundary and found my hands dipped in the slippery grit of control. I struggle with the paradox of not giving up, of fighting for what I want, and trying to control the outcome...control my entire life. In trying to control every outcome I have on accident given up my weapons to fight a fair fight and have instead exchanged them for the sneaky devices of a spy. I don't want to be a spy, I want to be a warrior. I can be extremely stubborn. I wont give up. But how do I find the balance of letting go...of practicing faith...and still fighting for what I want? I need to give up control, but all the same I need to keep my war paint. I can't control how my life will turn out, but I can fight for the things I want...right?

Gah. Its hard for me to live in the gray of this.

so this is

2011-11-04T22:52:00.000-07:00

so this is life on the sun. I feel a constant glow, a consuming energy as I try to take it all in. no more gravity. just fire and brightness and light. so far...i love life on the sun.

Silence

2011-10-15T14:14:00.000-07:00

I am more powerful than you, because I can listen. I know the cleverness of sound because I am careful to be still enough to understand it. Words can move, attack, destroy, seduce, impact, belittle, hurt, resolve, love, tangle. I can deduce. I can watch. I can deaden or make alive. If you throw words at me, I can soften them and butter them up. I can chew your words until they dissolve or I can hang them up so they are amplified.

Silence.

I am silence.

Sometimes there is too much of me. But most of the time, there is not enough.

A few gems

2011-08-10T11:17:00.001-07:00

Lately I have been reading Atlas Shrugged by the very talented and insightful Ayn Rand. When I have finished the novel (which is well over one thousand pages) I will post a little more. But for now, a few gems I have savored:

"Let me give you a tip on a clue to men's characters: the man who damns money has obtained it dishonorably; the man who respects it has earned it."

"Contradictions do not exist. Whenever you think that you are facing a contradiction, check your premises. You will find that one of them is wrong."

"A man's sexual choice is the result and the sum of his fundamental convictions.... He will always be attracted to the woman who reflects his deepest vision of himself, the woman whose surrender permits him to experience a sense of self-esteem. The man who is proudly certain of his own value, will want the highest type of woman he can find, the woman he admires, the strongest, the hardest to conquer--because only the possession of a heroine will give him the sense of an achievement."

"What greater wealth is there than to own your life and to spend it on growing? Every living thing must grow. It can't stand still. It must grow or perish."

"There are two sides to every issue: one side is right and the other is wrong, but the middle is always evil"

"I take no pride in hopeless longing; I wouldn't hold a stillborn aspiration. I'd want to have it, to make it, to live it."

"Money is only a tool. It will take you wherever you wish, but it will not replace you as the driver."

"If you don't know, the thing to do is not to get scared, but to learn."

And many, many more. The End. For now.

one on one hundred lonely

2011-07-26T22:25:00.000-07:00

clock on my phone blinks 11:17, I tuck it away and fold my hands
fold them carefully, like I might fold a fancy dinner napkin
the longer it takes to fold my hands, the longer I can avoid looking at
Him.
I watch a speck of dust sigh in and out, all around the room
the room.
Its so full. Full of people. They have faces, but to me they are all one shade
Gray.
My heart catches in my throat when I see a flash of color. It dances in the gray. Teasing. Luring.
Blue.
Your eyes.
I see them for an instant that is split into a thousand splinters and then shatters.
Everything falls away because for a shattered second I have your eyes. And they have me. So completely we have each other.
My hands drop to my sides. They tingle.
And then You're gone.
And He is there.
His gray eyes watch me with authentic earnest that only rolls off my skin like marbles, heavy with disinterest.

Hundreds of bodies around me.
One on One across from me.
One on One's all around me.

I go back to folding my hands. Carefully, articulately I label each finger, each inch of flesh in my mind something to watch other than the carnival around me.

The last label I reserve for my pinkie finger, as I tuck it under all the rest: Lonely.

you know the feeling...

2011-07-26T22:11:00.001-07:00

you know the feeling.
can't breathe because it hurts too much.
can't think because whenever you do you think about...
can't move because if you do you will move in only one direction. its like gravity.
always pulling you toward...
in so much pain.
didn't know my soul could crave something so strongly.

you are my one. you are my only. and for allergy related reasons I can never have you again

Sour Patch Kids.

My all time favorite relationship. You got me through some rough semesters.

this break will sting.

running around naked

2011-07-23T19:54:00.001-07:00

I told someone EVERYTHING recently. The truth in all of its awkward, vulnerable, messiness. I shed the old sweater and let everything out. Things I have been terrified to say. Things I have been terrified to face. Well I said it. I faced it. And you know what? I've never felt more liberated in my entire life. It was like running naked across a park except with my emotions. I'm lucky the park in question was kind and let me run around naked as long as I needed. It felt amazing. I don't think I will hold anything back. Ever. From now on. It felt too dang good. To emotional nudity, cheers.

i am a song...a giant, massive, infested, song....

2011-07-20T19:30:00.000-07:00

I have worked out so many of my feelings through writing music lately. Seriously. Who needs a therapist when you can slink away into a world of ivory keys and thudding chords? Lyrics run through my brain faster and more often than average conversation. I find myself thinking in lyrics constantly. This has many downsides...such as answering the register-lady at Wal-Mart in rhyme or alliteration...and humming like someone who has forgot their meds as I walk into work...or treasuring old receipts that I have used to capture my thoughts because my songbook is too full...And sometimes I even have one on one dialogue with myself through music...slightly crazy? yes. But helpful to my over all well being and emotional robustness? Very.

I seriously, seriously have to raise my glass in thanks for the song of today where I reside :-)

ps. working on the demo. Its REALLY happening. Like. Really. And I have been SWEATING my blood through some re-writes that I hope will pay off.

mysteries of said universe

2011-07-01T11:28:00.000-07:00

WHAT is falling in love?

This has been discussed, dissected, poet-ic-ized-ed, music-a-fied since the dawn of the ages.

I have a collection of theories and thoughts. In no particular order I give them to you.

Falling in Love:

Having faith enough in another person to give them your heart.

Letting yourself feel too much, too fast and face planting in the end.

Breaking down your own walls to not only let in, but let out.

Thinking be damned. Feel it.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Fearless. Fearless. Fearless.

Not knowing for sure...but daring to go there anyway.

You cannot choose love necessarily, but you cannot feel love without becoming vulnerable, and you do choose who you are vulnerable to. So choose to be vulnerable. Better to feel the start of something, the hurt, the disappointment ... then to never feel at all. You can never feel the fullness of love without risking the sorrow. So risk. Risk it all.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Fearless. Fearless. Fearless.

And this post is utterly pointless except to help me explore song writing options. ha. Wow. WOW.

smiling when it hurts

2011-06-24T22:18:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I want to run away. As I walked on stage tonight for my bow in Singin' in the Rain I felt the strong need to run. I didn't want to smile. I didn't want to sing. I didn't want to charm. I wanted to run. This has nothing to do with the wonderful experience of being in a show with my best friend and getting to know a whole new family, it has everything to do with the dissonance in my life.

Dissonance in music is one of my favorite qualities. I love the jagged way it can scrape at your soul with nothing more than a struck chord. I love how it sends chills down my spine and leaves a feeling of raw, unresolved promise.

But dissonance in life is hard to wade through. I think it can be the product of many circumstances, but it for me it is always internal. Something inside of me feels off.

I hate it. And the worst part is...I know where I need to turn. I know what I need to do. So why is it so hard? Part of why I feel like my soul is out of orbit with my body is all the change that is gripping at me, trying to pull me in a million directions, trying to tear right through me it seems. Change is hard. Necessary. But so hard.

Some thoughts as I drift in and out of after-show haze tonight:

I have so many unrealized dreams. Yet I have unlimited potential.

I have so many beautiful, good desires. And they never seem satisfied.

I have a handful of wishes I've been tossing in the same well since I was little. Nothings happened.

Do I need a different well?

I feel out of place. Everyone who has moved with me through life is moving or has moved on. And I still float, drifting along, grasping for anything to help me reach that shore where everyone I love seems to be.
How long will I float, I wonder? How long will I feel dissonant? How long until I can run away... because I can't stay floating here forever.

Dissonance is ironic. It has an intriguing pain to it. But without dissonance, the resolution of it would not exist. And that's the part I'm wanting. The song that's whispered its way through me the last few months has washed me in dissonance. I am ready for a beautiful resolution.

Sometimes I want to feel pretty

2011-05-29T15:58:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I just want to feel pretty. You know the feeling. When I feel pretty I feel more. I feel deeper. I feel truer. When I feel pretty there is even more power in my words and more conviction driving my actions. Its great to do something great...but isn't it better to do it pretty? No, no no. Do not misunderstand. I do NOT mean 'pretty' pretty. I mean pretty. I don't mean how you look. I mean the feeling. The feeling of pretty.

Feeling pretty.

When a boy looks in your eyes and you know he sees past your outside pretty to your inside pretty.

Feeling pretty.

When a boy kisses you not because you are pretty, but because he wants you to feel pretty.

Feeling pretty.

When your world is falling apart and you still find the pretty.

Feeling pretty.

When you've conquered a fear and you look at yourself and see your new set of smiles because of the conquered fear.

Feeling pretty.

Being looked into. Not at.
Feeling pretty.

Waking up with the sun melting over your face.
I want to feel pretty.

this shall NOT pass

2011-05-23T12:18:00.000-07:00

I have never really liked when people say, "this too shall pass." Not only is it a massive blanket statement that people seem to utter when they just can't think of something a little more empathetic to say, but I actually find the phrase ironic.

Things don't pass.

We never really leave people, or experiences...totally behind us.

We collect them. And we carry them. They become a part of who we are. Experiences, good or bad might fade in the distance, but they will always touch us, shape us, color us...and we carry those colors through life.

I have this theory that we are all colored by our past. This is not a negative thing. How else do we grow in life? How else do we find strength, faith, and kindness toward others?

Life can be hard. Some of the colors can be dark and muddy, but they are OUR colors.

I proudly wear the colors of my past. They make me who I am today.

If I could walk on the moon

2011-05-18T11:36:00.000-07:00

If I could walk on the moon, maybe I'd have the perfect view
Of everything around me, the stuff and people that surround me
I could see the tears between the smiles
And I could feel the breaths between the tears
If I could walk on the moon, maybe I'd have the perfect view
I'd be far enough away, I wouldn't feel pain
But I could maybe see it, and then I could avoid it

Maybe I would see the truth.
Maybe I could see You.
You the way you really are, if only I could get that far
Away from you to see

But I'm trapped in gravity

I wish I could float through space
And I could see the world that way
I wish I could walk on the moon
Because then I could really see you

With all your shades of yellow and white
And all the real, the wrong, the right
And it wouldn't matter what I see
Or what I know, or if my heart was worn and used
Because I'd be safe and on my moon

face suck in the hospital parking lot. a whole lotta yuck

2011-05-04T12:07:00.000-07:00

So yesterday I took my dear sister Rachel to the hospital. She has been deathly ill (for those who didn't know) and had a whole buncha scares yesterday. She was told possible kidney failure, blood clots, you name it...she could have it. Anyways, I went with her to the labs to set up an appointment for her blood transfusion.

All went surprisingly well. We kept our spirits up and as we were walking back to her car I spied a couple eating each others faces in the parking lot. Hardcore making out. The hospital parking lot. If hospitals don't make me sick enough, I had to witness a young angsty couple trying to procreate RIGHT before my eyes.

Rachel turned to me, and in usual Rachel fashion said, "Unless one of them was dying and just found out they are not any more, that is sick."

yes. plain sick.

Maybe they did belong at the hospital.

2011-04-27T11:07:00.000-07:00

I've learned more about life this semester than perhaps any other. In some ways, it has been my most challenging semester. I have had a mix of 'easy' and extremely difficult classes. And in that mix came a break up with someone who proposed to me, and a new friendship with someone unexpected. Life has taken me to a place where I had NEVER seen myself. I have never felt more opposition, and I can't help but attribute it to the fact that I think I am close to some really amazing things. I will be performing in Singin in the Rain this summer, which is one of my all time favorite musicals. It has that potent ingredient of nostalgia for me. I love the time period of the story, I love the dancing, I love the music...I love the rain. Everything about it. I love how I watched it over and over with my dad growing up.

I am also working on my very first demo cd this summer. I have written some songs that are cut straight from my soul, they are very real and raw for me, and I am so excited about producing something so honest.

I have a book coming out this September (crossing fingers I can revise my little heart away in time). A book. A BOOK!!! I am so very excited about this. It was always a dream of mine to publish something BEFORE I was done with college.

Thanks to my new friend, who happens to be a boy, I have learned SO very much about relationships, communication, and that there are people out there, specifically men, like me. I have discovered that wanting a man who actually supports my dreams and in fact believes in me is something I can have. I can have that. I was used to relationships where 'convention' was the only path and my dreams came second. I was used to relationships where I didn't even feel connected, and I foolishly attributed that disconnection to the fact that we were just men and women and would forever be DIFFERENT.

Now I know there are men out there made of the same cloth, stitched with the same thread, and constructed loosely like myself. And knowing that feeds me with hope.

I've learned this semester that its okay to dream. Its okay to hope. Its okay to feel. Hurt. Happiness. Pleasure. Its okay to let someone in. Its okay to let someone go. Its okay if I don't do everything the way "everyone else does it." I'm doing it the way I've always wanted.

I've learned Me this semester. A strange, slippery, random subject that is still a blank field and I still have so much to learn, but at least I took that first course.

Skimming the Surface

2011-04-06T11:05:00.000-07:00

There are two ways to go through life. You can skim or you can swim. I think I used to be a skimmer...floating over ideas and situations, barely touching them so that they could NOT touch me, but recently I have been a swimmer. Diving deep. Swimming to places that are foreign and cool and bumpy to touch, but full of life and adventure. I know that if I want less scrapes and scars I should skim, drift above it all and just take in the view. But I'm not afraid of the scars anymore. I'm not afraid to sink to the bottom just so I can experience that rush when I shoot back to the top. I'm not afraid to swim. I want to touch and taste things that scare me. I want to FEEL life instead of just look at it. I am feeling braver day by day, and I swim deeper with every breath I take.

Finishing this semester is going to be a deep swim. Tough and full of late nights and skull cracking headaches- but I'll get there. Watch me :-)

sheer happiness....a little bit in love

2011-03-30T11:11:00.001-07:00

a kiss in the rain among other things

2011-03-16T11:34:00.000-07:00

My entire life I have had this strong desire to kiss someone in the rain. You know the picture. Girl in a whimsical dress, Hot Guy pulls her in at the waist, rain shimmers all around them like falling stars from Jupiter. A cool picture. A picture found in many a film, poem, and song. I don't know what it is about the idea that appeals to me. In reality rain is wet and cold and not exactly something you want to dance around in...unless you're Gene Kelly. He made it look good. But I'm not Gene Kelly. I'm just a girl who wanted a kiss in the rain.

And I got one.

Last week.

He kissed me. In the rain.

I wasn't wearing a whimsical dress...in fact my attire was Sunday dress and boring choir-required-clothing because I'd just participated in the CES General Broadcast Choir. But I was in my cute tailored black coat from Nordstrom. The rain wasn't sloshing down like it did in the Notebook...but it did shimmer and slip like tears...cool tears that made trails all over my face and scalp and body...and even though it was wet and cold (I'm always cold outside at night, even in August) it felt GOOD.

Kissing in the rain felt good.

I think I'll do it again. Next time it won't be the soft, silver, blanketing rain. It will be torrents that pulse and drown and swallow us. That might be cool.

Until my Next kiss in the rain this one will be my Only.

xx

I used to be.

2011-03-03T18:14:00.000-08:00

When I was in fourth grade I had an overripe curiosity about crime. I attribute this to my obsession with Nancy Drew novels. I still remember my first experience slipping away into the world of Nancy and Ned, of hidden stairways and lockets and notes that all were clues to solving the unimaginable. I remember the smell of those books, like stale paper and library all packed in one box from a garage sale my mom dragged me to. I remember looking at those yellow hardback covers skeptically when she told me I would love them. But when I settled into my first read, I was hooked. Not only did I devour Nancy's tales, I found I had to have more. Soon I had collected the Nancy Drew Cookbook, and was making "Scary Nests" for breakfast in the mornings. But that still wasn't enough to sate my appetite. I wanted to BE Nancy Drew. Wanted it so bad that I looked at my permed hair and unfortunate teeth in the mirror dreaming up ways that I could get that 1960's bob and perfect smile. Before I knew it I was finding crimes to solve. Everywhere I went was a piece of trash that must be a clue to solving the most recent kidnap case (whatever the case was at the time). I collected litter like a socialite collects sapphires. I cherished broken pieces of glass and random shoelaces like a bag-lady clings to her ten cats. And it wasn't enough I embarked on my mystery-solving, crime-fighting sprees alone. After all, didn't Nancy have a posse? I dragged my sister and friends along with me. It got so bad I even started the "Nancy Drew Club" at school.

There were rules. Not just anyone could be in the "Nancy Drew Club." You had to read a Drew book a week, and make at least one meal from the cookbook a week as well. And if you weren't bringing us new trash to comb through...well...you could forget about staying in the club.

Little did I know that starting the Nancy Drew Club would land me in TROUBLE. And not the good, crime-solving kind.

One day my beloved fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Cruiser, took me aside.

"Jennifer, I heard you started a club."

I grinned. "Yep."

"That's not allowed. Clubs cause division in classes. I've heard some students feel left out."

What? I was getting scolded for fighting crime? For ridding the world of litter? My oversensitive, never want to let people down heart started quivering. Along with my lip. And tears started coming down my cheeks. I WAS IN TROUBLE?

Nancy had let me down.

The club was abolished.

And I was left to find trash on my own, to solve all the worlds problems alone.

But I didn't let Nancy down. I continued re-reading my bibles in mystery fighting and secretly continued my efforts.

*Footnotes*

Things I witnessed while "spying"

1. A naked grandpa walking across his living room.
2. A lady who liked to kiss her cat on the mouth. Alot.
3. The kid who practiced piano excessively.
4. A whole lot of white space.

I'm lost in the carnival

2011-02-22T22:58:00.000-08:00

I walked through the luke-cold air outside today at campus and noticed a guy sitting under a tree singing. He didn't have a guitar, and upon closer inspection he wasn't even 'plugged in'. He was a retro-scrubbed-hippie with worn moccasins and the attitude of an owel. Now, he might look crazy to most, but I couldn't help but send him a smile. Nothing happened as I passed- he kept singing and I kept walking. But my day changed. Suddenly I was shimmering like a fallen sequin through a carnival. Everybody and everything I saw was suddenly garishly appealing in the daylight- exposed, real. That guy singing out loud with no abandon surged me with the urge to be fearless. To sing my own musical. I love days that are full of music. Today was one of those days.

I have to admit that my recent breakup has been EASIER than I ever dreamed it could be. I attribute this to carnival days and dreamy nights and of course the gospel. I don't feel alone in the carnival...I feel dazzled.

I hope to have another carnival day soon :-)

playing around with lyrics

2011-02-13T17:06:00.001-08:00

I don't believe
you get one chance
and once its past- its gone
I don't believe you get one dance
and you lost if you get it wrong
I do believe our dance has made us dizzy
And for awhile now my head and heart
have been spinning

So you tripped over my heart
the second we fell apart
It hurt, I admit for a moment
A moment that lasted too long
Sometimes I'm caught, still lost in our song
But the music still calls to me
I'm shaking, but I'm standing
Unsteady but brave I take another hand
I'm not afraid to dance again.

Who said you get one
Once Upon a Time?
I believe in one happy ending
But once upon a times
I think you get at least
a dozen times
I'm shaking but I'm standing.
I'm gonna get my ending.

You can't count the raindrops

2011-02-05T22:52:00.000-08:00

I have lived by a code of 'never get too personal' on my blog, facebook, and on my rare tweet. Sure, I will explore feelings about situations I may be experiencing, but very seldom do I explore the actual details--the nitty-gritty. Tonight, my friends, I must explore. I must explore because my heart is bursting at the seams with the need for it. So even though I don't want to necessarily share what should be private, I will try very delicately to sift through the havoc that has been wreaked on my heart.

Three weeks and two days ago my best friend proposed to me. It was a little left field, because we hadn't dated in a year...but I did not doubt his intentions in getting back together (I wasn't entirely sold on the marriage thing, but I figured we could ease back into a relationship). If someone gets down on one knee...it should mean something. Now, admittedly he was extremely emotionally charged as was I, but aren't most people swimming in emotions when they are down on one knee?

Tonight...we are both single.

Tonight...we are two best friends separated.

I sit here in a mess of tear-streaky mascara and a pile of tissue as I try to work out WHAT went wrong. I have figured out a few things.

One. It doesn't matter how brave I am...if HE isn't brave, or willing to fight...we've lost the battle.

Two. Life sucks sometimes. As does love.

Three. I hate to admit this, because I have fought my whole life against it, but I think I have finally lost faith in 'love'. In dating. In romance. In relationships. Walls are creeping up all around my heart at an astounding rate and I pity anyone who tries to penetrate their necessary-born-sturdiness.

I guess I've learned the answer to one of life's questions: why no, men and women CAN'T just be friends, or even best friends...the sex part (as I quote When Harry Met Sally) ALWAYS gets in the way.

I'm sure after a box of sleeping pills, a pore-cleansing mask, some sour patch, and a good facebook clean out I will be feeling better.

sifting through stuff

2011-01-12T22:38:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I wish I had a crystal ball so that I could see into the future. Maybe if I could I would know how I am SUPPOSED to handle what I am feeling right now. I feel like I am wading through a sea of glass, sifting through the litter of my own analytical thoughts as I try to find out what I am suppose to do. I am sure about some things. I know that the Gospel is true, and I know I can find answers through prayer. I know I am where I'm supposed to be- at school, in church, working, writing- And I'm there.

But its hard to feel peace when my heart is left fluttering up above me, attached to a flimsy kite string as I try haphazardly to pull it through a lighting storm.

I can't see anything from where I stand as I look up at the clouds that have swallowed my heart-kite, but I finally think I am brave enough to let go and give someone else the string to my kite... the key to my heart. Almost anyways.

Almost.

Until I have surrendered to the storm I hold fast.

I will keep my kite safe for you.

much love.

endings are always the pathway to new beginnings...

2010-12-17T22:26:00.000-08:00

After I took my last final for this semester I stepped outside and took in deep breath of bitter cold air. It was a moment of stillness after a frenzied couple of weeks and too much caffeine. A moment where I searched for invigoration..but instead felt an odd sense of numbness. Another page slipped by, and I'm onto the next chapter. The thing about chapters is you can't stop them from coming. They are before us whether we accept them or not. But the great difference between life and a book is that we can savor chapters in books, even go back and re-read them. In life we do not get this same luxury. The chapter of Jenn's College Experience Fall Semester 2010 is forever over. I have memories, but I cannot experience the same things again. I grew so much this semester that a part of me is scared to leave it behind. Will I leave the growth behind? Of course I won't. But I still feel like sucking my thumb and curling up under my blanket to hide from the inevitable--time passing.

Unforgettable experiences this semester?

Finding a voice...a true, tangible, arresting voice that drove a novel from me I didn't know I had inside.

Living life in a 'two' (thank you to Mister Dave Tinney's amazing class)

Opening my heart so there is room to let someone, something, some experiences...in.

Learning to stand quickly in others shoes and gain a deeper understanding of them.

So much, so deeply, so greatly have I absorbed new ideas and ways of life into my being this semester. I cannot let the chapter pass without at least a word, a gesture of thanks for the time I was able to spend writing it.

Here's to letting the page turn...because there IS another chapter waiting...

Always A Goodbye (tenative lyrics)

2010-11-29T18:22:00.000-08:00

V: We always knew we'd say goodbye
always knew we'd have one night
only one,
only one

We always knew that we both felt it
always knew that we both meant it
for one night
for one night

B: You'll go back to your world
And I'll go back to mine
but its midnight and we're still wrestling with time

C: I just wanna hold you
I just wanna breathe you in
Don't wanna think 'bout letting go
or how much I've let you in
Cause the morning's coming fast
and I just want our last kiss, to last

V: You look at me like you know me
then pull me close like you really know me
is it real?
can't be real

Our bodies sway like we're dancing
I wonder if we're really dancing
in the moon
we're in the moon

B: You'll go back to your world
And I'll go back to mine
but its two am and we're still wrestling with time

A Magical Day

2010-11-02T19:42:00.000-07:00

When I see the phrase 'magical day' I admit my mind usually wanders somewhere towards Fantasyland and a frozen hot chocolate at Serendipity in New York. I am sorry to disappoint you, but I am actually blogging about an entirely normal day that had traces of magic in it. Today on campus I walked through the MOST perfect breeze. I can hardly put into words what a perfect breeze it was...the moist coolness picked up the scent of freshly fallen leaves, tickled my nose and kissed my cheeks and then was on its merry way. I tried to follow that breeze, I swear. I looked like a frozen bumblebee loping around campus for a good three minutes. When I gave up on finding that exact breeze again I went to class, where I learned something extraordinary. A composer by the name of John Cage actually sat on stage during a concert and proceeded to 'play' his most famous composition, Four Minutes and Thirty Three Seconds. Why was this piece shoved in the constellation hall of fame? Because he played nothing. Utter. Silence. Cage said that there is even "music in silence." As a songwriter myself I found this fascinating. And then I couldn't help but think of Tarzan and the scene where all the kitchen utensils turn into instruments. And then my ears were suddenly aware of all the rustling papers around me, the extra breaths, the weird lumpy cough from the guy two chairs up....Music? Not sure if I would call it that, but okay.

But after hearing that "music in silence" idea, I couldn't help but hear a symphony everywhere I went today. Or at least the Ingrid song that was looping in and out of my brain.

Until another magical day....

Dear Boy

2010-10-22T19:21:00.000-07:00

I'm writing you this letter you will never read. But its okay. I have to write it. I will begin by saying we had some fun. How could fun turn into you awkwardly sulking away into the shadows of the theater where I work, avoiding me like you are a three year old? Somehow the man I once kissed has melted into a toddler who cannot even make eye contact....And I guess its okay. Its just somehow I expected at least a conversation. But I guess even a conversation is too much for for you to handle right now. That's okay. I am perfectly capable of handling it for both of us. Perhaps it could go something like this

"Hey Jenn,"
"Hey Boy"
"I just wanted to clear the air and be adult"
"Oh...okay. Well that is good. No worries. Friends?"
"Friends."

How easy. How simple. I can do it. Can you?

Until we actually make eye contact...
yours truly

o i love this scene.

2010-10-21T22:14:00.001-07:00

Dear Campus

2010-10-09T13:38:00.000-07:00

Dear Campus,

You are so alive with 'cool' kids I don't know where I fit in. Everywhere I look I see someone propped against an old tree playing their guitar singing softly into the fall air. Sometimes I feel out of place in my standard uniform which usually involves black yoga pants and a some sort of tutu. I know I look out of place amongst your nation of skinny jeans, moccasins, toms, vests, and blow-dried hair quaffs. But can I just say I am happy being who I am? I like to prance around in tutus and pearls and cropped denim jackets I found at a thrift store. And I like to wear my back pack AND purse. And no I will not...under any circumstance...bring my guitar to school. Sure, it might be easier to fit in to your teaming times of abundance unique Indy-esque culture if I carried my guitar- but I prefer the awkwardness of my backpack AND purse. Also I prefer to stay 'unplugged' as I skip around campus.
I know that to be a cool kid you are required to plug into some sort of music listening device, but I don't need to prove to anyone that music is a priority to me over the rest of the population. I like the aesthetic quality of listening to the white noise. The mindless chatter and rustling leaves and whooshing skateboards are quite music enough for me. I want to be able to actually hear when someone says, "Hey Jenn," if someone ever so desires. And I want to be able to hear my own thoughts, just in case I ever have any.
Dear, dear Campus. I do love the way you are so alive. And so full of coolness. But please forgive me if I decide to remain the tutu-wearing, pale skinned, Twilight disliking student that I am. I mean no offense. I simply mean to soak in all of your culture until my fingers are pruny with it, so that I do not have to actually become your culture.

Thank you ever so,

Jenn

time to be honest with myself

2010-10-03T17:19:00.001-07:00

If I'm honest with myself
I'll know you're still with me
Whether you know it or not
Because you still echo
through me

If I'm honest with myself
I'll know all the empty
romance in-between
has filled some cracks
but not sown the seams
because you somehow
still sink in

If I'm honest with myself
I'll admit I still care
more than I admit, more than I dare
And probably more than you do
And that's the worst part
But if I'm honest with myself
I'll face this part of my heart

The part I've tried to run from
Tried to leave behind
Tried to ignore
Tried to make mine

But if I'm honest with myself
I'll know that I can't
get it back
Can't ignore it
can't run from it
Can't keep it

Because I gave it away
So its not really mine
To say if I am okay
Or if I am 'over' it
If I'm honest with myself
I can write the truth
That I don't want to write

If I'm honest with myself
I'm opening myself up
For deeper hurt, maybe
But for stronger truth
Because I cant lie to my heart
No matter what anyone says
Those songs about being strong
And alone
They are lies to my soul
BandAid remedies
cough syrup for a cold
It wont get better
But it might start getting
simpler

Please.

Please.

Please.

Get simpler.

If I'm honest with myself

If.

If.

rose petals on a chalkboard

2010-09-08T13:56:00.000-07:00

Life has been so FULL and wonderful and even confusing lately. I am just so blessed right now to be in school, to have the amazing family I have, as well as the amazing friends I have. Life is teaching me to see things new and beautiful I might never have seen...just like rose petals on a chalkboard. I feel floods of inspiration with my writing and songwriting and only wish I had a million hours in a day. A little note of thanks to everyone who threads my life together into the most beautiful and unique sweater imaginable.

so here is a moment to some things that make me smile :-)

and then I was walkin' on sunshine

2010-08-19T09:41:00.000-07:00

and suddenly
I can feel the sun
again.

Forgot how good it feels
To let Sunlight in :-)

song of the moment: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U6tV11acSRk

cracks in the soul

2010-08-18T14:34:00.000-07:00

They say, this will go away
But time has passed,
nothing's changed.
Supposedly someone will come along
fill this void
finish this song.

Nothing.

A hundred faces
smile at me
inviting, wanting, alluring
but at the end of the day
its one that I see
and the one I won't ever have
again.

In so many ways
I've moved on
grown up more
gotten so strong

But in the darkest
deepest
cracks in my heart
your ghost resides
and it tears me apart

I'm supposed to feel whole
Be okay 'riding solo'
but its hard to feel whole
with cracks in your soul

Its like I want to leave my heart behind me
Because its the only way to leave you behind me

current song of the moment: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A_U6iSAn_fY

oh my current obsession for so many reasons

2010-08-17T20:14:00.001-07:00

love was invented to sell nylons

2010-08-16T17:39:00.000-07:00

my book trailer for Stolen by Lucy Christopher

2010-07-28T19:41:00.001-07:00

current obsession of honey sweet happiness

2010-07-24T13:58:00.000-07:00

The Final Curtain Call

2010-06-30T09:48:00.001-07:00

Bells Are Ringing closed last weekend. But what a fun, unique, and beautiful experience to act with some of Utah's best talent :-)

nap time

2010-06-20T21:10:00.000-07:00

You know that time of the day...when the exhaustion sets in...the summer heat is compressing in on you like the air before a storm...and the only thing that will salve the extreme weariness you feel is to nap? :-)

I have been thinking this is how life is. Sometimes...the pressure builds, the heat is on, and we keep going on like champs, but we still need to nap. And I don't mean literal sleep, (though I adore real naps one hundred and ten percent). I mean 'life' naps.

Because quite frankly, I get tired of putting on a happy, hopeful, nice face to all the guys I am NOT and never WILL be interested in that keep pursuing me, only to have the ones that DO pique my interest disappoint me on some bone-deep level. And I in no way mean this in an ungrateful or mean way to the guys that are hopeful would be's of mine...truly. Its just that I need a nap from the happy 'sure I'll go out with you...even if its just for charity' smile. And a nap from the guys I AM into who just don't step up...or let me down in some way. And the funny thing is, I think I am pretty hard to let down. Really...I am very easily made happy. Because I am a generally happy person, but it just seems more and more that I keep swimming, and instead of getting closer to shore, the tide is pulling me further away.

Nap time?
Yes please.

Love

The Queen of Almost Fairytales.

i feel like a pizza

2010-06-07T13:33:00.000-07:00

Lately I have felt like a pizza. I am a whole entity made up of many ingredients. Which are mostly yummy. But like a pizza, I feel sliced in many directions. Being pulled in two or three directions is one thing...but try ten...or one hundred. Or one hundred and thirteen.
Cases in point:
The Play: I am currently in a play (Bells are Ringing) and it has been a wonderful experience. I haven't done theater properly in some time, and its been great to dress up all purty and get hot under the lights. There is a rare adrenaline in performing. And I like it. But I think I would like it more if it was my ABSOLUTE number one passion. At times it has felt as if I sacrifice so much (a best friends wedding, camping with the homies, dating time, etc) time to something that really is not my number one. Though I seem to have a draw to performing...so...meh.

Writing: Now this one comes close in the race for number one passion. I have been writing since I could pick up a pen. I am currently working on a YA piece of fiction. Working title? Ingenue. Yes, perhaps me being in a play serves more than one purpose. Research. This particular story has characters that are literally screaming inside my brain twenty four seven. I want MORE time then I ever have to write, and ironically, I have less.

Songwriting: NO. this is not the same as writing. Some pluses? I can sit at the piano, and if inspired, can crank one of these babies out in twenty minutes. Its like making instant brownies. Instant gratification. I LOVE writing songs. Love. Love. Love. Working on a demo this summer. Enough said.

LDSSA: Oh institute. How I love you. And how I love the leadership program there. I can't wait until my summer clears up more and I can be more than just a phantom name on the LDSSA list and an actual participating member. ha.

Dance: Still calls to me. I just have no time. Erg.

Fitness: I could literally spend five hours a day working out if I could fit it in. I love it. Why are there only twenty four hours in one day?

Princess Time: Doing princess parties is fun, rewarding, BLOODY hard work. But I love it.

Book Trailer Time: I am WAY too much of an entrepreneur. Princess party business, book trailer business, what else can I start...? not.

General Granola Time: I have a Native American side to me. I want to spend time outside in moccasins. So sue me.

And People Time: I need to spend time with my amazing family, friends, and...boys. Duh.

Lets not forget work.

And school (when its in session)

I am most definitely a pizza.

addicted

2010-05-17T20:16:00.000-07:00

I am addicted.
Writing.
Songwriting.
Character creating.
Staying out all night.
Summer rain.
Running through sprinklers.
Piano.
Kissing.
Dancing.
Watching. People.
Friending.
Loving.
Beautifying
Facebooking
Blogging
Talking
Not.
Working Out.
Sour Patch.
Rockstars.
Sleeping.
Randoming.
Reading.
Winning.
Learning.
Becoming.
Hiking.
Playing.
Falling. In. Love.

my current read. a deep dish of digestion for thought.

2010-05-05T21:18:00.000-07:00

When I was seventeen and in full obedience to my heart's most urgent commands, I stepped far from the pathway of normal life and in a moment's time ruined everything I loved — I loved so deeply, and when the love was interrupted, when the incorporeal body of love shrank back in terror and my own body was locked away, it was hard for others to believe that a life so new could suffer so irrevocably. But now, years have passed and the night of August 12, 1967, still divides my life.

It was a hot, dense Chicago night. There were no clouds, no stars, no moon. The lawns looked black and the trees looked blacker; the headlights of the cars made me think of those brave lights the miners wear, up and down the choking shaft. And on that thick and ordinary August night, I set fire to a house inside of which were the people I adored more than anyone else in the world, and whose home I valued more than the home of my parents.

Before I set fire to their house I was hidden on their big wooden semicircular porch, peering into their window. I was in a state of grief. It was the agitated, snarling grief of a boy whose long rapturous story has not been understood. My feelings were raw and tender, and I watched the Butterfields through the weave of their curtains with tears of true and helpless longing in my eyes. I could see (and love) that perfect family while they went on and on with their evening without seeing me.

they don't make 'em like that anymore

2010-05-05T17:11:00.001-07:00

scratched lens

2010-05-02T18:39:00.000-07:00

I realized today sitting in church that the wash of weird and bad dating experiences has finally rubbed off on me. Like a manicured hand with freshly painted nails that is suddenly dipped in fingernail polish remover. What happened to me isn't 'staining' it is 'stripping.' And then I realized, that because a lot of the enchanting ideals I have have been stripped, my lens on life is...weary. It can't seem to focus as easily. And my heartbeats, that used to thud with romance and hope, beat slower and with trepidation. And what really struck me was...how this effects my relationships with EVERYONE. Not just dating. That was what hit me hardest. I don't want to be a hobbling turtle when it comes to being their for my family and friends. I still want to be fast and present and not weary. But.
I.
Am.
Weary.
And even admitting this in any written form is HARD for me. I hate thinking it, yet alone admitting it. But there is something sharp and honest about writing it down. And I don't know if ANYONE will even read it. But its there, for me. Because admitting I am weary means I can start regrouping. That's right. I WILL not lie down and just let my fuzzy lens take over. I will fight. And I will get that lens back...I guess it never really left. It just got scratched.

celeb for a night.

2010-04-30T22:06:00.000-07:00

I was a little nervous to go to the Lady Gaga fashion show. I won't lie. I love to dance. I love parties. But I am not really a 'club' girl. So I wasn't sure what to expect. I went with some good girlfriends. We met at my darling friend Sara's house for appetizers and showed off our outfits before hitting the scene. The entire drive up I had swans swarming my stomach. What was I supposed to DO at a fashion show? What if people...gulp...talked to me? When we pulled up and then 'made our entrance' I was Abruptly Overwhelmed. :-)))

The gauzy lights, pulsing music, shattering movements of bodies around me. And then cameras flashing.

I felt like I just stepped onto a movie set. We were attacked my 'paparazzi'. They chased us with flashes, ushered us to poses and 'sets'. At first I thought COOL. But then my cheeks started hurting. The way they often do when I tackle more than one princess party in a day (for those of you who don't know my second job is dressing up like a princess and playing with kids, fun, but tiring).

We were given the VIP treatment. Literally. First we were escorted to this rad overlook with this techno water that poured down the glass that surrounded us. The seats were fat, non-symmetrical cushions. I wasn't sure HOW to sit properly on such a strange shape, so I just...improvised. Up in the Water Room I was approached by a guy. We shall call him Dreamy. He had longish hair, and looked somewhere between rogue and artsy. Not my usual type. Okay...a girl isn't picky when a rogue artsy type approaches you. Dreamy was charming, flattering, and new exactly what to say.

What was weirder was...I KNEW what to say. Like I'd watched the same movies and sitcoms he had growing up, our dialogue bounced back and forth in a fiery, yet predictable pattern that had me thinking, "do people really talk like this?" I mean...I'm used to the dudes from church who approach you with a "hey lets go play Mario Card." Not some suave "I've never seen a face like yours"...blah blah buttering up blah.

The night played on like an episode of The Hills. Complete with random club goers snapping pics of us with their phones (it seemed everyone thought we were SOMEONE), the offer of free drinks all around (I don't drink, but enjoyed a diet coke), and tons of gym attending attractive guys with heavy lidded eyes approaching.

And just like an episode of The Hills I remember the night in subtle, edited fragments. And I think it will stay that way in my memory. One episode. That I can re-run but never re-write.

I am not In.

2010-04-29T13:54:00.001-07:00

I am not in the club.
I am not in the clique.
I am not in the circle.
I never could fit.

I am not in the house.
I am not in the yard.
I am not on the moon.
I landed here on mars.

Galaxies away. I cannot reach.
I watch the couples. The white. The roses.
I have nothing.

Its not that I can't.
Its not that I won't.
But I'm tired of the
invitation only party
I'm tired of always
knocking. Knocking.

But no one comes.
to let me in.

I am not In.

a touchable dream

2010-04-23T22:34:00.000-07:00

you're a little bit of chocolate
when i'm feeling sad
a little bit of asprin
when my headaches bad
with you i don't need wings to fly
i'm already up there, constant high
you're a wish in a well
my secret to tell
a black and white scene
a touchable dream
A kiss in a car-- that goes too far
A chink in the armor I wear
over my heart
My summer in Italy
When the night is chilly

You're the streak of sun
That splits the storm
Melting my knees
Making me warm

oh and on that Note. (music that is) and my beautiful friend Sara's photography. She is brilliant. Can even make me shine up okay

2010-04-16T20:25:00.000-07:00

I have been working my little mind into a slushy writing songs lately. Some ideas I am playing with

Red Tricycle Love
Almost Fairy Tale
Off Guard
Better Than a Fantasy
The Cinderella Song (Em's song)
Valentine Me
Wendy's Song
One More Time
Pretend

anddddd there's more.

Jussss to name a few.

You know I love other peoples stories, so if ya got a good one let me know and we can inspire it into some cool lyrics :-)

learning to walk on my hands

2010-04-16T20:17:00.001-07:00

I feel like this new year has so far been
One: Amazing
Two: A journey
Three: Full of discovery
Four: Learning to walk on my hands...

Our entire lives we are told to walk on our feet. I have to say, I have always wanted to rebel and be the one person at the mall stumbling my way around upside down. This may seem strange. But if you haven't already picked up on the fact that this is an analogy for life, perhaps you should do a handstand or two, come back, and read again.

Yes. I want to walk on my hands.
Yes. I believe in fairy tales.
Yes. I think every moment of life CAN be a fairy tale
And Yes. I have disappointments and heartache and setbacks...but that's what makes me more exited to turn the page. Every day can be its own story, every hour might have a new dragon for me to fight, but I want to fight it. I want the hard parts...because then I can have the happily ever after. And start all over again the next day with Once Upon a Time.

list for 2010, plus a glance back at '09

2009-12-30T21:40:00.000-08:00

My list for 2010
find at least one amazing thing in every single person I meet
discover the depth of my spirit
Make more time for my relationship with God
Record my first demo CD
Write a song that says exactly what I need to hear when the hard times come
Finish my third..er...fourth novel. Yes, Snow White and the Seven Mirrors is just dying to pour out of my head
get GOOD on guitar
go on a trip with my family
go on a trip with my friends
road trip to somwhere...and not know where I'm going til I get there
cliff jumping. Again :-)
make time for old friends
kiss someone in the rain :-)
overcome at least one fear. Maybe I'll eat a fried grasshopper...they DO sell them at hot topic
Read stories as a princess to the kids at Bekah's school
continue my dedication to health and fitness.
Perhaps I will give up my energy drink of choice...rockstar :-)
Actually WRITE IN MY JOURNAL. I write everywhere but...in my journal
befriend someone new. Befriend MANY someone's new. I love making new friends
take a film class
audition for something I would be too scared too normally
keep my car in a relatively neat condition :-) Bunny deserves to be treated right
give thanks. To everyone who makes me better. Parents. Siblings. And my amazing amazing friends.
Look for those having a bad day and help them smile
perspective. I need to keep it in mind.

09 wasn't such a bad year. a rollercoaster of ups and downs, opening my heart, learning to trust in a better plan, and seeing the beautiful in alot of people.

left overs

2009-12-30T21:27:00.000-08:00

you called and asked me to dinner
a table just for two
it all sounds so familiar
just like you used to do

I quietly whisper my consent
because I'm curious what you
could possibly have to say
and at this point, what do I have to lose

I'm already done with your left overs
the candles from last years birthday cake
I licked them clean long ago
And stored them far away

I'm over all the left overs
And I'm not scared to see you

Even though I still don't understand
This part of me that wants to

See you

We order something vegan
suddenly you're all PC
I realize I don't know you
Anymore than you know me

Time has passed and washed away
Traces of what we had
I'm not sure if it was even love
But the fadings just as sad

I'm already done with your left overs
the hot chocolate from your old roomates party
You said that it would last forever
But it melted into something bitter

I'm over all the left overs
And I'm not scared to see you

Even though I still don't understand
This part of me that wants to

See you

To Sir With Love. Classic

2009-12-23T20:34:00.000-08:00

eat your heart out

not heartbreak...just heart weary

2009-12-23T14:54:00.001-08:00

"whats wrong" someone asks
I don't know what to say
Except something in me is fading
Slowly melting away...
"Is it heartbreak?" another question
I don't think it is
Its just my heart is sick
And tired, and so worn thin

Can hearts wear out I wonder
I need to keep it strong
I know its not forever
But it feels forever long

My heart is wearing out
The beats are softening
I'm grasping what I can
And trying to feed it hope

But something in me whispers
Lies.
The tales you tell your heart
The one's that make you smile
Lies.
Aren't they? Because if they were true

You wouldn't be feeling this way
so weary and not like you
You wouldn't wake up with nightmares
You wouldn't have weeping words

Or maybe its just another chapter
That will pass to something new and better

a strange obsession

2009-12-20T10:38:00.000-08:00

I can't put my finger on why I am in love with Alfred Hitchcock movies. All I know is that on my 'sick' days there is nothing I would rather do than curl up on the couch and have a marathon of silent, subtle suspense starring babes with perfect coiffures. There is something haunting and unnerving about his films. I think they scare me on a core level that no contemporary stab-a-thon could hope to accomplish. I appreciate the storytelling in his directing, the genius camera angles that never quite show us enough, and leave us begging for more. Its not that I enjoy being frightened. I simply enjoy watching a master of concieving human emotion with a lens and method actors. Simply put. Ingenius.

crazy people, lets be amazing

2009-12-16T15:50:00.001-08:00

so. I do not understand why some girls completely sacrifice the ONE thing they can always claim. Dignity. My ex boyfriend's ex (who will not be named, we shall call her Jane Toe) has never stopped emailing me and harrassing him since the day we started dating. I just don't understand why she would lower herself and crawl back to someone that broke up with her. As a woman, I completely believe that break ups suck, yes. But, we need to rise and be better, find strength in ourselves. Chris and I broke up over the weekend. And it was one of the best, weirdest, and most unusual break ups of my life. It was SO mutual. I called him on the way home from his house and was like "We are ALWAYS on different pages. We are trying to have the same conversation in different languages." He totally agreed. And we decided we truly are better off as friends. Now, I will admit there is a bit of sadness at the parting of a relationship. Sure I miss him as a 'lover'. But the beautiful thing is, we are so completely honest and true to ourselves that we really ARE still best friends. We have talked every night since the break up like old times...like best friends. Its been bitter sweet realizing we are not meant for romantic love. But we can still share a friendship love. Now, onto Jane Toe. Why, why I ask myself would a talented, cute girl act the way she has acted? I have honestly felt so sorry for the way she has degraded herself and stooped to this primal level of girl clinging to man. What are we, living in the 1700's? Last time I checked this is one of THE most empowering ages for a woman to live. I truly wish she would, for her own benefit, see how crazy she has truly acted and move on and accept that she is talented and special, and just NOT for Chris. She will find someone else. And yes. I KNOW breakups suck. I am the ultimate romantic. I believe in fairy tales, I put my heart and soul into the happy ending. And though this is a time of sadness for me, it can also be a time of hope. My happy ending is still out there. As is Jane Toe's. If only she would rise up and become who she can be. Girls, come one. Lets not be crazy. Lets be Amazing.

Almost

2009-12-16T15:19:00.000-08:00

You were my almost prince charming
My almost happy ending
My almost crush
My almost love

You were my almost fairy tale
My almost sunset
My almost lover
My almost magic

You were my almost best friend
My almost dreamer
My almost dumb fights
My almost you're rights

You were my almost I love you
My almost I need you
My almost I want you
My almost had you

Almost.

My Condolences

2009-12-16T15:12:00.000-08:00

It wasn't cancer
Injury
Blood Loss
Or Heart Attack

But my condolences to your love lost

They watch me
Expecting
I'm dying
Or crying

Did I miss something?
Are we at a funeral?

My condolences to your love lost

Cause of death?
Lack of
Feeling
Perhaps
Little
Meaning
My condolences
To Neglect
And hollow
pride
and lack of
communication

Condolences

To the death of a romance
The death of two hearts
Condolences
To searching again
Being hungry again
Needing again

I give you. My condolences

Why.

2009-11-27T10:49:00.000-08:00

Why. Its a funny word. Why Can mean so much. Can want so much. I find myself asking it often lately. And the logical answer is of course that Why's happen. Why's are the reason we live. Why does it hail on us the moment we think things will go okay? Why do we go through phases of loving and hating ourselves and not understanding Why? Why can't we understand where we come from and with that live with a peaceful reassurance? Why do we fall in love...why do we fall in hate...why do we accept someone completely, but someone else we turn away? Why do the holidays make us think about things that matter. Why Do things Matter? People matter. Why? Relationships matter. Why? Why are we our own worst enemies? Why do we create a world of slashed colors and restricted principals? Why are we afraid? Why do we give in? Why...sometimes...in the midst of chaos do we find the hero in ourselves? Why. Why. Why. A whiny word. An annoying word. But more than a word...a philosophy. And I think it exists in the world we live. Why floats around us like a hazy smog. And Why? I wish Why would go away. Sometimes.

talk about it

2009-10-30T09:27:00.000-07:00

I don't want you to be another maybe
I don't want you to be another could have
Would have
If I had
said yes

I don't want you to be another too scared
I don't want you to be another weren't there
Almost
had you
but I lost you

I don't want you to be another I ran
I don't want you to be another just friends
But I am
scared to
talk about it

I just want to let you in
I just want to be a little brave
I just want to give you me
I just want to ride this wave

I don't want to push you away
I don't want to be alone forever
But I'm still
Trying
to talk about it

Can't Talk

2009-10-29T11:44:00.000-07:00

It was one of those nights
the kind of nights, where the stars lit the sky
the moment when your eyes found mine
and you took me into your soul

you said I was everything
Everything you dreamed of
Everything, everything you wanted
Everything, everything you needed

And I said nothing

It was one of those times
the kind of times where the world stops spinning
the time of night, where morning is blushing over you
and I couldn't tell you
couldn't show you

that you were everything
Everything I dreamed of
Everything, everything I ever wanted
Everything, everything I ever needed

I said nothing.

Does it have to be so scary baby?
Do I have to give it all or nothing?
Because I can't give everything. I'm scared of losing everything.

Do I have to say it out loud baby?
Do you have to hear the words?
Can't you look at me and know

I'll give you everything but noise.

playing with fairy tales

2009-08-28T22:09:00.001-07:00

best job in the world? being a princess :-)

a love of color

2009-08-20T12:48:00.000-07:00

you're my crayola sky of indigo

white chalk clouds and lemon sun

scarlet streaks of smokey east

candy colored rays of fun

every time i see your eyes

a jade pool of marble comes to mind

every time i hear your voice

chocolate colored melodic noise

every time i let you in

a tidal wave of rainbow, my favorite sin

p'p-p-poker faceeeee

2009-07-13T19:42:00.000-07:00

joker, queen. Don't play your face
I might hold Royal, or even straights
pairs anyone?
you give me the eye
a bluff?
my call?
its all a lie

Rewind.

Driving in the car, window down
drinking in the city perfume
Watching people pass.
I never could imagine
I'd have so much on my mind.

Games.

Just another number.
Thats what I was I guess.
Another mark of chalk
Another returned mess.

Just another number.
Folded and put away.
Make sure its folded nice
and tight
You might want me
on a Rainy Day.

Another number
for the hall of names
of who gets who.
A dizzy game

sad to say you wouldn't
play cat and mouse
with me.
sad to say I'm just a card
in a deck of fifty three

oh well I guess
I grab my hat
slip my sunglasses on

you never knew I held the ace
and sweetie, now I'm gone

2009-07-01T12:31:00.000-07:00

dresses with flirty skirts
flavored lip gloss
pajama shirts
chocolates
i'm a girl

starry skies with starry eyes
nights on the town
nights in
pretty
girl

being told i'm beautiful
calling someone beautiful
dancing and dress up
we never grow up

fairy tales and scandals
high heels and sandals
chocolate dipped strawberries
trying to be healthy

i am a girl

no matter what i say
i want a prince
to save the day

proms. pink. pretend.
romance. roses. red.
singing. sweet. showers.
free. forever. flowers.

i am a girl.

can't stand...can't fight

2009-05-22T15:25:00.001-07:00

sometimes words can't describe
the way i feel inside
try to find the thing to say
everything evaporates
and melts away

and all that's left is my soul
bruised, bleeding, raw
after a beating so brash
i can't stand at all

i can't see
because of my black eyes
i can't hear
because the blood
drowns the noise

my heartbeat is loud
my stomach is tight
they still want more
another fight

what if i can't?
find the strength to stand
what if I want to
melt away in the sand

sticky and hot
worn to a pulp
no place to turn
everywhere is cold

so i won't try to say
what i'm feeling right now
i'll just let it settle
and hopefully fade out.

pounding.
pulsing.
still going strong
everyone wants to see
if i'll last very long

cheers from the crowd
willing me to my feet
do they want a triumph
or another defeat?

ode to my favorite tale of breaking spells and kissing.

2009-05-12T20:25:00.000-07:00

Cursed to be in endless sleep
you came to me, danced in my dreams
I struggled to balance, feel alive
You offered passion's rocky dive

Hair of gold, and lips of red
shouldn't go untouched you said
So you took me by the hand
and waltzed me into fairy land

I didn't question
I couldn't speak
I could only
give you me

We danced through clouds
of cotton candy
you lifted me
to Heaven's landing

I couldn't help but prick myself
collapse in coldness
and slip under the spell

you fought the dragon
slayed the enemy
all to save me
all to have me

who said fairy tales don't exist?
you broke the spell with true loves kiss

life is a...

2009-05-10T18:31:00.000-07:00

they say life is a circus
but i don't think its true
my heart was stable
before i met you

the moment we met
i was walking the high wire
a balancing act
as we danced through the fire

a performer by nature
you took to the stage
the dusty ring and hot lights
the audience's rage

i was more shaky
not sure on my feet
but it didn't matter
i was forced to trapeze

flying through air
that smelled of popcorn and candy
i gasped for breath
but came up empty

the high's and the lows
forced me to suspend
my body out of control
my heart in your hands

life was a black and white
before i met you
safe. secure. easy.
breezy. trusted. true

life's not a circus
love's the real show
i just hope i survive
the spotlights hot glow

round and round and round we go
dancing, balancing, our two act
show

jumping off will be quite the fight
but not as hard as surviving spotlight

red tricycle love

2009-05-05T09:47:00.000-07:00

goodbye my red tricycle love
with blue handle bars
we shot for the moon
ended up on mars

training wheels only get you so far

you were a rickety ride
as you charged me inside
pummeling through me
scraped knees are ugly

don't think i won't miss
the lazy, slow glide
the breezy way you make me
feel alive

cotton candy stops
ice cycle pops
spring rain on my cheeks
has turned to tear streaks

so i'll miss you, my red tricycle love
but its time for a two wheeler
all i needs a shove

and i'm off in the sunset
flying free
reminiscing the memories
of you riding with me

vogue much

2009-05-04T12:01:00.000-07:00

joy

2009-04-29T12:18:00.000-07:00

taste some sugar.
feel some rain.
dance a little.
laugh again.

joy.

how many bites do I take?

2009-04-24T15:00:00.000-07:00

I don't care what others say
they think that Love is like
to me its like a setting sun
yellowy, orangey, light

slowly, silently
melting away
behind horizon lines

sleeping
dreaming
throwing away
what we are inside

a scarf unraveled
a bone picked bare
a blossom without petals
a soundless song
a kiss thats wrong
my soft skin across your nettles

some think love is like a drug.
more like a disease.
picking at my insides

pressure. no release.

there's beauty in it somewhere
i just haven't gotten there

i guess that snow white bit the apple
before she could wake up

I guess that I'm
just wondering
how many bites it took.

conquered hero

2009-04-24T10:06:00.000-07:00

give up this kind of passion? you can. i won't.

just another round of pixie dust
thats worn off my old wings
i'm falling back to earth
hurt, heavy, cold, crashing

all that you said you were
you weren't
all those masks you wore
aren't yours

and now the dance is over
and now i'm getting Older
now i see the face of you
is shadowed from my distant view

you claimed you wanted to fight
for love
you claimed you wanted challenge

now you're a dismounted hero
swimming in Defeat's swamplands

you'd rather have it easier
you'd rather it be boring
predictable is where you're at
though i know inside you're roaring

you're passion won't just go away
you can't run from feelings
i've just learned, and its hard to say
one day you'll face my bleeding

you can hide the evidence
of your emotion
but the crime's committed
you'll drown in it's ocean

i dare you to forget me.
i dare you to run away.
i dare you to forget my eyes
when they look at you That Way.

Forget the thrill
the shivers, the rush
forget my warmth
and glow that's crushed

battered wings
no fairytale

crash from clouds
is always fatal

our love was a cupcake
never frosted
so who's to say
if we loved or lost it?

pixie dust, wearing thin
i can't breath, and you gave in
you conquered hero
don't look at me
you couldn't fight
you couldn't see

even though my wings are tattered
i'm still me, and thats what matters

sell yourself to a comfortable love
hang up Passion's boxing gloves

Because I know
you can't talk yourself into Love
without always fighting to feel In Love.

war and peace? love is war.

2009-04-22T10:13:00.000-07:00

dancing in the ring, we're both light on our feet
me a little more than you, but it comes with defeat
i watch for all signs of weaknesses
see the hesitation
hesitation can be weakness
i could jab at that.

but i don't.

we circle.

you throw a left
right in my eye
because you want to see
the blood and bruising in my soul
thats seeping now from me

my breath catches
because it hurts
but the adrenaline kicks in
pumps courage through me
i don't fall
i'll never give in

i'm good with right hooks
so i use one
hit you in the jaw
you look surprised
that i dared strike
and now its getting raw

nothings more intense
than the way you watch me dance
like a tiger on the prowl in heat
you advance gracefully in this hungry meet

there's beauty in this blood
there's honesty in flesh
there's swagger in your body
there's fear in me thats fresh

man to woman we dance
fire in the fight
people never promised love
had to be Right.

then you go for the kill
striking until I fall.
My head hits hard.
Black stars attack
I can't feel pain at all.

All I feel is you.
You are the pain
All I hear is cheers
your fans or mine?
its all insane

But I won't give up
I won't give in
I am a fighter
I stand again
You reach for me
and pull me in

Inside I'm aching, you're conquering
We must keep dancing in the ring

cruel beauty in the cold

2009-04-18T13:34:00.000-07:00

i didn't know how beautiful you were
until i was looking in from outside
i didn't see everything you are
until i let you go with goodbye

and now it hurts
in places i didn't know could hurt
and now it burns
in spaces i didn't know could burn
now i'm aching with something so intense
and everytime i think of you
nothing in me makes sense

i wasn't ripe, i'd barely sprouted
but you picked me still
i thought i'd died from too much pruning
but my blossoms only chilled

frozen in space
hanging on a vine
dangling ripely
ready for a bite

but gardens come and go with seasons
i need rain and sunlight to grow
i am drenched in stormy feelings now
because i let you go

maybe enough rain
can wash away the aching
maybe enough storms
can stop my heart from breaking
maybe enough winter
can salve my bleeding soul
maybe i have yet to learn
there's cruel beauty in the cold

soaking up sun

2009-04-17T21:19:00.000-07:00

iconic romance?

2009-04-10T10:59:00.000-07:00

some iconic romances are iconic because they are visual, others because they are ridiculous, and others because they are pure fantasy. sugary. sweet. death? dreamy? what makes it iconic? sometimes its not even worth talking about...and other iconic romances are worth remembering...

voyeurism

2009-04-09T16:32:00.000-07:00

rear window. my favorite look at the voyeur in us all. this film reminds me of the thrill i felt pretending i was nancy drew, running around the neighborhood, spying on the 'mean people' and making up tales about every little 'clue' i saw. an old soda can drifting down the sidewalk? clearly the key to a crime. the pizza box shuffling awkwardly in the breeze? obviously the villains dinner.

at least Rear Window is a GuiltLess pleasure. And who wouldn't want to watch the screen when Grace Kelly is the one doing the spying?

and who hasn't looked out their rear window and wondered what the neighbors are up to?

girl power

2009-04-09T16:22:00.000-07:00

last weekend i spent a night on the provo town front with my two favorite chicks on this side of the continent. the evening started at Sparks, the local lounge brimming with colorful alcohol free beverages and appetizers that you've only seen in Soho Manhattan. then we progressed to our own private dance party...right in the middle of the underground parking lot. people honking and walking by made this moment especially nostalgic. Lady GaGa serenaded as we pounded pavemnet outside of Brits car, challenging the engery of an EFY dance floor. on to Spoon Me. Which..really...is self explanitory. the point of this blog? my love for girls being girls is boundless. Dancing in the street is liberating. And cheers to the Appletini.

madness

2009-04-08T12:12:00.001-07:00

the real madness in madmen is the rate per hour these dudes can suck down those cigs. Its scary. And it was such a social norm. poor, rich blokes didn't know they'd all die young from lung cancer....

still one the ripest, flashiest, edgiest shows out there. favorite episode? the ender of season two was pretty bubbly.

unraveling relationships

2009-04-07T12:10:00.000-07:00

fluttering to a dark descent
slithering past the stars and moon
falling over and over again
is what happens when i think of you

i thought i could lie to my heart
thought i could make a clean break
i thought i could close the book
but no goodbye's ever felt so fake

i can still feel the pages
slipping between my fingers
i can still feel you
between the words

i can still remember
dancing on the sea
and how my fears
got the better of me

i'm still scared.
don't get me wrong.
but i feel like i'm ready
to live the song

let your melody crash inside me
let you in
let you hold me.
let the story begin

i let everything unravel too soon.
tore up the book
and shot down the moon.

whats wrong with this
cinderella?

she runs whenever she likes a fella'.

home

2009-04-06T10:24:00.001-07:00

No place like home. I love home. Growing up for the most part in Pleasant Grove was a little like growing up in a hilarious high school eighties movie. Fun. Flippant. And Fantastic. The scenery is more along the lines of a Norman Rockwell, but the feel was nostalgic of Pretty in Pink. I wish I'd been Molly Ringwald. Alas, I was looking through my senior yearkbook, which I found when I was bulldozing my bedroom last week, and read through some of the comments left me among the pages. "You are so cute. You have the best style." "You are gorgeous. You have the best clothes ever." "You are soooo pretty. I love all your skirts."

Um. I guess my fashion stood out? Which is funny. Because I'd way rather have people have said stuff like "you're so smart." or "we laughed so hard." But I guess my fashion was my 'home.' Go figure. As I've been weeding my lil garden lately, I've been thinking hard about how I want to spend my future. Where I want my 'home' to be. A pair of ruby slippers, maybe? And I mean that literally as well as figuratively. Maybe style should be something I look into. I've never really thought about it. But when in doubt, do what you love. When you can't do what you love, do what pays the bills, and when you can't do what pays the bills, do what you love again. So many things I want to be my home. I want to have one of my books published. (I know, get in line.) I want to teach high school. I want to be the a fabulous friend. I want to laugh when things are down.

Another click and I'm home Toto.

iconic

2009-04-03T10:08:00.000-07:00

yes. iconISM in its most pure form :-)

dreamy

2009-04-03T09:56:00.000-07:00

sweetness

2009-04-02T22:11:00.000-07:00

what makes us

2009-04-02T21:32:00.000-07:00

romance lives. proof and pudding.

2009-04-02T21:29:00.000-07:00

best movie ever

being a princess

2009-04-02T21:27:00.000-07:00

2009-04-02T15:33:00.001-07:00

fall

picking petals

2009-04-02T15:07:00.000-07:00

Turning over a new leaf. Or picking petals. I am plucking the petals out of my old garden and starting a new one. I want this garden to be Nawlins' style. Romantic, beautiful, leafy, lush, and full of every kind of flower and lily under the sun. Cobblestones from all over the world, and moonlight from Paris. I started by cleaning my VERY messy, ridiculously cluttered room. Going on a year since my sister was married, and left alot of her belongings in there. Monday night, I got into a kind of frenzy. I just needed space. I needed to make my own garden. And I needed to start THEN. So I did. And I'm happy to report that it is already helping me breathe easy. And the writing juices have been flowing (not blog wise) but in my young adult fiction story. When the writing juice flows, the garden is always full of daisies.