Thursday, August 25, 2011


Yesterday I rediscovered the joy of feeding ducks. They're such funny creatures. I wish that I'd thought to take my camera! It wasn't planned to go feed the ducks though, at least not for me. I'd decided to be adventurous and leave the house for an hour or so with a friend to go see a movie, but that plan ended when some other friends invited both of us to go with them to the park. It made me feel really good that they wanted me to come, even though I could only watch. I know I probably wasn't much fun to be around (my body was pretty upset with me for leaving the bed), and they wanted me around anyway.

It was great to be with Jason, Morgan, and Ruthie again. Morgan was in town for the afternoon, and Ruthie got back from England about a week ago. The girls are leaving this weekend for school again, so it was really nice to spend some time with them before they both head out for the semester. And Jason is quite the gentleman. I give him a hard time, and I think I tease him too much. more thing to change. :)

Ducks are weird. They're quite fascinating, you know, all feathered and web footed, floating on the water above all the weeds and grasses. Sometimes they're pretty mean to each other. They group together and gang up on one or two smaller or weaker ducks, or ducks of another color (there was a group of about 6 white ducks that only like white ducks. Jason and Morgan call them the Duck KKK). Kind of like people, in a way--we all want the same things, to be included and secure and have our needs taken care of, but we chase others away from our "groups". Not all people do that, but some.

And there I go, turning an outing to throw bread crumbs at ducks into a comparison on the social habits of human beings.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

bored silly...

I am so bored. Really. Why am I bored? Because I can't DO anything. After two crazy weeks of vacation and Education Week (which, may I say, was amazing), I am back to being stuck in bed or on the couch, or at least sitting down.

This is hard. It's really, really hard! The only thing that keeps me from throwing my hands up in frustration is the promise that I'll be well. I know what is happening to me (ish) and I know why and I know it will end--but I don't know WHEN it will end.

In the mean time, I'm bored. School is back in session, and I am the only one in my family not going this semester. My sisters are gone, mom is getting ready to start school on Monday, dad is at work. It's lonely, being sick! Thank goodness for my little dog. She's quite the cuddly fluff ball, let me tell ya. And there is something to look forward to: LDC starts on Monday! If I can get out of bed to attend...*sigh*.

What do you do when you're bored and can't get to a library? Thoughts? Suggestions? Come visit me? ;)

It could be worse. I'm actually really lucky, you know. Having the knowledge that it will get better gives me such hope, and it's keeping me going. Having my family helps, too--they're so helpful and they make it a lot easier. Sometimes it's the boredom that's the worst.

LDC starts in less than a week. Happiness. :)

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

day 87...

a picture of me last year and a picture of me this year...

Summer 2010

Summer 2011

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

day 86...

a picture of somewhere I've been...

Odd fact about me: I love cemeteries. Once I suggested a road trip from the north end of the county to the southern end, stopping at all of the small town cemeteries. My sisters thought I was crazy and went back to planning a trip to Lagoon.

A cemetery, to me, is a place of both sadness and joy. A cemetery is full of history and stories and memories, whether in a town with only a handful of plots, or near the nation's capitol with its hundreds of hundreds. In a way, a cemetery is full of life: full of life lived. One cemetery in particular stands out in my mind: Arlington National Cemetery, across the river from the Washington Monument in D.C. I often find myself wishing I could go back, to walk along the paths and remember. It's an incredible place. The miles of white stone, etched with names and dates of people who lived the history we now study. The air still and respectful, filled with the silence of the sleeping heroes. You can walk for a whole hour without seeing a living soul, yet you cannot take a step without feeling the presence of many.

Arlington is one of my favorite places in the world (that I've seen so far). I hope to go back someday, for it truly is a spectacular place.

Monday, August 15, 2011

Sunday, August 14, 2011


I don't know why I feel like this, but I don't like it and it won't go away. Each time I try to talk about it, or to ask for help. I chicken out and change the subject to something random, like how the higher the percentage of cacao there is in a bar of chocolate, the louder it snaps when you break it, meaning that the chocolate is richer. That one got me a really weird look once. Or something really obvious, like if you put a piece of ice in your mouth, your tongue will get cold. Another (deservedly) weird look. I don't know why it is so hard to ask for help. Just to ask.

Sometimes I can keep busy enough to keep it...whatever it is...away, and I don't think about it. It's like I'm able to stop feeling and thinking for a little while and just keep moving, working, doing, being. Then when I stop to catch my breath (or try to sleep) it all comes pouring back into my mind. Fear, sadness, loneliness, and the worst of it, anger. Half the time I wish someone would ask me what's wrong just so I could scream at them to shut up and leave me alone. Which is completely ridiculous and unfair, and I'd probably never do that anyway. The other half of the time I wish someone would just hold me and let me cry. Which is also completely ridiculous. I stopped letting people (or at least boys) do that back in the spring. Causes problems, or at least it has for me.

Unfortunately I can't blame all of this on PMS or any other excuse like that because it happens all the time. I suppose we could pin it on depression, which does tend to rear its ugly head even higher near the end of August. Or as a couple of family members have said, it could be due to an attachment to a friend who I am trying very hard not to attach myself to anymore (ha). The idea that a friendship is influencing me like this is an idea that I don't like, and I'm REALLY hoping it's not a for now I'll stick with the first probable cause. Guess it's time to get back to work on being happy. Weight room, here I come! Unless the creepy guy is in there again...then the track will have to do.

day 84...

a picture of a gift that meant a lot to me...

As you now know, any sort of gift means a lot to me. This one, however, still stands out. My mom bought it for me when I was having a really bad day. Mom saw this beagle toy and handed it to me, and it made me feel better, so she bought it and gave it to me. I love beagles; they're my favorite breed of dog. The summer before this toy was purchased was the summer my beagle Buddy died. Whenever I was sad, he would always come sit by me. He always knew what each member of the family needed, and he was always there for us. Sometimes when things get hard or frustrating, I go find this beagle toy and think about Buddy, and everything feels a little bit better. I'm really glad that mom gave it to me.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

day 83...

a picture of myself with 15 facts about my past (yikes)...

Since school is starting soon, I'm going to have a themed fact list. Each number will be matched with something that has to do with learning and education (minus the first one, which is just me entering the world). Deal? I think yes. :)

(Sorry if this post sounds SUPER self-centered and arrogant. Not trying to be that.)

  1. I was born in the wrong year. Really. I was supposed to be born on December 31, the last day of the year. But I was late. It's funny, because I hate being late.
  2. I said my first words when I was 6 months old. Mom had put me on the kitchen table in my carseat carrier thingy so she could bring the groceries in. When she came inside, I said, "Hi, Annie." That's why my dad called my mom. So I skipped the whole "momma" and went straight to first name basis. Weird kid.
  3. When I was in preschool there was nothing better in the world than the life-size playhouse in the backyard. Seriously. It was amazing.
  4. The first time I ever "got in trouble" in school was halfway through kindergarten. My teacher called my mom in for a conference because I hadn't done a single reading assignment the whole year. My mom didn't even know I had reading assignments. Mrs. Belliston asked me what I had done with all of the reading pamphlets (your basic I am Sam type of thing). I told her they were all under my mattress at home. She asked me why. "They're boring and I don't want to read them." The school psychologist was called to give me a reading exam...two days later I was given a library card. Best day of my LIFE.
  5. In first grade I hit a boy on the head with a pair of scissors because he called my friend Melissa a name. Mrs. Reese was not pleased. I was also given a sparkly blue crayon by a boy named Weston. He was very cute, and very well liked by all of the girls. He had a sparkly blue crayon that everyone was jealous of. One day a gang of girls surrounded him and said that he had to give the crayon to the girl he liked the best in the class. He walked over to where I was sitting on the steps (which is what I usually did at recess because I hated recess more than anything in the world) and gave me the crayon. I still have it somewhere, in my Writing Utensil Box of Doom. It's huge.
  6. In second grade, I didn't go to public school. That year was spent going on adventures (to museums, the zoo, trips to coal mines or canyons, you name it) and hands-on learning. It is also the reason why I struggled in public school with math for so long: I did next to no math the whole year. Just didn't want to, and my mom gave up on me ever trying. She had other battles with me to deal with that were probably more important.
  7. Third grade was the best year of elementary school. I went to a different school with the kids from my neighborhood, instead of out of area to the school I'd gone to before. It was the first year I had legit friends to play with, and it was the only year that I loved recess, because I actually had people to play with. My teacher was incredible, Miss Aldrich. She read to us every day after recess, books like The BFG and Matilda, and she made up different voices for every character. She also had us write and illustrate our own books, and share them with the class. She taught us all of our multiplication tables to music, had the best geography/geology/wildlife lessons ever, and a box of candy in her desk. I loved her.
  8. Fourth grade, 9/11 happened. That day was horrible. But the year was pretty good. That was the year that I learned that when I sang a different note in a song than what the artist was singing, I was harmonizing. Apparently I'd been doing that for years. I just didn't know it until Mrs. Louder pointed it out.
  9. Mrs. Long was the best teacher ever, like Miss Aldrich. Mrs. Long read to us every day, too, books like Holes and one about a raccoon that I can't remember the name of, and Stone Fox. Then she'd have us act out scenes from the books in front of the class. That was also the year that people started making fun of me a lot. Fifth grade was the best of times and the worst of times. Best because of my teacher and my best friend Coty. Coty and I are still friends. It's the longest lasting friendship I've ever had, and I love that girl to death!
  10. Mrs. Baker. Mrs. *dramatic pause* Baker. She didn't like me because I homeschooled part time (which I did every year after third grade). She told me that one time in class, that I was "different" and "odd" and "swam against the current" and that I "would never, ever fit into normal society". Needless to say the teasing got much worse, and Mrs. Baker blamed it on me. Yeah. Sixth grade sucked. Except for Coty. She pretty much saved everything.
  11. Junior high. *shudder* *VIOLENT shudder* Really, who didn't hate junior high? However, I did meet some pretty incredible people. The GT class, taught by Mrs. Hacken, was pretty legit. History Fair happened those two years, as did some wonderful people crossing my path. Then ninth grade opened up East Shore High School, where I could work ahead doing packets. I also found out that I was good at English and was reminded that I was horrible at math. As in dreadful. Which is why ESHS came in handy...haha.
  12. My sophomore year started off with a nervous breakdown. Yep. If anyone was ever wondering why I disappeared for a whole term and a half, that's why. I was recovering and doing packets at ESHS. That was the year that I learned that my body loves lifting weights and other heavy things, and that it hates to run. It was also the year that I was accepted into UVU, first through the college itself (it was then called UVSC) and then through the high school, after the college told the high school that they were going to let me in, and the high school was going to have to work with it. I went on my first date (with Kai, who is adorable, because I originally asked him to Preference but ended up not being able to go because the dance date got moved up before my birthday so he took me to a movie instead), and my second date (with Kevin, to Sweethearts, the memory of which still gives me butterflies) and my third date (with Kirt, who asked me to Prom using puppets of Han Solo and Yoda, and the dance where I wore my red dress that I still love and is now a little too big). So I discovered I loved college, and I discovered boys. Yay tenth grade!
  13. Junior year: 31 college credits. I felt like Hermione, because I had to get special permission to take that many credits. I also dated several seniors that year, which was very fun. Fun date fact: that year Jordan asked me to Homecoming. I was his first date--and while we were at the dance the zipper on my dress broke. Luckily his tux jacket had tails! Junior year my history teacher told me not to take the AP exam because "you'll more than likely fail it", but I took it and got a 4. Triumph much? It felt amazing. More dates, more college.
  14. Class of 2010, baby! That year I finally did extracurricular stuff, and got involved in the fun stuff at school. Choir (Ariosa, Concert Choir, and A Cappella), ballroom, drama, clubs, friendships. Mhmmm, that was the year I finally let myself really have friends. I mean, I'd had friends, but I never let people very close. Too scared to. And I missed out because of it. But senior year was the year I finally started to have fun. And you know what? Having fun is FUN. Fact: I did not know what fun was until twelfth grade. Some of my friends will agree with that 100%. I loved my senior year.
  15. Class of 2011: my second graduation in less than a year. I earned my AS degree. I sold my life away to the LDC choir (which I don't regret for a second because it's worth it). My friendships of the past were strengthened, and I gained new friendships that I treasure. Last year was less about the grades and the studying and knowing the right answers. The Hermione part of me kind of chilled out (or so I hope). People became the important thing. Yes, school is still important. But what is school if you have no one to share the experience with? It's just books and papers and computers and teachers giving assignments. It's kind of boring, honestly. People make the place, no matter what you're doing. And that is a fact, one I've had to learn.

That's my school past. Long, long, long. It was like writing a paper for sociology or psychology, when we had to write about milestones in our lives and what it meant for us based on the perspectives of the class. Maybe Hermione is still in there...ha. No maybe about it!

Friday, August 12, 2011

day 82...

a picture dedicated to someone who has hurt me recently...

Yin and yang: the Chinese philosophy of opposites. They're supposed to compliment one another, and contrast. They exist only in relation to one another. Light and dark. Hot and cold. Male and female.

Everything has an opposite. You were mine.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

day 81...

a picture of something that makes me happy...

I'm the type of person who keeps little things that remind me of people, events, or special moments. A picture from a friend, letters, bookmarkers from far away places, pictures of people I love, dried flowers, honor chords, stickers from a particularly terrifying visit to the doctor's office that ended in personal triumph, Dove chocolate wrappers with inspirational messages that I mean to copy and never do, fortune cookie slips, a rock that a child gave me as a gift, you name it. I just keep things. This board is much too small to hold the notes from and pictures of friends. It's probably three layers deep now, of old memories and more recent ones.

Someday I want a cork board wall. A whole wall to put up photos and notes and all sorts of wonderful treasures! It'd be amazingly happy.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

day 80...

a picture describing the meaning behind my blog name...

I used to have a desk in my room. It looked kind of like this one, with papers and books and shelves of more papers and books by it. Then I got a new chest of drawers for my bedroom and the desk had to go. But when I had a desk, I used it. A lot. I had the ugliest monstrosity of a chair, armed with a wooden back and a fuzzy orange pad for a seat. Ugly or not, I loved that chair, even though it was uncomfortable. It made me stay awake to do homework (if I did my homework).

I created my blog at that desk, when I got my first laptop. That was several years ago. Strange, how things have changed. Like the absence of a desk in my life. Tears.

day 79...

a picture of myself today (or the day after)...

So I didn't actually take a picture of myself on Tuesday. I didn't really have access to a camera the whole day. The other thing: no cuteness whatsoever. I was too tired to even try! Sweats, a Lion King t-shirt from Vegas, wet hair, yup. No peekterrs on Tuesday.

This picture is from today, at the zoo. Blouse, dry hair, make-up, yup. A bit of an improvement from Tuesday.

Monday, August 8, 2011

day 78...

a picture of something you crave a lot...

Zupas' Summer Chicken Salad, New England Clam Chowder with bread, and chocolate covered strawberries. Yeah...I crave it all the time.


I’m spared the agony of wondering where you are.
Of wondering what you’re doing, and where you’re going.
All of that I know.
And I know that it’s right, for you and for everyone.
Even right for me.
Still, I can’t help but look out over the valley
from the rooftops,
feeling the strange silence of the city,
My ears, so keenly aware of the unfamiliar stillness beside me
where your heart walked with mine.
My eyes turned upwards toward the night,
unseeing as sparkling drops of starlight shine in slow streaks down my face.
My lips let the words escape;
a quiet plea to the heavens heard only by a wayward angel passing by:
I miss you.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

weekly poem...

Dear Friend


I become each day more reckless,
too impatient for summer, the unbearable heat,
the calm that comes with it. There are no hills here,
not one, and I’m bored with the stillness

of the yellow field outside my window. And you,
who cannot keep still, who can never
look back, where will you go next?
How will I find you?

Can you feel the world pull
apart, the seams loosen?
What, tell me, will keep it whole,

if not you? if not me?
Send a postcard, picture, tell me
how you’ve been.
Blas Falconer

day 77...

a picture of me and my family...

My family isn't super into taking pictures together. In fact, this is the most recent picture I could find of the only people in my family who will actually be in a picture all together without fighting or hiding or running away from the camera. It was taken nearly a year ago when Harry Potter 7.1 came out. Tonks, Bellatrix, and Narcissa, out for a night at the theater. Twas grand.

Saturday, August 6, 2011

Friday, August 5, 2011

day 75...

a picture of something I don't leave the house without...

It's a rare thing when I don't take my phone with me. Sometimes my sister takes it with her to work (we now have the same employer, and communication is mainly through text messaging. Since she doesn't have a phone and we don't get scheduled at the same time, she uses mine), and I always leave it home when I go to my church meetings, but other than that I generally have my phone. There have been a couple of times when I haven't taken it with me somewhere, and one of those times I missed out on a date with a really, really nice boy (and deleted the number he called me with before realizing he'd gotten a new phone number because his name didn't show up on the missed calls list. Only the number. Grr). I'm still mad at myself for that one...anyone want to mention to him that I would totally be up for going out with him? Anyone? ;)

Having a phone has been kind of a safety device for me. I like being able to get in touch with friends or family quickly, and it has come in handy several times during sticky (or awkward...also sticky) situations. It's also very helpful for work and for choir, both of which rely on text messaging for the most part to communicate. So yes. Phone home or phone cell, talk to me. It's on 24/7. :)

"Call me, beep me, if you want to reach me!!"

Thursday, August 4, 2011

day 74...

a picture of a TV show I'm currently addicted to...

Um...I don't watch TV, so I can't really be addicted to a show. So...yeah! I'm clean when it comes to that. :)

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

day 73...

a picture of my favorite musician...

There are many music artists, singers, songwriters, whatever you want to call them that I really, really like. From David Archuleta to Justin Bieber, Sugarland to Frank Sinatra, Journey to Jon Schmidt, I love music. There is one person in particular who is truly incredible. He is known as Yiruma, and has written songs like "Kiss the Rain", and the super popular "River Flows in You" (which many people wanted to be "Bella's Lullaby" in Twilight). His melodies are brilliant, so expressive and emotional. If there were lyrics to any of his pieces, they would probably describe how I feel or what I'm thinking on some days.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

day 72...

a picture of the town I live in...

This is kind of a repeat of a prior post, so I'll post a picture of a rather large landmark that my city is famous for. It's a mountain. A big one. It may still have snow on it, even though it's August. It has been a strange summer weather wise!

Monday, August 1, 2011

day 71...

a picture of what's in my make-up bag...

Or at least what's in make-up bag #1. Yes. I have more than one. It happens when one of your hobbies is theater.

PS I don't use everything in this picture. Some of it I just have because I forgot it was in there, and some of it I have no idea what to do with! Like the eye glitter...I've used it once for a dance, and now what? Lol.