Thursday, February 27, 2014

Counting Down.

In January,
my best friend Ashley
told me
that she and her husband
are moving to California
when the semester ends.

And since then,
I have been washed with dread
every time I think about it.

The number of months of our lives
that Ashley and I have not lived
in the same place
is probably six.

We don't see each other that often anymore--
maybe once every month or so,
maybe a little less.

But there's a security
that comes from knowing
she's only a few blocks away.

She'll be there when I need her.

And it's not necessarily that I need her,
but that I need the security of knowing 
that she's as close to me physically
as she is to my heart.

The likelihood of us
ever living in the same town again
is about to plummet to zero.

I know that she will be my best friend
no matter what,
no matter when.

But I still feel like
I'm wasting precious time
by not spending every minute 
of the next two months
with her

and Marshall
and Huey
and Lancelot.

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

I was wrong about myself.

Have you ever thought about
what particular traits you have
that make you lovable?

Maybe it's just me,
but I have a short list in my head
of things that I would like
the people who love me
to love me for.

I remember once,
there was a boy who liked me.
And I was sure
that he didn't know me well enough
to appreciate the things
on my list.

And so his crush on me made me mad.

How can you think you like me
if you don't know the things about me
worth appreciating?

(Not saying
that was the best way
to view the situation.
I know
I was immature about it.)

I've always thought
that right at the top of my list
was my perspective.
The way I view the world.
The way I see beauty in everything.

I love that about myself.

But lately,
I realized
that I was wrong about myself.

The best thing about me,
the most important thing about me,
the way 
I love people.

I can't believe I didn't see that.

Sunday, February 23, 2014

Almost Famous.

It's been almost two months
since I moved into the Almost Famous house.
And they've been almost perfect months.

I love the quiet little street I live on.
Timpanogos looms over it 
in all her splendor.

I love the humans that live here.

Ellie makes me laugh
40% more often
than the average human.
She does everything
and does it all well.

I love when Brooke and I
meet up in the living room
and talk about boys.
I love when she practices singing.
She thinks it's annoying,
but it's not.

Emma makes the world around her
a more beautiful place.
I want to dress like her
and dream like her
and be like her.

Betsy sends the best texts
and writes the best tweets.
I love it every time
she emerges from the basement
and we have talks in the kitchen.

Kaitlin is friends with
over half of the humans in Provo.
When you meet her, you know why.
She is as kind as can be
and as crazy as can be.

It's such a blessing
that I moved in with 5 strangers
and it turned out so well.
They're just what I needed.

Saturday, February 22, 2014

Sounds Familiar.

Today, I realized
I was right all along.

The theme to 
Saved by the Bell: The College Years
Learn to Fly
by the Foo Fighters
in fact
sound like each other.

But you don't have to take my word for it.

(For some reason,
they don't have this video on Youtube.
I can't imagine why not.)


Let me tell you
about one of my favorite things:
talking about feelings.

It's funny,
because I used to hate it.
I literally couldn't start a sentence
with the words I feel
without feeling uncomfortable.

But I changed.

I love stating my opinions
(sometimes forcefully)
and resolving disagreements with friends.

The best kind of feelings to share
are relationship feelings.
Of course.

The thought of having the loathed
"Define the Relationship" talk
fills me with excitement.

Talking. Feelings.
Let's define this relationship.

You get to say
everything you've been wanting to say
all along.
this is when I started liking you
this is why I like you
and just plain
I like you.

Call me crazy,
but I even love break up talks.

Everyone's feelings are valid,
even when their feelings are
I don't like you anymore.

When you're being completely honest
about your feelings
and he's being completely honest
about his feelings,
you're both being transparent.

There are no walls between you,
so you understand each other.
You become closer, almost,
as your relationship is ending.

I don't know, guys.
Maybe I am crazy.
But talking about feelings
has made me happier
than not talking about feelings
ever has.

Try it.

Monday, February 17, 2014

What a Difference a Day Made.

Presidents Day is my favorite holiday.

And here's why today was the best one
I've ever had:

Calling my mom at 7 am
to make sure she hadn't died
like she had in my dream.
(She hadn't.)

Lying in bed until 10,
listening to my 70s playlist.

Going on a run,
and getting tears in my eyes
on the way back
because it's unseasonably warm
and I'm so tired
and a good song is playing
and the mountains are beautiful.

Lunch at Zupas with Amy
and running into Megan there.
Taking so much longer to finish my food
than she does
because I'm talking so much.

Lying around all afternoon
with Amy,
learning about selfies
and teaching her about Instagram.

Going to see the angels,
and feeling so happy
that their apartment still feels like heaven.

Seeing Rachel on Presidents Day
for the first time in three years.

Watching the sunset over Utah Lake
and the snow on Mount Timpanogos.

Doing things you've never done before.

Watching Seinfeld with Justin
and laughing so hard.

Roommates returning from weekends away.

Skyping with my best friends, the Knowltons.

And, you know.
All these guys.

What a difference a day made.

Sunday, February 16, 2014

Behind Their Backs.

A couple of years ago
something funny kept happening to me.

All the time,
people would say,
"I heard you have
a great blog,"
"Someone was saying 
nice things about you."

And I'd say,

And they'd say,
"Oh, I don't remember."

Like, often.

Someone was spreading
nice rumors about me,
and I never figured out who it was.

I could tell you about other times
when someone told me
something unbelievably nice
that someone else had said about me.

Every time I was thrilled
and speechless
and couldn't quite believe it.
That person really
said that about me?

I can only imagine
that this happens all the time,
not just to me.

It makes me want to say
nice things about people
behind their backs.
And to their faces.

Friday, February 14, 2014

You are my sunshine.

This is Lizzie.
My dear, dear Lizzie.

She's in a tree
because she's the most adventurous girl
you could ever dream of knowing.

It was because of her
that we skipped work and class
and left at 11 p.m. 
to drive through the night to San Diego.
And I saw palm trees for the first time.

Knowing her is an adventure, too,
because she is spectacularly interesting.
And you get to learn that 
a piece at a time,
one secret special bit at a time.

Here is the condensed version:

She's a bohemian cowgirl,
a maker of stunning meals,
a first-rate hugger,
a teller of hilarious bad date stories.

She wants to do everything
and I'm sure she could
if only she had five lives' worth of hours
to do it all in.

When I think of her,
I think of someone who spends her time well,
who improves herself,
who has good things to say about people,
and includes them.

Her hair is sunshine
and her smile is sunshine
and her life is sunshine.

And I love her.

One of the best things about her
is how modest she is.

She blushes and giggles
if you say anything nice about her.

Which is an extra perk
of writing this blog post.

Thursday, February 13, 2014

Indian Spring.

I was pretty devastated last year
when summer ended.

But surprisingly,
winter hasn't been that bad.

I was thrilled today
when Provo was 45 degrees.
(Also, Delaware was getting pummeled with snow.)

I wore flats instead of boots
and the tops of my feet got to see the sun.

I took a ten minute walk outside
in the warmth
during the middle of work.

And I thought,
I would gladly live through the pain
of a million summers dying
if it means that I get to have
days like today.

There would never be that kind of joy
without that kind of pain.

Wednesday, February 5, 2014


My grandma died this week.
She was my last living grandparent.

I will always picture her
sitting on my living room couch,
doing crossword puzzles.

When I was little,
her house meant
her collection of salt & pepper shakers,
the canopy bed in my mom's old bedroom,
the organ in the basement,
The Family Circus comic books.

In high school,
the first day in chem lab,
we turned on the burners
and I said,
"Oh, this smells like my grandma's house."

That baby in that picture is my grandmother.

She was born in a tiny place in Utah,
but when she married my grandpa,
she went with him to Las Vegas
and then Maryland.

We never talked to each other much,
but I remember the day we ate lunch together
and I asked her about what presidents she voted for
when she was young.

My grandma played the piano.
I remember so well
when my mom told me
that she was proud of me
because I played well.
My heart swelled with pride.

I remember when she sent me a card
and said she was proud of me.

I remember the one year
I was kind enough
to call her on her birthday.
I called,
said happy birthday
and hung up.

And I loved Christmas this year.
After we read the Christmas story
from the scriptures,
we sang carol after carol.
And she wanted us to keep singing.

For my mother's life,
and in turn for my own life,
I am indebted to her--
for leaving her father's house
and making her own life.

For Christmas one year,
she gave me 8 pairs 
of these wonderful fuzzy socks.
When I found out she died,
I wanted put some on.

I think it was a miracle that I found a pair.
They should have all been in the wash.

Saturday, February 1, 2014

Married Friends.

I love hanging out with my married friends.

They invite me to their houses,
and I sit in their living rooms and talk with them.

I love that I can talk to the wife
just like we talked before she was a wife,
when she was just my friend.
We can talk about boys
and anything else
with her husband in the room.

And it feels just the same as
before he was in the picture--
except better,
because he usually has funny things to add.

I love that my friends are still my friends,
except better,
because of the way their eyes light up
when they talk about their husbands.

I love the comfort of being a third wheel.
There is something normal
about being with a married couple.
It's like being with a family.

I sit in the living room
with my friend
and her husband
and feel completely accepted.

I never feel quite that way
anywhere else,
except at my parents' house.