Oh, ya know.

I really have nothing thrilling to write about. Actually I have no topic at all, which is a terrible start to an already dying blog post.

I just need to write. I don't really want to write anything else on immigration, undocumented workers, or political cartoons (yeah, thanks for that media smarts). I don't want to start on another newspaper article. I just want to write to write.

The past week, my life has been a giant ball of nerves, and that's not Allee-like. Homework nerves, sickness nerves, boyish nerves. They're all clumping together in the pit of my stomach. I'll probably get an ulcer. Thinking about it, nerves aren't terrible in and of themselves. They keep me on my toes. It's just when everything gets jumbled...it makes me feel like a pot of gumbo.

In happier news, I went on a Poe and pie date yesterday. I came with a can of refried beans, and ended up with a bendy calculator. Shaun and I laughed for a long time about the irony of an English department sponsored activity giving away calculators as door prizes.

How I love thee, dating. I wish there was more of you to fill my life.

Despite my gumbo-ness, life is good. I'm still the shy (ha.), awkward girl at the paper that nobody knows, but...it will...get...better.

Oh yeah, the end.

Boom.

The search for peace is one of the ultimate quests of the human soul. 
We all have highs and lows, but such times come and they usually always go. Kind neighbors assist. Beautiful sunshine brings encouragement. A good night’s sleep usually works wonders. But there are times in all of our lives when deep sorrow or suffering or fear or loneliness makes us cry out for the peace which only God Himself can bring. These are times of piercing spiritual hunger when even the dearest friends cannot fully come to our aid.-Jeffrey R. Holland

Many things have blown my little mind out of the water today, but this quote is at the top of the list. How I love the way Elder Holland uses words.

Haze of Ill

For three long days I've been walking around in a hazy, bacteria induced, throat lozenge dependent, world. I've been a functionally ill person. Yesterday, I drifted to three classes, spent four hours in the library, showed up at a news meeting in a daze sounding like a horse in labor, and went to an SI in which I was already so far gone that it probably made my quiz score worse.

The funny thing is, I don't really remember any of this. It's all blurry wreckage in my mind. I do remember walking across the quad and being tempted to lay down and fall asleep...

I have managed to pass my sickness on to three of my roommates, which frankly sucks. There's this scene in the LDS version  of Pride and Prejudice, if you live in Utah I'm sure you know it well.

At one time the producer of this movie must have been a really sick person in college, because they hit the nail on the head.



 I'm sitting on the couch, surrounded by used tissues, watching Gilmore Girls. Don't judge me.


My eyes ache, my throat burns, my head pounds. I'm staring a week's worth of garbage, wishing I had energy to move five feet and take it out.

I take vitamin C, I get enough sleep, and I eat spinach. Sickness takes no favorites.

Click.

 

For many weeks I've been entertaining the thought of buying a very nice, very expensive, very unnecessary camera. I know I'll have enough money to do it next semester. I'm not a photographer, though I wish I was. There is something so magical about a picture being able to tell a story that words can't. I think the journalist in me always wants to find that story.

However...I want to be able to eat next year, and I'm not sure what scholarships are coming my way making my decision much more of a decision.

In the end, I'll probably just be really sensible. I won't buy the camera for five years, and I'll walk around campus everyday wishing I had a camera. I'm coming to the conclusion that I'm pretty spoiled. I'm going to college almost free and yet I'm sitting here wishing for a $650 toy. Albeit, a beautiful toy.


When I really want something, I'm a person that finds out how to get it. When I wanted to be editor-in-chief, I worked for it. When I wanted scholarships, I applied until I got them. When I wanted a boyfriend I...eh, well I guess it doesn't always work.

I'll get this one way or another. I just have to figure out how.

Another consideration...I should probably figure out how to use a camera before I buy one.

Andy, you're a star

I've rediscovered my love for The Killers. I remember when I was first getting into the odd music scene around seventh grade. I told my parents that I wanted The Killers CD, I think they thought I wanted to listen to a bunch of guys in prison that screamed about murder. Not quite.


I'm grateful that my parental figures never tried to quell my eccentric taste in music. Even when I went through a Guns and Roses phase in 9th grade, they just played along knowing I would hate it later.


There's something special about The Killers though. I've been through hundreds of bands since I discovered them, but I always come back to their odd-ball lyrics and wonderful, if not slightly designless, instrumentation. 


I'm surprised that I haven't realized this before college but my being a Logophile- a lover of words- is a double edged sword. The people that hurt me that most are those who know how to use words against me. On the other hand, I'm also very receptive to positive language. I crave it. 


Today, I had an incredible run. The rain was sweet, but just light enough that it kissed my face. I was right on the side of mountain so I could smell pine trees. At home running is always such a responsibility. It's so much more open in Logan. The air feels cleaner, although I'm sure I'll question the validity of that statement in December. 


Also, I was in Logan Canyon tonight celebrating Sarah's birthday. Everything about it screamed fall. The crunching yellow leaves, the air just nippy enough to be wonderful, and the fact that there were no bugs. I love nature. 


I sat and looked at the stars for a while and wondered how so many people can't believe in God. It overwhelms me. There are hundreds of tiny things that happen to me everyday that reaffirm that my Savior is standing by me. Of course, I haven't been in the shoes of others. I just wish they could feel what I do daily. Resounding happiness and peace. Where would I be without it?

Comfort Songs

The past few days my mood as been unfulfilled...like I'm missing something. My Ipod has literally been stuck on these songs. I can't describe it, but when sometimes music hugs me. It tells me that everything will fall into place.

The unfulfilled playlist:

Cue the Sun- Daphne Loves Derby

I Will Follow You Into the Dark-Death Cab for Cutie

Pollen and Salt-Daphne Loves Derby

We Are Going to be Friends-The White Stripes

Never Say Never-The Fray

Boston-Augustana

Some random Iron and Wine 

The Freshman- Jay Brannan

Joshua Radin 

I'm curious as to what songs have the same effect on others. Usually I don't ask this, but leave me a comment. In my creative arts, we've been talking about what music does to the brain. Depending on personalities, different music speaks to people in different ways. It intrigues me. 

Plus, I'm always up for something new. 

Clean

It's one of those wonderful Logan days when the rain drizzles for hours, and then leaves the air feeling so clean and cool that I wish I was running for miles and miles, rather than being perched in front of my laptop screen for hours reading an e-textbook. Boo technology.

There's just something about rain that clears my soul a little. Earlier today, I wrote the following in my journal (Yes, my non-public, all-to-myself-except for-at-this-moment journal) : "I feel like a thousand elephants have had a fun little stampede on my body. My eyes itch, my head hurts, and my mouth feels like the Sahara desert."

I've had a general air of nastiness about me today, but sitting on my bed with the window open watching the setting sun play against the dingy white walls of my room makes everything...better. I'm a writer without words.

I'm a blog stalker. I can count on one hand the number of people who read this blog. I've found three or four really incredible blogs this week and without exception, every one of them has written something to the effect of what I said above.

"Nobody really reads this"

"I only write this for my family"

"I'm sure no more than ten people have read this"

It's eye opening. Such good writing should be showed to the world. Or maybe not. For now, I'll just be the creep who randomly knows 1001 random facts about your life. It's like Facebook, but better because good blogging requires talent.

Facebook, not so much. It's a funny thing. I had Facebook before almost anybody else, but I deactivated it a year and a half ago, right as it was catching on. Except for that first week of withdrawals (If you've done it you know what I mean) I've never been tempted it get it back.

 I much prefer poking people in real life than on the internet.

The Girls of 203

Kicking some BYU booty. 

Can you say "Aggie"?

Jerking

Wah wah wah wah (I'm a jerk)
Why I trippin you ain't even do nothin (I'm a jerk)
I'm a jerk I'm ain't neva lie
But aye do me a favor call me jerk one more time(I'm a jerk!)
I know
I'm a jerk! (I know) [x6]

Jerk jerk jerk (jerkin)
Jerk jerk jerk(jerkin) [x15]


I haven't been the best person today. Sometimes I just want to slap myself. 


I'ma, I'ma, I'm jerk.