Monday, February 28, 2011

Our poor children

A texting conversation (textation?) between Allee and Alyssa (who are much too far apart for their own good):

Alyssa: Will you and Tisha be at school this weekend?

Allee: Why?

Alyssa: Kristen told me that your spring break is different than ours so we were just going to come see you. But Tisha just informed me that it's the same, so i'll see you anyways.

Allee: Deal, but you still need to spend a weekend here.

Allee: and anyways is not a word.

Allee: And i'm sorry I forgot to text you back yesterday, I fell asleep.

Allee: And I'm naming my son Llavar*

Alyssa: Yeah, I was breaking against the english norm :)

Allee: Just don't start using "alot".

Alyssa:May zues strike me with a lightening bolt first.

Allee: Llavar...frediko...absolm...and a daughter named Hagath. Sick of my texts yet?

Alyssa: No, i love them with every fiber of my being. Every. Fiber. And I want jarryd to have brown eyes.

Allee: We will have the best children ever! They might hate us vicariously through their facebook statuses though...

Allee: And I want a daughter named Willow!

Alyssa: By then reality will be obsolete anyways (haha) and you can't marry your stepfather. It's illegal.

Allee: I won't marry Will Smith, I'll just find a hunky, black TV star who stars in second-rate films and we will have a son with great hair who is a karate master and friends with j beibs and a daughter who has the ability to rap "it's a hard knock life". IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?

Alyssa: That sounds perfect. Hot black men are the best. So lets say I marry this names jarryd, that means I would be living in mt. pleasant, smaller than Ephraim. Yeah, I'll just marry jimmer.

Allee: Back to jarryd in a said the j-word, do you really want to get me started?

Alyssa: You disapprove?

Allee: I hate him. The most overrated player I've ever seen. Not to even start on all the stupid BYU fans  that idol him. They treat him like the Israelites treated their golden statues. He probably won't even make it to the NBA...if he does he'll be a let down. Also, who names their son Jimmer. It sounds like something I'd do to a broken lock. Even his last name...fredette? Like a small french boy who wears pink dresses. I can't wait until we "jimmer" them in the NCAA tourney. Number one seed my bum.

Allee: Now tell me more about what's his pleasant? I'm sorry, you'll have to live in Emery for eternity.

Allee: Xanadu! I have to have a daughter/son named xanadu!

Alyssa: I'm not really into jimmer. I will definitely haveto babysit your kids, especially little Xanadu. I'll tell you more about mt. pleasant  boy when I see you. :) And please, no eternal emery.

Allee: Wait...he's real? I thought we were using hypothetical names. Mind blown.

Alyssa: Haha, nope. He's definitley real. My imaginary boyfriend's name is Esteban.

Allee: I have never seen this side of you before. What a player. Look what Ephraim is doing to you. Before I know it, you'll have a sleeve of tattoos and a boyfriend named bud who drives trucks. Hypothetically of course.

Alysaa: Sleeve of tatoos? I think you're confusing Ephraim with...another place.

The step-dad comment had me lost too.

In case you were wondering, we confuse people in real life too.

*Many years ago, while working concessions at the University of Utah, Alyssa and Allee met a half-deaf  90 year-old man who did indeed want popcorn. His name was Llavar. He become the epicenter for many nights of earsplitting laughter,

Friday, February 25, 2011


After the spray paint and the stencils,
After the many trips to Wal-Mart,
After the dorm-storming in sub-zero weather,
After the DVD making, flyer cutting nights.

Elections are over. I don't know whether to feel elated or disappointed.
If anything, I feel more a part of my school than I did before.

More thoughts on the elections later.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Call me the blur.

I think.
In the past 7 days.
I've felt every.
that ever.

I'll only speak of one of them.

A few weeks ago, I really wanted to do a story on the 5 Browns. They'll be in Logan tomorrow, playing a sold-out show that I didn't get tickets to. Bitter? Yes. Even though it was my own fault.

I got the assignment, set up an interview and life is looking quite peachy. Then, their parents drove off a cliff. I'm not making light of that. Every time I got a news update, my heart broke a little. The siblings are still in my thoughts and prayers.

It's a Thursday, and a few days have passed since the incident, although they're still all over national news. Even the Times picked it up. I knew I wasn't going to get the interview, but I figured I'd e-mail their manager just in case. He gave me this strange thing resembling hope. Looking back on it, I wish he would have just told me I wasn't going to get it. I waited out the long weekend, thinking that I would could still live out my dream of interviewing the Browns. It's something that I had wanted since I read their biography, which by the way, is excellent.

I shouldn't have sat around all weekend. Not literally, I was busy with ASUSU election stuff, but article wise. Even though everything was stacked against me, I wanted the interview so badly, I just assumed I would get it.


Monday, about 3:00 got a phone call. Nope, didn't get it. From this point on just imagine me frantically trying to get interviews, e-mailing, calling, everything. No responses and I don't blame them.

Tuesday night. I have a deadline the next day, but I'm at a loss. So I sit on my bed and eat tapioca pudding.

Wednesday morning. I haven't missed a deadline because of my own stupidity all year. Wednesday is my busiest day of the week, and I have a deadline at 4:00. I hate myself for about an hour. I go to four of my classes, stress out. Take a midterm. Feel like a lost and confused puppy.

Around 1:30, something hits me. I don't know what, but I know that somehow, someway, this article is going to get done.

I drive to the Theater where I've called and e-mailed multiple times. The doors are locked, and I'm starting to feel discouraged again. I walk into the ticket office next door, where a woman half my size stares me down until I tell her what I want. She takes me to a weird little office, where I meet the programming director AND the man who won't respond to my calls or e-mails.

Get the interviews, rush home. Finish half the article. Go to primary voting announcements. Come back. Finish the article.

I pulled together an entire story in three hours. Even though my procrastination is nothing to be proud of, I was pretty giddy.

I can't wait to write news.

I should mention, while I'm at it that if I adored the 5 Browns before, I idolize them now. They are incredible, in more ways than one.

(Excuse all the tense switching. I'm not a good writer today)

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Thank You Gmail.

At 13 years old, in the sad, dark days prior to Gmail, I created a Hotmail account. I think I must have given my e-mail address to every website you should never give your e-mail address to, because I opened it today (as I do two or thee times a year) and found this.

Once I tried to clean it, but Hotmail makes you do it one page at a time. After page 387, I got a tiny bit frustrated.

If  you ever need an Abercrombie and Fitch ad, $12 million dollars from the prince of Kyjanistan, or a 30-day trial of Netflix, let me know. I got connections.

Thankfully, I  now have Gmail. In case you've never heard me sing the praises of Google, you should. On second thought, I shouldn't advertise my singing voice.

Gmail, thank you for your filters and tagging and spam protection and your beautiful themes. And for your Gchat and free calling when it's 2:00 AM and I can't find my phone.

Love, love, love.

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Put my dreams in bucket and throw it out the window

College Bucket List:

  1. Go to the Hot Springs
  2. Buy this camera
  3. Walk through the cemetery after midnight
  4. Become an editor at the Statesman
  5. Visit Old Ephraim's Grave
  6. Get an SPJ award
  7. Obtain True Aggie Status
  8. Participate in a mini--triathlon
  9. Eat at Hamilton's
  10. Get to the top floor of the business building
  11. Drive to California
  12. Hike the Grand Canyon
  13. Dye my hair
  14. Get Glasses
  15. Get Midnight Pizza at the Junction
  16. Read 15 new books from the Classic Novel List 
  17. Clean the sink at Angie's
  18. Learn (another) language
  19. Have something posted on MILA
  20. Make homemade pasta
  21. Write an anonymous love note
  22. Finish a crossword puzzle from the newspaper
  23. Sled down Old Main
  24. Got to Tony's Grove and roast hot dogs
  25. Visit Willow Park Zoo
  26. Mountain Bike
  27. Drive the Idaho Loop
  28. Get published somewhere besides the Statesman
  29. Hike the Jardine Juniper Trail and see the tree
  30. Hack the 2 hour hike into the Mount Naomi Wilderness
  31. Go to Peach Days
  32. Road trip to Southern Utah
  33. Hike the Narrows
  34. Kiss in the Rain
  35. Go to the Hunger Banquet

Anything else, especially Logan-wise, I'm missing?

 Mountain Wilderness

Friday, February 11, 2011

Giving all my secrets away

The title in no way means I'm a fan of the overplayed OneRepublic Song. I'll admit, I'm a sucker for the cello in the first 10 seconds, but it's all downhill from there.

My week, however excellent, has been riddled by fear. Pluralize that. Fears. A general philosophy I carry into life is focus on now and glance a step ahead every few hours. I always figured that if I'm doing what love, and doing it well, that life will lay a nice little path in front of me. It might have a 7% incline, but I can take it slow.

Too bad my pretty little path has been run over by bulldozer. Well, maybe not yet but they mailed me a warning.

I know that eventually I'll be doing exactly what I want to do. I know I have control. I know that fear is antithesis of faith.

One of the only things I remember poignantly from 8th grade is a poster that sat on the left side of my diet-soda obsessed health teacher:

"Worrying is like rocking in a rocking chair. It gives you something to do, but doesn't get you anywhere."

In the words of OutKast, "Tru Dat". (Not that I listen to OutKast. Google, baby)

That was a slight rant. Ranting blogs are one of my pet peeves, so I'll stop.

In case you haven't been reading this blog, I love, love, love, lists. Love.

These are my not so deep and dark secrets:
  • Occasionally, on the bus I find myself toe tapping to a country song (Don't worry, I stop as soon as I notice)
  • However disgusting, smelly, and odd tasting they are I really like Ranch Corn Nuts. They're almost worth the bad breath
  • I like boys with very obvious talents
  • I also like lurps
  • Anything that I do well, I see as my new worst so I can work above it
  • Sometimes I listen to Celtic music
  • Also, about twice a year I listen to Kayne West
  • I don't like the idea of my parents dying. That's not really a secret, I'm sure most people feel the same way. Mostly I'm scared of them being gone when I'm too young to deal with it. 
  •  Except for running outside, I hate working out. I have to force myself three times a week. 
  • I don't own one pair of cute shoes
  • Unless they're mine, I really don't like animals. I also have a bad track record. I killed my fish and lost my dog. 
  • My writing hasn't improved that much in three years. It's sad, and I'm working to change it
  • No matter how good of shape I'm in, I will never be a size 1. Or 3. Or 5. Etc, etc. 
  • Make me laugh and you've won my heart
  • I could eat pizza, pasta, and orange juice for months
  • I sleep a lot, at regular times. I'm rarely in bed after midnight.
  •  I'm a crier 
  • I've seen every episode of gilmore girls. When she's not doing the nasty, I want to be Rory. 
  • In three years I'll be as good of an editor as mine have been to me
  • Even though I'm always looking to improve, I like who I am. It took me 5 years to get here, so I'm not going to let anybody blow it.

After reading Dusty's column of valentines songs, I had to look this up. I'll say upfront,  I am not a fan of most music videos. This is beautiful and heart wrenching, all in seven minutes.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Take me to such great heights, please.

Sometimes, after a 16 hour day on campus I come home and curl in a ball, letting iron & wine take me to somewhere out of my reach.

Eventually, I sit up and realize I have a deadline. But even if it's a tiny piece of my day it allows my brain to forget statistics, campaigning, the statesman....

and for a few minutes, I can finally breathe for what seems like the first time since 8:15 A.M.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Save the chil...I mean, prairie dogs.

Read This

So....we're spending millions of dollars to save rodents that destroy golf courses, and cutting higher education budgets all over the state.

But really, it's so outlandish that it's hilarious. Go read it. If you get the chance, pick up a copy of the Des News to see the picture that accompanies it. Where can I buy a shirt (or an expression)  like this? I think a prairie dog might wither away under that glare.

Luke Zitting, of Murray, speaks with Rep. Tim Cosgrove at the Utah State Capitol in Salt Lake City on  Wednesday, Feb. 2, 2011. Luke and his brother, Paul, are attempting to push a bill that would make Feb. 2 Prairie Dog Day.
Mike Terry, Deseret News

For my entertainment...