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Showing posts with label true story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label true story. Show all posts

my ultimate shortcoming (is not making puns)

Surely, you will have noticed a few things about this photo:

  1. I have awesome, adorable friends.
  2. Someone is wearing a bright yellow hat in the bottom right corner.
  3. It's getting dark outside.
  4. I am a whole head shorter than everyone.
Well let me tell you--you're not the first to notice.  For as long as I can remember, my identifier has been "the cute little short girl".  Hey, I know it could be worse, but it certainly has its drawbacks.

For starters, even though technically I'm an "adult", I still think everyone around me is older than me, because, well, they do look older than me.  It's something I can't help, like I have some kind of filter that is preventing me from owning that I am indeed older (I believe I will experience this same sensation when I am middle aged).

Unfortunately I don't usually gravitate towards dressing "like a teenager", so that doesn't help.  Let's be honest here--I dress a cross between a six year old and a thirty year old.  At best, I can accomplish what Rachel Berry would call "Sexy schoolgirl librarian chic".

And the jokes.  The jokes just keep on coming.  Everyone has that one thing they can't escape (unless drastic measures are taken--in my case, wearing five inch heels every day for the rest of my life) and that friends, family, acquaintances, and complete strangers have no problem bringing up on a daily basis.

The worst part?  To avoid the humiliation and insecurity inflicted by others, I often try to beat people to the jokes.  I reason, if someone is going to poke fun at me, it might as well be me, right?  It's become a habit, one I loath, because in honesty, it just makes people think I'm okay with them putting me down all the time.  Self-deprecation is all fun and charming until you start believing it yourself.

This is why I am making a pact with myself.  From this day on, I will not sell myself short.  I may be small, but I have a hell of a lot of opinions, plans, and dreams--more than some six-foot people out there, I'd say.  The next time someone mentions my height or the smallness of my feet, I am going to either:

  1. Smile, and change the subject.
  2. Tell them to go away.
  3. Punch them in the face.
Since I am soon going to be in a position where I will literally know no one, I think I will try to avoid options 2 and 3.  Otherwise I have a feeling I would have a hard time making new friends...

That being said, I encourage you to not sell yourself short (literally, figuratively, or both)!

expecto patronum

Scotland, July 2nd, 2009
Less than an hour ago, I was stupefied by an otherwise harmless Facebook app.  I was about to "discover my patronus" when it demanded, "Think of a memory--the happiest you can remember."  I quit the application abruptly, rather flustered.  What was my happiest memory?  Surely, I must have one...  And yet nothing immediately came to mind.
I racked my brain.  The first to crop up weren't quite specific memories.  I thought of reading Harry Potter for the first time.  I thought of late nights sewing and the feeling of determination and bliss it evoked.  I remembered a non-descript afternoon feeling particularly content while folding laundry.  I remembered seeing the stars on the beach for the first time--I mean, really seeing them--when I arrived in Hawaii (also for the first time) late at night.  I thought of holidays spent with family, talking and eating.  And yet, not a concrete, hands-down, happiest memory.  Because fortunately, I have an incredibly happy life.  How could I pick one, overwhelmingly happy moment?
Then I thought of my last day in Paris, when we went to Montmartre.  Yes, this must be my happiest memory, I thought excitedly.  Although I didn't take any pictures (it was literally the only place I didn't), I remember the day so perfectly (and often daydream about it).  Walking around aimlessly, looking at the artists at work (I bought a lovely painting/sketch), being given little chocolates in the chocolate shop, and my favorite--drinking chocolat chaud under the tent of an outdoor cafĂ© (of the restaurant where we later had the most wonderful onion soup) in the pouring rain.  
Still, was that the happiest I've ever been?  I focused on Europe, on the places I went.  Then suddenly, it hit me, and I started to tear up.  This, I realized, was my happiest memory:
We were driving from Scotland to England.  Thanks to my obsessive documenting (although I do remember it very clearly), I actually have the moment caught precisely in my travel journal...
July 2nd, 2009
Just now back on the bus I had a lovely moment, an ultra-content moment.  I got my iPod out and clicked shuffle and Rogue Wave came on.  I listened as I looked out the window and heard the lyrics "Screw California" and was thinking a bit and remembered I'm due in California for Yearbook Camp quite soon--and this information just exploded in my mind, because this is not a dream, I am in Scotland.  I have a wonderful life back in the States.
I think being so separated from my life at home has made an impression on me.  I think this a very good thing, especially because I've never been ungrateful before and yet I feel so different about my life somehow.  I'm not sure how that works.  I guess it's a bit like stepping back and giving things a good look--It looks good.  I have so much to look forward to... from Yearbook to someday studying abroad (which I now am positive I will give a go at, possibly in Dublin if I don't get much better with my French).
I just want to run around the castles and up the hills all my life, with the sky laughing so much it cries.  I am very happy, especially after seeing yet another poster for Harry Potter & HBP.  
Until later--
And that, my friends, is my happiest memory, because it marked a small, yet greatly significant realization and opened my heart to a world of countless opportunities of happiness.
What's yours?



Hi, I'm Kaylie. I'm not a Mormon.

*Disclaimer:  I have many Mormon friends and I love them dearly.  I am not posting this to be offensive!  I would be lying if Mormonism wasn't a huge factor in growing up where I live.  Dahlya posted the other day about how Mormonism is currently in the spotlight due to the musical Book of Mormon, so I thought I'd share my experience with the religion.

"Are you Mormon?"

I remember the first time I was asked this.  I was in daycare.  We were about to watch a movie.  I think it was one of the Home Alones.  I had never heard the word before in my life.

"I don't know.  I don't think so.  I will ask my mom," I replied.

A few months, or perhaps a year later, one of the daycare ladies (who was very good at French braiding my hair and therefore whom I liked) gave me a ring.  It was small, silver, and had a green shield pendant with CTR inscribed on it.  It was a ring, so I wore it.  I was probably six.

When my mom noticed me wearing it, I don't think she was angry, but I remember feeling embarrassed that I had no idea what it meant further than "Choose the right".  So it had begun.

This was not the last time I was asked if I was Mormon.  When I started second grade at my new elementary school, the first thing other students would ask me was "Are you Mormon?"  By this time I knew what it meant, but it wasn't until recently that I've understood the religion in more depth (and I know for a fact I will never truly understand every aspect).  At the time, Mormonism to me was, Something everyone else was; something I was not.

Growing up in a Mormon community had its definite perks.  Most Mormon kids were "good kids" and their moms always brought in awesome homemade treats.  I remember one mom even made individual cakes for my mom's Valentine's Day party for her class.  No complaints there.

Yet, behind all the tasty perks, there was a definite feeling of being an outsider.  I am completely comfortable in my own beliefs now, but growing up it was slightly intimidating being surrounded by so many people who were so confident in their beliefs (which I would say is one of Mormons' most admirable traits).  It is in the human condition to want to belong, and I didn't.  Yes, I know I wasn't the only one, but sometimes it could feel that way.  Until late elementary school, I spent most of my time trying to fit in with my Mormon friends.  I would accept their invites to their Ward for craft sessions (I remember telling my mom, "So THIS is how they are so crafty!  They learn it at church!") and when I realized how many rules they had, I began to feel like I didn't have enough (which I eventually realized was ridiculous of me to think).

By the time elementary school ended, I had settled into a non-Mormon group of friends in time for the already awkward experience of middle school.  At least I wasn't alone anymore.  Did I mention that the elementary school and junior high school I went to is separated by only a Mormon church?  Yep, you better believe it.

Well, junior high is awkward.  End of that story.  On to high school!

High school in my hometown is not the typical high school experience, especially dating-wise.  Mormons aren't allowed to date until they are sixteen, so when they do, they go ALL OUT.  I was never fortunate to be invited on an epic Mormon date, but I have heard stories from my friends... And they certainly do go all out.  Cue the "feeling left out" and "everyone is taken or Mormon"!  (Don't worry, I got over it... Eventually.)  Once they are allowed to date, most Mormons (at least, this is what I observed in many of my peers) go on dating sprees.  Like, really cool, creative group dating sprees.

The thing that always confused me is that this is greatly encouraged.  Mormon teenagers are advised to date around and not get very serious until they are ready to get married (which is often at a relatively young age).  The hardest part is when you're a non-Mormon and 75% of the boys you fall for are 100% Mormon.  Because yes, they are nice guys.  But the thing about Mormon boys is that even Mormon girls know (probably much better, because they were brought up with this mindset) not to get too attached because boys leave for their two-year missions three years after they are finally allowed to date.  I wish someone had explained this all to me before I started liking boys.  Oh well.

Mormon girls dress modestly (and really well, I might add), which is something I don't think twice about here, but in other parts of the country this would be unusual, especially in a place as hot as Arizona.  Being crafty and modest myself, I have often been an "assumed Mormon."  Sure, I wear modest clothes (that I sometimes sew myself), bake homemade treats, and am usually in good spirits.  In that aspect, people think I could pass for a Mormon (which I find flattering, I must say, because Mormons are so hip).  However, when they are in AP Government with me and realize how un-Mormon my viewpoints are... Then they start to understand that I am far from it.

I have nothing against Mormonism or the people who practice it.  If I did, I probably wouldn't have spent the time and energy to write this blogpost and I probably wouldn't have as many good friends that are Mormon.  Although I know it's not the religion for me, I will go as far to say that it has impacted my life, not only by being handed a CTR ring or Book of Mormon (because that's happened as well).  Through my experiences growing up, I have had the opportunity to not only deepen my understanding of a religion that is misunderstood by much of the rest of the world, but to strengthen and question my own belief system.  For that, I am eternally grateful for the Mormons in my life.

apparently facebook knows what's on my mind at all times...

Darren Criss, college, and adorable DIY weddings.

Can't argue with this, because I may have driven to the Neighborhood WalMart Friday after school to pick up the latest issue of GQ because Darren Criss is featured in one of the spreads...(IN WEDDING ATTIRE, NO LESS!)  Also, I am acting freakishly excited about college to the point that I am willingly taking my online placement exams already.  (The verdict is in--I am not as bad at French as I thought and I am just as bad at math as I thought.)

Yep, Facebook knows what's up.

annoying

Ireland 2009
You know the feeling you get when the person who gets on your nerves the most...well, gets on your nerves?  Not a good feeling.  But there is something worse, I think. 

Today is one of those days when the person I am most annoyed with is myself.  What do you do when this happens, you ask?  Well, I didn't know either, so I just wallowed in my annoyance, reading old Word documents like I do every six months or so.  As I was reading some old poems I wrote forever and a half ago, I found something to focus my angst on, something to truly be annoyed about, perhaps something even to be angry about.  Okay, maybe angry isn't the right word.  It made me sad:  I haven't written a poem in years.  So I wrote one just now about not writing one for so long.  Here it is...

drinking up the excess
i feel parched by the past

did i lose touch of myself
or was it just a phase
of phrases i thought i knew
the meaning reversed?
dried up words
shriveled up with disuse
imagination took a wrong turn
and hasn’t found its way home


Are you ever annoyed with yourself?  What do you do to feel better?  Am I asking too many questions?

small feet awareness

My small feet...in Scotland
So, I have small feet.  When I meet someone new, unfailingly they remind me. "Geesh!  You have small feet."  "What size shoe do you wear?"  To my dismay, this is the ultimate ice-breaker.

More often than I would like to admit, I have had to tell someone under the age of ten years that I wear size 3 in children's shoes.  Even more embarressingly, they usually reply with something along the lines of, "I wear size 6!"  In fact, this happened just today.

You can see why what I am going to say now makes sense for someone who loves shoes.

I absolutely loath shopping for shoes. 

It is a degrading experience for me to wander into the children's department in Nordstrom or Target, but it is all I have.  It was one of my darkest hours when I went into Stride Rite while looking for comfortable shoes for my trip to Europe a couple of summers ago.  Stride Rite, you guys.  You can't come back from this stuff.

When I have my sister with me, I use her as a cover.  "Do you like these, Kendal?" I ask from across the shoe display.  I hold up the 3248039th bedazzled sneaker I have encountered in my quest of age-appropriate shoe options while I quickly scan the scarce selection of "classy" kids shoes.  When I am with friends, I usually just avoid shoes completely or talk loudly about trying to find my sister some shoes for her birthday.

Oh goodie, these come in my size!
 I am surprised I haven't chucked a pair of sparkly, glow-in-the dark, or heavily beaded shoes across a store yet, or better, through a glass window.  Maybe that would make me feel better.  I could even sing,

"I bust the windows out your store
and no, it didn't make my feet larger
I know I'll always have these tiny feet
but right now I just want to scream"

(Okay, I have been watching a lot of Glee.  Just watched this episode the other day.)

Because of this, it has always been a dream of mine to start a line of shoes for fabulous women with small feet.  "Equal opportunity for Cute Shoes" would be our motto.  Part of me wants to make the shoes specifcally for sizes 3-5 so that, you know, those normal-sized people can feel the disappointment in spotting wonderfully adorable, lovely shoes (see below) and realizing that they don't come in their size.  Whoops.  Sorry!

I'm so mean.  But it's something I feel passionately about for some silly reason.

senior citizen

(photo)

Senior year means a lot of things:  applications, college visits, suspicious-looking envelopes from your dream college that end up being a brochure (gah!), abbreviated schedules (hello three classes and yearbook all afternoon), quick trips to Sprouts for deli sandwiches during lunch, late nights doing homework not because you have a huge load but because you almost forgot about it completely, Prom dates (or lack thereof), and don't forgot such shenanigans as pranking fast food restaurants and telling Village Inn it's your birthday when it's really not. 

Yes, sometimes it's a lot, but mostly it's just a whole lot of fun.  Yet tonight after Chipotle and No Strings Attached with a bestie (aka best thing ever) I realized one thing very important about this year:  after three years of high school, I feel like I have finally completely (or so I think--let's remember that us teenagers think we know everything, but alas, we don't) grasped how the whole awkward, heartbreaking, completely embarrassing business works.  Or, at least I've learned a few things.  Here they are, in no particular order:

  • Never take yourself too seriously.  It physically pains me when I see someone taking him or herself too seriously.  If you don't know how to laugh at yourself, you have a long road ahead of you (and I will be one of the people on the sidelines laughing for you at your ridiculousness--sorry!). 

  • Actually study. No, really.  I really should have gone in to get help at lunch with Geometry, Algebra 2, and Trig instead of getting as much face time with my current crush (that I probably embarrassed myself in front of anyway) or my current book.  I always ended up having to go in at the end of the quarter anyway to make up for all the confusion that built up (me and numbers are not great pals). No crush, however adorable and charming, is worth being confused.  But perhaps the book...

  • Cool is subjective.  To me, to be cool is to be intelligent, witty, humble, compassionate, and stylish.  Never think you aren't cool, because while others may think you aren't, the people you think are cool will think that you are too. 

  • Find others who appreciate what you have to offer.  Don't waste your time and energy on people who take advantage of your kindness and good nature.  Spread the love, but know who are your acquaintances and who are your true friends.  A true friend will appreciate the effort you put into your relationship (and themed birthday parties) and reciprocate (and let you help with theirs).

  • High school boys are stupid, dumb, immature, and clueless.  It's not that I haven't met lovely boys in my high school experience (I have) or that I haven't crushed majorly on perfectly lovely and attractive boys (maybe once).  But you know what?  Even the lovely ones are stupid, dumb, immature, and clueless.  I know plenty of girls who are talented, beautiful, independent, and creative (and have blogs) that any guy in their right mind would be lucky to have.  This is where the stupid, dumb, immature and clueless kicks in.  However sensitive a boy seems, these are not the kinds of things they look for at our age.    I also know that high school boys are something  I never ever want to have to deal with again.  So I'm not.  I think about a month or two into senior year I gave up.  Giving up has never felt so good!  I've had boyfriends in the past, and while they were fun at the time, I kind of cringe at that time in my life, being clueless and slightly immature myself (but never stupid or dumb).  The thing is, although awkward high school relationships build character and a hilarious repertoire of adolescent anecdotes, they mean and amount to nothing after a year, or even in some cases, a mere month, of mourning their eminent demise.  So don't worry about getting one so much.  If it happens, it happens.  Crushing can be a lot of fun, but it's called crushing for a reason.  Don't be surprised when you're crushed into a pulp.  Remember that true happiness is from within.  Don't rely on others to be the source of your happiness, or you will forget the simple things that bring you joy and unabashed bliss (like crafting or spilling your heart to the whole wide blogosphere).

  • Don't be afraid to speak up.  I still struggle with this, because I have this bad habit of thinking what I have to say isn't valuable enough to vocalize.  Clearly, I do not have this problem with writing, but I digress.  You may often regret saying too much, but at least you didn't say too little.

So there it is, what I think I've learned.  Here's to this fall, when I will undoubtedly embarrass myself multiple times, desperately want a bearded Portland man for my boyfriend, and possibly perfect the art of procrastination.  Yet that's the thing you must learn above all--you never stop learning.

the spirit of adventure

To ask my date to Sadie's a week or so ago, I drew a house on white cardboard, cut it out, tied balloons (with the letters of my name written on them in sharpie) onto its "chimney" and stapled a note onto it that read, "Adventure is out there!  Are you UP to going to Sadie's?"

Lucky for me, I found a Sprinkles box on the door step a week later.
Yum!

The dance should be a lot of fun!  I can't believe this will be my second to last high school dance...  I'm getting old.

hamlet throwdown

Today in English we had a "Hamlet Throwdown" in which we fought to the death...with our "To be, or not to be" parodies.  In spite of the fact I started mine at eleven o'clock last night, I got second place!  Considering I almost forgot to do it, until I saw someone post something on Facebook about it, it was a lovely surprise.  Here it is (based on a true story/my life/right now):

To blog, or not to blog: That is the question
Whether it’s nobler in the mind to suffer
The focus and boredom of uninterrupted homework
Or to ignore a sea of Followers
And by neglecting lose them? To reblog: to post;
No more; and by a post to say we end
The overload of the thousand pictures
That Tumblr is heir to, 'tis a dream
Devoutly to be wish'd. To reblog, to post;
To post: perchance to inspire: ay, there's the rub;
For in that post what comments may come
When we have published this edited draft,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That gives tolerance to so long a homework assignment;
For who would bear the cofactors and determinants of Trigonometry,
The pain of French conjugations
The task of memorizing court cases and their decisions
When he himself might log into Blogger or Tumblr
To share his thoughts? who would want,
To grunt and sweat under a blogless life,
But that the dread of procrastination,
The undiscover'd blogs from which
No reader returns, weakens the will to stop
And makes us rather blog and blog and blog
Than actually accomplish something productive?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of creativity
Is overcome with the pale cast of responsibility
And enterprises of imagination and wily
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.—Log in now!
My fair blog! Procastination, in thy actions
Be all my posts remember'd.

i'm in love

...with Layers Cake Shop.

The sprinkles.

The cupcake cups.

The edible glitter.

Oh the baking possibilites!

I'm officially ready for holiday season.

(Yeah, I know it's only August.  So what?)

P.S.  It rained just now.  Hard.  Rain in the desert is a beautiful thing.  I'm quite glad the monsoons have finally decided to arrive.  Way to be fashionably late, weather!

i miss you, plaid jacket. (but not so much you, biology homework)

 Do you ever feel like you're stuck in a rut with your wardrobe?  Well, for someone like me, it's a sad situation, because I love using clothes to show whatever crazy thing I'm into at the moment, whether it be fifties housewife (usually the case) or cowboys (I found some boots in Flag--sooooo excited to wear them).

  It's not so much a rut as an impatience.  Can't it be cooler out, already?  All I want to do is wear tights and cardigans and jackets and headbands (Maybe I am just experiencing GG withdrawal?).  Sometimes I start getting dressed and I realize that I am wearing 3492374938 more layers than is acceptable for summer in Arizona.  I do love the warm weather, but I think I love dressing for Fall and Winter just as much, if not more.  I think that I might be able to weather (pun intended) living somewhere else (like Portland, yeah!) with cold winters for this reason alone.  As long as I can wear some chunky sweaters and hats, life is good. 

just hear me out

All my life I have been really short for my age.  This has worked out okay for me until these last few years. I don't mind being called short, but once I hear the words "little" or "middle schooler" I tend to be thrown over the edge.  I'm 17 and the world seems to think I'm 12!  I know what you're going to say.  "Be thankful.  When you're older you'll look younger than your friends."  Well, try to walk in my shoes (and yes, they are abnormally small, thanks for noticing).  Do you think it feels good to be called "a baby" when you're almost 18?  Do you think it feels great to hear, "You don't look old enough" to be in high school, to be driving, ect. when in the next few months you'll be applying for college?

I consider myself to be a pretty confident person, but constantly hearing these things really gets me down.  So next time you meet someone new, don't think their miniature size is a good ice breaker.  If they are anything like me (and I speak for all short people trying to grow "up"), they don't find it flattering to be mistaken as a middle-schooler.

Thanks!

mes reves...

In my dreams, I am in France. Or at least I would be if I had control over my humdrum dreams. Instead, I am humoring myself by watching French movies! Other than watching Amelie for the umpteenth time, I have watched Pierott le Fou and Coco Before Chanel.

Pierott le Fou was a very dramatic film, as well as very chic--there was a lot of "despair", "hope", violence, and deceit, as well as fabulous outfits.  I had never seen a movie with Anna Karina, although I had read allusions to her killer style. I need to watch more of her movies, as well as more of Jean-Luc Godard's, who directed.  Apparently they were married!  And one of his films was banned by the French government.  Also, he is considered one of the founders of the French New Wave.  Who knew?  I like trying to get the whole story of things.


Coco Before Chanel was wonderful.  For some reason, I got really choked up at the end.  I feel like I owe so much to a woman who just wanted to feel comfortable in the clothes she wore.  What a revolutionary!  I think of all the beautiful and magnificant pieces of clothing that are being constructed today, and they all have such humble and simple beginnings.  I have a secret:  I've tried to leave this dream in my more naive days, but I once felt that I was destined to become a fashion designer.  I don't know how it even came about, I just remember it being so obvious at the time.  Still a part of me finds an unusual amount of happiness confined in my room with a pair of scissors, a sewing machine, and a seam ripper--my favorite tools.  Now I don't have a single clue what I want to become.  Actually, I have a million clues, but they all lead to different directions!  Life is beautiful and frustrating and slightly terrifying--but always lovable.



By the way, Audrey Tautou is officially one of my favorite actresses. She is like a modern-day Audrey Hepburn!

new years resolutions: five months later

So, almost half of the year has gone by. How incredibly exciting and terrifying is that? Life has this cunning way of sneaking by time right under my nose. It's been wonderful, regardless. Life just gets better and better. I can only hope I am too!

So, for starters, I have been sewing up my own clothes in lieu of shopping, starting with this dress.  Here are some examples:
This dress was (believe it or not) my fifth grade Halloween costume at one time.  I altered it as a halter dress so it still fits me.  For the record, that year I was Nancy Drew.  Little did I know then that seven years later I would strive to be Nancy every day...
This is the dress I made over spring break with the fabric my dear friend Rachel gave to me for my birthday!  And yes, the hat is necessary (as hats usually are). 

I made this top with some old 70's material I found in a tub in a closet at my grandma's.  (My great-grandma went through a phase where she would just bring over boxes of old stuff--score, right?)

 My latest sewing project took place a few nights ago--I finally put my Portland fabric to use! 

Although I haven't used a pattern since sixth grade for my Harry Potter cloak (oh yes), the other week I was given this magic at my mom's relay for life team's garage sale:

Two HUGE tubes of vintage patterns.  So my Portland skirt is the product of (loosely) following the pattern on the very far right.  I don't take direction well when it comes to sewing, but I now have two tubs of endless inspiration!  Life is sweet.

But I have a confession.  You know that garage sale I mentioned?  Just so happens that the parents of one of the team members (coincidentally my awesome 6th grade math teacher), were getting rid of everything in their house (where the sale was at) before moving in an old folks home.  Just so happens this woman's mother kept ALL of her and her children's clothes from EVER. 

And just so happens I ended up going home with a few bag fulls of vintage clothes for under $20.  But can you blame me?  At the time I thought I was in a dream.  A miraculous, wonderful, lovely dream. It was pure joy, being surrounded by so much old stuff on a beautiful Saturday morning. 

So I broke my first resolution slightly.  Although I have to say--hey, the money went to charity.  And isn't that my second resolution?  To be more charitable?  So there you go.

More acts of charity have been...acted.  I can't bring myself to list charitable instances though.  Seems silly.

Perhaps most importantly, my third resolution was to live more in the present.  This is sometimes a struggle for someone like me, who finds so much pleasure in the past and easily dwells on sweet memories.  The only thing that cures this is being around people, creating new memories.  John Steinbeck says it best:  "Having a companion fixes you in time and that is the present, but when the quality of aloneless settles down, past, present, and future all flow together.  A memory, a present event, and a forecast all equally present."  Although I do value my alone time, sewing and reading, I count on the company of others to root me in the present. 

So there you go.  That's that.


P.S.  I think I can officially declare myself out of the blogging blues.  Longest blogpost of my life.

today was a good day


Throw Me The Statue, "Lolita" from Thinklab on Vimeo.

I painted some pottery, read, went antiquing, took a half-nap, and watched When Harry Met Sally, which I had never realized I had never seen.  Of course I loved it and its obvious Woody Allen influence.  Gee whiz, way to be a movie snob, Kaylie.  Let's pretend that didn't just happen.

Anyway.  A good day.  And I couldn't help but be completely thrilled that the barista at the Coffee Bean commented on my dress.  The aura of mystery I tend to try to pull off with strangers backfired (as it usually does) when I gushed how much I appreciated the compliment because I finished the dress last night. We chatted and now the barista at the Coffee Bean knows about my New Years resolution.  I'm an open book!  However, at the antique store, when a couple of ladies told me they loved my dress, I was better equipped, simply smiling and saying "Thank you!" My subtlety was rewarded with one of them saying "How very retro!"  This added comment made my day, and possibly my whole haphazard, slightly shoddy sewing career.  Friendly strangers make life just snazzy, don't you agree?

so

This week is a little crazy, man.  Way too many free response questions and multiple choice exams and 40 minute essays for my taste.  Yet this nasty specimen of a week will, in fact, make the weekend after it so, so good.  ESPECIALLY if Friday is your 17th brithday.  And so I am persevering.  And I think it's a good thing to be aware of the craziness of life, because then you can step back and look at it and say, Well, that's a little crazy, and commence to enjoy all of its quirks.

Because I know for a fact that in a year I will be thinking one winter day as I walk past the smelly mullberry tree outside the yearbook room, "Oh my goodness, I miss that day in AP Bio when we classified the plants around campus and Erin and I found out the smelly tree outside the yearbook room is a Mulberry tree."  And for this the free response questions will all be worth it, just for that moment of happy nostalgia (and for all the Simon & Garfunkel and Coldplay we got to listen to during labs).  Because when you have a safe distance from the past, doesn't it look so attractive?  So why not have that mindset right now?  Sometimes it's hard; I know this.  But it's definitely worth the effort.

OR MAYBE I am a little crazy.  Maybe that's it.  But oh well.

oh my goodness

Just because I took the PSAT, College Board sends me 2489329847 college brochures everyday.  95% of them I am not even remotely interested in, so I mourn the death of so many trees as I dump them into our recycle bin.  The only ones I even pay attention to are the ones from West coast schools, because I can't picture myself going anywhere else.  In my mind, if I were to be far from home, I might as well be FAR--as in continents--from home.  I don't know why I think this way, but I do.  That's why ideally I want to stay in AZ for school and study abroad for at least a year in Europe.

So today I actually recieved a brochure that has made me go a little crazy.  Because this school isn't even in the US like the other five thousand brochures I have recieved--it's in Switzerland.  And oh my goodness.  It sounds like the best situation in the world.  I mean, travel is required?  C'mon! 

Things like this! I just can't handle them.  Because how do you make something so awesome actually happen in your own real life?  I don't know.  I don't know.  Don't you just hate that?

i don't know what to say

...other than that you should avoid taking a sip of anything (must less a sierra mist to settle your stomach--I've been sick the last few days) before viewing this....

I was in hysterics for a full two minutes (partially due to an untimely sip of sierra mist--I had no idea what I was getting myself into)...  Overall, a very good thing after feeling so miserable at school today (Thank goodness it was a half-day).

lately I've been thinking about

my record player
sewing clothes for spring
my harmonica
this song
Woody Allen films
hearts
my never-ending quest for cowboy boots that fit me
Alice in Wonderland
white room accessories (they look so nice against all the bright colors)
traveling
my growing teacup collection
you