i am not yours

Because postcards from dreamland reminded me of how moving this poem is...

I am not yours, not lost in you,
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea.

You love me, and I find you still
A spirit beautiful and bright,
Yet I am I, who long to be
Lost as a light is lost in light.

Oh plunge me deep in love—put out
My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest of your love,
A taper in a rushing wind.

by Sara Teasdale

(Film is FUN!)
I'm not a poetry person. I can appreciate it if only occasionally, but this poem was adapted to a song that I sang in a choir a few years ago, so it has a greater sentimental value to me than most poetry. Plus, the song is incredible. 
I am craving this hair, again. As always. That was a fun time.

Is it just me, or has the summer completely flown by? I can not get over the fact that July is almost OVER. I mean, it's practically Christmas!



Ever since school got out, I've been in a limbo stage of living.
At my parents' home, I was temporarily moved into my sister's room (I still don't know why I couldn't just go to my own room), and all the while, I was renting at my current apartment in SLC that for various reasons, wasn't able to move into until now.
 With those two, and frequently switching between beds, I had grown accustomed to living with my entire life in my purse. It's already jam packed, and adding deodorant, a toothbrush and an extra pair of undies was convenient, but was quickly getting annoying.

So here I am, eating my first dinner here with the easiest thing I can make (cereal), and sweating like madness because my roommates don't want to pay for air conditioning. But finally settled.

This picture reflects pretty well how I'm feeling these day: tired as hell.

And listening to Celine Dion as loud as I want.

Three cheers for SLC!


To Be Surprised

Going from 40,000 people to about 30? YES.

Playing with Libbie Linton, who essentially, MADE ME FAMOUS!

So I went to Fictionist, again (#6), last week. This time, it was a house concert, which equals much more awesomeness and 30 people, and all (relatively) sober. One really can't compare a twilight series concert to a house concert. Mostly because there were 30 people there, not 40,000. And while the twilight concert series in infamous for the fact that is free, this show was free as well. NICE TRY BUDDY BOY.
And the fact that there were only 30 people consequently meant that I was in the front, two feet away from the mic. That spells awkward eye contact, but that also spells, a means of conversations to be held after the show, right? I mean, you're practically staring at me for two hours, I feel like we've broken the ice now, RIGHT?
But 30 people--SERIOUSLY. Do you get it?

The best part: I got enough guts to talk to the guys.

I’ve always been embarrassed of myself when I get overly obsessed with things, especially seemingly intangible things (there's a list of people that I could put here, but I'll spare yourself and myself the embarrassment). I think it’s sort of a given that when one puts themselves out there and especially concerning something so personal and intimate as music, it’s fairly easy to get caught up in the hype. And start thinking you know them, that they are your friends, you guys would get along great. So where do you draw the line?

So when I got to meet these guys, I was so conscious of what I was doing because I was paranoid about creeping them out. I felt uncomfortable calling them by their first names, let alone nick names, but I still did it. And you know why? Because they are the most gentlemanly & courteous guys. I don’t know what I was expecting, but when three of the members harassed me when I was buying a shirt, I felt like they were old friends. And all my weird eye contact with them before was them acknowledging me and understanding that I…was there. And I support them. And I can be their friend? Hmmmm.

But Stu—I mean Stuart. I talked to the guy for 20 minutes. With commentary that included “Ah, yeah! I’m trying to learn bass. And the tempo thing is throwing me off too!”
“You play bass?”
“Well, trying to. Thinking about. Love the idea of it and picked it up last night and plunked around.”
“Yes sir.”
“It’s a little red one, huh.”
“Well…it’s maroon, yeah.”
“And it’s too big for you.”
“So I just got this, and you should get one like this. It’s kind of a little girl bass.”
“Hey, I’m not a little girl.”
“Yeah you are.”
“Yeah I am.”

He was so REAL. And GENUINE. I just felt so…INSPIRED. That word is thrown around a lot, but I really just felt like because he & his music is super influential to me, I naturally would end up really looking up to the guy. I woke up the next morning still feeling inspired. And that whole feeling of inspiration has such a short longevity with me that I’m still shocked by how effective and believable he was. The whole conversation I had with him was so real. And here’s the tricky part—I felt equal. I wasn’t bashful, or awkward, or giggly—I was real, too. I was 100% who I wanted to be during that conversation. I was the coolest person that I know! And THAT feeling is one that I hardly ever know.

 Crappy picture, and I'm determined to get a better one, but here's Robbie, Lauren, myself, and Stuart.

This post isn't another shrine to Fictionist--okay, maybe it is. But I promise, there's more to it. 

I was talking to a co-worker at work, who I also happen to think very highly of, who plainly told me for about 45 minutes that if I'm not sharing my talents, I'm being selfish. That stung. And it's still lingering.

So what happens next?

I'm not certain, but I know that I need to stop being a baby for starters. I, among most humans, am deathly afraid of rejection. I've expressed it before. But how am I going to become anything better than what I am today, if I'm not even willing to participate purely because of fear? (insert that one quote from A Cinderella Story--you know, THE ONE.)

So I'm doing it. I'm going to be brave, and be something for myself, and maybe for someone else along the way. It will start elementary, but at least I'm doing it. Expect something in the near future. And if nothing happens, smack talk me and give me enough grief until I do.


lost girls

Here's the rest of my shoot I did of myself and Ali.

Ali is pretty. Really pretty.

These swings remind me of Peter Pan. And if you know me at all, I love Peter Pan. So I love these photos & location. I also like books and periodicals. Hah.

The book that I'm holding is "The Art of Homemaking" and boy, is it a gem. I'll post some excerpts from it later. Ali is holding a "Look" magazine, straight from 1952 with features like "The Truth About Flying Saucers," and "What is a Jew?" BAZINGA!


Get Back In Your Book

What's not to like about this series by Lissy Elle?

Get Back In Your Book

Get Back In Your Book 2

Get Back In Your Book, Wendy

Get Back In Your Book 4

Get Back In Your Book, Belle

Can you guess what's what?


the good times are killing me

Two days ago was the first day of the infamous Twilight Concert Series. The combination of no cost + quality music = gift from God. These things never happen. At least not on any day other than Thursdays.
Modest Mouse--Twilight Concert Series

I'm all about live music. ALL ABOUT IT. But when you're me, these events can have a few minor downsides. Like this is the view I have for 96% of the concert.


And sometimes, you're stupid and think "Pffff 5,000 people? I'll definitely be able to find my friends." 24 phone calls & 4 texts later, you're never going to find them. Never. So I was alone. In Pioneer Park. Among 4,963 impaired idiots.

That and the myriad of a-holes that I got to be surrounded by led to one woman's entire beer being spilled on my arm/chest which made for a soaked & sticky shirt for the rest of the show (she's probably a Ute--it's to be expected), two more a-holes blowing their homemade spice pipe smoke directly into my face (you couldn't maybe just, I don't know...not like a demand or anything...just, i don't mean to be rude...but uh...hmm....BLOW YOUR SHIT FILLED SMOKE UP INTO THE FRESH AIR? NOT INTO MY FACE?!), and last, but definitely not least, after putting my hand up to take my first picture of the night, having some chick tell me to "f---ing put you GD f---ing camera down. Be present and stop taking f---ing pictures. Quit acting like you're more important than everybody else. Like 'ooooh I GOTTA GET THIS.' GAAWD." Sorry ma'am, but I've got a blog. And it's important. So take a chill pill.

And then I took another picture. SO SUCK IT BITS!

Modest Mouse--Twilight Concert Series
"are you dead or are you sleeping?"

I did become friends with a 2 year old on his dad's shoulders. He was the nicest person there.

Needless to say, I hate crowds sometimes. This kind of crap never bugs me, but this time was just a little to much for me.

Modest Mouse--Twilight Concert Series

P.S. Modest Mouse? Stellar.



The post that's not a day late. 
Happy Birthday/Father's day, Pops!

Dig it!


something's missing

"How come everything I think I need always comes with batteries?"

I had a friend recently break her camera after it fell on its lens, and we tried to convince ourselves that temporal, material things don't matter. It didn't work. She bought a new one a few days later.