Cinderella.

I slept basically all day. Got up at ten; helped my roommate take down the trash and recycling; goofed around online for a bit; read a chapter or so of Steinbeck; ate lunch; went back to bed until five. Exciting life, huh?

But my roommate (who slept nearly as much as I did) and I ended the day with a bang by ordering pizza, then finishing Another Cinderella Story (love Selena Gomez) and watching Ever After. We seem to be on a Cindy kick.

Which just got trumped by the AWESOME THUNDERSTORM that just blew up. The wind must be blowing pretty hard, because the rain is flying sideways onto our window. I bet it smells awesome tomorrow. :) Wet sand...*sigh* But I still like Missouri's post-rain smell better. Soil > sand.

Listening to: Selena Gomez
Reading: East of Eden by John Steinbeck

Plaid.

Yesterday I was once again kidnapped and taken to a weird place where someone massaged my feet and painted my toes. While the little asian ladies are cute, fun, and friendly, it's really not my favorite thing in the world.

Anne and Meagan are under the impression that they need to "turn [me] into a girl." O.o Um...I thought I already was one. I don't understand why I have to wax my eyebrows and look like a raccoon to be a girl. I'm sure their argument would be that it's fun to feel pretty, but "fun" and "pretty" are both subjective. They're so obsessed with the stuff that I don't think they'll entirely understand why I hate makeup. Foundation only brings out my flaws (and I prefer my natural skin tone anyway), lip stick needs no explanation, and eyeshadow makes me look like a middle schooler who's trying too hard. Not because it's been ill-applied, mind you, but because it looks out of place. I prefer to recognize myself when I look in the mirror. Face paint might work for some girls, but yours truly is one who would much rather do without.

And my eyebrows are just fine the way they are!

Hair is another issue. I don't feel the need to dye it. In fact, I don't think there's a dye out there that would be as cool as my natural color. Second, bumps. ...What? Who decided that should be in vogue? Neither am I a fan of straightening my hair or of curling it. It does what it wants, and I let it alone. My hair and I have come to an agreement on that count. Besides, my natural curls are much funner than perfect ones. Sometimes I can find perfect ringlets in it while other times it's full of twisty waves. Honestly, Sally's Beauty Supply. Where's your sense of adventure? Some might say that dying your hair green and wearing it as a mohawk is adventurous, but it's contrived. I would much rather let nature surprise me. Not necessarily out of laziness, though that definitely factors, but because natural is much more beautiful to me than manmade.

And then there's nail polish. Ugh. Can't stand the stuff. I don't think it's attractive and I hate the way it feels. Sure, there may be no nerve endings in my keratin, but there's skin underneath and it feels any pressure applied to my nails. That brightly colored paint totally masks that and makes my fingers feel clumsy and deadened. No thanks. I can kind of stand it on my toes, but it's still not my preference. And there will never be a time when fake nails will not be out of the question. My nails are naturally strong and grow in a much better shape than those glue-on atrocities. As an added bonus, they can't break off (if they do, I'm sure I'll have bigger issues) and when they grow out there isn't a weird line where something has obviously been adhered.

So feeling pretty is fun, is it? Well I think I'm wonderful just the way I am. Tee shirt, jeans, clean face, and all.

Listening to: "Magic Man" by Heart
Reading: East of Eden by John Steinbeck

Neverland.

There's a part of me, I think, that will always be a child. A small, broken child, but a child nonetheless. I realized long ago that she's the one who haunts me when I spiral into that dark abyss. It's her nightmares that torment my thoughts. That black place is far from me now, but that child is still there. It is a child's fears that paralyze me when I would live. But it is not all tragedy, for with profound sorrow there comes profound joy. Her eyes see a world untainted and trustworthy. Some might call her naive, but I call her hopeful, innocent. Her little hands reach forward into possibility, dreaming things I've forgotten I could dream and imagining wonders I've grown to distrust and disbelieve. Sometimes I feel like the people around me know so much more than I and are so much more mature, but then I question it. But that is a feeling I want to hold onto. Maybe that's weird, but I want to hold on to that because that is when I feel her the strongest, when I feel the most unequal, and I can hope for just a moment that I can hold onto her other qualities, too.

Enough of doubt and cynicism. Enough of pessimism and worry.

I'm ready to be naively hopeful, to see the best in the world, to trust that everything will be okay, more than okay--wonderful, to have faith that I'm going in the right direction. That someday soon I'll find what I'm looking for, and that in the meantime it'll be quite the ride. I'm ready to blow soap bubbles just because I feel like it and to forego homework to sketch trees and fountains on sunny days.

I'm ready to live unreservedly.

I feel infinite.

Serendipity.

Listening to: "Drift Away"
Reading: East of Eden by John Steinbeck

Sackboy.

My brother and I have the funnest time doing absolutely nothing. Unless Indiana Jones and Little Big Planet both count as something.

Listening to: "Locomotive Breath"
Reading: East of Eden by John Steinbeck

Musings.

The following was written around 1:30 AM on February 13. The pending arrival of Valentine's Day was completely coincidental.

Some people wind up with others because they need to be rescued, or they want to be a rescuer. Others just sort of discover that they're going in the same direction and figure they might as well walk together. But I've got wings. My mind, my heart, my soul can't bear to be grounded. They need to soar, to explore wonders. But the thing is, my wings are only strong enough for one. They won't support another's weight. I think that's why I haven't found him yet, because whoever he is, he's going to have to be able to fly.

O...kay. I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that maybe I shouldn't write after the witching hour. If this and past blog posts are any indication, I seem to get all philosophical and mopey. Though I think that the philosophical thing was the entire point I was trying to make with the above. I want to find someone who will understand what I'm saying when my brain wanders off into the vast unknown and starts...postulating...stuff. I dunno. I'm too serious lately. Even just a few months ago I was light-hearted and silly. Now it seems that everything I think about is deep and self-doubting. Although, I do have my moments.

Dinners lately are rather entertaining. My roommate and I have started a habit of eating dinner with two of her friends from Show Low. They'll be leaving on their missions this summer and she wants to spend as much time as she can with them before they go. I think I was initially included because I'm her roommate, but now I think that I'm actually going to miss those guys when they leave. Post-dinner we usually watch an episode of The Office. Fun times, though I didn't start watching with them until they were on season 3, so I'm having to spend some time catching up. Luckily one of the guys owns them.

On a completely unrelated note, I went to the bookstore today to indulge in one of my birthday presents. I bought a copy of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, not because of the upcoming movie but because my linguistics book literally quotes it every other page and I'm getting the idea that it would be a fun frolick through nonsense. I also bought a book entitled From the Horse's Mouth: Oxford Dictionary of English Idioms. It's from the same people who published Stone the Crows, so now I have a nice little matched set. Wow, my nerdage rises daily.

Cheshire moon tonight.

Listening to: "Nice to Be With You"
Reading: East of Eden by John Steinbeck

Tumblr.

So yesterday-ish I created a tumblr account. My main motivation was keeping up with the WIPs of one Charlie Bowater, who is one of my newer favorite artists. Find her unfinished pretties here.

I wasn't planning on doing anything with my own account, but I think I'm going to use it for my vague, erratic book review things. You can find mine here. My book review YouTube videos were utterly boring, so I think this will be a wonderful alternative. I'll find something else to vlog about. Speaking of which, I kind of want to go make one now...

Listening to: "Everywhere" by Michelle Branch
Reading: East of Eden by John Steinbeck

19 Candles.

My friend via my roommate turned 19 today, so Roomie decided to get him candles so he could make a proper birthday wish. She wanted me to make one, too, but I think I make enough wishes on fallen eyelashes that I can afford skipping the flaming debacle for a year.

Well, since we have no oven, the best we could do for a cake subsitute was a muffin. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

We had to talk the birthday boy into participating. After much compromising, he agreed to make his wish after FHE. I wouldn't have side-tracked the story, but I just have to lament a little the fact that I coughed on a guy at FHE. It was failtacular. I turned to cough into the general direction of my elbow right as he walked up beside me to grab the hymnals off the table. My roomie says he smiled at me, but I was coughing up a lung and can't substantiate the claim. Oh, gosh.

Anywho, after FHE we dragged the unwilling wish-maker away from pairs figure skating and outside so we could deck out the muffin with nineteen flaming birthday candles. We had to do it outside because we live in a poorly-ventilated, 15-floor death trap. We took the muffin out to the dorm's backyard area. It was a bit of an ordeal getting it lit because there was a bit of a breeze, but we managed. Part of the agreement for making the birthday wish was that we wouldn't sing, so when the candles were all lit and Birthday Boy was done with his story, he simply blew them out. Or rather, spit them out. It was a say-it-don't-spray-it kind of blowing out. We were just going to leave the muffin there, but we had to take some pictures first because it was just one epic looking little muffin. After the photoshoot the birthday boy punted it across the lawn. It was pretty spectacular. The muffin blew apart and the wrapper fluttered down to the ground amid the chocolate wreckage. Hilarious!

Listening to: The Guild
Reading: East of Eden by John Steinbeck

Vinegar.

So for the past week there's been this random pickle jar sitting in my suite's hall half-full of juice and sans pickles. Everytime my roomie and I walked past it we just gave each other this look that said, "Why?" Our suitemates, or at least one of them, does some weird things. Last semester they kept putting my hand soap in the shower. I freaked out at least three times thinking someone had stolen it before finding it hidden behind the shampoo. I would've been fine with them just using my hand soap, but what's the point of sticking it in the shower? I mean, really. About November I got tired of it and decided to hide it under the sink so they would stop putting it in the shower. Two weeks later my roommate walked in and asked me if I'd put her hand soap in the shower. What the dickens? I guess since they couldn't find mine they moved on to hers. And my roommate also had to make our suitemates put the trash can she bought back in the bathroom last semester. Now her Windex is missing. What I want to know is why someone would steal stuff from the bathroom and leave giant, briny jars in the hallway. That's just weird.

The pickle jar problem has been solved, however. As my roomie's friends were leaving last night after we watched The Office, one of them (the same one who likes to throw stuff into the elevator at us as the doors are closing) stole the pickle jar. At first he tried to stick it in our room, but we would have none of that, so he ended up taking it with him and leaving it in one of the elevators. Odd duck, but at least the pickle jar is gone. I still want to know why it was there, though.

In other news, I took my first linguistics test today. That was a lot of writing. It wasn't essay style, but there were a lot of short-answer questions. I took up the entire class period. I was the second-to-last person to leave. I didn't even have time to do the extra credit question and I think I made up a term. I looked it up in the book later, and I'm pretty sure the term in there is not the one I wrote down. Whoops. Oh, well. We'll see how I do and maybe I'll study before the morning of next time.

Listening to: "Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves" by Cher
Reading: Timeline by Michael Crichton

Cumpleaños.

Ah, the internet. How I missed it the first few hours of my weekend, but then how I didn't. It actually feels kind of weird to be on. I may even get off without checking my facebook tonight. I have a feeling it will take me quite some time to get through all of my new wall posts.

My best friend flew in Friday evening to spend my birthday weekend with me. We got to and from the airport via light rail, which was nowhere near as impressive as its subterranean, European counterparts. It felt so...lazy? Tranquil? Sluggish? I don't know which adjective I want to use, but it was kind of nice and relaxing. The Tube and the Paris Metro were so intense that the local light rail was rather unimpressive by comparison. I would still love to use it more, though.

Friday night I showed A. some of the principal sites on campus. We got dinner at the MU and chatted for hours. It was dark out by the time we left, so she got to see campus all lit up. I love campus at night. All of the lamps are so pretty. Hayden is especially gorgeous, but my favorite part of campus has to be Old Main Lawn. They finally turned the fountains back on Friday morning. I love fountains. When we walked by, Main had that beautiful lamppost glow and, with its serene fountain, it felt like something out of a movie.

I had hoped that we could go down to Mill Avenue Saturday morning, but I slept in and we took a long time getting ready, so we didn't have time before my dad came to pick us up. He had to get us by noon because I needed to go to the bank, where the teller tried to sell me a student account and spelled it "Missiura." I know, right? I probably wouldn't have been so worried by that, but she was looking at my license as she wrote it down. A. and I spent the afternoon hanging at my dad's house and watching YouTube on my PS3 while I did laundry. We watched a few Blind Guardian music videos/concert recordings (that's a fanbase, right there) among other things. I love how when I typed in "somebody to love," she knew I was looking for Jefferson Airplane and not Queen. Somehow that led to us watching The Truman Show. Awesome movie. Of course, then it was time for dinner. Well, after the eyeshadow. I hate makeup. It's so weird looking in the mirror and feeling like I don't recognize myself. Dinner was absolutely awesome. We went to Ah-So. We had a really funny chef who kept whoot-whoot-ing. Actually, that was kind of weird. But hilarious. After we were all done eating, we just kept sitting there. Just as I was about to say something to try to get our party moving, three waitresses came over with a weird orange-and-cherry pyramid for me on a plate. They made everyone put their hands up and clap along as they sang something ("Happy Birthday?") to me in what was presumably Japanese. It was totally awesome. Then the weird lady at the table behind us loudly said, "Oh. It's her birthday." Good job, lady. Good job. Back at Anne's house, A. cut my hair with some of Anne's grooming shears. Eventually we came back to the dorm so we could go to church on Sunday. About midnight we popped in The Wedding Date. Another awesome movie. J. Y. gets mad props for being the first to wish me a happy birthday. At, you know, midnight:30.

Sunday we went to church, though I can't really recall much of what was talked about because A. and I spent most of the time writing notes to each other. I know it was fast and testimony meeting (obviously), the Sunday school lesson was on Noah, and Relief Society was about...gratitude? Self-image? I feel bad that I have only the vaguest idea. I guess that's better than no idea. By the time church got out, A. was ready to eat my notebook because she hadn't eaten anything all day (silly girl). Anne made something she calls chicken-broccoli braid for dinner. Cherry chip cake with chocolate frosting for dessert. Of course, my relatives were their usual selves at family dinner. It was fun, though. For the first time in my life I watched part of the Super Bowl. Which basically means I watched a few of the commercials. Meagan was antsy or something, so we blew that popsicle stand and drove down Main because I wanted A. to see the temple all lit up. Meagan's idea was to yell pick-up lines at pedestrians, but she forgot to factor in Super Bowl parties. The streets were understandably empty, so we got some ice cream at a Dairy Queen that had a sliding glass door instead of a window and a drive-through that went the opposite direction of every other drive-through I've ever seen. We took our ice cream to Mill Avenue just as everything was closing. I don't think Anne and Meagan were really thinking their plans through at all. Ah, well. A. got to see Mill Avenue and, my favorite part, the Mill Avenue bridge. I love that bridge. It's so pretty at night. ...I'm sensing a theme here. Apparently I have a thing for streetlamps. Especially when it's sprinkling, though it wasn't that night until we were already on our way home.

I thought that would be the end of the festivities, but as I was up at 12:30 AM working on my Spanish paper, I had the pleasure of listening to not one but two people talking in their sleep. I think A. was trying to ask me if my roommate and I ever fought because our bedsheets are similar colors. At least, that's my best guess. She wasn't using complete sentences or even content words. There were a lot of pronouns and trailings-off and much gesturing. My favorite part had to be her looking me in the eye, saying "I'm sorry. I'm a little delirious right now," and laying back down. O...kay... My roommate just sort of mumbled as she tossed and turned. Who needs TV when they've got such entertaining friends?

Sadly, I had to take A. back to the airport today. I got to spend more time with her than I expected because my Spanish class was cancelled due to our teacher's daughter being sick, but it was still a major bummer having to say goodbye. Of course, the leaving part was quite the quiet fiasco. We left a little late, so we got to the airport later than we wanted to. Then, A. had misread the airline and we went to the wrong terminal. She set off walking for the next terminal, thinking that would take less time than waiting for the next shuttle. After passing the third parking lot, she finally realized that the terminals were, in fact, not connected and that we had gone under a lot more underpasses than she had thought on the way to the wrong terminal. We finally got there, though. And then my iPod mocked me by playing "Broken" by Seether when I turned it on.

When I finally got home, I felt like napping and doing nothing, but I had to take a check somewhere so I had to hike all the way across campus and back. It was awful. My feet hurt so bad. My calluses aren't quite up to snuff yet after their last round with the pumice stone. Halfway back I gave in and sat on a bench next to one of my favorite fountains for a while. I didn't want to get up, but I convinced myself that the sooner I got back to my room the sooner I could take a nap. When I finally reached my destination, I rewarded myself with a cupcake. Then a nap. A longish nap. The only thing that called me from it was the lure of food. Dinner was taken with my roommate and two friends from her hometown. The more time I spend with those two guys the funnier they get. We sat over our empty plates for an hour just chatting while my roommate debated whether or not she wanted to go to FHE. I had already decided against it because the activity was a rumba lesson and I a. don't like dance lesson activities and b. didn't want to walk to the Institute. My feet are still mad at me. So instead of going to FHE, the four of us watched an episode of the Office. It was going to be the three of them, but they finally convinced me to join them instead of doing my homework.

Now here I am blogging instead of reading my English assignment and preparing for my linguistics test tomorrow. Darn. And sorry for the parenthetical overload. I don't know what the deal is there.

Listening to: "My Life Would Suck Without You"
Reading: Timeline by Michael Crichton

Training?

My poor Spanish homework was neglected last night in favor of the ward birthday dinner and Sister Matheson's cooking. The February-born of the ward and a few others got to enjoy the homemade gourmet that comes out of that wondrous kitchen. We stuffed ourselves until we felt ill and couldn't eat any more. Then they announced dessert and we loaded our plates with ice cream and three varieties of cake and ate some more.

I thought for sure that I would have to roll to all of my classes this morning on my side, but the laughing-until-I-cried totally counter-acted the effects of the hearty meal. My table-mates were epic. This one guy was telling us stories about his past lady-loves and how disastrously they all went when he finally got up the guts to try to hold their hands. He told us that after the last time, he decided he needed some "training." Apparently he red-boxed every movie he could find with words like "love" and "heart" in the title. For an entire week he would go to class, then go home and watch four chick flicks a day, back to back.

Later on in the meal, his roommate and said roommate's girlfriend were arguing about how the K on her laptop got broken. The first guy was looking at the couple like, "Could you please shut up now?" while another girl at our table (Mo: one of the coolest, most genuine people on the planet) said, "That's the foundation of marital bliss" and beamed at them.

That's just a sampling of the evening's entertainment. It was definitely one of those you-had-to-be-there affairs.

My advice for anyone who needs a good laugh is to go to an activity organized by LDS young single adults.

My ward is awesome.

Listening to: "Head Over Heels" by the Go-Go's
Reading: Timeline by Michael Crichton

Confections.

So FHE last night was cookie decorating. Judging by the copious amounts of pink, heart-shaped sprinkles, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that this was supposed to have something to do with Valentine's Day. Well, where's the fun in that? As our table's cookies were sitting out in the middle, I noticed that the funny shaped ones (presumably supposed to be tulips) sort of looked like PAC Man ghosts if you turned them upside down...We were going to do a completely PAC Man theme, but we had a lot more circles than tulips, so we ended up doing a general classic video game theme. Someone made Kirby, a star from Mario, Pong, and even an tableau for Shooter involving a frosted plate as the background.

I tried for Hyrule Castle, but the icing came out in thicker lines than I wanted and the sprinkles I was trying to use as stars developed a mind of their own, so I'm calling this the castle of the White Witch from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. It was eventually made into a video game, right?

Of course, the true pinnacle of our achievements was the PAC Man scene. The teeth are my favorite part. We put those little heart-shaped sprinkles to better use than they were intended for. Maybe? My only part in the actual creation of this was to smoosh out the two white dots on the napkin. All in all, I'd have to say these cookies were pretty epic. I'm kind of sad I didn't take pictures of the others. Last night may have been one of my favorite FHEs so far in this ward.

Then there was the guy at our table who actually made a tulip...we gave him a lot of weird looks.

And this morning I decided that I want to create my own language someday.

Listening to: "Wheel in the Sky" by Journey
Reading: Timeline by Michael Crichton