Wednesday, October 26, 2011


Not to be a downer, but I had kind of a crappy morning. This is relevant. There I was, sitting upstairs in the Institute, trying my dangedest not to cry (and failing), when up comes Noor. I would say "when up walks Noor," but the man just kind of apparated. Before I knew he was there, he was crouching down beside my chair and asking, "What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure, and I think that's part of the problem," I muttered (approximately).



"Is it a boy?"


"Do you need chocolate?"

Tentative head nod.

"Watch my stuff for a minute." And he was gone like the Flash. I'm not just saying that for imagery, either. He sprinted off down the hallway.

I spent the next few minutes trying to pull myself together for decorum's sake, then before I knew it, he had returned and had his hands hidden behind his back.

"Slow-release or fast-acting?" he asked.

I thought about it for a second. "Fast-acting," I decided.

And he whipped out a big bar of Hershey's special dark. Fast-acting, indeed. Where he went to get it is beyond me, but I'm not sure I really want to know. Somehow not knowing makes it better, like maybe he slipped through a closet and brought back magical Narnia chocolate. Dementor-fighting Narnia chocolate. The one chocolate to rule them all.

He left the slow-acting M&Ms for later. Noor, I can't thank you enough. Honestly. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Several hours later, as I was reading a little Brandon Sanderson before my lit. class started, I heard one of the girls behind me saying that all she needed was a little chocolate and she would be fine. Before I was entirely conscious of what I was doing, I had reached into my backpack and pulled out the package of M&Ms, which I promptly placed next to her sleek black MacBook. (This alliteration and rhyme is dedicated to Laura, who loves it.) The girl protested that she could not take my chocolate, but considering how it had come into my hands, I insisted. Then suddenly the girl was getting up to give me a hug and people all over the room were talking about how generous I was. One girl said I was like an angel. Even the professor was watching the proceedings. Needless to say, I felt very self-conscious.

"No," I wanted to say to them. "I'm not an angel. I'm not deserving of this praise. I'm only giving what was freely given. I'm just paying it forward."

After that, before our professor turned us loose into a Socratic discussion of a short story about a balloon, I started thinking about Gordon B. Hinckley, and the advice his dad had given him while he was on his mission: Forget yourself and go to work.


Listening to: Vlogbrothers
Reading: The Well of Ascension by Brandon Sanderson

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

I need a peplos.

I keep forgetting about my Solis Diaboli meetings. It was purest happenstance that I was standing in the lobby of LL when one of the members called my name and asked me when and where the meeting was.

And that's how I wound up with the role of Artemis for Saturday's Homecoming parade.

Listening to: Eureka
Reading: The Well of Ascension by Brandon Sanderson

Monday, October 24, 2011

Steel horse.

In a rare move, I skipped my ward's monthly Friendship Dinner tonight. I just really did not fancy the idea of getting back in my truck and going anywhere.

Which is just one of the many reasons why I was surprised with myself when I lobbied to go on a motorcycle ride with my dad and his girlfriend in search of pie. I usually have to be coaxed into going on a ride, but tonight I blurted out, "I wanna go!" before I knew what I was saying. Every time I ride, I get a little more comfortable. I'm hoping this is a good sign, as I plan to take the Team Arizona course when it cools off for good. On the way home, it pleasantly sprinkled. It's like having the windows down but better.

Dad: "Do you know how to get on the back with the saddlebags there?"

Me: "I get on from the left like with a horse, right?"

Dad: "Right. You put your foot on this peg, put your hands on my shoulders, and swing your leg over."

Me: "Like a horse."

Dad: "Right. Just stand straight up."

Me: "Yeah, like a horse."


Listening to: Once Upon a Time
Reading: The Well of Ascension by Brandon Sanderson

Saturday, October 22, 2011

"Go take a shower!"

All I've had to eat today are doughnuts and a piece of string cheese. I'm not going to apologize.

Kylie the Magnificent and I hung out for a solid 18 hours, starting around midnight last night. We always get into the most delightful hijinks. And I need to stop taking her to Walmart. We went in for milk this morning and came out two hours later with six movies, two sets of Jenga, a little fishing game, bagels, doughnuts, hangers, an iPhone case, and a plate with a turkey on it. And milk. We didn't forget the milk. It's not like we're that irresponsible. As a side note, Walmart is now selling Sparky pillow pals. This is both kind of weird and radically awesome (which could describe many things about my week). I think I want one.

We spent the rest of the day watching chick flicks, gabbing, cleaning, and crocheting. Not necessarily in that order. We'd both been passed out on the couch for a good two hours when her fiance finally got off work and came by. Semiconscious Kylie is entertaining.

I wish to laugh as hard as I laugh when I'm with Kylie every day of my life.

Listening to: "I Melt With You" by Modern English
Reading: The Well of Ascension by Brandon Sanderson

Thursday, October 20, 2011


What is it with girls and cats? And I say that lovingly. I am not immune.

Today, after two tests and a frustrating hour of mind-befuddling Latin poetry, all underscored by an unrelenting ache in my lower back, I walked out of the LL building to see two of my friends apparently staring at rocks. Only they weren't actually staring at rocks. Oh, no. They were staring at kittens. Large, almost full-grown kittens. We (and by "we" I mean Lauren) spent the next half hour trying to pet them. The cats were not having it. The black one kept running off into the bushes while the grey one backed up deeper and deeper into a pipe that runs under the building. Try as she might, Lauren couldn't tempt one out. But they were so cuuute.

Listening to: Psych
Reading: Well of Ascension by Brandon Sanderson

Wednesday, October 19, 2011


I see that very few of you wanted to read my post about yarn. That's fair. I get it. I mean, it was a post about yarn. It wasn't even well-written.

The latter's the part that bothers me. Even my dull posts used to be at least somewhat entertaining.

I think the ultimate problem is that I'm losing the impetus to blog, although it is also true that my life is rather uneventful of late (but happy, very happy). I just don't run home anymore to open up a new post.

In addition to my posts becoming lame and sporadic, I've ended up blogging about blogging a lot lately, and that's just a little too meta and repetitive.

What I need is something like the 30-Day Blogging Challenge. To that end, I want you to send me questions, prompts, would-you-rathers, whatever comes to mind. Send me as many as you want. Send me off-the-wall requests, philosophical suppositions. Anything!

Help me help you. Help me help you.

Listening to: Psych
Reading: Well of Ascension by Brandon Sanderson

Monday, October 17, 2011

Worsted wool.

Friday night: Gathering of the Knights of Ubiquity. Alone time with a Prince (horse, white, magical). Pecans. The Mad Magazine (board) Game. Aladdin on VHS. Laughter. Whatever happened after I left because I could no longer keep my eyes open.

The rest of my weekend was spent crocheting. I even found this place on University today called Tempe Yarn that carries every kind of yarn you could imagine. They even have fiber so you can spin your own yarn! Not that I'm that hardcore. I should probably learn how to follow a pattern before I really go crazy.

Listening to: He's Just Not That Into You
Reading: Well of Ascension by Brandon Sanderson

Friday, October 14, 2011

Avert your eyes.

This was supposed to be a post about how freakin' disturbing the abortion protestors' display at the MU is, but it's late, and I'm tired, and I'm reading a spectacular book that I'd kind of really like to get back to. So just pretend that this is a post about how freakin' disturbing the abortion protestors' display is, mkay?

You wouldn't even be going too far if you pretended that it was really freakin' disturbing.

Listening to: Glee
Reading: Dramarama by E. Lockhart

Wednesday, October 12, 2011


Garsh! With the infrequency of my posts, you'd think I was on another hiatus or something.

Tonight, I came to realize how much I kind of love grocery shopping. It makes me feel all grown up! Or something. Which seems at odds with "my never grow up, never grow old" philosophy, but it doesn't feel like it's at odds.

It's incredibly peaceful to roll a cart along, thinking about nothing and everything, singing along to Jason Mraz, and purposefully turning down aisles.

It's a little bit like the feeling I get when I wind up in the school supply section at Target, but with edibles.

Listening to: Something Borrowed
Reading: The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks by E. Lockhart

Sunday, October 9, 2011


Lately, I feel like my life is rather uneventful. I go to school, maybe some incidental events happen to demarcate the days, lather, rinse, repeat.

I love it.

This week, I had an amazing conversation with my dad, I got to hang out with Laura, I went to the temple with Celery, and I tried pocky for the first time and spent a morning with my dear Latin friends (known to all as The Amoeba).

Yesterday was another Kylie day. She came over for the whole day, and we did homework and wasted hours on Pinterest and watched Cry Baby. I've decided she needs to be my new PR rep. I lost count of the number of times she asked me how I'm still single. She's convinced that I'm every guy's dream girl because I get riled up watching football and I'm fairly skilled with a rifle. The way she hypes me up, I almost feel like I should be paying her. What did I ever do to deserve someone like her?

For that matter, what did I do to deserve Laura and Celery and my 'Moebs?

I'm so blessed.

I'm sorry this post is neither entertaining nor elegant. It's late, and I want to get back to my library book. Did you know that you can now borrow library books on your Kindle?

That's enough randomocity for one post, I think. End transmission.

Listening to: "You And Me" by Lifehouse
Reading: What Happened to Goodbye by Sarah Dessen

Tuesday, October 4, 2011


It has been a blustery day. The rain is coming down hard as I type this, leaving behind a delightful petrichor. That's a word I learned recently that refers to "a pleasant, distinctive smell frequently accompanying the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather" (OED). It's beyond perfect.

Of course, it wasn't raining this afternoon. It was lightly dusting. It wasn't enough to really obscure vision, just enough to make distant objects seem hazy and my lips feel powdery.

The wind, however, was perfect. Perfect, that is, for the macaw-shaped kite that Laura always keeps in the trunk of her car (or the boot, as they say in Britain). We went out to the parking lot by the music building and flew it for a solid half hour. The university photographer (because, apparently, they have one) hung around for most of that taking pictures of our fun. He said it would make a nice interest piece amid all of the pictures he takes of engineering students studying. I should say so.

I'm a firm believer in the idea that growing old is a choice. People make jokes about being old when you turn 20 or 30 or 40 (what is wrong with our society?), but those numbers don't really mean anything. My grandma still thought she was middle-aged when she was 82. It's about how you feel, not how many times the Earth had orbited the sun since you said "hello" to the world.

I feel like I'm at just the right age to be rushing outside to toss a kite up into the wind on a breezy autumn afternoon.

Listening to: "Little Red Corvette" by Prince
Reading: Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters

Saturday, October 1, 2011

Blowin' that popsicle stand.

Moving is an interesting business, as I learned when I helped Kylie the Magnificent move yesterday. You would think, with all of the times that I myself have moved before, that I would've known this already. I guess I never really paid enough attention.

We met at the Institute around 2, and I drove her to her house to put a preliminary load of boxes and breakables in my truck before heading over to get her new keys. The long wait was made somewhat more entertaining by a strange old man with long white hair who kind of looked like Leonard Nimoy and asked us several tricky wordplay riddles.

After unloading everything we could lift and hold onto long enough to get it up two flights of stairs, we headed back to the house so Kylie could supervise the boys as they moved the furniture. We knew that one guy had arrived already and two more were on their way, but she was definitely not expecting to find her fiance sitting in her kitchen waiting for her when we got back. He's skipped his last class to come up and help her move. Considering he lives two hours away, this premeditated act has to be one of the sweetest things I have ever seen. It seems like I've been seeing a lot of those lately. Anyway, his surprise was all the more unexpected because Kylie had been on the phone with him about five minutes before and had caught no wind of his being in the area.

After that, time started to drag by. The couches got moved, I made a Gatorade run for everybody, her fiance's friend showed up with a 15-foot trailer (and somehow managed to back it in in front of her house, despite the parking there being three-times more retarded than Kansas City's street layout), and she and I watched the boys dismantle and ferry things for a few hours, all the while getting more antsy. I think the fact that we both felt pretty useless was the biggest contributing factor to how restless we were by the time they'd finally loaded up the trailer and it was time to grab the bunnies and the fishbowl and get moving.

After Kylie and I had carried up all of the chairs, pictures, and small boxes we could find, she ordered everyone to take a break. After ten minutes of witty discussion (none of which came from me, as my brain had apparently shut down most unnecessary processes about two hours earlier), she and her fiance put the bunny in the bathtub (the hutch wasn't set up yet) and went to go get pizza, and the master trailer maneuverer continued carrying up the last few things by himself. I felt kind of bad that all I was doing at this time was fusing closer and closer together with the couch, but whatcha gonna do?

Yesterday was the first day in my life that I truly regretted my own laughable physical prowess. I was pretty much relegated to moral support, but I suppose that's okay. I'm good at that, and Kylie really did need it.

After eight hours of shifting things and some pizza, we called it a night.

The range of emotions I saw or experienced over the course of the day was weird. There were times when I was laughing so hard my face hurt, and others when Kylie was clearly stressed as only a science major knows how to be.

It felt good to help a friend, despite how feckless I thought myself to be at times. I can't think of anything I would've rather been doing yesterday.

Kylie? You're magnificent.

Listening to: The 181st Semi-Annual General Conference of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
Reading: Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters