Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Today...was like every other day

...Except that I ate 5 times more cookies than I eat every other day. Why the sudden influx of tasty treatz? I have no idea what brought it on, but I am oh so happy. My tummy is not oh so happy. But me? Oh yes.

But seriously, so many people brought over yummies for us! And then our home teachers brought Jennie, Allison, and me roses; covered our living room floor with rose petals; gave us giant Hershey's kisses; invited us over to frost Valentine's Day cookies. Naturally, all the flora in our apartment triggered this photoshoot (photo cred to Spencer -- what a trooper):

The last picture is especially pretty because you get to see my face up close Jennie has mad editing skillz. As for me? I have no skills. I also do not have Photoshop, which is probably the biggest setback, but even if I did, there's is no way my photography would even compare to Jennie Rae's. Oh how I love her.

On the subject of love: Much to my chagrin, I enjoyed Valentine's Day. I did! I didn't even think about how singularly single I am. I know I've mentioned before that I extremely dislike the holiday for the same reasons that all other single people dislike the holiday, but I cannot deny that today was a good day. I felt so much love from other people that the fact that nobody loves me romantically was irrelevant.  I love people. I am loved by so many!

Also, many beautiful souls wished my mom happy birthday today, and that absolutely made her day! Thank you everyone! She so often has to work on her birthday, which makes me sad. Nobody likes to work on her special anniversary of being born! But she does it anyway and never complains. Gosh, I love that woman.

I said it earlier today. I am going to California tomorrow. I'm comin' home, comin' home.

Life is happy.

California, here we come

I've been anticipating this much needed break for a few weeks now.

Provo, you are cold.
You are snowy.
You are a lot of schoolwork.
You are not giving me a boyfriend. (Just kidding. But really.)
You are not giving me a job.
You are dry.
You are too much the same.

Burbank, you are warm.
You are where my family is.
You are sunny.
You are happy.

Alex and I are going to California tomorrow, hayyyy.

Also, as of today, I am a published writer. Whatcha know 'bout that! Oh yeah. If you want a copy of The Student Review, holler at me.

Monday, February 6, 2012

"You're still trying to protect me. Real or not real."

Like many human beings in this world, I love to read. LOVE. I love it so much that I often become so completely absorbed in whatever my current book is that I start thinking like the main character. For example, when I read A Million Little Pieces, by James Frey, I started thinking in repetition. Thinking in repetition. It went on and on, on and on for weeks. I couldn't control it. Couldn't control it. It controlled me. When I read Ender's Shadow, by Orson Scott Card, I couldn't be bothered with pointless conversations. Everyone around me seemed irritatingly ignorant. Why is this person talking to me about her homework. There are so many more important things than her homework. If I have to endure this for longer than 5 minutes I'm going to walk away without a word. I'm not sure why I do this. All I can say is that when I love a story, I want it to be my real life. That may have to do with the weird acting-like-the-characters thing that I do. Anyway.

I recently finished a trilogy that caused me to fall hopelessly in love with a beautiful, selfless boy by the name of Peeta Mellark. (It didn't help that, since I was so late to jump on The Hunger Games bandwagon, I was picturing Josh Hutcherson the whole time. Swoon.) Upon finishing the first book, I found myself thinking in full out sentences and conversations with myself, which doesn't usually happen. I wonder why that doesn't usually happen. I guess my thoughts come too quickly for me to process them into sentences like that. Isn't that what everyone does? Well, no matter. This is how I am and I'm going to have to learn how to deal with it, quick. But what affected me more than loving Peeta and acting like Katniss was how emotional I became reading this series. I should've known that crying at the end of the first chapter, when Prim's name is called, was not a good sign. I should've heeded that omen, recognized that if it started out sad it would only get worse. I finished The Hunger Games feeling frustrated and alone. I didn't like the dissatisfaction, so I figured that if I kept reading, my angst would be resolved and I could be happy again. I was wrong.

Catching Fire brought anxiety and despair. Mockingjay was a continuous heartbreak, all the way through. I cried almost the whole nine hours it took me to read it. I kept hoping things would turn around and the trilogy would come to a relatively happy conclusion, but it never did. It only brought me to the realization that everyone has a breaking point. After that, the damage is permanent. It can never be reversed. Katniss and Peeta's lives were forever scarred and broken because of what they went through -- no amount of love, friendship, or freedom from the Capitol could ever heal them. I'm completely aware that it was all make believe, all fiction; but the principles rang true and I, like Katniss and Peeta, could not recover from them. I can't recover, I can't unlearn. I can't forget how I felt reading, and how I still feel whenever I think about it.

The Hunger Games were compelling, captivating, mesmerizing, addicting. They were well written, imaginative, and original. I was able to lose myself in the story, which is always good. (No matter how many times I sat down with Jane Eyre, I just couldn't get into it. Not worth the read, in my opinion.) But I hated them. I hate how I couldn't think straight. Life wasn't happy, it was just a list of tasks that I had to complete every day to ensure my survival. And I hate how -- even though I'm finally done with the books and I will likely never read them again, thus I am free of the heartbreak that comes with them -- I know I'm going to see the movie, and the process will start over. But I have to see it. I can't not.

Sunday, February 5, 2012

Anxiously waiting

for the e-mail that will tell me I've been hired as an EFY counselor! I've wanted to be an EFY counselor ever since I knew what EFY was. I've had such memorable EFY experiences and I want to bring that to other people. I love hanging out with the youth. (It's weird that I don't technically fall into that category any more. I'm a young single adult. What?) It would such an honor to be able to work with them and talk with them every day and help with through things. Ah! Plus, EFY is the most fun week ever. And if I'm a counselor, I won't just be at EFY for one week, but seven. :)

In other news, why don't I live in the 50's? Singin' In the Rain is so adorable. It's always things like that that just make me want to go back to those days, when men were gentleman and women were ladies. So respectable.

This semester is not passing quickly enough. I want to be in LONDON.