Thursday, November 26, 2009

And I'm getting old

There are things that I'm obviously grateful for. Like, health and family and chocolate frosting. But that's not what the focus of today should be. No, it's about the little things on this day of giving thanks.

I'm thankful for the restroom in the gas station at the mouth of the canyon. Because three miles is a long way to run with a full bladder.

I'm thankful for whoever cleans the restroom in the gas station at the mouth of the canyon. They deserve a pay raise, cause that place was classy.

I'm thankful for the sudden rush of nostalgia I experienced while catching a whiff of the car fresheners on the shelf in the gas station at the mouth of the canyon, especially the one that smelled just like my first boyfriend's car.

I'm thankful for the memories I have of my first boyfriend and how I laughed when he kissed me. Not giggled, laughed. Hysterically. Doubled over, couldn't breathe, tears.

Where are you Nick? If you read this I'm sorry for telling the whole blogosphere.

And Mom and Dad, I made this up. I don't kiss boys.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Sexy Sadie

Facebook has decided to act as my conscience. It's killing me with its suggestions. "People you may know"... you're right. I do know that person (how did you know that you freakish gypsy machine), and yes, i've neglected to add them as my facebook friend. I guess it's time to get over that fight we had in the third grade. Also, "You haven't talked on facebook in a while", with the thumbnail of a Latvian underneath. FB is telling me as gently as possible "You are a horrible returned missionary. Don't you know how important it is to keep in touch with these precious souls? Did you even read the white handbook? How do you live with yourself?". And my favorite facebook suggestion ever: "People you may know: Meg Morley. Add as a friend". Somehow FB knewI was being hard on myself that day and it was time to remember what's really important. Because if I can't be friends with myself, all is lost.

Monday, November 23, 2009

you're shakin my confidence

In Praise of the Diet Cola
I drink diet coke. Often. As I sit typing this essay it’s noon and I’m half-way through my second can of the day. Addiction? Oh, I don’t know. I’d be ok without it. But just ok. I wouldn’t be great like I am right now as I sip the cool, carbonated, artificially sweetened beverage.
My adoration is often met with mixed reviews. “Full of carcinogens”, “Habit-forming”, “God hates Caffeine”, I’ve heard. To this I stroke the silver can and say, “You’re so misunderstood”. And I mean it. Because diet coke is there for me.
I rarely fall ill. A friend watched me purchase a two-liter bottle and with a disapproving look began yet another that’s-so-bad-for-you-you’re-going-to-die speech. Her particular kicker this time was “we clean toilets with coke”. I assume she meant to suggest that anything used to disinfect toilet-bowls should stay out of the body. I think she’s wrong. diet coke is my personal weapon against sickness. Just as it cleans a toilet, it cleans my insides, killing viral intruders. As those around me cough and sneeze I sip and smile.
There is a price to be paid. About 75 cents a can, more specifically. Plus dental fees. I recently had my first cavity, and my cola and I had our first fight. We took a day or two apart as I contemplated the nature of our relationship, and diet coke sat patiently in my fridge. It was not long before I missed the bubbles, the icy coolness, and slightly bitter aftertaste of my beloved drink. As I opened the fridge, the record player of my mind plaid Peaches and Herbs, and with the first sip I sang along, “Reunited and it feels so good”. From that point on I’ve been fully committed.
Diet coke is the oil that burns at midnight. Every “A” paper written past midnight, which has been all of them, (all have been written after midnight- not all have been “A”s) is thanks to diet coke. A fresh can come about 2 am lends a caffeine-induced clarity of mind otherwise lost to heavy eyelids and a bobbing head.

Come on, skinny love

Do you think librarians read a lot? Or are they just really good at the Dewey Decimal system? If the latter, I'm qualified. Here's why:

(Te be performed as a rap)
"Hi! My name's Dewey. And I work in the library. I got a ladder, long arms, and one day my boss said to me: 'Hey Dewey! Are you busy? I need reference right away!' 000-099, grab the ladder climb and climb!"

And they say the public school system isn't good for much.

Friday, November 20, 2009

I swear this is fiction

I was given an assignment to write test questions. I'm not depressed. This is all made up. Don't call me all concerned, or make me cookies or anything ok?

1. If he said he’d call, and it’s been 3 days and your phone is at full charge and full volume, and your friends all assure you two days ago that he would call, and they still assure you, only now with doubt in their eyes, and your roommate has loaned her your copy of He’s Just Not That Into You, and it’s 8:37 pm on a Thursday night, at what time will reality become>expectations? How many hours will be spent alone this weekend?

2. If one year is equivalent to seven dog years, and Winchester the schnauzer died at age 11 of natural causes, would it be appropriate to assume that your own life will end at 77, excluding the possibility of car accident, natural disaster,or cancer? Well maybe not cancer, because lets face it, cancer is everywhere and by the time you’re approaching 77 it will probably be THE natural cause, right? Right. Does seeing your age of death suddenly instill fear and an overwhelming sense of emptiness? Support your answer with textual evidence.

3. If it’s thirty degrees outside, and seventy degrees inside, and a fifteen-minute walk to campus, and nine o’clock in the morning, what degree of guilt is necessary to actually get out of bed? Is missing your first class really that big of a deal? Would turning off the space heater persuade you one way or another? I mean, with the space heater on it’s a completely blissful state of existence, but with the spaceheater off it’s colder and not quite perfection, so you might as well just embrace the misery and start the day. Or, will the colder temperature of the room only cause you to burrow deeper into the covers, because it’s a kind of misery you just can’t really deal with today, what with school and the loss of your dog Winchester and the boy who didn’t call, who you want to run into with all hopes that he’ll say sorry my phone died and I tired to come to your house to say hi but I shattered my femur and that’s why I have these crutches but can we please go out tonight? But you know that he’s probably perfectly healthy, and probably won’t say anything at all, just wave and keep walking so actually it would be better if you didn’t see him and continued believing your own lies, until you assume that he’s died, it was probably cancer, and you send his parents flowers in a sympathy gesture, and they’re extremely confused but that doesn’t matter at all, what matters is that you finally have closure and can move on with your life. Closure until you see his arms around another girl in the library. So what will it be? Are you getting out of bed or not? Include four digits after the decimal point in your answer.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Last Christmas

You know what's a fun place? The testing center. I just can't get enough of that feeling when I walk through the front doors. The palpable anxiety...not only mine but that of 200 other students. All greasy haired, blood-shot eyed, on the verge of something real bad. I also love paying for my test. $5 can buy me 2 chicken tacos and a diet coke, but who wants that when I can have a 13 page examination on early British literature? And really, there's nothing better than the dramatic drop of my stomach when I scan the first page of said exam and have absolutely no idea what any of the questions are even attempting to ask. It's really awesome that every time I opt for the music room, they're playing the soundtrack to A Man From Snowy River. I've been at BYU since 2004. Every. Time. It's one of my favorite things when the person behind me has brought a cheese burger to snack on while filling out a scantron, after my day spent in the library eating the occasional almond hidden in my bag. And the person the row over with the cold who sniffs once every 8 seconds, loud and mucousy, so great. And even greater that I know they're sniffing once every eight seconds because I'd rather time their body's audible functions than decipher whether it was Donne or Herbert who wrote the metaphysical tetrameter couplet.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009



I just sneezed on it.

Bless me.

K bye.

Monday, November 16, 2009

Well alright

What would happen if we never pushed in our chairs? I think we're taught from a young age to push in chairs as a courtesy. But really, isn't it a greater courtesy to leave the chair out for the next person who wants a seat? I guess there's a tripping hazard, but anyone who can't see a chair in their path deserves to fall. This morning in the computer lab the boy next to me left without pushing his chair in. Appalled, and riding that high horse I often refuse to get off, I pushed in not only mine but his. I spent the rest of the afternoon praising myself until it hit me like a swift punch in the gut that he actually has it figured out much more than I.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009


People sometimes throw around words like "addiction" or "unhealthy", calling my 7-11 visits excessive. But they don't get it. Because my daily trips two blocks west aren't just about the diet coke. They're about the kid with his dog who sits outside playing the guitar. And the midnight slurpee runners. And Raj. And the guy today who, when asked how he got the cut on his head responded, "I was thrown across the room by a ghost". He was also wearing a snuggie.

Sunday, November 8, 2009

whatever you like.

Using my student card to make a purchase from the vending machine between Sunday School and Relief Society.

Your thoughts...

Thursday, November 5, 2009

What's the news from your bed?

A cupcake for breakfast may not have been the best idea. But I'm looking forward to another at lunch.

Sometimes I'm deep in thought and you can see it. Like, you can watch me think. So I was pondering some issue or another, and my lips puckered and my brow furrowed and the elevator opened. I stood face to face with a stranger, while looking like a confused goldfish. There's no recovering from that.