People Blog Still?

I mean, of course they do.

How else would we learn about women's opinions on leggings or the right way to handle vaccinations or the ten best ways to keep the spark in your relationship?

But in my world, for the most part, blogging has disintegrated slightly. I've been mildly distracted. Let me give you a rundown.

I student taught in Tonga.
I student taught in the states.
I started dating the greatest human ever.
I turned in my senior portfolio (twice).
I graduated/earned my teaching license.
I got a job teaching photography at the very same high school I attended a few years back.
I got engaged to the greatest human ever. 

Now I'm swamped with lesson plans, grading, stress headaches, wedding plans, and a really messy desk.

Tomorrow we're taking engagement pictures. Stay tuned, because we're really in love and we'll probably look pretty cute.

Good News

My heart feels like it evaporated because sometimes things just work out beautifully in unexpected ways.

Cheers to stress relief.

On Fear

Today in my printmaking class, I learned that our first print will be due next Thursday, when we will have a critique on everyone's work. I nodded internally, realizing that this is just a start to my typical routine of running behind everyone else. The assignment is to create a "self portrait" print using anything else besides our faces. Just things that describe us.

I pulled out my sketchbook as everyone got out their supplies to carve out their images into linoleum sheets. I resisted sinking down in my chair; some of my supplies--the ones that I needed today--were yet to arrive, and I wasn't even sure my sketchbook idea was adequate for the assignment.

Pretending like I had a lot of important things to work on in my sketchbook, I began drawing out my idea for the third time. My professor talked with different students as they worked on their projects. I had my nose in my sketchbook, occasionally looking up and listening to the conversation, pretending like I found it interesting enough to distract me from my work.

Finally, I finished the sketch and I ran out of an excuse to stall. I forced myself to ask the professor to look at my idea so he could tell me if it would work for the assignment.

I glanced around at everyone else's progress and my thoughts raced through its normal routine. Is my idea good enough?

Maybe it's too simple.

What if people question how this relates to me? What if they think I am weird or depressed?

But it's a good idea, right? It tells a story.

Is he going to tell me to find a better idea? 

All of a sudden my sketchbook was in front of the professor, and I was asking him if the sketch was adequate. His face went from his usually unamused expression to an encouraging enthusiasm, and his normally monotone voice sounded excited. "Yeah, it will turn out great! This will be perfect."

What a reassuring thing to know that I am in a class where I am trusted to use my creativity and to be genuinely encouraged by a knowledgable source while doing so.

Nun or None

After meeting with a skeptical academic advisor who was not well informed of the details of my program or of my level of pride, I am sticking to the 18 credit semester I registered for. It is the last thing I have with which I can prove her wrong. She half-jokingly told me that I'll just be a nun this semester with my workload, and I gave a polite laugh through lips that should have either been unamusedly pursed or blatantly demanding that she just answer my questions I came to her with.

After discovering that Italy is not a likelihood next May and everything that I thought was falling right into place was only a "Just kidding!" in a pretty mask, I am trying to find a way to make my schedule work out according to Plan G. Mulling through options is not my favorite pastime, but it is how I have been figuring out how paying for housing, tuition, and lipstick is going to be a possibility. On top of that, my beautiful lack of finances is deciding once more to hop onto the stage to sing an ugly song about how taking classes next summer is likely not a possibility, either, pushing back my possible graduation to the Spring of 2015.

2015 represents the beginning of unknown. I have only planned out my life to the end of 2014. After that is a stark emptiness that scares and repulses me and makes my stomach tie into confusing knots that I don't want to think about. But 2013 is churning on, almost as frightening as its younger sister of two years. I am working on daunting plans, like getting back into my photography business and getting all of my homework turned in on time. But between walking between 3 and 34 miles every day and climbing a ridiculous number of stairs to get from this class to that class, coming home completely exhausted with little to no motivation, and being ready to turn in for the night at 6PM, I am going to do it. All 18 credits will total a beaming 4.0 at the end of the semester, and my computer speed will slow down 89% from all of the photos I take by the end of my second-to-last planned year. I demand it. And I will anxiously pull up my grades in December, remember the confidence my academic advisor graced my time with, and say, "Well, I guess nuns get pretty good grades."

Um, Bye, Birdy?

I try not to feel too guilty that I basically can't do anything for hurt wild birds.

Today I went outside to wait for the shuttle to swing by school and take me home. It was hot, and there was a while left until it came. As I walked across the grass toward the shade, a bird kind of clumsily flew in the shade to another part of the same shade. Then it flew under a different tree and just stood there. And I noticed that it held one of its feet weird. So I just went and sat down under the tree on a cement square and watched it.

So, of two things I was sure.

Edward was a vampire.

And that bird was probably hurt.

And I just sat and kept watching the pathetic, helpless animal. It kept pretending like it was going to find worms in the grass, but I think it just didn't want to admit that it was not going to be able to find anything on its own. And then I imagined how it would be for me if I didn't have a working leg and I wasn't able to find a worm dinner for one, and I felt even worse for the feathered biped.

Then I got an idea. I remembered that I had a partially eaten PB&J in my bag. (I chose Jamba smoothie/sandwich over saving for Italy today.) So I pulled it out, waited for a few people to pass by, and then picked off a few tiny clumps of bread to toss over to the bird. So I tossed one (It didn't go too far.), and waited another second in case people were judging me. Then with the two other bread crumbs in my hand, I prepared to toss them--

"Do you live at [my apartment complex]?"

I whipped my head around to see a girl walking toward me. "Yeah, I do."

"Do you want a ride so you don't have to wait for the shuttle?"

"Oh, sure!" I put the exclamation point in my voice, but I really kind of wanted her to say "just kidding" and walk away so I could tend to my bird friend.

So I stood up, tossed the two bread crumbs over to the bird (They didn't go too far.), and went home.

I hope that bird finds that food. Also I hope that it really wasn't injured at all, but was only putting on a show to get some bread crumbs from some foolish chump waiting for the shuttle.

The Long and Short of it

I first pixied my hair last February. Last August was the last time I cut my hair short short (see picture below). It was also the shortest my hair has ever been, and also my least favorite length. (However, when my hair started growing out from that cut, it was my favorite. So it turned out to be fine.) Growing out a pixie was mildly tedious, but it was worth growing out slowly to avoid the seemingly inevitable mullet. Did I like having my hair short? Absolutely. Will I ever pixie cut it again? Mmm... Probably. It is mostly bliss not having to worry about my hair all the time when it is short, but feeling like I need to trim it two days after a haircut can get a little old. Would I recommend getting a pixie cut? Yes, exclamation point. It is the most empowering thing to just chop off all your hair for something completely new and bold.

Now I am trying to grow it all out (mostly I am just aiming for my bangs to even out). I don't know how long I want it or how long I will end up keeping it, but my goal at this point in my life is wearing a bun on top of my head. It is just a style I have fretted about not being able to do & you can't really blame a retired ballerina for it.

Now I just have to avoid swooning too much over most of these hairstyles between now and then.

Simple Reality

today involved:

cotton candy
pedicures in the backyard
classroom plans (mom's version)
fleet foxes
the nightly rain

Goals: Revised

Be(lieve you are) beautiful

Be(lieve you are) memorable
Be(lieve you are) kind
Be(lieve you are) pleasant

Be(lieve you are) happy
Be(lieve you are) thoughtful

Be(lieve you are) awake

Be(lieve you are) adventurous
Be(lieve you are) bold
Be(lieve you are) intelligent

Be(lieve you are) wise
Be(lieve you are) punctual

Be(lieve you are) well dressed
Be(lieve you are) well rounded

Be(lieve you are) brave
Be(lieve you are) attentive
Be(lieve you are) mindful
Be(lieve you are) creative

Be(lieve you are) rare

Be(lieve you are) inspired
Be(lieve you are) inspiring

(Because it is probably true.)

[original]

Upcoming: Revised

Things I am excited for:

Jaymay
France
Summer evenings
Ben Folds & Guster


All I have left to rely on is the weather and a bunch of band members.
This could cause some problems.

Reasons to Turn Down A Million Dollars

Yesterday I got off the bus at the transfer station. It was right after class, so I hauled my supplies across the station to wait for my bus.

I passed a plump man in a t-shirt, and he said something that I didn't pay attention to because I thought he was just talking. After about seven seconds of standing and waiting, the man started walking toward me saying, "You're just the person I need to talk to." I realized he had been addressing me, and I kind of shriveled inside realizing he was headed toward me. "Are you good?"Oh, heavens, I don't even want to know to what you are referring. I honestly thought for a fleeting moment he had me mistaken for someone or something I am not.

I just looked at him with a confused face, and asked, "What?" hesitant for the answer. He then pointed at my art portfolio, and I remembered that I had my supplies with me. "Oh... Um, I'm not that great. I am just in school for art." Please go away.

"You're a beautiful girl. Do you draw? Paint? Do you by chance do 3D art?"

"Drawing mostly..."

He then went on to tell me about his "children's" "book" he is "writing" and how he has "lot's of people" "helping" him with his "book". And also his plans to self publish this book. And how Pixar will buy it. Because it's a good story. Like Tangled, and all of those movies. He just needs an illustrator. Would I be interested?

No. No, I would not be interested. "No, I don't think I'm the person you want to talk to. I am busy with school right now and I am still learning."

"Would that still be your answer if this got you a million dollars?" he asked in his best salesman voice.

"...Yes."

"Oh, come on, I will post it online, then a dollar a click, and that's two million dollars there, and then Pixar will buy it... I would split the revenue 50/50 with you."

"No, thank you."

"Do you like to dance? Do you work out?"

"...I don't really have time for that." [I left out the part where I'm a lard when it comes to physical movement and how it's none of his business.]

"Do you like food? I mean, you look like you never eat."

Please leave me alone. I don't even want to know what you're getting at right now.

"So, is there a time we can sit down and talk about this?"

"No, I really am not interested."

Then I looked down at my phone that was receiving a "phone call". And I excused myself and had a "conversation" with "someone".

During my phonecall I said that I would "call her and call you back." Then I called my dad and demanded that he stay on the line with me.

Then the man got on the bus that I was going to get on. Needless to say, I waited for over a half hour for the next bus.

Third Floor Living

I've been meaning to write this post ever since the beginning of the school year.

Things I love about my apartment / living on the third floor:

1. Paranoia-free open windows. Whenever I want. And it's finally warm enough to have my bedroom window open through the night. Earlier this year, it threw me off when I had to start closing my window because of the weather - my room is so quiet with it shut.

2. The view from my window. It's lovely. I can see the lake (which is just about three miles from my apartment), so I can enjoy the sunset just by turning my head.

3. The sunshine / shadows on my wall. I have a west-facing window, so I can track what season it is just by where the sun is shining on my wall or bed.

So maybe I don't "track" the seasons.

Either way;

4. The train. The train tracks are a hop, skip, a jump, and then some away from my apartment. Really close. So my apartment sways every time the train goes by. It's kind of soothing, in a weird way. Nostalgic without the memories.

5. Calves of steel. I haul myself and my art supplies up and down two flights of stairs about seventeen times a day [pair that with going to a school that has more stairs than the Empire State Building] and I'm pretty fit.

Actually I'm probably just normal, but I still like to think my life will be extended seven or so years from the exercise I get just by going home from school.

6. The potential to climb out my window via many sheets tied together.

Old Friends/Bookends

Over spring break, me, Kiyna, and Alex ventured out into the world for some adventure. Mainly just to a nearby reservoir to bask on its "beach" in the "warm" weather. Combine a chilly, cloudy afternoon with fruit, berry-mint water, hipster in-love passersby, magazines, music, and pictures, and that was about what our beach day consisted of. It was also pretty much our last time for the three of us to hang out before Kiyna really ventured out into the world to serve a mission for our church for eighteen months. 

Latest update: I just received news that a letter has arrived at Alex's house for me. Yahoo!

A seagull representing my love life:

Kiyna's [gangster] motorcycle jacket because I was lacking in the warmth department.

 They're two of the classiest.

Shuttle

My apartment complex provides a shuttle to and from school.

Today I was riding home, chatting with a neighbor and a couple of guys from the other side of the apartments. We pulled into the complex and a boy was walking through the parking lot. One of the guys we were talking to said loudly, "Should we ask him how high he is?" Then he stood up, opened the window, and shouted to the boy, "How high are you?" Looking at the ground, the boy responded with a hand signal, and the guy on the shuttle sat back down, chuckling and telling everyone how much of some rude words the boy outside was, and how he is always high. The whole time my heart sank and I tried to think of something to say to the guy to let him know how unimpressed probably the whole universe was at his blatant unkindness.

As we walked to our apartments, my neighbor who was on the shuttle with me saw the boy up ahead and said, "Your name is ____, right?" He said yes. She introduced herself, and so did I. Even though I'd met the boy before. But either way, I was glad that my neighbor said something to him, because I am sure someone shouting rude things from a large vehicle didn't brighten the boy's day in the slightest.

I don't know why I am posting this.

But please,
please,
be kind.

Eavesdropping

I am in the computer lab filling out a passport application right now, for no reason other than just in case.

I like it when people travel in pairs. It makes life more interesting because people aren't as quiet in public when they are with a friend. Plus I can eavesdrop on their conversations and get a little taste of people I'll never see again. Or at least people I'll forget that I've met through listening to the things they say in the computer lab.

A few minutes ago two girls came in, one needing to print an assignment. They were both beautiful with their dark skin, smooth voices, and confidence in talking about whatever they wanted in the quiet, student-packed room. It bothers me because I've already forgotten plenty of what they said, but it was all lovely and inspiring. They both talked about studying the Bible. The girl printing a paper said that she was just going to start reading the Bible on the train to school; that it was really all she wanted to read. Her friend said, "I want it to be that when I talk, I talk like the Bible. So when people argue with me, I'll say, 'That's from the Bible. You're arguing with the Bible?'" She went on to say that one of her friends told her, "You know when you spend a lot of time with a person, you start to talk like them? If you spend a lot of time with God, you'll start to talk like Him." They talked more about the scriptures and the scripture mastery verses from The Book of Mormon, and how they wanted to study them. To absorb them, even into their vocabulary. Into their speech.

I just think that is so beautiful. I have grown to love the scriptures, and I try to read them every day. But I don't think I am nearly as open about them as those girls were. That whole conversation was just inspiring to me. They were so confident in their beliefs, and they didn't hide their love of the Bible or of the Book of Mormon. They just talked about what they thought about them without worrying about what people think.

What a lovely thing,
a person being confident and open about their beliefs.

Goals

Be beautiful

Be memorable
Be kind
Be pleasant

Be happy
Be thoughtful

Be awake

Be adventurous
Be bold
Be intelligent

Be wise
Be punctual

Be well dressed
Be well rounded

Be brave
Be attentive
Be mindful
Be creative

Be rare

Be inspired
Be inspiring



(see revised)

Bests

Some of the best feelings in the world:

Blasting music in the car after realizing the fade/balance settings were adjusted wrong.

Going to the first day of a ballet class in years.

Harmonizing your favorite songs.

Dancing.

Eating when your stomach is empty.

Feeling too warm from the sunshine in the dead of winter.

Backpack of Notre Dame

One morning in kindergarten, I was late to school for some unremembered reason. I had a coat, and being the little thinker I was, I decided to put the coat on over my backpack. It just seemed easier that way. I walked by the playground and over the asphalt where jump roping usually took place during recess. A little boy who was also walking toward the doors looked over at me, and under his breath he said, "Chubby." So I walked up to him, gave him a high-five and yelled, "Thanks, man! You are so nice."

Actually, I just kept walking and thought to myself, "Well. I'm never doing this again."

To this day, I never wear my coat over my backpack.

What Does A Bird Say?

I feel so sucked in, sometimes.
By everything,
so controlled.
Read this life.
Like this outfit. This photo. This decor. This meme.
Read it. Share it.
Tweet.
Pin.
Blog.
Read.
Repeat.
Take a picture. Crop, filter, wait.
This is how art looks, now.
Rules.
Guidelines.
But read this.
Watch this.
Like this.
Share that.
Tweet.
Pin.
Read.
Swallow.
Breathe.

Ornery

Today is an ornery day. My eyes aren't tired. They're just watery and they want to close. I couldn't tell you how many times I changed my clothes this morning. I was not and still am not satisfied with what I am wearing. It is one of those days when I look fine and I look normal, but I don't feel like I look fine. I don't feel self conscious. Today is a day I don't care what other people think. But I care what I think, and I don't want to hear what I think.

I emailed my Poetry professor to clear up some grading mistakes. I no longer have a D. But a B isn't really that satisfying, either. I will probably get over it someday.

And strangely, today I feel like a poet. I have control over my words and I can tell them what to do. It is probably one of the only things I have control over.

And I can be bossy without feeling bad.

Lady and the Bee

So here's my life today.

I read to the blind student and received a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

In the library, I sat next to a man who thought his headphones were plugged into the computer. They weren't plugged into the computer. I finally notified him of this. I guess he had an interesting taste in music.

As I waited for the shuttle, I sat on the grass next to a cement square. The campus is full of cement squares lodged in the middle of the lawns. I sat and watched a bee that was on the cement square. I think it was dying. I watched its wings go up and down with each of its breaths. Then I noticed a ladybug just a few inches away from the bee. After a few minutes, the bee started stumbling over to the ladybug. I panicked and picked up a piece of bark to scoot the ladybug away, but it didn't help with any scooting. So the bee kept limping over, and I thought it would maul the ladybug. (Do bees maul ladybugs?) But after crawling over it, the bee lay down next to the ladybug, both insects seeming to be breathing their last breaths as their wings lightly lifted up and down with each exhale. I guess everyone needs a friend when faced with defeat.

I went to poetry and discovered that the 'best' Found Poem from the class was one student's poem that was taken from a baseball rule book. You know you're not in high school when the world's most offensive poem is read in front of the class. I was mildly appalled.

After poetry a boy in the hall asked for my number. I have nothing else to say except that there will likely not be a sequel to that story.

Now off to clean my room. I think I'll work without any music playing. My head has felt a little jumbled, lately with so much noise.