Back Again

Copley Square

This is quite possibly my favorite spot in all of Boston.
And it's getting harder to leave every time.

A List

• Basically two straight weeks at home (with a 36-hour break in the middle) is fun. Even if Jess says she gets sick of me.
• I genuinely miss poem-a-day February. I might create poem-a-day March.
• The boy turns 18 tomorrow. Oof.

• Murry has been laying on the bed all morning. I'm not positive that he realizes this morning was his last walk with Megan, but I kind of think he might. He's been a lot quieter than usual.
• I wish I could wear flannel all the time.
• Tomorrow cannot come soon enough.

Some Morning GG Wisdom

"A setback is just a setup for future accomplishment."

hmm

My favorite interactions with other human beings today came in the form of texting.





That probably isn't a good thing.

Dance It Out

If there's one thing I've learned from Grey's Anatomy (let's be real, all my life lessons in the last four months are from Grey's), it's to dance it out.

McCall, AM, Melis, Ali. I know you all have things sucking right now. And I know you all have watched this show as religiously as I.

30 second dance party. Now.

Thank Goodness for November

Text to C Wednesday afternoon:

Sometimes being an adult sucks.

Response from C:

Most times. 

Later, after getting home from my printmaking class (the only redeeming thing about the day) and not watching The Orphanage as planned (darn you, Reed, and all your editing projects), I realized that with the passing of Halloween, it is now November. The month of gratitude prayers.

Usually it's just a week of gratitude prayers, the week leading to Thanksgiving. But at the rate things are going sucking, a month sounds like an excellent plan. 

Uh Oh

I discovered another magical time-wasting tumblr. It's full of definitions!


The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows


The good (bad?) news is, they are all words that I've been searching for. I feel like this all the time. See Zielschmerz. Also, Nementia.

Wishing I Could Run Away

Across the Pond

Dear Europe,

I know everyone says you are fabulous and that I will one day admire you, and I'm sure that's true. Especially Florence, I look forward to a love affair with Florence. But good grief, this was quite possibly the worst possible timing to take away my Melis. This whole unreachable thing is taking a toll on me. And perhaps on a few others. Send her back to me?



Impatiently,
Al

Blog Stalking and Unfinished Thoughts

Tonight, after a sudden emotional decision to stop designing (because sometimes it's just too much) I started perusing my Melis's archives. The were full of posts I remembered, and some I didn't. They made me homesick. Not for Provo (I never miss Provo). For that third bedroom in the apartment with a map on the wall, and a bed with green sheets, and a snitch keychain. So even though it has nothing to do with the homesickness, I'm stealing a blogging habit of hers. If I could steal so many of her habits I'd be set for life.



Old Drafts

If tired of trees I seek again mankind,

Well I know where to hie me -- in the dawn,

To a slope where the cattle keep the lawn.

There amid lolling juniper reclined,

Myself unseen, I see in white defined

Far off the homes of men, and farther still,

The graves of men on an opposing hill,

Living or dead, whichever are to mind.

And if by noon I have too much of these,

I have but to turn on my arm, and lo,

The sun-burned hillside sets my face aglow,

My breathing shakes the bluet like a breeze,

I smell the earth, I smell the bruised plant,

I look into the crater of the ant.
--Robert Frost

~~~

I have many friends and acquaintances who are touchy people. They touch your arm when you say something funny, they give you a hug when you leave the room, they nuzzle their head against your shoulder in greeting. I also know people who are so far from touchy that even when you greet them after four months of separation their hugs are stiff and have too much space in between your bodies. (B22 girls, you know who this is.)

Physical touch is a form of communication. I have a friend who was once convinced that if you shook the hand of the person on whom you were crushing you could immediately tell if anything could happen. (Did I get that right? And what happened the first time you shook hands with Paul?)

~~~

Loving March Reason #2: I heard Billy Collins read on Friday night and enjoyed his thoughts on titles, among other things

~~~

This Week's Designing Brought to You by

Mumford and Sons. Calv was whistling them on Tuesday night and they've accompanied my work ever since. Not a bad choice, though.

Blogging Funk

I've been in one. And when I read Char's blog the last week or so I feel guilty. She's in the middle of a move and still blogs. Oy.

Not sure what the deal is, but I'm looking into redesign. See if that helps.

Until then, no worries. I'm still blog stalking you. Just not writing in return.



Also, can we all pause and look at the West? Michigan St., Missouri, and Marquette are out. Who saw that coming? And as much as I like Baylor, I hope Xavier wins tonight. Good vibing them, for sure.

February? hmm.

Yesterday was kind of rough. And the later it got, the sadder I became. Even Texas Roadhouse didn't help (though that might have been because I wasn't allowed to eat any of the rolls).

This morning I think I figured out why:

It's February. Blast and wretch.


And even if last year's did turn out to be better than normal, I still can't help dreading it. Nothing good ever happens in February (sans last year). Nothing. Which means, of course, that I'll probably not get any stickers on my sleeping chart (I'll explain that later) and my strict health code will go all to pieces (I'll explain that, too) and I won't start exercising in two weeks like I am supposed to and I'll get sick the third week and there will be tons of snow and I won't figure out the Photoshop mask tool properly and I'll end up hating Robert Lowell and I might even die.


Grief. How's that for a dramatic way to start the worst month?

Norton Juster and the Story Girl

There was once a boy named Milo who didn't know what to do with himself—not just sometimes, but always.

When he was in school he longed to be out, and when he was out he longed to be in. On the way he thought about coming home, and coming home he thought about going. Wherever he was he wished he were somewhere else, and when he got there he wondered why he'd bothered. Nothing really interested him—least of all the things that should have.

"It seems to me that almost everything is a waste of time," he remarked one day as he walked dejectedly home from school. "I can't see the point in learning to solve useless problems, or subtracting turnips from turnips, or knowing where Ethiopia is or how to spell February." And, since no one bothered to explain otherwise, he regarded the process of seeking knowledge as the greatest waste of time of all. 

As he and his unhappy thoughts hurried along (for while he was never anxious to be where he was going, he liked to get there as quickly as possible) it seemed a great wonder that the world, which was so large, could sometimes feel so small and empty.
The Phantom Tollbooth, pg. 9–11

I started rereading The Phantom Tollbooth on my way to meet up with Danielle last night, feeling a lot like Milo. Just eleven pages later when he reaches the Doldrums, I realized I'd been there recently, too. And while Tock logically explains, "since you got here [the Doldrums] by not thinking, it seems reasonable to expect that, in order to get out, you must start thinking," the Doldrums aren't quite my problem. It's that the world, which is so large, is feeling so small and empty. And I do not have a purple tollbooth to drive through, or a watchdog to guide me.

This morning produced no mysterious package in my room, no Humbug, no Spelling s-p-e-l-l-i-n-g Bee. But I did my habitual blog reading after church, and today the Story Girl had her own version of a tollbooth in the form of a book. As Milo's tollbooth takes him to Dictionopolis, this seems appropriate to me.

The Story Girl said that from Advent until Easter she will be reading Jesus the Christ by James E. Talmadge. It's a book I've started many times, but never read all the way through. As she says, it's a lot to take in, but I loved the idea of reading just a little bit each day for the next four (or so) months. Good Christmas preparation, good New Year preparation, good Easter preparation. Good reading habit to form. Good way to fill the world.

So even though it was not meant as an invitation, I'm joining her. Would you like to come along?



Thank you, Lorren. And happy 50th anniversary to Norton. The Lands Beyond are still magic.

Stretched Really Thin

I purchased a cheesecake yesterday, with cherry pie filling to top it. And a six-pack of Dr. Pepper. I did not buy milk, beans, bagels, pasta sauce, or anything else on my actual grocery list. Cheesecake and DP.

I have started using the snooze button for the first time in my life. I snoozed for forty minutes today.

I may or may not have thrown a pen at my bedroom door when someone on the other side of it angered me by doing (ready for it?) absolutely nothing. Just knocked and said goodbye.

I miss my old ward. Maybe because I keep returning to it.

I have a strong desire to spend an entire day in bed doing nothing but watch BBC shows.

I cannot figure out how to manage my time well. I'm not wasting time; I'm constantly working on school projects. But I spend 90% of my time on the magazine and only 10% on the editing class. I can't justify reallocation when I'm still two weeks behind on the magazine. But the editing needs more time.

I watched three hours of One Tree Hill while working from home yesterday.

I haven't slept before midnight for three weeks running (sorry Mom and Dad). Mostly because of the magazine, but I also have a tendency to research medical issues late at night. Still a fan of the self-diagnosis.

I realized there are only six more months until graduation. Time to reevaluate my life. Again. 

I look forward to my commute more than any other part of the day(s). Twenty minutes of Book of Mormon reading is very possibly the only thing keeping me sane. That and the view:

oy with the poodles already

This has been the longest week of my life.

Okay, maybe not. Third week of December 2009 was long. As was the third week in September of the same year (darn swine flu). And the first week of May this year. But it doesn't matter, I like using superlatives. So let's start again:


This has been the longest week of my life.

Usually when I have eight million things going on (eight million = four articles and an assignment letter to write plus ~100 pages to read for the editing class; revised designs and image research for the magazine class; no fewer than five ads all due on the same day at work; a Sunday School lesson to prepare for the Quakers; and piano accompaniment to learn in a week and a half) time flies and all of a sudden it's Sunday again and where did the weekend go? I had so much to get done! But this week, no such luck. No, this week I had two Thursdays. You think I jest. I do not. It was Thursday TWICE. Which is really disappointing on the second Thursday when you think you've already experienced this and it should be Friday. I swear, yesterday's Thursday was perhaps the worst Thursday I've had in a very long time, if only because it shouldn't have been. (So sorry about the Thursday stacking in the preceding three lines.)

That last sentence (sans parentheses) didn't make much sense. That's what two Thursdays does to you.


Now nothing makes sense in my head anymore. I'm in serious need of a Big Gulp, cherry Dr. Pepper style. (Note on that, I still haven't decided what I think about this cherry Dr. Pepper. I only ever get it at 7-Eleven, but then I saw they sell it at the grocery store—do I buy some to try for longer periods of time instead of just when I want to go to 7-Eleven during work?? Also, let it be known that my Big Gulp purchases are a direct result of my friendship with Charlotte. As is my more frequent use of the word obviously. Obviously.)

And hey, can we talk about that for a minute? Language influences. I've been evaluating my slang terms lately, and I find it a little peculiar whose lexicon I pick up and whose I leave behind. Most of them aren't conscious choices, but I definitely have some sort of internal filter. Only a few people's vocabulary make the cut. I kind of like that my subconscious is just as snobby about language as my conscious mind is. Also, probably about people.

A few other thoughts from the long week, then I'm out (and might go die under my desk):

Still on the fence about New Girl. I love Zooey. But she's a little too dumb. And it's the same story every single episode. I don't know, we'll ride it out and see. (The opener for episode two was hysterical, though.)

It seems like an awful lot of Edgar Allan Poe's characters end up dead inside a wall.

Bacon and chocolate—surprisingly good combo. (See Chocolate Oink.)

Psych season premiere next week. You know that's right.

I've never cared much about Columbus, but thank heaven for him. No work on Monday.

Can we all please be so excited for this? Also, mental note to check out Michael Lewis. (Author of The Blind Side, Moneyball, and Boomerang. Watch Tuesday's Daily Show for an interview.)

This is just to say

So freaking ready for school to start. And to have an armoire. And no more cardboard boxes littering the floor. And it to be Friday after 10 a.m.


Impatient today. I think I'll go watch this to get over it.

BYU Jerusalem Center, on Mt. Scopus

Dearest Desiree,

By now you should be in Jerusalem, or at least very close to it. I've been thinking about you and the City a lot this week. Funny coincidence that you arrived the same day I did three years ago. I wish I was right there with you. The traveling was exhausting (yours was worse, I'm sure), but when you come over that hill and suddenly see the city—man. Nothing like it.

It takes a couple weeks to acclimate (after Egypt (or Turkey for you), like I said, you'll be totally comfortable with anything Jerusalem throws at you), but at least to me, I felt like I was coming home on the first ride to the Center. And every time we'd come back to the city after a trip somewhere else, I'd feel it again.

One of my favorite parts of the city was the holy sites. And not just the Christian ones, either—I think my favorite place in all of Jerusalem is the Western Wall. Go spend some time there on a Shabbat afternoon. Take your Old Testament and read for a while. One of the best things I ever did.

You will meet some incredible people there. Take the opportunity to ask them questions. We had an amazing conversation with some Orthodox Jewish girls by the Wall one evening. And someday I will tell you the story of the Palestinian man who tried to talk to us about how he read the Book of Mormon. It was the first time I was actually forbidden to talk about the gospel, and it was one of the hardest conversations I've ever had.

I know there's a lot to do and you'll feel like you want to do everything, but take time to go back to the places you loved best. You don't want to feel rushed or obligated to do everything new. Spend time where you want to spend time, and see the things that mean the most to you.

I love you, Desiree, and I'm so incredibly excited that you're on this adventure. The time will fly by, and tomorrow it will be Christmas and you'll wonder why everything around you is so clean. You'll notice the absence of the prayer call at 5:00a.m. You'll be amazed at how many clothing options you have. You'll respond with, "Shukran," when someone hands you something. You'll crave falafel, and pita even more since you ate it at every meal. You'll think of a story you want to share with one of those wonderful eighty people that will know everything about you, and suddenly they won't be right there after four months of constant companionship.

Because this place gets inside your heart, Desiree, and it will never leave you. And for the rest of your life you'll be a little homesick for it.

Love,
Allie

Beth Finds the Palace Beautiful

"The boy neglects his music now, and I'm glad of it, for he was getting too fond of it. But the piano suffers for want of use; wouldn't some of your girls like to run over, and practice on it now and then, just to keep it in tune, you know, ma'am?"


Today I wished I lived in 1860s Boston. I'd happily join Beth in keeping the piano from its suffering.

Very, very navy

I tossed and turned all night long and it was way too hot in my bed.

I woke up with an incredibly tense neck and shoulders.

I didn't take a jacket and am freezing cold at my desk.

I forgot my ipod in its charger. No ipod = no headphones = no music at work.

I already snapped at two different people. One didn't deserve it at all, the other maybe a little.


How 'bout I go back to bed and start the day over? That'd be good, thanks.

This post is dedicated to Katelyn Anderson

A little over a year ago, I was still working at BYU Independent Study, ready to embark on a summer adventure filled with software I didn’t understand, my first real foray into public transportation, way too much Dr. Pepper, and an overwhelming abundance of male coworkers. As I was preparing to leave the job I’d had and girls I’d loved for over a year and a half, Katelyn suggested (requested?) that I start a blog, “so we can keep up with your life.” I did that, a year ago, today. And I have never catalogued my life in so detailed a way than I have the past year (except perhaps for a series of letters that once found their way to Europe). So Katelyn, thank you. After nearly 23 years, I have finally figured out what medium of journaling works for me, and it is because of you.

On a sadder note, Melis left me yesterday (then Dema went on a date and JM was studying and another friend bailed on me too; poor, sad night for Allison). We had a lovely weekend, none of which I captured on film (or SD card). But I did take two photos on my phone at the MFA.

There is an exhibit currently featuring the work of Dale Chihuly, a glass artist from Seattle. Oh man. Gorgeous stuff; if you live in the area, go see the exhibit. If you do not live in the area, go to his website and see where some of his work is near you. It was so cool. I felt like I was under water the entire time. I will probably be heading back at least once before the exhibit ends.

Because everyone left me last night I ended up running in the rain, and discovered a few things: A) Running in the rain is way more fun than running in the sun. 2) Running to JEW is way more motivating than running without any music. D) . . . I don’t have a D.

But I did have left over Indian food for dinner.