"And the light is softly low as our hearts become sweetly untied..."

I forgot to mention how the Palace was perfect for imagining I was in The Light in the Piazza...

In this age of the internet we can see pictures of practically anything in the world. But some things really do surpass a picture or any expectation. Michelangelo's David, for example, far surpassed what I had imagined him to be like. I almost didn't go see him in Florence because I'd seen pictures and thought that was probably sufficient, and the line to get into that museum can get very long. But he was truly magnificent in person. Indescribable, you know? You just have to see him for yourself. The Redwoods, on the other hand, didn't quite live up to my imagination. But the Golden Gate Bridge triggered an unexpected reaction: I loved it. I think it is so beautiful, and it is so different seeing it in person than on a postcard. I can't really specify a reason for loving it so much, I just know that I did. Boats were out, we saw some real-life crabs, looked at creepy Alcatraz, and took a foot-shot. Taking pictures of my feet is something I like to do when I travel, adopted from Sylvia. Just a picture of me being some place, from my point of view, my feet solidly planted in some place that I'm loving. They're just pictures of me being somewhere.

This day was gorgeous, as you can tell. Blue skies, blue water, plenty of sun but not hot. San Francisco weather is weather that I like. We found the beautiful path to get up to where we could walk across the bridge. Here's something that really struck me and which I love about San Francisco: how the city and nature are so interconnected, entwined. In a lot of cities I feel like nature has been pushed out, like our mighty metropolises will be made weaker or less functional if we allow nature to remain where it naturally belongs; we must conquer it and cover it with pavement. Now of course I'm describing an extreme here and our cities do always have some trees, some flowers, some parks. But San Francisco feels like the people are living more in nature than most cities I've been in. The trees there don't look like they've been strategically planted where they won't bother anyone or inhibit our businesses, that's just where they grow. Gardens are nurtured throughout the city, huge (some people would say inconvenient) hills are embraced-- these challenges to building and living are celebrated and are an integral part of the city's identity. Nature is clearly very important to the inhabitants there. It reminded me of Edinburgh in that way; right smack in the middle of Edinburgh, another delightfully hilly city, is Holyrood Park which includes this HUGE hill with Arthur's Seat at the top. It's this wonderful highland landscape within the city. Accordingly, San Francisco has Telegraph Hill, which I would visit our second S.F. day. And of course I'm not even mentioning the water, wind, and sky which are a presence in San Francisco.

Walking up to the bridge we encountered some tunnels which clearly beckoned to us. Yes, they were roped off, did that stop us? They turned out to be old batteries from war days. And how could we resist taking some Jumping pictures with the Golden Gate. I love jumping pictures, which is something adopted from Stephanie Breinholt. They just look so free and joyful. You have to jump in places that you love, places that make you feel how you look: so enraptured and happy that you cannot be rooted to the earth.

After walking across the bridge, which is not as good as gazing at it in my opinion but you have to have some direct personal interaction with it, and not in a car, we drove across it.

In "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius" by Dave Eggers (which mostly takes place in San Francisco), he describes this drive:

"The bridge ends, the torn cotton clouds breaking up immediately, then it's clear, Easter blue, and we're on 101, but just for a second -- two exits and then we get off at Alexander, then come back under 101 and up the Headlandsdrive. As we climb with the road, right away above the Golden Gate, the clouds are suddenly below us, rolling through the bridge, fleece pulled through a harp.

Toph and I keep going up the hill because you have to go up to get to Black Sands, first straight up the hill, the road winding in and out, past all the tourists stopped for the view, looking down on the Golden Gate, and every time we double back toward the bridge, the view, biblical, presents itself, the view where one sees Treasure Island, and Alcatraz, then all ofRichmond, El Cerrito, Berkeley, and Oakland and then the Bay Bridge, then the white jagged seashells of downtown, the Golden Gate, blood red, then therest of the city, the Presideio, the avenues--

But we keep going, and as the road continues, winding up, the cars thin out,and at the very top of the hill/mountain, there are only a few sightseers left, and they are turning arond to go back down, three-point turning right at that WWII-era tunnel at the top, because it certainly seems like the road ends, right there, at the top of that hill--

But then the road continues, and there is a gate, a flimsy metal gate, right there, and it is open, it's probably always open. We keep going, not slowing...

The road, now a one-way, heads straight for the water, and it looks for about twenty seconds like we're going to go straight over...so we go slow, then the road starts bending right, and then down, and in a second we're driving parallel to the water, a few hundred feet up of course, for a while without even a visible cliffside to the left, just a sheer drop -- and then suddenly we see the Headlands whole, green and mohair hills, ocher velour,the sleeping lions, the lighthouse far to the left, unbelievable given we're ten minutes from the city, this vast bumpy land, could be Ireland or Scotland or the Falklands or wherever, and we snake down, with the road bending back and forth along the cliffside...lookee here, ha ha, look at this!"

The gate at the top was closed, but I got out and headed to the top on foot. On the way up I stepped off the road, pushed some branches aside, and looked off the edge toward the west and the lighthouse. It was such a view, and I felt like I was one of few people to have seen it. At the top there were these empty building which looked like they were built for birds? I don't know, but the view was incredible. I kind of wished it had been a cloudy/foggy day so we could see the clouds around the bridge, but I was also glad we got such a nice day as we did.

I wanted to stay there longer, or find the road I could see winding its way toward the lighthouse, but we had tickets to The Glass Menagerie that night at Berkeley Rep and we had to get dinner first. So we headed back down the hill and to the east to Sausilito. (Do you hear the pepperidge farms commercial for Sausilito cookies when you read that word, because I do.) Sausilito felt golden. It's got the Italian Riviera feel to it. We were in a bit of a rush, but still walked down the street next to the water in our perusings of restaurants. We ended up at this cafe which was open to the air and provided us with the best pizza Beth has ever tasted. It was Good.

I don't know how people who live in this area ever feel like they're not on vacation. It felt enlightened, paradisical. After living there, how could anyone live someplace like Utah? Not that Utah doesn't have its own beauties, but San Francisco is just an incredible blend of wide open blue skies and water with an infusion of golden light, delicious fog, verdant growing things, culture, hippie influences, and the great outdoors verging on the city. I understand why it's so expensive to live there, it's unlike anyplace else I've ever been.

We had to be on our way to Berkeley, but almost on the way was Lombard Street, the windiest street in the world. We really shouldn't have taken the time to drive down it because we were definitely cutting it close, but how could we not. And yes, we were late to the show, which has never happened to me before. I seriously thought they weren't going to let us in and that we would have wasted $30, and I was feeling really sick about it, but they answered our hopeful knocks. And there was another couple who were late and they showed us into the back of the theatre after the first scene. It was so nice to be seeing professional theatre again. It was really well done, not life-changing, but enjoyable. I've never actually fully read or seen this play, so I felt educated.

We dragged our weary feet home and fell into bed.

The next day we headed up to the Redwoods. First we drove through wine country, which was lovely in a golden way. I wished we had time to drive through Napa Valley or something, but getting to the Redwoods is quite a drive in itself. It was really enjoyable though, I drove most of the way up and winding through trees and mountains is fun. We saw some weird hippie stores on the way which was delightful. I really did enjoy the tree-hugging feeling; I certainly don't go to the extreme that a lot of people do, but it was nice to feel surrounded by people who had similar earth-loving feelings that I have.

The first thing we did was drive through a tree. It was definitely not as cool as I had imagined it would be. I guess my imagination is just too powerful because the redwoods did not live up to it. The forests were certainly beautiful and peaceful, and I Loved just being in a true forest again, but I did not feel dwarfed like I had been expecting. As soon as we could, we hopped out of the car and started hiking through the redwoods. Our destination had been the Avenue of Giants, but we weren't really sure when we were there, so in our enthusiasm we actually got out of the car a little too soon and spent a long time hiking in a forest of not particularly impressive redwoods. Well, the first 15 minutes were impressive, (I am standing in a tree here), but then we just hiked a looong time in regular trees. We just kept thinking, well we've got to be close to the top, after this hill we'll get there and then we can have a great view and head back. But after every last stretch, there was another one. It was hot, I didn't have enough unfrozen water, and there were TONS of mosquitos.

"From golden gate to roaring cliff-side..."

The week before we went to CA I would constantly get suggestions from random people on where I had to go. When I went in to get an oil change for my car a teenage employee relaxing behind the desk heard the man helping me mention that I was going to California, and though he had previously been silent, he immediately piped up that I had to go to the boardwalk at Santa Cruz. It was on our way to Monterey, so why not? When we arrived, the clouds suddenly disappeared, as if they'd never been, and we were surrounded by sunburnt swimwearing vacationers strolling around barefoot, whiling away the hours along the shore. The boardwalk was not exactly what I'd been expecting... it wasn't a boardwalk. There were no boards to walk on, just cement. It was like a mini amusement park along the beach. A very noisy, pricey, sticky amusement park crowded with kids running headlong towards anything that lit up and made noise. Well, I wasn't too impressed, but still told myself "it's one of the oldest boardwalks in America, you can at least appreciate that." Beth had never been on a ferris wheel, so to the wheel we went. We then stole a ride on the historic carousel, which I enjoyed. After that, we decided there was nothing left but to walk through the surf back to the car and continue on our journey.

Have I mentioned how exhausted we are at this point, the beginning of our trip? Unfortunately none of us had had enough sleep upon leaving Provo. Well, we're just in the mood to find a sunny spot of beach and sleep for an hour or two. Sadly, as soon as we left Santa Cruz, the sun left too and it was a bit chilly to be sleeping outside. We ended up driving the 17-mile drive at Monterey and soon ransacking the trunk of the car for anything that would aid in our sleeping endeavors. Beth's sleeping bag, Emily's blanket, and our respective jackets woud have to be enough. I have found that catching a nap somewhere will connect me with a place. It may sound weird, but after my Europe experience with Logan and Sylvia where we caught cat naps everywhere we went, I learned that I feel closer to a place if I've slept there. Or at least just sat and pondered there. So sleeping by the Pacific sounded great to me. The 17-mile drive is this drive which you have to pay to get into, and so there were hardly anyone on the beaches-- not to mention that it was kind of cold to be at the beach... So we had this pocket of sand all to ourselves. We climbed onto a big rock, laid out the sleeping bag and blanket, snuggled up, and napped, lulled by the waves. An hour flew by, and it was time to be going. The 17-mile drive is home to some outrageously expensive houses, the Lone Cypress, and seals (sea lions? I still don't know the difference.) If you look closely at the picture above, you can see a seal looking at you. They camouflage well.

By this point Beth is in love with the cypress trees.

We drove through Cannery Row a few times, but parking is ridiculous, so we eat elsewhere and return to grab some Starbucks later. I did not want to leave Starbucks. The drive home sounded unbearable, and I wasn't even the one who had to drive. Cannery Row looked so lovely and inviting. Starbucks always makes me feel comfortable, no matter where in the world it is. For some weird reason I always feel at home there and I love it.

We finally made it back home to the cats and books and hideaway bed.

We didn't make it out that early the next morning, which was a San Francisco day. Our first stop was the Palace of Fine Arts. We were loosely following an itinerary Logan had made for me because Logan knows what I like better than a lot of people. But first we got a wee bit lost (a common theme in our trip) and we drove around some really nice neighborhood for a while. I was really glad we did this time because we saw some beautiful San Franciscan streets. I again wished for the eyeball cameras because I was driving and couldn't take pictures. Honestly, gorgeous streets here where every house was in the same style but delightfully unique. We saw a parking spot so decided to just park and walk to the Palace. As soon as we got out we discovered the daunting stairs we'd be descending (and ultimately ascending), but did that stop us? Surprisingly no. You really can't see them in this picture to the right, just trust me, there were a ton of them. We were greeted by a truly beautiful view of the view though. Do you see that dome in the distance in the picture on the left? That was our destination. Straight downhill.


On our way, we caught our first view of the Golden Gate. It actually sent a thrill through me, Anne Shirley style.

Well, the walk was totally worth it, the Palace of Fine Arts is just a place that's beautiful, basically, it's not the art museum. It was built for a fair a looong time ago, meant to be torn down once the fair was over, but people liked it so much they decided to leave it. It looks Greek, and it is just one of those places I immediately love. We trudged back up the hills, and had very friendly encounters with non-tourists. I must say, people in San Francisco were really nice. The hippie influence? There were a few flowers painted on the stairs... Anyway, not fakey like I sometimes feel Utahns are, and just genuinely really nice and easygoing. I think I would love living there for a while...

"And the road a-winding goes..."

A couple of years ago I found myself repeatedly playing this game called Ten Fingers. In this game you say something you’ve never done, and everyone else who has done said thing puts a finger down. The winner/loser is ultimately the person who has experienced the least. This can be a good thing or bad thing, depending on who you are and what your fellow players are claiming they’ve never done. I was repeatedly the winner/loser, and I didn’t like that one bit. I’d never been to Disneyland/world, I’d never been the female lead in a show, I’d never been in a relationship, I’d never been to California. I felt like I hadn’t Lived. Since then I think I’ve been through a lot of good and bad, and though I’m still very inexperienced in some aspects I’ve conquered some of those Nevers in the past couple of years.

California is one of those Nevers that I’ve been trying to drive off to for a while. I’ve planned on going before just to have my fellow planner drop out on me. Well sometime during Winter semester, my friend Emily and I were lying on the Slab and she mentioned how she had never been to California and she’d always wanted to take off there, and I said “Me too, let’s go!” So we did. And my lovely roommate Beth came too. Three girls from New York, Pennsylvania, and Texas who’d never seen the Pacific had nothing else exciting planned for the summer. Honestly, I was dying to get out of Utah (I’ve been here all year, and won’t get away again until Christmas). I reasoned that this would absolutely be the best time to go. Who knows if I’ll live this far west again? I don’t have anyone dependent on me, I’ve got the time, and I have an Aunt and Uncle who live right outside of San Francisco, our destination of choice. (From my Ireland trip last summer I learned not to tackle too large of a geographical area at once, and to spend more time out of a car than in it, experiencing a place through the windows of a car is not satisfying.)

So early Tuesday morning, three very sleepy but excited girls piled into a car and we put the sun to our backs. It was a 13 hour drive, and things were going great. I quite enjoyed driving through the salt flats, it’s surreal and I was delighted to find a piece of modern art created by another man who was inspired by the surreality: Karl Momen, a Swedish artist, created the Tree of Utah. “A hymn to our universe, whose glory and dimension is beyond all myth and imagination.” Further along, people had written messages on the side of the road with rocks, and I was tempted to stop and create my own, but resisted. Nevada was Boring. But at least the road was straight and flat.




So far Beth had been sleeping in the back, but we woke her up to take the wheel and we crossed the border into California. The moment we did, the landscape was suddenly Gorgeous.We careened through mountaineous ranges of pines and pockets of sparkling lakes to the strains of "California" by Phantom Planet as loud as we could bear it. By some town in California there was this huge statue of a man bending down with a bowl, and I was the only one that saw it. I wasn't quick enough to take a picture, but I wish I had, it was really cool, and kind of random.

We made it to Oakland before the sun set, but promptly became very lost and very frustrated. We were all quite tired and were only too ready to find our destination: my Uncle Nick's and Aunt Jayne's house. We finally broke down and Beth went into a Safeway to get a map while I called my Uncle, admitting defeat. We were actually quite close, and in minutes we were finding a parking spot on this delightfully hilly, windy road crowded with houses. The neighbourhood cats followed us to the house. As they would continue to do every day when we dragged our weary feet to our temporary home in the middle of the night.

In general, I don't know my relatives well at all. Specifically, I didn't remember ever meeting my Aunt and Uncle, though I'm sure I have sometime years ago. Yes, I felt really awkward, but when do I not when I'm making small talk with people I don't know. I immediately liked them and loved their house. Books were everywhere. And then I looked into the study and literally half of the room was inaccessible because it was filled with PILES of books. Heavenly. I wish I'd taken a picture. These were obviously kindred spirits. I've never felt so immediately related to anyone else in my family. After chatting for a while my aunt, uncle, and cousin Aleck retired to their beds while the three of us planned for the next day. I fell asleep gazing at a huge, varied, incredible film collection sandwiched between more books.

On Wednesday we arose bright and early and drove south to Monterey. Devil's Slide was sadly closed due to cleaning up from winter's storms, but driving along the coast south of that along Route 1 was lovely. Our first stop: Pidgeon Point Lighthouse. My first lighthouse ever. The day was overcast, thrillingly foggy, and delightfully cool. Ideal weather for the summer, in my opinion. At times cool, but warming up quite nicely at other times. Definitely preferable to the current, stifling heat wave here in Utah. The lighthouse also housed a hostel. It all reminded me very much of Ireland. I soon decided that living on the California coast for a year would not be the worst thing in the world. We couldn't go to the top of the lighthouse, and so, alas, I could not re-enact "Candle on the Water" from Pete's Dragon. Another time. After wandering around, looking at seabirds and waves, we hopped back into the car. We passed an ollaliberry farm, but I was not quick enough to stop. Luckily, there was soon a U-Pick Strawberry farm, which turned out to be owned by the same people, and they sold their ollaliberry shortcake and pie there as well. We picked some strawberries for the road, ate ollaliberry shortcake, Beth revelled in the posters on the wall of the United Farm Workers Association. What are ollaliberries, you ask? Um, I'm not sure, but they look like big blackberries, and they're yummy.
One of my favorite things about this roadtrip is that there were three of us. We could do what we wanted, when we wanted to do it. Our only rule was that when you saw a sign or a road that you wanted to pursue and explore, vocalize that impulse and we'd do it. Hence the lighthouse, ollaliberries and strawberries, and historical general store. We continued on our way to Santa Cruz...

I never do this

but I'm going to write about someone specific in my blog. I am only doing this because it's all so outrageous that I can't believe it's my life, this person seriously is a movie character who stepped out of the silver screen right into the bedroom around the corner from me. Lucky me.

Let's call her Evanesce. Right from the introduction, kind of unbelievable, right? We haven't interacted much, but here's what I know:

She is very proud of her car. She refers to her car not as her car, but as her BMW. Why is someone who owns a BMW living in my gross house? On the day she moved in, Beth asked her, "is that your truck in the driveway?" (She was blocked in and needed to get out). "Oh no, that is NOT my car, I borrowed it to move and my BMW will be here tomorrow." She was very clear with us about the truck not being her car. Now we have a driveway which only one car fits in, if you park behind that car, the first car will be blocked in, which is a little bothersome. Therefore, the house rule is first come first served and everyone else parks in the parking lot right next to the house. It has worked very well. But this system is not good enough for Evanesce. She insists she wants to adhere to whatever we're doing now, but her BMW is consistently parked behind whoever is in the driveway and Beth must continuously ask her to move it at 4 in the morning when she goes to work. Her BMW is obviously too good for anywhere but the driveway, no matter who it inconveniences.

From the moment she moved in I have felt like I must be a revoltingly filthy person. She has made comments repeatedly about how we need to keep the house very CLEAN. I assure you, I am not, in fact, revoltingly filthy. But she makes me feel like I must be. She is anal about cleaning. My reaction? Live and let live, be as clean as you want and I will make sure that I respect that we live in the same space and not be inconsiderate of you, but I am a busy person and I will leave a dish in the sink from time to time, and my room can be as messy as I want it to be.

She wipes the toilet down with alcohol every time she uses it and hints that she would like us to do the same. Fat chance.

She spends a lot of the time in the bathroom and is scrupulously specific about how she looks.

She locks her bedroom door whenever she leaves it.

She is extremely skinny with long hair, latino, and I'm guessing she's thirty-something. Just so you can get a picture of her in your head.

Now I figure that we're only living together for a month and a half, and I am out of the house most of the day, so it's unlikely that we would have major problems. As I said, I live and let live. No, I may not be uber-friendly and ask all about her life, but I'm not mean either.

But I do like my sleep, and I do keep odd hours. I work until midnight every day, that means I never get to bed before 1 or 2, and I wake up at about 10, maybe later. (I am not in school, and plenty of sleep is certainly on the menu).

On Sunday I was awoken by Evanesce and Beth talking to each other loudly, Evanesce from her room, Beth from the bathroom which is right outside of my door. Sometimes I'm irrational when I wake up, especially if I have been woken up by something other than my alarm clock. I realize this and decided not to leave the room until Beth and Evanesce had left. I couldn't take a shower anyway since both of them were using the bathroom and I didn't want to say something I'd regret. The same thing happened yesterday morning. I was feeling rather civil for just having woken up and decided to address the situation right then instead of silently resenting Evanesce every time she woke me up. So I opened my door and said "Hey Evanesce, could I ask you a favor? I work every night until midnight, so I don't get to sleep until late, and probably will never wake up before 10, so I was wondering if you could just keep it down in the hallway in the mornings?" I acknowledged that the hours were weird, but I would really appreciate it. She said ok. Great, I had been nice, courteous, mature, I felt great.

Really, let your imagination run wild with this next part because I cannot nearly do it justice in the retelling.

This morning I was getting ready for my first job and she knocked on my door. She continued to pretty much attack me about commanding her to be quiet in her own house. She was so up in my face, yelling, slamming doors and then coming back out add more. She couldn't believe she had to deal with this stupidity, I was an idiot and I had better not dare to command her to do anything ever again. She would play her radio as loud as she wanted, she would talk as loud as she wanted, she would do whatever she wanted and she was commanding me to take it. She was talking a mile a minute. She did not have to listen to a twenty-year-old and if I continued to talk to her like that then I was going to have to repaint my walls. (I'm not sure what that meant, but it was very definitely a threat.) Two minutes after she said something she would say she hadn't said it, manipulating every word. I honestly have never felt so personally assaulted. It really shook me up. I was experiencing it, not believing it was actually happening, there could not be someone like this who actually existed, this sort of thing only happened in movies.

My wonderful roommate Beth came out shortly after Evanesce started in on me and she witnessed the whole thing and I am so glad. This is something which is so outrageous that I'm sure you think I'm exaggerating. Some of you I'm sure regard me as someone who adds a dramatic flare to every story I tell. I assure you, there is no need to make this more dramatic than it was. Ask Beth, she is a very diplomatic, non-aggressive personality who is extremely fair about everything. She agrees with me, there is something wrong with this girl. She heard how nicely I asked Evanesce if she could be quieter, and she heard the unbelievable response a day later. She suggested we not be home alone with her so each of us would always have a witness, and she suggested we lock our bedroom doors.

When I left the bathroom a bit ago, I saw that Evanesce was home. I immediately fled to my room, turned off the light, and locked the door. That was honestly my instinct, the last thing I want is to interact with her again. This is ridiculous.

"I hear in my mind all this music, and it breaks my heart"

Infidelity by Regina Spektor

On Thursday I had to do a favor for my sister which required me to drive all the way to Heber. I was happy to, I love driving through the canyon! I had this big project due on Thursday and it was kind of a reward after staying up late working on that to drive in glorious mountains and air and trees. It was so beautiful it broke my heart. I know that sometimes I may complain a lot about Utah, but I seriously appreciate having been able to experience the beauty of these mountains. And the sunsets. And the spiral jetty. I just wish I could have explored more in my time here. I know there are countless beauties which I have no idea are out there. That makes me sad. I wish I had a personal guide to Utah's beauties, someone who knew what I would like, someone who would make me put down the book or homework or movie and get out there.

When I was little I would wish that my eyeballs could have tiny cameras inside I could control with my mind so that I could take pictures of everything I saw as I saw it, without the use of my hands, without anyone knowing, without taking the trouble of pulling out a camera and turning it on, etc. It would be so much more efficient than a normal camera. I certainly wished the same thing as I was driving.

Money makes the world go around the world go around the world go around...

Thank you Alan Cumming and the Kit Kat Girls.

This past week I have thought a lot about money. A couple of weeks ago it became clear to me that I would need to find another job this summer. My plan had been to work at the bookstore all summer. The manager had given me the idea that there would be some shifts opening up for the summer, and meanwhile I could get 10-15 hours a week working on-call. Au contraire. I'm really lucky if I get 10 hours a week now, and there are no shifts for me in the summer. Meanwhile I'm planning a much needed roadtrip into the setting sun towards ocean, redwoods, and art. Which will cost money. I'm also trying to get a credit card, but due to no credit history everyone feels they can swindle me into outrageous APR percentages. I hate money. I hate that I need it. I hate that I want it. I hate that everyone is obsessed with it. (I know, what a gross generalization.)

I put off looking for a job. I've been busy-- Costume Design has put off all of these huge projects until the end of the semester. I didn't really have time to start a new job until the semester/road trip were over. I frankly dreaded the job search. But I knew where I could turn if I had to: my good old friend Severin. He's the manager of Ben and Jerry's, and has told me and my siblings several times to come by if we needed a job. I was afraid, I didn't want to take advantage of our friendship in any way. But, impulsively, I called him on Monday and he pretty much immediately gave me a job. Not only that but he was absolutely willing to work around my numerous conflicts this summer. Never has such a flexible job been offered to me. The unfortunate part is that there weren't many hours available and it would only be for $6.50 an hour. Well, I was desperate, and that could get me through the summer. I tried to radiate my gratitude.

A couple of days later a friend gave me an application to where he worked: APX Alarms. Data entry. Um, hippie Ben and Jerry's vs. Data Entry for an impersonal corporation? No contest, right? Except that APX pays $10 an hour, 25-30 hours a week. If Oren had given me the application before I called Severin, there would be no question, I would have applied. And even so, Severin would understand that I got a much better offer, right? Well, I didn't know what to do, Sev had done such a favor for me and I didn't want to be ungrateful. I wished that someone could just say "Laura, do this" and I'd do it. But no one could. I talked to several people about it. Spencer told me I should choose the more tragic option because it would better fit my persona. Most others said "apply and see what happens...?"

Ben and Jerrys: Not a very good wage, but I would be participating in a company which I personally could support. Ice cream: good. Hippie founders: good. Easy-going atmosphere: good. Free ice cream for me: good.

APX Alarms: Lots of hours, lots of money. But I felt like I would be selling my soul. I would be working purely for the gain of money. money money money. Cold hard cash. That felt so... capitalistic. It felt so... not me. It's not like I like the company at all. They're not little, they're a huge coporation spanning the United States, Puerto Rico, and Canada. Um, I guess alarm systems are good...

So, do what I feel morally better about and be poor, or swallow my liberal views and build up my bank account? I applied for APX and the interview was more like them recruiting me. They hired me. And I sold out and went for the money. I called Severin and he was totally fine with it, he told me I could have a job with him whenever I needed it. I hope I don't regret this. Beth tried to comfort me by saying that Ben and Jerry's is just as capitalistic as APX since they charge so much for their ice cream. And that there was nothing wrong with earning money. And the very luxury of choosing between jobs like this and having the option of choosing something I might morally support or enjoy doing is a result of my being born into a middle-class family which profited from our capitalistic society. By working for APX I will have a slight taste of being the common working man.

Well when I walked into APX all of the employees seemed to be products of Abercrombie and Fitch, flip-flopped and tanned, earning an easy $10 by sitting on their bums in an air-conditioned room, chatting.

"The world is a book..."

"...and those who do not travel read only one page." ~St. Augustine

I just want to say that I wrote a great post. And then the internet ate it.

"She keeps working to make connections..."

"...but the pile of near-misses is starting to overwhelm her. What Mirabelle needs is an omniscient voice to illuminate her and spotlight her. And to inform everyone that this one has value, this one, standing behind the counter in the glove department, and then to find her counterpart and bring him to her."
~Steve Martin, Shopgirl

I know. All I am lately is quotes. Just the sum of all the movies I've seen, books I've read, music I've listened to, people I've encountered.

Well, I haven't had a lonely day in some time, it was bound to happen.

"In this world there's a kind of painful progress..."

"...Longing for what we've left behind and dreaming ahead. At least I think so."
~Harper, Angels in America

"To the world I seem by intention on my part a dilettante and a dandy merely..."

"...It is not wise to show one's heart to the world."
~Oscar Wilde

I have Several things I need to write about, but for now, I just want to say that I feel really blessed to 1) be able to do Shakespeare for kids every week and 2) be able to do longform improv theatre. A year ago I would not have foretold that anything like the Thrillionaires would be in my life, and I'm so glad it is. "I hope that strikes a chord somewhere between your neck and your waist."~Maclain Nelson

Here are Lisa Clark, Jenny Latimer, Me, and Hailey Smith backstage at the Velour before we did tonight's show: an homage to Oscar Wilde.

reconfiguring my senses

Finals are over, what is the first thing I do? Read a book of my own choosing. Or rather, finish the book I started during the semester, forced myself to put aside, and then picked up again last week as I procrastinated a little. Big mistake, after I had picked it up again it was a struggle to put it down every time. I read the last third of it today.

I love books that you don't want to be over. I love books that make you cry. I love books that you don't want to give back to the person you borrowed it from. I love books that will have a part of you in them, always, because you let it in, or it finds its way in, to the innermost part of you and that can't help but colour the pages a little. I love books that will be a part of you, always. I love books that you just don't want to let out of your possession. I love books that know me.

I have to give this book back to its owner because it means as much, or more, to her as it does to me. Which is a comfort. And a part of me will always be in it. I'll buy my own copy, fresh and new. And it won't have our history, until I read it again, sometime in the future, at which time I will be a different person, and I will colour its pages differently, recording a different history.

Whenever I got books from the library, I always wondered about all of the people who had read the book before me. How something of each of them was in the book, and if only I knew how, it could become a portal into these other people's lives-- only the part of their life when they were reading the book of course. But those are the book's secrets, which it doesn't divulge. Each book is a history of many different people.

This, and the fact that they're free, is why I like libraries. But the downside is that you have to give those books back, and what if you've created a strong, treasured, rare relationship with that book? You're just expected to let it go? It's like letting a piece of yourself go. For the benefit of others I guess, if they think like I do.

All of this is also why I like to let people borrow my books-- only if they're right, lending books is a risk. What if they don't love it like I loved it? What if they don't treat it well? What if they don't give it back? But if you choose well, you can find the right people to lend to, and when you get the book back, it will have given more, it will have been given more, it will be different, enriched, more experienced, closer to fulfilling its ultimate goal: to give its gift to as many people as possible.

Spring Fever

I think BYU has chosen the worst time to have finals. It's that glorious time of year that Spring is waking up and all I want to do is go outside and be a part of it! I feel like by the time I'll actually get to pay attention to it-- Thursday-- the best parts will be over. For a week before finals you can't expect students to really be able to take advantage of the outdoors. And blossoms are already falling off of trees. I need to revel in this time when it's warm, but not too warm. All too soon that Utah sun will be glaring at me, zapping all the strength out of me. I feel like the sun hates me in the summer. But right now he's my friend and I can't come out and play, I need to stay in my room and work work work to win this race against the clock. If only I didn't have to sleep. Sometimes I try to compromise between the two extremes of playing outside and working inside by reading while laying on my grass. But let's face it, my yard is not a yard, it's a patch of grass next to the road, and more often than not I'll lapse into day dreams. Too much of my work relies on a computer to go farther than my yard, and I like to think I get more work done if I force myself to sit in my room. Well, only a couple more days to go, and then I'll be free as a bird for three days, except for those hours of working in the bookstore...

At least it looks pretty ouside of my window.

I'm all at sea. Now I need you more than ever.

Today was one of those days where I did a great job of being upbeat and happy at school. I comparmentalized, I'm pretty talented at that. It doesn't help my acting, but it gets me through the day just great. The smile slipped just a smidge at improv. And now I'm home alone in my room, and there's no one to keep myself together for. I'm
depressed
tired
stressed
hurt

"Everybody knows, it hurts to grow up. And everybody does."

"God expects you to have enough faith and determination and enough trust in Him to keep moving, keep living, keep rejoicing. In fact, He expects you not simply to face the future (that sounds pretty grim and stoic); He expects you to embrace and shape the future-- to love it and rejoice in it and delight in your opportunities. God is anxiously waiting for the chance to answer your prayers and fulfill your dreams, just as He always has. But He can't if you don't pray, and He can't if you don't dream. In short, He can't if you don't believe." ~Elder Jeffrey R. Holland

Thank you Emily for this inspiration I needed today.

"Do something every day that scares you."

Wise words, Baz.

Lately I've done a pretty good job following that advice. Namely, I've started working on a film, and I've been part of a unique Improvisational Theatre troupe called The Thrillionaires. But you're an acting major, Laura, shouldn't this all come naturally to you? Au contraire, my friend. For the past month and a half or so, I've been attending a weekly improv workshop. The first two weeks I had to literally stop thinking and just direct my feet towards the door because when it came time to leave, I was scared and didn't feel like putting myself through that. I am so glad I went. When I was there, I was always really glad and had a lot of fun. I've learned a lot, gained a little bit of confidence, and improved friendships.

Well, tonight The Thrillionaires had their first show. Last week I was invited to perform, and to become a part of the advanced group. I was really happy about that. And it felt good that pros, who'd been doing improv for years, had enough confidence in me to want to perform with me. As tonight approached, I kept expecting to get nervous, and even claimed that I was. But I don't think that I really was, which is unusual and surprising. Even tonight, I figured that any minute that familiar sensation in the stomach would begin. And it never did. I sometimes felt pretty awkward, but not my traditional nervousness. I was comfortable out there on the stage. Granted, I was onstage for maybe 5 minutes out of a 1 1/2 hour show, but still. It felt really good to be there. And so now I really regret not jumping in more. It was my first time working with all of these very experienced people altogether, and so I felt that I needed permission to jump up and join, to cast myself in a substantial part, instead of just backup (though backup is needed sometimes and I feel fine about providing it.) The scariest thing about improv for me is the jumping up and casting myself part. And so I resolve, tomorrow when we practice, and next week, I will not stifle the many impulses I had tonight. Following my impulses will be what allows my fellow improv artists to trust me. Despite my strange comfort on the stage, improv is still scary. And I don't think it will ever stop being scary, I just am gaining the experience to be able to deal with that scariness, I can let it exist and still continue with the scene. It doesn't conquer me like it has in the past.

The film I started this weekend terrified me. I was so stressed. I'd never done film work before, except for my Acting for Film class, and I felt really out of my element. But it was pretty fun. I think I really enjoyed it. I think if I had allowed myself to invest just a smidgeon more, it would have been really fun. And I think that will come with time. I just have to get used to the camera again.

My roommate, Beth, who saw the show tonight, shared some wise thoughts with me. There's a lot in me, a lot of talent, a lot of commitment, a lot of great stuff. But I find excuses to not allow all of that to come out. My biggest excuse and affliction is lack of confidence. So, I think I just need to throw myself out there. My risks will be bigger, my work will be better. I will make myself a Woman of Opportunity. That's scary.

I've made a huge mistake.

How many times must I learn the painful lesson: never cut your own bangs.

What I secretly desire

1. to take a drawing class
2. to have at least an hour a day I can read a book for pleasure
3. a garden to devote myself to
4. to have the means and opportunity to learn how to cook unusual and delicious things
5. to go someplace amazing this summer
6. a boyfriend
7. a tv that isn't fuzzy
8. to take a photography class
9. a piano to play- maybe eventually I'd get better
10. to be a double major in film
11. to be better versed in literature, without having to write papers about it. Maybe a book club is the answer
12. to find a method of working out that I enjoy
13. to figure out what my exact interior decoration taste is and to incorporate it in my living conditions so that I will LOVE to come home to a loving living space
14. self-confidence I can rely on
15. one day a week that I can watch a movie without feeling guilty
16. to spend some significant time by the sea

Tis a face like no other's... or not

I couldn't resist trying out www.myheritage.com after I saw the results of Chris's and Matt's pictures. They analyze your face and tell you which celebrities you most resemble. My results were very complementary. Being at home, without my laptop, I was limited picture-wise, but I found a couple of pictures from earlier posts that might work. So first I tried this one:

My results were the following:
Drew Barrymore-- 64% Not my favorite actress...

Zhang Ziyi-- 60% Very popular right now.

Norah Jones-- 60% A soulful songstress.

Mae West-- 58% A classic.

Kate Winslet-- 58% One of my favorite actresses! Now I'm really flattered.

Tennessee Williams-- 55% Famous playwright, I can deal with that.

Cameron Diaz-- 54% I don't exactly like her choices or her work, but she is considered pretty hot.

Therese of Lisieux-- 52% A French saint, dubbed The Little Flower of Jesus.

Ava Gardner-- 51% Another classic.

Katie Holmes-- 51% Droopy Eyes? Urgh.

I tried again with my Macbeth picture:

I was a little afraid of what my results would be with this one, but they were again mostly very nice. They included Naomi Watts, Richard Strauss, a couple of famous French actresses, Sammy Davis Jr., Lucille Ball, and Kirsten Dunst.

"This is wanting something, this is praying for it, this is holding breath, and keeping fingers crossed."

Dear blog, I think I've been avoiding you. We've certainly had a different relationship since my family started reading. I just wrote an email that included some things that would once have belonged here, but I think that in writing, they would be taken the wrong way.

Life has been a little unusual lately, and I think that to a certain degree I've been evading dealing with some things. To rationalize, I call this living with them. And maybe living with them is truly what I'm doing, and it's not a bad thing to do. But I have been, in general, a little unhappy lately, and I don't know why. I don't mean to paint the picture that I'm moping around, because there certainly is much happiness as well. I just don't feel like my usual happy self, and I figure that there are reasons for that. I just can't analyze them, because I can't distinguish what this mess is on the cluttered floor of my thoughts where you can't move or you'll step on something.

Maybe it's because a close friend died. After all, I've never dealt with something like that before, and who gets it right on their first try? I'm guessing, and that's all. It's been difficult. There are regrets. There's wishing, there's praying, there's avoidance, there's self-doubt. If I'm pretty sure that she's forgiven me, and I've forgiven her for varoius things, why am I still plagued by them? There's thinking you've put something away, where it goes, only to find yourself stumbling over it in the dark on your way to bed. Maybe this is all because I think too much and have a subconscious desire to make my life more dramatic than it actually is. Maybe it's because I'm lonely. And not in the friendly way. Maybe it's because I've been patient and worked hard but have yet to land that role and be given that opportunity to challenge myself no matter how hard I've fought for it. Maybe it's because I haven't worked as hard at certain things lately as I should have.

School ended and I came home-- for the first time in a year. As usual, it was anti-climactic. You'd think I'd learn that it's always a bigger deal to me than anyone else. It's been nice to just be completely comfortable with people who've known me my whole life-- even if I don't think they really know me anymore. They certainly know a lot more about the face value of my past than anyone else. And they definitely see a different side of me than a lot of other people. It's nice to be here, I missed this place and I missed my family. And I missed the East. Even the air is different.



"To me it's like the most familiar tableau I know:
So much wanting something,
So much reaching for it,
So much wishing just to have one moment back.
So much being patient,
So much blind acceptance,
I know, no I don't know."

~The Light in the Piazza

"But faith is hopin' for something, believing what you can't see..."

"I wanna ask you something.
Is it warm?
Is it soft against your face?
Do you feel a kind of grace inside the breeze?
Will there be trees?
Is there light?
Does it hover on the ground?
Does it shine from all around?
Or just from you?

Is it endless and empty,
Can you wander on your own?
Slowly forget about the folks that you have known.
Or does rising bread fill up the air
From open kitchens everywhere?
Familiar faces as far as you can see,
Like a family.

Do we live?
Is it like a little town?
Do we get to look back down
at who we’ve known?
Are we above?
Are we everywhere?
Are we anywhere at all?
Do we hear a trumpet call us and we’re by your side?

Will I walk,
Will I whisper all the things I should have done?
Longing to finish what I’ve only just begun.
Or has a shining truth been waiting there
For all the questions everywhere?
In a world of wondering,
Suddenly you know.
And you will always know.

Will my momma be there
waiting for me?
Smiling like the way she does,
And holding out her arms
As she calls my name.
She will hold me just the same.

Only heaven knows how glory goes.
What each of us was meant to be.
In the starlight,
That is what we are.
I can see so far."

"How Glory Goes" from Floyd Collins. Don't just read it, go listen to it.

I was stirred out of my comfortable, dark, ignorant sleep this morning by the vibrating of my cell phone. I almost ignored it, preferring to remain curled in my whorl of sheets and fuzzy blanket. But I creaked out of bed and scurried over to my jeans left on the floor from yesterday, in the pocket of which lay my phone, urgently vibrating. My friend didn't sound happy, and though I knew my voice betrayed my sleeping habits, there were no apologies for waking me up. Something was wrong. Last night one of my best friends passed away. Katie Renville was in a car accident with her mom as they were driving back from Oregon.

My mind refused to absorb this new truth for a few minutes, but it eventually sunk in.

And thus began a day spent calling friends, telling them, in my turn, this unpleasant truth, and listening to their first few painful minutes of struggling to make this fact a reality in their minds and hearts.

I love Katie. With all of my heart. And so you would think I'd be a wreck. Several people have called, checking up on me, offering to do anything for me they could. And I feel guilty for not weeping all day. But I think I've been especially blessed with comfort and peace. I don't know why, but I'm grateful for it. I have no real previous experience with death except for my cats, so I can't explain it by lessons learned in the past. All I know is that though I'll miss her, and wish she could have stayed in the world longer to experience everything she dreamed of, I know that she is in a good place. She's now free of the pain she's had to live with throughout her life. She'll be as active as she ever was, serving the Lord in a different way now. She knows how much I love her.

Maybe everything will catch up to me. But today I was at peace. And I think I need this calm, grounded knowledge which has been given to me for that potential future when I'm not so peaceful.

Has something really small, seemingly insignificant, but very personal ever happened to you which makes you know that your Heavenly Father is more aware of you and your feelings than you realize? An hour after my friend called, an hour I had spent alone, calling a few people and sharing the news with them, an hour spent with tears and figuring out when the last time I saw her was, my alarm clock went off. It was set to a radio station which I never listen to; my hand reacts so quickly to turn the alarm off that I never hear what it's playing and so don't care what station it's set to. This morning it was playing the sixth movement of John Rutter's Requiem. Nothing could have been more fitting, or more comforting. It seemed like a little message from God, just for me.

The Lord gives some incredible gifts. Without the gospel, and this knowledge, life and death would be so much more difficult.

I send this out into the void: Thank you, Katie. My life has been changed because of you. Since my first semester at BYU when we did our irritating scene from Isn't It Romantic?, to being stage managed by you, to our trials as roommates, I have been so grateful to have you in my life. There is no one like you. I'll miss quoting "I could throw this table at you." etc, I'll miss recognizing your laugh whenever I'm in hearing distance, I'll miss your never-ending support of me in all aspects. I don't think I've ever known anyone as supportive as you. No one has told me that they loved me as often as you did. Your ability to live with the trials life gave you was inspiring. Your unashamed originality was always a joy in my life and I'll miss your loud self. I love you.

What are men to rocks and mountains?

Beth tells me I'm very good at making myself depressed. It's true. Tonight Logan and I went to Pride and Prejudice to relive our Chatsworth experience together (the estate that was used for Pemberley). As soon as the movie started I realized how homesick it was going to make me for England. And add to that a Mr. Darcy that I love. I'm ridiculous.

Fear and loathing in Las Vegas

On Friday I left my temporary Provo home to spend a weekend in Las Vegas. I believe this sentence is supposed to stir up ideas of throwing propriety to the wind in wild abandonment, replacing a plodding, school-dictated life with a spree of lights, laughter, and irresponsibility. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, so why worry about what I may regret in any other city? I can be what I want to be and do what I want to do in Las Vegas. But alas, this city of money and facade has not captured my heart in such a way. Last week I had a pretty rough time of it, and I pretty much just wanted to chill and perhaps catch up on some homework. Sometimes I do seem like the most boring person I know. I had no desire to make the effort of driving 5 1/2 hours by myself to a city I had no affection for. But I did have a desire to see a good friend, and we had tickets to a Jason Mraz concert, so go I must.

The drive was pretty uneventful, and pretty peaceful. A friend would have been preferred, but it certainly wasn't as bad as I had anticipated. It was just me, the road, and my music for hundreds of miles in the desert. When I arrived at Sylvia's apartment, I promptly locked my keys in the car. Only the second time in my life I've done it, and thanks to AAA, it wasn't a big deal. But I did have to go with Sylvia to work, where she had to play Gatekeeper for the first show while I wandered the Strip by myself. Granted, being in Las Vegas for five hours by myself probably wasn't the best way of getting to like the city. I don't know if I saw anyone else there by themselves. And what does Laura do when you set her down on the Strip with hours to play? She reads for an hour in a Starbucks, watches the fountain show at the Bellagio, and then goes straight to the only art exhibit around. But it was $12 for 24 paintings, and after seeing a plethora of any art I desired in London recently for free, I didn't feel like paying. I spent some time in the giftshop, sat down in a comfortable chair in a miraculously quiet hallway, talked to some friends on the phone, read some more, and then set back off down the Strip, back to the MGM for KA.

Feeling some homesickness for NYC, I decided to stop into the New York, New York casino. On a previous visit I had already seen the Paris and the Venetian, neither of which compared to the real thing. But I thought I might as well stop in to see what this false Big Apple was like. And again, after having bitten into the real thing, I didn't like being offered this fake, commercial Apple flavor. It left a bad taste in my mouth. I hoped desperately that all the people enjoying themselves so much around me had experienced the real thing, and wouldn't accept the casino as good enough. I looked around me, feeling overwhelmed and oppressed by how much was being wasted. Money, life, emotions, electricity, opportunities, time... Nothing that is offered on the Strip will bring you lasting happiness. It is a spree, nothing more.

Maybe it's just me. I admit that I've never been one for meer entertainment with no substance beneath. If I had my dream of a movie collection, you wouldn't see many straight-up comedies in it. Perhaps with adjusted expectations, I could enjoy Las Vegas as others do. And I'm sure that if I gambled, drank, and liked to oggle women who flaunted their bodies for the pleasure of men's eyes and imaginations, Las Vegas would offer a lot more to me. But as much as I LOVE seeing my friend, and I respect her love for her city, I don't share that love.

KA is a Cirque du Soleil show that Sylvia works at, and it was pretty amazing. I've seen some Cirque before, on video or TV and such, so I knew what to expect. This one had a story, which I quite enjoyed. It was beautiful. I've never seen such hand puppetry, and I doubt I ever will. I definitely recommend it. And it was free for me! I'm really glad I got to experience it. James Blunt, who opened for Jason Mraz the next night, was not a disappointment, though he didn't play my favorite song. I do wish the crowd would have been a little quieter during the performance, especially during the heart-breaking song about war, but not many of them knew who he was, and therefore didn't care. Jason Mraz played mostly from his most recent album, which I'm not a huge fan of. I expected this, but did hope that he would sing my favorite song from his first album, "Tonight, Not Again". But alas, he did not. He was definitely entertaining and apparently had a lot of fun performing. And he played one song from his most recent album, one which I previously didn't much like, but when he performed it it was Amazing and I felt like crying.

I feared loathing Las Vegas, and therefore the entire weekend, but I had a pretty good time once I let my many objections to the Strip lifestyle sweep on by. I'm glad I got to take off and do something out of the ordinary. My feelings towards Las Vegas remain unchanged, but I've missed Sylvia and enjoyed spending time with her. There's certainly no one like her.

"I really do have love to give; I just don't know where to put it."

~Quiz Kid Donnie Smith, Magnolia

I drove into the mountains today with no plans. As I had walked into church this morning, I looked up and saw the mountains which literally made me stop in my tracks to gaze in appreciation. It was cloudy, so the tops were swathed in mists and the trees were all sorts of colors. It looked like something from a movie which couldn't be real, but there they were in front of me! I knew I had to drive into the mountains today. First, Christie and I drove up to Squaw Peak which was gorgeous.

Afterwards, we headed up past Sundance lodge, and just kept driving, where we found amazing, huge birch trees, all with golden yellow leaves, endlessly spreading over the slopes of the mountain. It was unspeakably gorgeous. Why have I not discovered this place before? Because I needed it today. I need to go back and take some pictures-- by the time we got there it was a bit too dark for that.

It was the perfect activity for the day. I've been feeling lonesome all weekend.

"I'm all at sea
Where no one can bother me
Forgot my roots
If only for a day
Just me and my thoughts sailing far away
Like a warm drink it seeps into my soul
Please just leave me right here on my own
Later on you could spend some time with me
If you want to
All at sea

Now I need you more than ever, I need you more than ever, now
You don't need it every day
But sometimes don't you just crave
To disappear within your mind
You never know what you might find
So come and spend some time with me
We will spend it all at sea"

All at Sea, Jamie Cullum

"has summer gone so slowly?"

Despite the boredom I encountered during the summer months, I did find some things to entertain myself. Beth and I dressed up 80's fabulous to go to a birthday party. I'm so glad I was only a child in the 80's.
Matt (Malcolm) gets into character reading some Jasper Fforde, apparently. I spent a lot of time with the Macbeth cast and crew. Now that the show's been over for a couple of weeks, I definitely miss all the quality time spent with these people. I loved watching the sun set from the hills surrounding the Castle as we put our makeup on and talked about our days. It was a great time to unwind and forget the world.
If you didn't know already, the costumes and makeup were inspired by the Goth crowd. Our witch trio grew close, and we enjoyed dressing up in high-heeled combat boots, fishnets, and tattoos. Though the boots made slinking around the Castle a little treacherous. And all of our flowing clothing struck fear into our hearts as it drifted too close to our potion fire night after night. This show was definitely one of my favorite productions I've been a part of.

Do I look like Satan's helper?
Christie (Lady Macbeth, above), Michelle (Lady Macduff), Say Jay (tattoo artist) and I became good friends during our production weeks.

Tales from the Twilight Zone

I can't say that I love my work. I really like the people that I work with, but during my shift we barely have any time to interact. I just ring up item after item after item. Not very intellectually stimulating. But there have been some bizarre occurrences, which is entirely fitting in a store of such a name.

1. The day after Peter Jennings died, my scary manager exulted: "At least he's a liberal. If the liberals keep dying like this we'll have killed them all off and we won't have to deal with them on our news anymore!" I couldn't believe my ears. Oh how I wanted to look up and say simply, "I am a liberal."

2. A young man asked me if there were any caffeinated drinks in the store. I told him no, BYU didn't sell anything caffeinated, and that the nearest source of caffeinated soda was J. Dawgz. He looked at me, slightly puzzled, and asked if this was a catholic school, or a mormon school or something. Was he abducted and dropped off on an unknown campus? I asked where he was from and what he was doing here. He said he was from California, and "just looking around". What did he think of BYU? There were a lot of people.

3. During Education Week, a notebook was left near my register. I did as Chris Clark would do and snooped inside. It was completely empty except for four steps written on the first page:
1) Listen actively. Oh, this could be about acting.
2) Be romantic. Hm, I guess not.
3) Kiss slowly. The moment when I started giggling.
4) Girls like the gentle touch. Well I happen to know several girls who dream about being handled roughly. With this last step, I cracked up and unashamedly showed it to all of my coworkers. I had been well rewarded for my snoopy ways.
What is more disturbing, that this guy felt the need to write these steps down for his future relationships, or that BYU was providing a class that taught these steps?

4. The bookstore sells the oh-so-popular undershirts which have lace on the bottom. They're long so that girls can wear them under the stylish shorter shirts of our day, and refrain from showing stomach and back. Cute and modest, perfect for the bookstore, yes? One of my managers, Phil, was accosted by an older woman who was hunting for the head manager of the bookstore. She held one of these undershirts on a hanger and thrust it into Phil's face, demanding to know "Do you know what this is?!" Phil, stating the obvious, replied, "It's an undershirt." "This is no undershirt. This is lingerie!" she exclaimed, her voice dripping with disgust. "I am ashamed that the bookstore would be selling such filth!" She marched on to interrogate the manager of the bookstore. Phil returned to the floor, only to run into one of the woman's friends who was holding a distressed jean jacket. Being distressed, this jacket had some 'dirty' spots on it. The second woman thrust the jacket into Phil's face, demanding to know "Do you know what this is?!" Phil, again stating the obvious, replied, "It's a jean jacket." "These spots represent manure, which came into style when that man threw manure at the Madonna, calling it art! This jacket represents manure on the Madonna! I need to see your manager!" A few days later, one of the bookstore employees was wearing one of those lacey undershirts, and was called a "dirty whore" by a customer. Crazy old conservative women.

At our staff meeting on Thursday, we girls had to get there early for a lecture on modesty. Carol, the scary manager, urged us to wear those wonderful undershirts with the cute lace at the bottom.

" He awoke each morning with the desire to do right, to be a good and meaningful person,...

...to be, as simple as it sounded and as impossible as it actually was, happy. And during the course of each day his heart would descend from his chest into his stomach. By early afternoon he was overcome by the feeling that nothing was right, or nothing was right for him, and by the desire to be alone. By evening he was fulfilled: alone in the magnitude of his grief, alone in his aimless guilt, alone even in his loneliness. I am not sad, he would repeat to himself over and over, I am not sad. As if he might one day convince himself. Or fool himself. Or convince others-- the only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad. I am not sad. I am not sad. Because his life had unlimited potential for happiness, insofar as it was an empty white room. He would fall asleep with his heart at the foot of his bed, like some domesticated animal that was no part of him at all. And each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his rib cage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping. And by midafternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else. I am not sad."

~Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer

I'm the girl in the Edward Hopper picture again. Drinking coffee by myself in an empty laundromat, the reflected lights stretching into infinite abandonment.

I spoke too soon when I said that things were falling into place. I've had two major disappointments recently, and one minor one. I'm dealing with them a lot better than I would have a year ago; I recognize and truly believe that what has happened is for the best. But it still sucks.

In an effort to restructure my idea of what this semester will be, I've been trying to analyze what this crappy feeling is that lurks inside like so much green ooze. I thought it was just a mood, but perhaps I am really at a loss to define what it is that I'm doing with my life right now. I feel listless and unmotivated. What are my goals? To become a better actor, a better person, broaden my horizons, learn... On Sunday, in RS, our lesson was about the future, what to do when things don't turn out the way you expect them to, (namely, when you don't get married when you're at BYU...) One of the things which was stressed was that we should make ourselves as complete as we can, creating a strong base within ourselves; we don't need someone else to complete us. The idea of myself as a strong, independent woman is appealing. I have been trying to work on this, to make myself a more independently complete person. It doesn't work. I have heard this sort of thing in RS ever since I entered it Freshman year. I have been obedient and tried it. But life is made up of relationships. The most meaningful parts of our lives are our connections with other people. Yes, you need some strong roots, but you also need interaction with and nourishment from other people. Perhaps my problem is that everyone around me has something in their lives which drives them every day. Usually, for me, that something would be an acting class or a play. None of my classes are inspiring. As Macbeth winds down and Hamlet launches into weekly performances, I don't feel like I have a project which spurs me on, that thing which I'm passionate about, that I look forward to every day. And I'm at a loss as to what to do with myself. A relationship? That would be fantastic. A new challenge I have yet to explore. But that opportunity is one of my more recent disappointments, and I don't see a recurrence anywere on the horizon.

I guess I just keep going.