irrational spontaneity

she buys the pillow before the bedding,
the shoes before the outfit

the dress before the occasion

and the boots before the snow

the photo before the memories,

the bedding before the husband

         she has the pillow before the husband.
         the outfit before the photo.
         and the memories before the snow.

she never does buy the eggs before the cake

 because

where's the spontaneity in that?

enough

once upon a time there was a girl
a girl who's closet was created by name brands and magazines
she was blonde.        although technically a brunette.
beyond her shirt logos and bleached hair, her
own solitude supressed her.
she wanted to be that girl in a magazine.

her choices were premeditated by her environment; agency was null.
it didn't matter her indifference for fall out boy; she listened.
because the radio ordered and friends observed
she disliked her reflection, frowning at her lack of bust. and her
unperfect face
her unsmooth hair and medium skin
the acne and eyebrows
her whole self did not belong in a magazine

how she envisioned herself transformed by needles and stitches
maybe one day she would be enough.


one day


she woke up.
she woke up and threw away the magazines and tight shirts
the advice yearned from tv
and kept instead memories and her mother's words


one day
   gradually d r i f t e d
 into the dawning of
today.

today there is a girl
a girl who listens to her tune of music
a girl who, on occasion, make in-routes to mainstream for a
vacation but is settled pleasantly in the
current of independence.
she wears boring v-neck shirts
and let's her hair air-dry
minimal make-up and sometimes no make-up.
because she does not need to mask the past
or her present
this girl knows, for better or worse,
her road, her choices, her choice,
her future.
this girl knows she is entitled
to agency and happiness and love, devoid of unrealistic images
unrealistic expectations, and the pessimism of self-doubt

happily ever after is on the way. but now happily is enough.
she is enough.

just for a dream

i bought laundry detergent that smells like you. 

i washed my sheets and pillowcases and your sweatshirt and my teddy bear in it. 

my hope... no-- my wish. . .

is that perhaps when i lie in your smell my dreams might be filled with you

because you've been unusually absent lately in my sleep,

and i really miss you. 

 nevermind that i bought 2 laundry detergents. . .


amidst all this nevermind, i know you wouldn't mind

you would chuckle.  and maybe wish for your sheets to smell

like me

around the world

and tonight we might not be so far apart

but see each other, even if just for a dream

the timely death of IKEA love

the story of Home Teacher man has a conclusion.  

a definite period { . } to end all the confabulation and confusion and chaos.

the world may be a small place, but it is even smaller in provo.  dangerously so for some dating endeavers. 

tonight my darling new-ish friend nigel invited me to go see Sherlock Holmes with two of her friends, who i discovered in the dark of the theater are my friends as well! {i love randomly hanging out with jill and abbey!}

nigel and i made yet another discovery, beyond our mutual friends.

we were swapping war stories of dating.  i couldn't wait to tell her mine about Baseball Player {emphasis on the 2nd word.  he may also be references as "gum stealer"} and Home Teacher man.  now that we were both moved out of the ward i felt safe in sharing my tale of an obvious mutual acquaintance.

i began with date #1 where Home Teacher man and i had a fantastic time, went to the volleyball game, watched (500) Days of Summer, and he put his arm around me.
nigel started giggling. 
 i ventured on to tell about disaster date #2, 3 weeks of no contact, the random invitation to go see Date Night where he lifted the arm rest and initiating hand holding, and his subsequent refusal to acknowledge our semi-friendship in any setting {even when he helped me "move" a t.v. which is another story entirely of awkwardness and frustration}. 

by this point nigel is nearly bursting at the seams with laughter, and gushes that last saturday (one week after Home Teacher man held my hand) he took her out, they went to a volleyball game, they watched (500) Days of Summer, and he put his arm around her. plus last night they cuddled again and he went in for the kiss... but she denied him. thank heavens for both of us.

oh my goodness.  

 he used the exact same move, on BOTH of us.
         we have been John Tucker-ed.
                    he's probably watching (500) Days of Summer with some other girl right now and canoodling her!
                          the questioning of what he was doing while not talking to me has clearly been answered.


that comical coincidence sealed our friendship, both due to the incredible irony, the stupidity of Home Teacher man to not think we would find out, and our pact {after unveiling his devious little actions} to refuse all future invitations and cast the line that we {nigel and i} are friends and know  all of each others' secrets.  including his dirty little secret of being a serial dater.

Home Teacher man, our IKEA love has come to an end. for good.  it shall never be recesitated again-- no glimmer on the monitor could ever induce me to shock that potential back into pulsation because your dirty little secret killed it stone dead.

ingrid in blog-form

meg.

she's darling, intriguing, and quite possibly the most impressive writer i have ever beheld.
thing is... i don't actually know meg. or know anyone who does. ali introduced us, but she doesn't know meg either.

meg is my ingrid in blog-form.
my blog soulmate.

meg appears to have sprung from the pages of a novel; her life in NYC {i daresay from my blog-stalking} is fascinating-- quaint, charming, and full of raw emotion. perhaps that is why i love her so. she's candid in a witty manner, not afraid to know what she feels and string it together with verbs and adjectives that paint scenery which fill your curiosity with sadness or laughter, empathetic pain or unknown liberation.
if you have an hour or two to read {because you can't stop after just one post-- she's better than Lay's potato chips} please join my obsession of

The Wild and Wily Ways of a Brunette Bombshell

or-so-i-feel.blogspot.com

gestation of 1.6 babies

gestation: the time between conception and birth.

i'm not pregnant.
in case anyone is worried reading this, i am NOT pregnant. i am not with child, i am not expecting, i am not "glowing", i am not fertilized.

but i have my own gestation of sorts. the time between saying goodbye and saying hello. only my gestation period is approximately 24 months, 104 weeks, 730 days, 17520 hours... however you want to look at it. i like the weeks, because it's easier to think i only have so many more mondays before i can say hello.

i was suppose to write this last thursday.  but we'll just pretend it's thursday as i'm writing this.

it's been a baby.  today {thursday-- we're pretending, remember?} it has been a baby.  the 9 month marker.  although it's only been 38 weeks, exactly 9 months ago marked the start of gestation.

9 months = 1 baby

24 months = 2.6 babies

... 24-9= 15...

thus we see by this proof that

15 months = 1.6 babies

1.6 babies. 

1.6 babies until potentially the happiest day of my life, yet.  

1.6 babies until the day and reunion my mind frequently reverts back to daydreaming. 

1.6 babies until i get to say hello not in an email, not on the phone, but a real hello. face to face.  smiles and all.

before i know it {i'm crossing my fingers with optimism} i'll have arrived at my "delivery date", the water will break {tears, of course}, and i will have in my arms what i have waited 2.6 babies for.  

i have 1.6 babies left.  that's only 5 trimesters to go.

gum

i am a piece of gum.  big bubble-tape bubble gum, spiraled in grape flavoring;  the kind that leaves traces of white chalk on fingers and lips and noses but is nevertheless enjoyed with satisfactory grins and oblivion to the inconspicuousness of powder dusted as evidence.  the kind that captures attention and is inspected while in line at the grocery store; the promise of packaging induces purchasing and subsequent consumption.

only,

i am a stolen piece of gum that wasn't  even savored before being removed effortlessly and stuck being a stupid ear to be forgotten.  you see, i, being the stolen-used-and-forgotten piece of gum glued to a hairy ear is fully aware when a new piece of gum is not only inspected but  purchased, and subsequently savored like a delicacy.  

and while i recognize that i was not ready to be savored in all my glory, that such a commitment to be chewed for lack of flavor or for loss of texture, i was expecting to be purchased, i was expecting more, and i was expecting etiquette rather than cavalier disregard and insensitivity.

i am just a piece of gum.  but with no hint of apology upon the lips that spat me out so quickly when I didn't want to be inserted in the first place... is, frankly... disconcerting and claim enough to retreat with heightened security into my wrapper once again, where no one will be able to pry loose the edges, try as they might.

that will be my only closure.   

i deserve to be savored.
     but today... today i just feel flavorless.

unwritten rule-- take 2

the unwritten rules... besides dating your home teacher there's another which is just as, if not more, vital to follow:

do NOT establish a relationship beyond the bounds of
TA and Student.

...but it's not my fault...

          and it's not really reality.

i'm breaking this unwritten rule in my mind.  subconsciously. i have had 3 dreams {in a row!} which despite their ridiculous scenarios of Home Depot music-videos and blow-up slides in a skeptical backyard, the major plot-line involves Student and i dating, holding hands, and. . . kissing. frankly it's weirding me out. and the weirdness has diseased not only my subconscious but has invaded my conscious thoughts as well.

i'm not gonna lie-- i think Student is cute. i find his constant singing adorable, his piano major interesting... but here's the danger.  because of my recurring dreams i have broken the cardinal rule and begun to find his emails endearing and his Frankl essay inspirational and telling about said Student's character.

we've always gotten along, Student and i.  we've had several interactions throughout the semester. but the dreams sprung from our interaction last thursday.

he emailed me, asking if i was going to hold a review session. he came. we chatted before, just him and i, while we waited for everyone else to come and the clock to strike 1:00. at the conclusion of the review session i invited those who had come in late to move to the conference room where i could catch them up.

Student came too.
      and sat next to me.
after 5 minutes everyone was caught up.  o n e by o n e they exited.
                but he stayed.
finding myself alone, in a conference room, with attractive Student caught me quite off guard.
                       gah!

while explaining in further detail a few concepts to be on the test the conversation evolved into prolonged casual chit chat not even relevant to psychology... which lasted longer than typical TA-student conversations, upwards of 15 minutes.

after mutual hesitation and an ever-so-slightly awkward pause we both gathered our  notebooks and pencils and laptops and made our way to the elevator, which we rode down together for 9 floors, conversing easily.  as we exited the metal chamber our footsteps carried us in the same direction; we resumed walking and talking together; he didn't stray from my side until finally bidding, "see ya later" as i entered the library and he ventured home to take a nap.

if that wasn't odd enough he sent me an email at phase 2 of 3 dreams which was really nice, basically telling me i'm the best and helped him pass the class.  every TA's dream.
i'm reading too much into things, i know, but it's because of my blasted cursed dreams that i have a hope he'll brake precedent and ask me out... because after tomorrow I won't technically be his TA anymore.  my subconscious is driving me crazy.  i don't actually think i want to go out with him but he's so charming in my dreams that my subconscious has tricked me into thinking i do...
confusion? yes.  incredibly so.

          after tomorrow the unwritten rule isn't so applicable...
but can i still break it if it was once in effect?

i would really appreciate not experiencing another home-teacher-eque disaster because of my dismissal of
 the unwritten rule.