So Nikkita and I have a song. Yes, a song that we share. It's kind of like a couple's special song except tragically we are both heterosexual so it's not our couples song.
Anyways, the song we sing together the most is a modified version of "Happy Together". (If you don't know this song... Well, I'm pretty sure you should).
Our song goes like this:
"I can't see me lovin' nobody--"
And thats it.
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
The Professional
Hi, my name's Nikkita, I'm a professional of dying alone-
I'M AN INDEPENDENT WOMAN WHAT DON'T NEED NO MAN-
Cool your jets, kid. Anyway. I've discussed this with my mom, who by this point in her own life was working on her second child and moving in with her previous child's father. But she was in San Francisco, not Mormon country. Different times.
Anyway.
Over summer break before embarking on my final semester of school my mom pulls me aside and asks me if I want to get married. Seriously, Do I? And I say sure. Kids. Husband. Sounds great. I'm open to possibility. She gives me a meaningful look and asks if there are any men left to get married. And I can think of all the statistics I've heard, how currently a quarter of my school is married and fifty percent of the graduating student body is married. But all I can say is I don't really know mom.
At this point with the weather turning cold and graduation coming up it's easier to see the horizon of my life. I can imagine coming home to a small space, somewhere with lots of sunshine and good wood floors and a white comforter. Having lots of books and good tea to drink before bed and enough money to nurture a record addiction. I can be happy with that.
Of course I can't tell her that. It probably isn't even worth mentioning that I can't be interested in anyone that doesn't have the passionate soul of an artist or the hands of a laborer.
I don't know mom. To some it is given.
I'M AN INDEPENDENT WOMAN WHAT DON'T NEED NO MAN-
Cool your jets, kid. Anyway. I've discussed this with my mom, who by this point in her own life was working on her second child and moving in with her previous child's father. But she was in San Francisco, not Mormon country. Different times.
Anyway.
Over summer break before embarking on my final semester of school my mom pulls me aside and asks me if I want to get married. Seriously, Do I? And I say sure. Kids. Husband. Sounds great. I'm open to possibility. She gives me a meaningful look and asks if there are any men left to get married. And I can think of all the statistics I've heard, how currently a quarter of my school is married and fifty percent of the graduating student body is married. But all I can say is I don't really know mom.
At this point with the weather turning cold and graduation coming up it's easier to see the horizon of my life. I can imagine coming home to a small space, somewhere with lots of sunshine and good wood floors and a white comforter. Having lots of books and good tea to drink before bed and enough money to nurture a record addiction. I can be happy with that.
Of course I can't tell her that. It probably isn't even worth mentioning that I can't be interested in anyone that doesn't have the passionate soul of an artist or the hands of a laborer.
I don't know mom. To some it is given.
In case our title "The Wheat and the Tears" wasn't enough
This is like the most beautiful thing ever.
That's all.
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
The loneliest thing
You know what's really lonely?
Even lonelier than writing a blog about being lonely that nobody in the whole interweb reads?
I don't think you do.
Let me paint a picture but not one of the pictures that my neglectful room mate likes to paint. (Though one of her pictures will be within this picture... PICTURE INCEPTION)
One of the loneliest things is co-writing a blog about being lonely that nobody reads and being the only writer in this co-ownership that actually writes in said blog. Yes, I was abandoned by the one and only true friend I had left in the world, Nikkita Anastasia Walker. (Ok, I have other good friends but don't tell her that. I need leverage to guilt her into reading one of my book recommendations for a change.)
Anyways, I'm over by the kitchen counter huddled over a bowl of Krave (there's chocolate on the inside!) while Nikkita coldly ignores my pleas to write together because she has to do homework or something.
Pssh.
Ten years from now which is she going to care about more? A homework assignment or a life long friendship full of wonderful arguments and steaming mugs of hot chocolate?
Since I'm here, writing my lonely blog all alone I decide that listening to Eponine sing about her broken heart is a good idea. Unfortunately, searching for "On My Own" on youtube proves more difficult than I would like. And by that I mean I would have to scroll past On My Own from Teen Beach Movie Two before reaching it. I decide it's not worth the effort and listen to Teen Beach Movie instead.
Yep.
And then something glorious happens to me!
Out of Kita's mouth come forth words...
...words describing a scene from Moby Dick,
Apparently there are two guys in that room that have to share a marital bed for a night and wake up spooning each other.
Well, I think that's all there is to say about that.
Even lonelier than writing a blog about being lonely that nobody in the whole interweb reads?
I don't think you do.
Let me paint a picture but not one of the pictures that my neglectful room mate likes to paint. (Though one of her pictures will be within this picture... PICTURE INCEPTION)
One of the loneliest things is co-writing a blog about being lonely that nobody reads and being the only writer in this co-ownership that actually writes in said blog. Yes, I was abandoned by the one and only true friend I had left in the world, Nikkita Anastasia Walker. (Ok, I have other good friends but don't tell her that. I need leverage to guilt her into reading one of my book recommendations for a change.)
Anyways, I'm over by the kitchen counter huddled over a bowl of Krave (there's chocolate on the inside!) while Nikkita coldly ignores my pleas to write together because she has to do homework or something.
Pssh.
Ten years from now which is she going to care about more? A homework assignment or a life long friendship full of wonderful arguments and steaming mugs of hot chocolate?
Since I'm here, writing my lonely blog all alone I decide that listening to Eponine sing about her broken heart is a good idea. Unfortunately, searching for "On My Own" on youtube proves more difficult than I would like. And by that I mean I would have to scroll past On My Own from Teen Beach Movie Two before reaching it. I decide it's not worth the effort and listen to Teen Beach Movie instead.
Yep.
And then something glorious happens to me!
Out of Kita's mouth come forth words...
...words describing a scene from Moby Dick,
Apparently there are two guys in that room that have to share a marital bed for a night and wake up spooning each other.
Well, I think that's all there is to say about that.
Sunday, September 13, 2015
Wherein we are affected by fall.
As autumn rolls in so do so many wonderful things. It's a season of sweaters, hot chocolate, fiery dancing trees, and windy afternoons.
It is also the season of good times past.
Yes, it's a wonderful time that reminds you of other wonderful times.
Times long gone.
Times when you were happy and carefree.
Maybe you will even harken back to that time you had someone special in your life....
And then you eat ALL THE PUMPKIN FLAVORED THINGS.
The End
It is also the season of good times past.
Yes, it's a wonderful time that reminds you of other wonderful times.
Times long gone.
Times when you were happy and carefree.
Maybe you will even harken back to that time you had someone special in your life....
And then you eat ALL THE PUMPKIN FLAVORED THINGS.
The End
Sunday, September 6, 2015
You Go Girl!
A little glimpse of the emotional journey I've been through almost everyday this past week:
6:32 a.m
You go girl. I roll over in bed and find my phone before the Muses (yes, the goddesses of the arts and proclaimers of heroes) sing long enough to wake up anyone else in the apartment. I dance my way out of my room and into the kitchen for a nice bowl of cereal full of whole grains and vitamins. Yeah, that's right! It's only 6 something in the morning and I've already filled myself with wholesome things. I continue readying myself in anticipation of a day that could very well be the best day ever.
8:06 a.m.
I jump on the shuttle that will get me to campus in 6 minutes flat. The shuttle driver smiles at everyone entering and plays "Come and get your love". The perfect thing to listen to on your way up to campus!
I leave the shuttle and leisurely make my way past the MOA to the library. Once there I can bask in the early morning peace and maybe even get a head start on homework.
9:00 a.m.
Classes! I love school! I get to learn so many new things! Oh, look there's my favorite absent minded physics professor. Does he see me? Maybe I'll wave. Look at that he's coming over to say hi! He remembers me! That's so sweet.
10:53 a.m.
I'm just off to another class. Today is such a great day. Nothing could make it better. Oh wait, take that back! There's Good Friend X!
Hello, Good Friend X!
I look really happy today? Why thank you!
You think that I must be so happy because I found someone?
Nope, I haven't found found anyone yet. I'm just happy today.
11:43 a.m.
Yeah, I'm single. I'm so happy single. Being single is the best.
3:50 p.m.
I'm happy single. I mean it would be nice to have someone...
But I'm happy.
Yeah, I'm so good right now.
I just feel so good.
I feel good, right?
7:21 p.m.
I'm just gonna wrap myself in the fuzziest happiest yellow blanket ever.
Yeah.
The cocoon of love.
Everyone in the cocoon loves me.
7:59 p.m.
*curled up in fetal position*
It's so warm but I feel so very cold.
8:05 p.m.
I am so very very alone.
9:00 p.m.
I stay in my room making no noise and pretending that I don't exist.
9:30 p.m.
I get into bed.
6:32 a.m.
You go girl. Today is going to be awesome!
A Sea Full of Fish
I jumped in my truck and raced off to find my friends. I had just received my letter of admission to a certain desirable university (BYU) and I needed to spread the good news. I rolled down the windows of the truck and blasted the radio so that the whole world (or at least the whole of my little home town) could participate in my joy. Beyonce happened to be the first voice to greet me from the little box in my dashboard.
"All the single ladies, all the single ladies, put your hands up" she sung.
Little did I know that these words would foreshadow my time spent in Provo, Utah, a mysterious land where a majority of people my age would be married or engaged in only a few years after starting college, so accurately.
Thus began my journey into a "sea full of fish", a diverse sea where so many seem to find the anemone to their clown fish. Over the last few years I've spent quite some time as one of those fish that seems to make this sea so full.
For some reason I thought it would be fun to tell that story, the story of me not finding somebody to love, that is. So if you are one who is attracted to the fine art of remaining single, of the intentional variety or not, I would recommend this blog. If you prefer the kind of story that ends with a happily wed couple, you may wish to focus your attention elsewhere.
"All the single ladies, all the single ladies, put your hands up" she sung.
Little did I know that these words would foreshadow my time spent in Provo, Utah, a mysterious land where a majority of people my age would be married or engaged in only a few years after starting college, so accurately.
Thus began my journey into a "sea full of fish", a diverse sea where so many seem to find the anemone to their clown fish. Over the last few years I've spent quite some time as one of those fish that seems to make this sea so full.
For some reason I thought it would be fun to tell that story, the story of me not finding somebody to love, that is. So if you are one who is attracted to the fine art of remaining single, of the intentional variety or not, I would recommend this blog. If you prefer the kind of story that ends with a happily wed couple, you may wish to focus your attention elsewhere.
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