whomp.

Tomorrow is the 1st of october, so that means TREAT DAY!

This month we're having s'mores, roasted starburst, and E.L. Fudge cookies--the elf ones.

Today I invited Dallin to it, and he was outraged that I was just planning on making S'mores over the stove so he said we could come over to his house and have a bon fire and do it there so I am very excited becasue I love bon fires and treats.

Dime Piece.

There are a lot more cute boys (skinny jeans, top-siders, cardigans...) around BYU-I this semester, and even though you can't really gauge people's personality, habits and hobbies by the way they dress anymore--I appreciate it.

Also, it's bad to judge people by their outward appearance (which I am guilty of) so this helps me a lot.

and in that moment I swear we were infinite.

"and in that moment I swear we were infinite."
"and in that moment I swear we were infinite."
...
"now you have to say it tiff"
"and in that moment I swear we were infinite?".

I guess the inflection in her voice was understandable... It was the first time she had ever done it, and it is a little weird--but it always gets me grounded and lets me turn over a new page.
It was Mads first time too and we did it for her, but we all ended up feeling infinite after it: like all that mattered was us, the stars, and that moment which seemed to stretch on forever.


This week i have had a lot of time to think and put things into their proper places in my mind and in my life. Through a lot or prayer and lot of trial and error I have been able to get a daily routine down that lets me get all the important things done each day and lets the tedious, unnecessary things fall through the cracks--where they belong. I realized that It's probably a true statement to say "I don't really have any ex boyfriends" (unless you count ryan and I try not to...) but it is also a true statement to say "I do have a lot of old flames." And flames, like the forest fires they tend to grow into, destroy everything in their path and leave whatever subject they were unleashed on a wreck; however, they leave in their wake new ground, which is perfect for regrowth and new roots.



So this is how we got to be on the top of Maddie's car in the middle of Nowhere, Idaho, under the clear sky and the bright stars. Our backs were against the windshield and you could feel the music all the way to your heart as we sang along:
"I'm gonna stay eighteen forever
So we can stay like this forever
And we'll never miss a party
cause we keep them going constantly
And we'll never have to listen
to anyone about anything
cause it's all been done and it's all been said
we're the coolest kids and we take what we can get"

and we really did feel like the coolest kids.

Better, Better, Better

I just wanna say:

"I am having a really good hair day."

Today was a good day.

I woke up at 5:30, got my homework done, cleaned the bathroom for clean checks, did my morning exercise tape and got showered and dresses--was feeling like a boss--when i got a text from my mama.

"you got a pkg from max."

When you do the big things, the little things fall into places, and when both are going well there's not much room for black holes or breakdowns.

It might seem like we get the heavier load having to be the one to move the big things along, but as a favorite band of mine once said: It always seems the little things that take the biggest part of me.

So personally I am happy those aren't the ones I am responsible for.

Also

you can get a LOT done in the morning if you get up at 5:30 a.m. every day.

-homework
-scripture study
-exercise
-clean
-breakfast
-shower
-actually get ready for the day...

It's kind of great

sunrise

rexburg is really pretty at 6 in the morning

alazon.

In my Literature of Love class last semester I had the opportunity to be taught by a man who spent a good portion of his life abroad and was deeply educated in the literature and theater of other cultures.   He spent a good time in Russia and Europe and in addition to teaching on campus, leads the British Literature tour each summer.  In class one day, we had a lecture on stock characters and common themes in writing.  We learned some new terms that I hadn't knows before, but that have kind of given me some new motivation and a new foundation on which to build a better self :

Alazon: In the theatre of ancient Greece, alazôn (Ancient Greek: ἀλαζών) is one of three stock characters in comedy.^[1] He is the opponent of the eirôn. The alazôn is an impostor that sees himself as greater than he actually is. The senex iratus (the heavy father) and the miles gloriosus (the boasting soldier) are two types of alazôn.^[2]

Eiron: In the theatre of ancient Greece, the eirôn (Ancient Greek: εἴρων) was one of three stock characters in comedy.^[1] The eirôn usually succeeds in bringing his braggart opponent (the alazôn) down by making himself seem like less than he actually was.^[2]

Basically we learned that the Alazon is someone who tends to promise more than they can deliver and falls short; the Eiron is someone who will go above and beyond what the audience assume they are capable of and do something great--an underdog basically.

I haven't always been the best at keeping my promises to people and following through with things I say I will do--I never intentionally lie, but I get busy and bogged down and stressed out and anxious and... well you get it.  It's kind of a wake up call when you realize you have character traits usually associated with a downfall.  I've heard it said that "we are all masterpieces that just need a little more time".  I believe it is true.  I also believe it is really amazing how much you can learn about yourself through other people's stories.

I'm sick of never following through with what I say I am going too, or getting too busy and forgetting about things.  I've tried to do lists, multiple planners, sticky notes, and writing on my hand.  They help, but my mouth still tends to get ahead of my accomplishments at times.  I already set my sights this semester on three E's (exercise, eternity, and education) but I am adding to my already ambitious list of semester goals and proposing this to myself:  Don't say something unless you think you can REALLY do it, and if you do say it... try to REALLY accomplish it. 

No more half assed lives.

 

Dear Friends,

This semester is already busier than any other so far--but I love it. I made a goal on my 21st birthday to let this semester be about Education, Eternity, and Exercise. It's all going really well and according to plan but it also means there are some sacrifices i am having to make: between doing p90x every day, reading 24 books this semester, getting up at 6 each morning to exercise, trying to make time to study the scriptures and meditate each day, and going to bed early it doesn't leave much time to play anymore. I'm happier than I've been in a while, but I'm so busy I don't have much time for peeps.

I miss you all dearly and hope to find time to see you--it's not looking too promising but I will do my best.

Love,
Taff.

808

I miss you

I can't wait to see you again

... I have made some changes I think you will appreciate.

creative writing final. summer2010

Now I know How to Save a Life

He was a mess, roasting in the hot summer sun—completely helpless and alone. He had come from the sky like a fallen angel and he lay there, on the hot sidewalk, waiting for death to take him. People had been passing him all day, people too busy with their mundane lives to pay him any more attention that “poor thing” or “how sad” before they went on their busy way. He had fallen from his home and was a stranger in a foreign land with no mother, no knowledge of this outside world, and no way of ever making it home on his own.

She was an animal lover by nature (maybe that’s why her mother didn’t try to reason with her or tell her ‘no’). She was on her way back to her mom’s dusty silver van, ready to leave her horse at the fair for the night. She was satisfied with the animal’s water level and comfort so with one last kiss to Cricket’s velvety nose she was down the aisle and out the door. She was I, and still is; maybe just a newer, better version thanks to him.

My fingers still tingled with the heat from the necks of the other horses I had patted on my way out of the barn and were covered in a thin layer of dirt and grime, It looked like I had just eaten a bag of grey and brown Cheetos. I passed the last row of stalls and walked through the door to the outside world. The plastic werewolf (dubbed “wolfman”) from a taco bell kids meal eaten over a year ago was still there. He was zip-tied to the antenna of my mom’s van—right where I had originally put him—a failed practical joke. As I got closer to the car he came into sharp focus: light brown with tattered black pants and no shirt—like the incredible hulk. That was when we met.

“Mom!”…”MOM!!”

“What!?”

“Mom, there’s a baby bird!”

“What?”

“A baby bird! It fell out of its nest… what do we do?”

My mom knew me well enough to understand that we did have to do something; I would never leave something like that entirely up to the fates to decide an outcome. Over the span of my relatively short live (12 or 13 years), our house has been a foster home to bunnies, birds, snakes, quail, ducks, butterflies, turtles, and anything else I could catch—and I was good at catching things. My mom knew if I found something I loved I was not eager to let it go. It’s strange to think I could love something after only having it a few moments, but I did. I loved Max, and I would only grow to love him even more. So, less than an hour later this stranger to our world had a home, a family, and a name.

Max, like any baby, needed constant care and attention. The Internet provided me with a list of ingredients needed to make food for a baby bird, and a digital alarm clock provided me with a regular feeding schedule for him. Not one to ever get up before the sun, I found myself up just hours after midnight to feed Max. “I guess there is logic behind the saying ‘up with the birds’ I thought to myself one morning as I cut the tip of a McDonalds straw by the dim glow of the refrigerator light to make a small straw for my new pet, it was still dark outside and all the earth was still quiet and still. As I walked back into my room, I heard that he was already awake. “Peep, peep, peep?” Max would ask, his bald head back, he looked just like the every baby bird I had ever seen on T.V. asking their moms for food. “PEEP! PEEP! He would continue once he was food was coming. That was the routine ever few hours for days on end: Max would cry and I would feed him.

His home, a spare storage bin with a missing top, had been fitted with a heat lamp, blanket, and a makeshift grass nest. His nest had to be changed daily, his home cleaned out every other. The cat had to be kept at a safe distance and my bedroom door had to be kept shut—at all times. Zuzu (the family dog) liked Max well enough to let him sit on her head, but not so much that she showed any real interest in him.

Max grew fast and came everywhere the family went. This included a weekend trip to the cabin that happened to coincide perfectly with the day Max learned to fly: It had been raining all day and no one wanted to go outside. We had already exhausted the movie collection we brought up with us and the storm was messing up the satellite so we couldn’t really watch T.V. either, some of the adults sat in the den reading, some took naps on the couches. The kids all gathered around the dinner table to play a card game by the poor light of the fan/light combo that hung above, extra chairs has been brought in off the screen porch to fit everyone. The fan blades cut slowly through the air sending down a gentle breeze that made stray hairs wave like broken spider webs. We were in the middle of our third round of Uno! When it happened. Before any of us could really register what exactly it was that had just happened, Max was perched on the painting on the wall and Tracey (a family friend) was in the typical duck and cover position—both arms over his head. I sat dumbstruck for a few seconds trying to figure out how Max could have possibly got there until it hit me. Max flew, he flew! “Max flew!” I cried out while trying to capture him—a more difficult task now that he had been liberated from gravities hold.

Between strings around yellow legs to keep Max from flying away, first baths in Frisbees and awkwardly trying to convince bugs to leap into his gaping mouth with a demanding peep (after all, that worked when he asked me for food, so why not them?) it was a weekend of growth and memories.

From that day, Max was growing and making changes daily. Within a few days of returning home from the cabin he could fly well enough that the spiteful housecat was getting to be a hazard. When Max went fully aerial, he was relocated to the backyard. The front door had to be carefully monitored for the sake of visitors unaccustomed to wild birds landing on their heads upon reaching the front steps. I was out the door before they were even out of their cars, gathering Max form various heads, shoulders, and backs. “Please don’t hurt him! He’s mine!” I would say. Mine, and he was, we had a special bond; he belonged to me and I belonged to him.

Max still had to be fed a few times a day, but now the routine was a little different: I would go out into the yard with his food and McDonald’s straw spoon and call for him, he would fly to me and I would feed him. When he was full he would fly off and perch in a nearby tree. Eventually Max came home fewer times a day; the day he stopped coming home altogether was a heavy one. I searched all the trees in the backyard as well as the neighbor’s yards. I called him, but he never came. “Max!” No answer, no peep, no sound of wings. I stayed outside for a long time looking at the sky, I wasn’t looking for him anymore, just at where he was. I understood that Max had flown home; he had risen out of the ashen state I found him in to new life.

I still think about Max when I see other starlings around town or even out here at school in Idaho. I wonder if he ever found a mate or had babies of his own. I wonder for their safety and hope that none of them ever fell out of the nest but mostly I wonder how the world is different because of him. I wonder what line of birds I saved and what lineage was continued because a little girl cared enough to bring home a baby bird instead of just saying “how sad” and walking past him like so many others. I know it probably won’t be the determining factor of anything major in my life and that in a grander spectrum it’s pretty insignificant, but I also know that I know how to save a life and I think that maybe that counts for something.

this is an expirement

twenty.1

throwback.

thought process.

For my 21st birthday my parents took me to go see Wicked in Minneapolis. It is the second time I have seen it (the first being in LDN). I loved it all over again. Like the first time, I have had defying gravity in my head again and again and again all.day.long.
While wishs of being able to sing like that crowd nearly ever corner of my head there is a little left over room for one single line:
"And if I'm flying solo, at least I am flying free".

I am not immune to the appeal of the unobtainable, I do want what I can't have, but I am also infatuated with the ability to dream and live and feel like I have acomplished the impossible.
Considering some of the low points I put myself through this past year I have in some way defied my own gravity that I created for myself.

I use to think I was one of those kids who was lucky enough to always know exactly who they were, what they wanted, and where they were going. Mohawks, Pink hair and chains were an outward manefesto of everything I knew I was and knew I wanted to be.
Since my present state is lacking all of the above, some questions naturally developed on their own in responce: where did it go? No more pink hair? No more chains and lace and studs? If that is who I AM... what happened?

A few months ago I realized I knew who I had been (and even who I was) but I was not who I NEEDED to be.

I though that being older never felt any different...
I was wrong... I'm 21 and I do feel different.
I feel more alive.
I feel lighter (and not just becasue I am loosing weight).

Maybe I am defying gravity


I believe that inspiration is around us everywhere
I believe the best way to find yourself is to get lost
I believe time away from technology is necessary
I believe that dogs are man's best friend
I believe that we are capable of way more
I believe in music
I believe when you are close to god the rest falls into place

I want to go back to Rome
I want to to back to Paris
I want to serve a mission
I want to join the peace corps
I want to see new lights





Maybe my mind has an autoLIEogrophy on loop that I made for myself--a perfect life, created and written for myself. Maybe sometimes it is better than real life. Maybe revenge is a dish best served cold and is always in stock in my mind. Maybe I have the balls to tell people what I really think. maybe I want to hurt the people that have hurt me. Maybe I back down to easily from a fight. Maybe.
BUT, I do know how to dream and how to trust and that revenge may be best when served cold, but that cold dishs aren't too heart warming and that fighting fire with fire only leads to out of control passion.

A past version of myself would probably tell you differently, but in all honesty the worst thing that happened to me summer 08 was that I found out the Jonas Brothers covered "year 3000", and the worst thing that happened to me winter 2010 was that I didn't get to take a snowboarding class. I'm greatful for heartache and failed crushes and for the things they have taught me and the lifes they have saved me from.
A new spin on things is always a fresh and welcome change and winter 2011 is a new oportunity.



(p.s. this is what is going on in my mind 24/7... no wonder I have so much trouble sleeping and paying attention sometimes...)