so much. so little.

Today, for some reason, I've had the urge to "blog." About a lot of things actually. I've been following the Middle East and North Africa somewhat closely - counting casualties, testing the waters on just where I stand politically, worrying about people getting electricity and water, crying with the wailing women at the Bahraini funerals. It's been an interesting ride. Libya has turned into a game of Risk with fatal consequences that I can't entirely agree with, though I can't entirely disagree with either (I feel akin to Turkey though I understand the UN's impetus). And as the revolution marches on, into Syria, I can't help but feel a fullness in my heart. Every one of these revolutions has started with throngs of people peacefully stating that No, we will no longer take this. Meet our demands of equality, dignity and accountability or step down.

After recounting to Adam my shock at the 10 people who have already died in the 6 days of protest in Syria, he said "people die in revolutions." It's true. And I, like the anti-government coalitions, consider them martyrs. I wish in many ways I could be there with them, offering my support.

Briefly, I considered what this meant for our country. It's interesting. I wondered how the Tea Party militias feel. If they consider themselves one in the same as these "Arabs," even though I would assume most of them think any muslim must be a terrorist (perhaps that is closed minded of me, but I can't help but agree with Ron Schiller.). I find the stance the Middle East and North Africans have taken so much more noble. Their decision to stand together in non-sectarianism and fight for equality among the people, not just one religious group, is so much more honorable than to fight for a Christian Constitution that alienates any and every other affiliation (full irony noted).

I went for a drive last Sunday, just to get out of the house for a moment. And as I headed down Provo's main drag, suddenly I saw, barreling down the street toward me, a three-wheeler (what else does one call a three wheeled "motorcycle"?) with a small trailer behind it. In the trailer was a stuffed gorilla probably about my size with his arms propped up on what looked like a shotgun that lay the width of the trailer, and waving in the wind behind him the tell-tale yellow flag with a serpent and the words "Don't tread on me." Shocked and awed, I glanced into my rear-view for a second look but he was too far gone to see much more.

These groups are something I cannot understand. How can Peter King (or the new McCarthy) target Muslims in an attempt to monitor their "radicalization" without even glancing at these militias and teabaggers who are focusing on voting on state guns and extending justifiable homicide to protecting unborn fetuses (i.e. legalizing the executions of abortion doctors)? It makes no sense.

I feel a lot of frustration with our government, yes - particularly with their desire to protect the Libyan people, but their complete disregard of Bahrainis simply because they could never say no to their golden child, the one who will SURELY keep them out of the nursing home when they're old, Saudi Arabia - but more than that, I'm so incredibly frustrated with Americans. Who are we? Why do we care more about the thought of slight radiation hitting the shores of California than the hundreds of thousands of people displaced, missing or dead from twin disasters? And WHY would we rather read about which cast member most recently hurt themselves in the accident riddled Spider Man musical than pay attention to what's going to happen in the next 6 months - namely the ungodly rise of oil prices as we approach (or hit) peak oil and battle the oil-powered juggernaut that is China?

The world is about to change. For the better or worse... well, it depends on your geographical location and your need for oil... but either way, it simply cannot sustain itself the way it is. I'm praying that THIS is real, and not science fiction. If it is, we could very well be heading toward something of a Utopia. If it isn't, well, I suggest we, as a people, start coming together and making some positive changes, perhaps with the example of so many civilians flooding squares, mosques and streets in peaceful shouts of equality, dignity and - most importantly - ACCOUNTABILITY!

oh my

how lovely

be courageous

Today was a hard, hard day. On my feet. Lots of running around. Stress galore. But what I want to talk about are the good things:

a feeling of accomplishment
rittersport with strawberries and cream in the middle in honor of breast cancer awareness month
realizing the prescription I filled had a soothing pink cap
coming home to a pristine house
broken social scene on quietly
being in love
knowing I'm loved

An almost bad day turned into a really great one

between two lungs

No matter how long I live or love in Utah, Washington will forever be my home. I was looking for a bracelet with a set of lungs on it (odd I know, but it tickled my fancy to think of having a bracelet that reminds me to breathe now and again), when I stumbled upon MarKhed on Etsy. I love the lung necklace, in fact I love almost everything in her store. And I especially love that she made this:

I want one of her rings too. Oh. And her internal organ earrings (which includes a uterus! teehee!). Someone just buy me the whole store already. 

Depression and anxiety: great for losing weight. Not so great for skin and hair.

Remember these days? Yeah, me too.
Holy cats I miss my long, thick hair. And the days of makeup and flat irons and monthly brow waxing.





Months of stress and depression later, I'm 35 lbs lighter (maybe you can see it in my face, maybe you can't), but I dare you to try to get me to put on makeup or actually use a blow dryer on my hair. And the weight loss has left me with clothes that are baggy and unflattering, not to mention worn thin from the year that's passed since I last purchased anything new.

Is 23 this hard for everyone? 60 hour work weeks. No social life. Sick every other week. Tired all the time. No money for food. Does it end at some point?

Really though. I just want my hair back. That's all. I'll take the rest. Whatever. But can't I have my hair back? Please?

Media Addiction

Somehow my love of books has lately transferred to a love of magazines. Don't get me wrong, I'm still reading novels (I finished The Perks of Being a Wallflower this week), but for some reason, I find myself drawn toward magazines this week. In a matter of days I read May's Lucky, Vogue, Body + Soul, Glamour, Allure, GQ, Zink, and Elle from cover to cover. Not to mention two or three hair magazines. What's the draw? Well, firstly, fashion. The editorial spreads are the dessert after a meal of articles on summer trends, makeup and hair how-to's, health, culture and cities of choice. What have I learned? That outside of fashion ads and, yes, editorial spreads, most magazines feature normal women. Because guess what? That's who they're marketing to.

One of my favorite articles was in Vogue by Plum Sykes (author of Bergdorf Blondes) detailing the everywoman's plight against retail seasons. Namely the trouble of finding a swimsuit when its finally needed in July after all of them sold out in March. Or finding a winter coat in November when they all went out on the racks in mid June. Another favorite came from GQ on the benefits of finding a good local brew pub, rather than just picking your beer based on "whichever tap has the prettiest handle." I found Zink less satisfying than usual. I've read Zink as a makeup artist's magazine for a while, but lately, their makeup hasn't been that outstanding. And, in fact, most of their spreads have been in black and white, with either nude makeup or a simple smudgy "black" smokey eye. Boring. Allure, on the other hand, had a GREAT mini article on Belenciaga's Fall 2010 runway show, in which all the models had neon eyebrows painted on. I loved them!

Whilst flipping through the hair magazines we have on hand around the school, I discovered two things: firstly, what I want my NAHA entry to look like next year. And secondly, that I vow to someday find a way to work with Andrew O'Toole. The only photos I actually really liked in any of the hair magazines were by him. He appears to be for the AHFA's what Babak is for the NAHA's. And frankly, I'm impressed.

People can try to tell me what a poor self image magazines give young girls and women, and maybe that is true for some females. But for me, I find a lot of work inspiration in them. They get me excited to be in the industry that I am. And they provide a way for me to stay current when I don't exactly have the funds or the connections to make it to the New York, LA and Paris fashion weeks. YET.

So I'm going to keep on reading, flipping and looking. Because it's keeping me motivated. And, let's face it, at least slightly more educated.

Adam Hall

I feel like writing a sappy, gushy blog. If you're not up for that, then move along, there's nothing to see here.

I don't think I sing Adam's praises enough on here. He's one of the best people I know. He cares about people deeper than I can even fathom and he's more intelligent than just about anyone else I've met.

I love this boy's laugh, his brains, his face, his sense of humor. I love his huge vocabulary (and trust me, I don't know anyone with a larger one who uses their knowledge in every day conversation). He makes beautiful music and loves beautiful things. He's introduced me to more good movies than anyone else ever before. Sometimes I forget how impeccable his taste is.

He's sweet and gentle. Loving. So incredibly attractive from head to toe.

Basically what I'm getting at is that I love Adam Hall up, down, and all around. Inside and out.

And I think that needed to be said for all the world to hear! (or rather, read)!

Adam Hall, I love you.

Lately

So since my last post, which was what? About three weeks ago? I've maintained my voracious reading habit. It's gotten a little outrageous, but whatever. I'm enjoying my sense of escapism.

After finishing Catching Fire, I started Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro, who also wrote Remains of the Day, which I'd like to read at some point I think, assuming its still being published? Amazon only has used copies. Never Let Me Go was good. Creepy. But interesting. And though I didn't feel particularly connected to any of the characters throughout the book (most of them are not very likable), the ending still managed to be heart wrenching. I was left thinking about it for days after.

Once I finished Never Let Me Go, I found my way to Barnes & Noble and discovered they have, or at least had, a sale for book clubs. You could buy two novels and receive a third one free. So I picked up The Elegance of the Hedgehog, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, and The White Tiger.

I started with the Elegance of the Hedgehog. I got about a hundred pages in, but I had a few problems. Firstly, this is probably the most French novel I have ever read. It's a translation, but many French slang terms and French pop culture references have been left in. Secondly, I found I'm not nearly well versed enough in Philosophy (particularly which philosophers said and wrote what) to catch about half of the jokes. So, I put it down and intend to go back with a pen, a pad of sticky notes, and a dictionary at some point.

I decided instead to read The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. That's a mouthful. It was sweet. It's written as a series of letters in the two to three years after the end of World War II. It seems WWII books keep finding me. At least lately they've been slightly different variations on WWII views. This one was about the channel islands just off the coast of France that were occupied by the Germans. And of course it was also a love story. I gobbled it up. Not the most educational book, but also not the least.

Finally I read The White Tiger in less than a day. It was, by far, my favorite of the three. A little background as to why: in the tenth grade, I took biology. As part of our biology course, we watched a video on overpopulation. A major portion of the documentary was on India. After that, I used to daydream about being able to go to India and fix things. Mainly I wanted to set up an orphanage and school for girls in India, girls being essentially worthless there due to how the dowry exchange is set up and how hard it is for them to find work outside the home.

Since then, I've actually had a lot of problems with the way India is run. Though I find Hinduism interesting, the oppression brought on by the caste system appalls me. As does the obsession Americans have for India as an "enlightened" place, and Indians have for America as a "modern" place. India caters to the rich by putting their money into malls, hotels, and other tourist attractions. But they spend almost no money on their infrastructure. Most of India doesn't have running water or electricity, it's filled with bad roads and corruption. The poor in the big cities are forced to breath in pollution and shit outdoors, while the small percentage of rich Indians spend money on American goods and attempt to look and live like western white people. It's sickening.

In any case, The White Tiger is about one man's journey from a lower caste, through the corruption of land ownership and politics, and into the western ideal of business ownership. He changes from servant to master. But what's ultimately depressing about it, is that though he does his best to be fair and honest in the end, he has no choice but to work within the system, rather than fight it. All he can do is to hope for a better India, as distant as that may seem.

Next on my list is Life of Pi. Not sure what I'll read after that. Maybe try out some Zadie Smith. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them. I am trying to make it through the books I have on my shelf, but I'm willing to throw in a few others here and there.

This really has been fun. I'm learning a lot and remembering what I loved so much about literature classes in school.

"there was nothing but scraps of words littered between her legs and all around her"

I haven't really had time lately for the internet. Saturday evenings are usually my catch up moments. I was reading a friend's blog and suddenly I'm craving the smell of crayons on a coloring book.

I've been reverting to my "old" self lately. High school me. Or some variant there of. It's a person I've actually missed greatly.

When I started at BYU, I thought books were everything. Then I moved away from home and suddenly people were everything. It's taken me five years, but I'm finally balancing back out. The pendulum has peaked on both sides, and is now maintaining a steady middle. Or at least has been for the past couple of weeks.

Since the end of February I've read: The History of Love, Everything Is Illuminated, The Hunger Games, The Book Thief, and currently, Catching Fire (the sequel to The Hunger Games).

The difference this go around is that my pretense is gone. I no longer feel the need to make a statement with the books I'm reading, something I felt necessary during my insecure teenage years, when I thought a strong understanding of the classics should far outweigh any gravitation toward modern authors. I'm reading what interests me.

Someone echoed a statement I haven't heard directed at me in years: "Wait, are you starting ANOTHER book? Didn't you just start that other one yesterday?" In my defense, the last two and the one I'm currently reading are all young adult novels. Not exactly the hardest thing to read, but one of my favorite genres by far. When I thought I wanted to be an editor, young adult novels were my career goal. They're just so adventurous. And these days, adventures outside my own routine life are exactly what I'm in need of most.

(p.s. the title of this post is a quote from The Book Thief.)

Sometimes the universe decides to stop being so mean to you.

Finally. A break, a cresting, if you will, and a pause between waves. Which means Finally (for you), a not so negative blog post.

We filled both the basement and the vacant room, and just in the nick of time. HALLELUJAH! I'm actually really excited about our new roommate. She seems super sweet. Appears she's been through a lot (like the rest of us), and is coming out the other side. She and Adam get along great, which is really nice since I'm so rarely home. She's a little older so she's responsible and clean and all the other things I'm striving to be.

Anyway, really this is just conjecture since she's lived here all of three hours. But overall I'm really pleased with the way this all turned out. It's been insanely stressful. I feel like I haven't slept in weeks, and I've got stress knots in my shoulders, but I'm finally coming out of it, and just in time for my birthday. I'm so glad the universe saw fit to provide me with a little reprieve to start my 23rd year on better terms.

Things I'm looking forward to: Nicholas French and Phillip Wilson. Thanks to my tax refund (of which I got all of my monies back), I'll be able to afford to take both classes. Now that I've put together my resume, I realize just how important it is to have advanced education. I've been dying to take both of these classes since I started school, and now I finally get to. Nicholas is in just a few weeks, and Philip is in June. Both wonderful things to look forward to.

Life is on the up and up. What a relief!