Love Me Tender(ly)

By and By, Part II (For Uncle Brad)

2012-02-08T12:38:00.002-07:00

"I am hanging in the balance

of the reality of man;
like every sparrow falling, 
like every grain of sand."

-Bob Dylan 

Three years ago on this exact day, I met with an emotion never before introduced to me. I still don't have a name for it. It was a concrete intangibility of anguish to which, until that moment, I had always been a stranger. The emotional repercussions of man's tenuity against the inevitability of his mortality are never uncomplicated. I still haven't been able to quite repair the pieces of acumen that were broken that day. 

One day at a time, I guess. 

Here is the entry I wrote for the contest I mentioned back in September. It didn't win (ugh.), so now I can publish it wherever and however I wanna. I publish it here, today, in my private public space, in honor of my dearest, darling-est, uncle. He has impacted me almost more in his absence than in his existence. Here's to always missing you, Brad. You are loved.

*

I once read this quote from Anais Nin: "Love means abandonment... Either be abandoned or abandon first." Impulsively, I disagreed; something that brings such fullness to life certainly cannot be characterized by loss. Then, as I considered all the synonyms of that four-letter-word that I have encountered in my innumerable and varying affairs of the heart, I realized love can mean many different things: infatuation, completeness, joy, surrender... Ah, "surrender". Maybe that is what Ms. Nin was referring to. For when we truly love, we surrender. We surrender safety to vulnerability and the possibility of sorrow and pain. We do this because something innate within us believes that it will be worth the risk. Why? Because the goodness that permeates our beings from allowing ourselves to truly and honestly love, that champions the fear that comes with realizing that with one heartbeat, we could lose it; we could be abandoned.
  

I count as one of my most cherished possessions a weathered Post-It note. On it, this message: "Brit, Use this money to fix your car. You are loved. -Uncle Brad." What that small piece of paper lacks in tangible matter, it makes up for in consequence. He was our bachelor uncle; charismatic and smart and handsome, and the kind of funny you don't quite understand when you're little, but as you grow up and understand it, becomes the kind of funny you wish you were. My fondest childhood memories of him stem from day trips to the beach and helping me find sand-dollars, "sheet rides", checking my brothers and me out of school for a trip to Knott's Berry Farm, Popsicles for breakfast, money for the neighborhood ice-cream truck, and protection from the other neighborhood kids who had bigger squirt guns than I did. Never, no never, has anyone so fondly held the title of "uncle" as did my Uncle Brad. My adoration for him accompanied me into adulthood: In my early college years, he provided comical substance and emotional sustenance with his letters, birthday cards, and phone calls. Nothing stands as a more poignant reminder though of the kind of heart he had than does that aforementioned Post-It note, which initially clung to a $500.00 check. He absolutely did not have that kind of money to give away. But he gave it anyway. Because he had a niece with a broken car and thus a broken spirit. Indeed, if Uncle Brad loved you, surely you knew it.

When I think about the innocence of my childhood, I miss it. I mean the innocence that comes with naivety, with not knowing: not knowing about grief, not knowing about the demons to which all humans are susceptible. I miss the innocence that comes with not knowing that your family won't always be as it is then, that they won't always be how they are, and that they'll never be anywhere but with you. When I was his little niece, being flung in his arms in a wrapped up sheet, belly laughing and full of glee, I had no idea that lurking within and taunting my beloved uncle was that shadowy adversary, Addiction.

I remember when I found out. That was the day my childhood innocence was shattered because my family became susceptible, and I surrendered. I was sixteen or so and we had just gotten to a beach house for a family vacation- a total Smith Fest. I ran downstairs to go say "Hi" to my favorite of the bunch. I found him- fumbling around and babbling incoherently. "He's trying to be funny", I thought. I threw my arms around him and greeted him anxiously. But he peeled my arms away and pushed me aside.  "Very funny, Uncle Brad...". I laughed and smacked him on the back. He turned around, with a glare I've never seen on his face before: "Leave. Me. Alone." Paralyzed by bewilderment, I probably stood there for a whole minute before I could even move. When my mini-coma elapsed, I made my way up the stairs, slowly at first. By the top I was running into my mom's arms, flooded in confusion and tears. She and I left the beach house that day and she explained everything on the drive home.We returned the next day, after my dad and other uncles had given him an ultimatum: your fix, or your family. He chose us- of course he did. For the week anyway. I left that vacation with a changed heart. I loved him more than ever, but he wasn't the uncle from my childhood anymore. He was feeble, and I had never viewed him that way before.

When I was finally old enough to grasp his relationship with his drugs, the negative space left by the erosion of my childhood innocence was filled by grown-up compassion. Of course, he made me angry at times. Livid, even, as I witnessed how much his choices hurt our family. After countless stints in rehab, I couldn't understand why he wouldn't just recognize the damage he was doing to all of us who loved him so adoringly. But Addiction is not a fiend easily thwarted, is it? I was ever-hopeful, though. I hoped against hope for any semblance of rescue from that relentless and malignant foe which held him captive. Any interactions I had with him were seemingly positive- but he was mere traces of himself. There was a sadness about him that hadn't existed before. Or, maybe it had. But that exquisite protector, Childhood, had blinded my innocent eyes to it.

Christmas of 2008 was the last time I saw him. That was one of those times I was angry. If only I could do it again, I would have surrendered that anger and just let myself feel the love that I'd always had for him. If only. I was sitting on my grandma's couch. He walked past it from behind, and stopped. I glanced behind me, uttered an artful "Merry Christmas", and turned back around, not granting him anymore of my time. 's Christmas spirit at it's finest. Two months later I was back at school, relishing in the social delights of independence, when my phone rang. It was my dad. He asked me if I could talk, and there was nothing in his voice to give me pause. I stood up and slowly made my way into the hallway towards my room but only made it as far as the doorknob: my knees caved, my grip around that doorknob loosened, and my body wilted to the floor.  I sat there barefoot on the unsympathetic and arctic tile, and fell prey to my indomitable tears. He was gone- another one of those four-letter-words. My darling and doting and drug-ridden uncle was gone. 

His funeral was the most foreign experience of my life. "Everyone's here but Brad", "He should be here with all these people who love him", "He's late- typical", "Oh that's right, he IS here- he's in that...box", etc. It was a convolution of thoughts I will never be able to apprehend. I was able to sneak my own private goodbye at the burial service. I remember none of the words I spoke, only feeling, literally, like my heart was different. I was changed. All that love and hoping in his behalf- it had made me more "me".
  

So yes, I would tell Ms. Nin (if she were still here and I had the good fortune of conversing with her): "You were somewhat right." Because though I've loved much and loved often, it was through Love's abandonment that I learned that love is most pure when it is unprejudiced. I know this because I loved him more in his debility than I did in his seeming sobriety. In all my pretenses of love in those aforementioned love affairs, unfeigned was never a word I could claim. Uncle Brad taught me that it is only through love unfeigned that we are able to understand ourselves better- to become more of who we are meant to be. Through being loved by and in loving my frail uncle, at the ripe old age of sixteen, I learned that the real meaning of love is that it will make you hope for better things. Despite all the pain that his addiction bred, I never stopped hoping that he would heal. Now that he is gone, I have learned that though all the love in the world cannot change the "bestowed", it can change the "bestower". I now choose to love openly and honestly; however susceptible that makes me. I surrender to the possibility of abandonment because I know that in letting my heart beat as it will, as much as it will, for whomever and why ever it chooses, the hope for something better that will chime with each heartbeat will echo over the fear that I very well could lose the "bestowed" forever.

*

Peace and Love.

Image source: http://www.bridgesofhope.org

I Just Can't Help Believing

2012-02-02T17:32:00.000-07:00

 “I hold [a] creed...which I seldom mention, but in which I delight, and to which I cling, for it extends hope to all; it makes eternity a rest."

-Jane Eyre 

I'm not politically-inclined. I'm far too interested in other, far more trivial matters. Some day when I grow up, maybe I'll give more credence to things of consequence. Still, since I don't live under a rock in a deep, dark cave somewhere in Siberia, it hasn't escaped even my notice that Mormons (also called Latter-Day Saints [LDS for short] because we belong to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints...[exhale] )are getting a lot of limelight due to good old Mitt. I've never been one to broadcast my beliefs or "inflict" them on others who are not inquiring after it. But, as I'm sure more curiosity will arise as the primaries continue, I think it pertinent to paint a little picture of what Mormons stand for- not just being scared of beer and sex- in a way that is humanizing. I feel like ever since Prop 8 and our alleged "gay-bashing" (a perfect case of "certain shades of limelight ruining a girl's complexion") that there are quite a lot of miscreances regarding exactly what beliefs Mormons ascribe to. 

Our most basic doctrines can be found in what we refer to as The 13 Articles of Faith. These were developed by Joseph Smith during the early organization of the LDS church to help delineate our beliefs. Because they were written almost 200 years ago, and if you're not a Mormo yourself, they can be rawtha difficult to apprehend. So, I've quite graciously taken it upon myself to put them into Brittany-ish terms, just in case anyone who stumbles upon this here bloggity-blog is curious about Mitt and Mormo's in general.
Andddd we're off....

1. We believe in the same Godhead that most of Christianity does. We believe that it is comprised of God our Heavenly Father, His Son, Jesus Christ, and in the Holy Ghost. We believe that they are three separate beings, but united in their purpose to bring to pass the joy of mankind. 

2. We believe that men are accountable for their own individual sins/transgressions/screw-ups, etc., and not for Adam's decision to partake of that scintillating fruit. 

3. We believe that Jesus Christ, the Son of God, made an atonement for all of mankind, and that if individuals choose to abide by His principles and live in accordance with how He did, that they may gain eternal joy (aka get to Heaven).

4. The first basic principles of the gospel of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints focus on four ordinances (sacred, formal acts). They are: faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, repentance (recognizing and making restitution for transgressions against God), baptism by immersion (meaning we are fully immersed under water as opposed to the more traditional baptismal methods of sprinkling water on the baptize-ee), and, finally, receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost as a constant companion through the power of the priesthood (God's power given to men to righteously employ on Earth for His purposes).

5. Like any organization, religious or otherwise, there are certain offices that must be held in order to accommodate the needs of it's patrons and to ensure that it runs efficiently. In the LDS church, these offices are referred to as callings, and they are all voluntary. Callings are not mandatory and can be either accepted or given a "thanks, but no thanks". We believe that in order for an individual to be issued a calling, that individual must be living in accordance with the commandments of God. We also believe that individuals are called to those appointments through personal revelation from God to his priesthood holders who are earnestly seeking out the needs of the congregation as a whole. 

6. The officiating of the LDS church is made up of modern-day prophets and apostles. We believe that a prophet is the mouth-piece for our Heavenly Father. He prayerfully seeks counsel from God and does his best to guide the patrons of the church according to the counsel that he receives through that personal communion with God. We believe that an apostle is anyone who follows Christ, much like the disciples we read about in the Bible.

7. A fundamental aspect of our gospel is our belief that personal revelation is real. We believe that God can and does communicate with His children by and through any means in which an individual receives inspiration. 

8. Contrary to popular belief, we DO believe in the Bible, as far as it has been translated correctly. We believe the Book of Mormon to be a companion to the Bible, not a replacement for it.

9. We believe that, just as He did during Biblical times, God continues to communicate with His children through personal revelation. 

10. We believe that Christ was born, lived, was crucified to atone for the sins of mankind, and rose to live again. We also believe that He will return to reign on Earth again (referred to as The Second Coming).

11. We believe that it is every man's privilege to worship God according to the dictates of their own conscience; though we as Latter-Day Saints choose to believe in and worship a Heavenly Father, we also believe that every human being should be able to worship how, where, and whatever they choose to worship.

12. We believe in honoring the laws of the land. (Except for anything relating to Provo Parking Enforcement. No one will ever be held accountable for any infraction committed against them, since they play for Team Satan.)

13. Brace yourself, this is a long one... We believe in being honest, in being virtuous, and in attending to the welfare of "our fellow man". We, as members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, strive to seek after things that are uplifting and edifying; things that will contribute to a full life. If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good-report, or praiseworthy, we seek after these things. On the converse, we try to abstain from anything that is corrosive or obscene to any aspect of our well-being, albeit physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, etc. You could say that we follow Paul's admonition to be ever-believing, ever-hopeful, and ever-enduring.

Hopefully that elucidated some of the fine-print. To me, being a member of this church simply means that in my heart of hearts, I just want to be like Him, whatever that takes. WWJD I guess. Though you'll never, I repeat NEVER, see me rock one of those repulsive bracelets. I simply won't do it.

Peace and Love.

Wish I had that shirt in high-school... Here's the source link suckas: http://www.spreadshirt.com/i-can-t-i-m-mormon-C3376A4965223

Funny How Time Slips Away

2012-01-05T21:21:00.000-07:00

"For last year's words belong to last year's language, and next year's words await another voice."
-T.S. Eliot

I recently read this on the "internet" and got a guilty chuckle out of it: "I can't believe it's been a year since I didn't become a better person." Sad, but oh-so-true. I can't believe I let another year slip through my bony fingers and have nothing much to show for it. I don't think I quite aspired to the Audrey-archetype that I had high hopes of becoming in 2011. {Insert woeful, despondent, longing, regretful sigh here}. But... that's alright, Mama! Because, as that audaciously courageous little minx Scarlett O'Hara so earnestly attested: "Tomorrow is another day!" 2012 is my "tomorrow". And though I didn't accomplish quite all that I hoped in 20 to the elev, I just so happened to both inadvertently and quite intentionally cross off a few more of those future memories I crossed my fingers for last March. Without further adieu, I give you...

{~~Be one with nature~~} - Keeping my promise to myself (which, perhaps, just may be the most sacred of oaths, wouldn't you agree?), I dedicated my whole existence on Earth Day to Mother Nature. I hiked, I biked, I consumed only that which came from her good roots. How very existential do I sound right now?
P. to the S. Stay tuned for more on existentialism when I get the time of day...

{~~Catch a fish~~} - ... So the picture doesn't capture the glory that was my triumph over that (stocked) pond, but I swear I caught one. I named it Mick because of it's striking resemblance.

Loves him.

{~~See an orchestra, any orchestra~~} - Emphasis on the any.
Any = The Orchestra of Southern Utah. 'Twasn't a spoiler of every day life like the opera was, but soul-stirring nonetheless.

{~~Hold a starfish~~} - This.was.magical. I think the thrill of it all must be rooted in my undying love for Ariel, my favorite princess. I probably won't ever cross {Stop believing in mermaids} off my list, but whatevs.

Check out that 'lil nugget of a starfish. I totally wanted to wear it as an earring but it's too 90's to just wear one.

{Publish a manuscript} - Ok so... I didn't quite publish anything. But I did submit something to be published, and that's a giant baby step for me. So cross yo' fingers that 2012 will let me officially cross this one off the listy-list.

... Not too shabby for little ol' Brittles. I am going to try my darndest to cross four more off that list by the end of '12. In the meantime, I shall not forsake my life-long W.W.A.D. avowal initiated last year, as well as adhere with all my might to the following:

1). "Grant me some wild expressions, Heavens, or I shall burst!" -George Farquhar.

George and I are probably kindred spirits. Just like last year, though, I am going to swear off swearing. From now on, obscenities for me will equate to "fiddle-dee-dee" and "son of a gun"...

2). Mark Twain said that water, when taken in moderation, cannot hurt anybody. Though I vehemently agree with him, and think water is the most deplorable thing taste-buds could ever encounter, I'm going to drink water like it's laced with crack. (If water were Shirley Temples, this would be so much easier.)

3). Begin and end each day in prayer. "But behold I say unto you that ye should pray always and not faint; that ye must not perform anything unto the Lord save in the first place ye shall pray unto the Father in the name of Christ, that he may consecrate thy performance, that thy performance may be for the welfare of they soul." -2 Nephi 32:9 (Drink up some more deliciousness like this {HERE}.) Last year I memorized this scripture in hopes that it would help me pray more, but instant cognitive recall was where my devotion began and ended.

So here's to Take Two.

4). Recognize what matters most- and seek after that the most. Audrey did say, "For me, the only things of interest are those linked to the heart." In other words, follow my heartly beatings like a map and they will lead me to the most eloquent and authentic of places.

5). "Be like the bird that, passing on her flight awhile on boughs too slight, feels them give way beneath her, and yet sings, knowing she has wings." -Victor Hugo

6). Become in love. For, "[W]hen we love, we always strive to become better than we are. When we strive to become better than we are, everything around us becomes better too." -Paulo Coelho

7). Vincent van Gogh said, "Make Christ the center of your longing." And make Him my center, I shall.

If there is anything I learned last year, despite my miraculous accomplishment of Absolutely Nothing, it is this: our lives are as full or as empty as we want them to be. And I refuse to live anything less than a marvelous existence.

Dear 2012,

I feel good about you.

Peace and Love.

Image source: http://www.etsy.com/listing/44503122/yellow-eyed-junco

The Lighthouse

2011-12-20T23:42:00.000-07:00

"Nothing can dim the light that shines within."
-Maya Angelou

The aphorismatic idea that the eye is the conduit to the soul has always been sacred to me. Once I have laid eyes upon something they christen as "beautiful", that something most certainly will leave an imprint on my very being, becoming a small portion of my soul itself. When I was a little girl, I remember feeling a wondrous sense of awe at a willow tree. (A... tree you say? How normal.) But, for whatever reason, seeing it's languid, sweeping branches made an impression on my little heart and that quiet wonder grew with me into adulthood; it gave breath to something within me that slowly burgeoned into the reverence for nature that I feel and the maternal-like attentiveness for taking care of it. Seeing is not just a visual faculty though, is it? For when we really envisage something, we feel it. And I don't just mean "sight" as in ocular adeptness, I mean seeing in each and every sense of the word: perspective, understanding, discernment, appreciation, perceiving. Truly seeing causes feeling, causes a stirring within us that cannot be subjugated. And that, that is how the eye first becomes window to the soul: when we have understood, discerned, appreciated, percieved, and thus inadvertently adopted that very small form of intelligence as a part of ourselves. 

The definition of intelligence is "the capacity for learning, reasoning, understanding... the faculty of understanding." Notice what that definition implies: that intelligence is determined by one's capacity, or potential, for learning; their aptitude for understanding. I ascribe to the belief that true intelligence guides men to action in that their intelligence is then radiated by the lives they lead. And therein lies the poetic counterpart to the eyes being the window to the soul-  we radiate what is most deeply important to us, what we most seek after. These are the things that quietly and gracefully feed that inner light to which Elizabeth Kubler-Ross was referring when she said: "People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light within." I'm quite taken with the bidirectionality that this whole idea propounds: If the eye is the window to the soul, let what we choose to "see" be that which will radiate light from within and cause the kind of reflection that inspires. 

Someone rather enlightened (cough cough... John Locke) once expressed the idea that "the candle that is set up in us shines bright[ly] enough for all our purposes." What I think most encouraging about this is his postulation that we all have an innate prerequisite for anything we desire to accomplish or understand. That light is within everybody- but flickers and burns with as much unique precision as the "Author of our existence" used in designing each one of us. Of course, we see countless things every day, but I'm referring to those things we see that compel us to look twice- and that, upon that second glance, make us feel something.  I think that light to which Locke refers is fed by those things that we have cause to give a second glance, or notice, or thought. If we don't feed that light, it dies, and we radiate nothing. But if we do choose to feed it, then, like E.K.B.'s human window, it creates something so extraordinary within us that it is radiated outwardly. 

I spent my entire college career pursuing a career with which I was never, no not once, enthralled. Of course, there were sparks of interest here and there- but I never felt deeply connected to what I was studying. I never felt like learning the postures of my future vocation was an extension of who I was. A cryin' shame. Though no education is ever wasted, I desperately wish I would have chosen to explore something that did ignite and feed that little flickering light within me- something which in learning more and more about It, I could feel like I was learning more and more about myself. I feel that way when I read, and when I write. I can become completely intoxicated by cadences. I feel so very kindred to and grateful and hungry for the endowment of words and their subtleties. I don't know if it's the potential that lies within each one- the innumerable ways in which it can be applied and given new, personal meaning, or in some cases, in the very word itself. For whatever reason, there is a thrill that overcomes me with the mere possibility of expressing a thought- knowing I can choose any concoction of words to do so- and that in doing just that, I put my very brand on that thought- it becomes mine. The light that shines faintly within me is fed so much by this passion. I think it burns it's brightest when I pursue this outlet. The very deepest recesses of my soul surface and find sustenance. "The understanding, like the eye, whilst it makes us see and perceive all other things, takes no notice of itself; and it requires art and pains to set it at a distance and make it its own object. But whatever be the difficulties that lie in the way of this inquiry; whatever it be that keeps us so much in the dark to ourselves; sure I am that all the light we can let in upon our minds... will not only be very pleasant, but bring us great advantage, in directing our thoughts in the search of other things... The actions of men are the best interpreters of their thoughts"... Yet another astute proliferation of the Enlightenment and it's champ, John Locke. If I am interpreting his notion correctly, I would argue that he is encouraging us to cultivate our intellect as doing so will inadvertently shed light upon the mysteries that lie within ourselves; will give us insight into our own natures, and this will allure us toward seeking out more knowledge and more understanding, which will feed that inner light that is within us.

A very great lady once said, "Our outward appearance is a reflection of what we are on the inside. Our lives reflect that for which we seek." There are paths awaiting me... Paths that will kindle that inner flame until it is at it's veriest, and I want to pursue those. Ultimately, pursuing intelligence, in all it's forms, can do nothing but illuminate one's life. It's deeply important for me to live the kind of life that is a reflection of the things for which my soul craves. If eyes truly are windows to the soul, I want mine to radiate the things that characterize a beautiful and meaningful existence. Whatever that may mean for me. Let nothing dim the light that shines within me, and let me seek especially after those things that will feed it's glow. 

Peace and Love.

Image source: http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2698/4279956730_472d6b3264.jpg

How's the World Treating You?

2011-11-17T14:51:00.003-07:00

"Not what we say about our blessings, but how we use them, is the true measure of our thanksgiving."
-W.T. Purkiser

The golden-deliciousness of falling leaves and the crispness in the air can mean only one thing: fall has unmistakably encroached on my beloved summer. I truly wish I were a soul who thrived in all seasons, but alas, it is not so. I had the notion the other day, however, that if fall were not the precedent to winter, I'm sure I would relish it much more than just the deciduous aesthetics and the inevitable, ever-present aroma of pumpkin bread. Though, I'll admit, there is one thing about this time of year that does bring comfort despite the impending abysmal doom of winter that shadows it. "That", my peeps, is the feeling of gratitude that arrives just as naturally as the changing colors of the season. 

I don't have many talents- it's true. There are plenty of things at which I am exquisitely mediocre. I do, however, pride myself in being able to find joy in the simple things in life. A warm day, a good song, something scandalously delish to eat, a hearty laugh... You get it. I try to recognize these on a daily basis and, when I remember, thank my Maker for the small flutter of happiness they bring to my day. But there are oh so many other things- grander things- that grant gratitude acceptance into my door and serve it tea and scrumpets. In the true spirit of Thanksgiving, while I am surrounded by falling leaves of decadent autumn tones, I give thanks for the many things in my life that without which, would make it positively empty...

Dad. Amongst all else, for teaching me about how to think so that it makes me a better person. Mama. Amongst all else, for your anchoring encouragement of "Faith, not Fear." Brothers. For your honest hearts and your funny bones. Sisters. For your virtue. God. For His unfailing mercy. Christ. For His sacrifice. Ears. For their ability to hear the music I love so poignantly. Edith, Victor, Jane, Goethe, Lucy Maud, Flaubert. For the words they have written which have sculpted, refined, inspired, and changed my soul. Heart. Literally, for it's perseverance in beating each and every minute. Figuratively, for how ardently it beats. It is a hopeful, fervent, enduring heart. And It, more than anything else, is my most reliable reminder of what matters most. Tastebuds. For the exquisite joy they have granted me. (I wanted to put this one at the very top, but even I am not that shameful.) Shawn. For everything. You are my rock. Maddles. For giving me the ever-so-smallest glimpse into the future joys of motherhood. Memories. For their ability to endure, when their begetters, by design, cannot. Writing. For the catharsis and self-awareness that it cultivates. Thomas S. Monson. For his unfailing optimism. My Tricks. For everything that each of you has brought to my life. I am a better girl for being in your company.
Home. For it's sanctity and comfort.

Make no mistake, I am wholly undeserving of all of the above. But until the universe and all else that conspires in my favor realizes it, I will cherish each like a hoarder until my dying day. Shakespeare said, "They do not love that do no show it", and I would venture to say the same is true for gratitude. Are we truly grateful for our blessings if we do not give thanks where and how thanks are due? True gratitude is probably more than just saying "Thank you, thank you very much" (I'm also thankful for Elvis, obvi). I think when our lives are characterized by optimism, and service, and concern for others, and when we have an unrelenting hope, that that is probably when we can claim gratitude as a characteristical appendage. 

Any virtue, if it is sincere, is more than just a feeling- it is a way of living. It's almost effortless at this time of the year to recognize how full our lives are; it's harder to maintain that recognition as the season fades. This Thanksgiving, may we not only identify those things in our lives which make it better, but resolve to let that gratitude reside in our hearts a little longer than usual. There are oh so many ways we can be the very thing that someone else is grateful for, and that, perhaps, is the simplest and surest way of showing that we are indeed grateful recipients for all "our cribs, our cars, our pools, our jewels"... You feel me?  

If anything brings comfort, it is recognizing what we do have, even when our circumstances may seem bleaker than February in the 801.
Happy Thanksgiving, and Happy giving of thanks.

Peace and Love.

Girl: Happy

2011-11-07T14:48:00.002-07:00

 "Reality continues to ruin my life."

-Bill Watterson

Mercy... It's been forev, hasn't it? Now that summer's over, it's much harder for me to find things to be grateful for. Psyyyyyche. Here's what I've got for ya:

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/6/6b/Gone_with_the_Wind_cover.jpg/200px-Gone_with_the_Wind_cover.jpg

Always and forever have I been a fan of the 17-hour movie. I can never figure out who is more beautiful: Scarlett or Rhett. Anyway, I've always wanted to read the book and just never had three years to kill. I finally decided that it was high-time I just sucked it up and read the 1100 pager. May I just say, it is absolutely addicting. I simply cannot put it down. And Rhett is even MORE charming on paper, if you can imagine that.

 www.youtube.com

This band never ceases to amaze me. Homeboy's. got. feelings. But his voice is so satisfyingly manly that you don't even think he's a sissy for feeling so many things. I listen to this emo gem all the time lately, and I'm not even going through a break-up. It's that good.

http://www.bangitout.com/images/MattDillon_Vespa_635053_400.jpg

  Ok, Ok. I know you're probably sick of reading about him. But I can't escape my love for him. Last week I dreamed that he was my boyfriend and we were living in Manhattan and he was ever-so-madly in love with me. He opened all my doors and cooked me dinners and rubbed my feet, and that's only the PG version. You can imagine my utter heartache waking up only to find I was certainly not in Manhattan and certainly not his star-crossed lover. I really was completely despondent the whole rest of the day. 

http://atfirstbite.files.wordpress.com/2008/06/snicker.jpg

There it is. A frozen Snickers. They're aight at room temperature. But throw one in the freezer and your tastebuds will literally think they've won the lottery.

http://drchristineschaffer.files.wordpress.com/2011/03/heating.jpg

 Laugh allll you want. But seriously, I heart my heading pad more than life.

http://sassymamahk.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/bopbj2014010917_p1_v1_m56577569832185384_254x500.jpg

Yeah I don't yoga. But I am totally obsessed with yoga hair ties. I want one in every color of the crayon box. Including that weird Cerulean blue color and Burnt Sienna.

Whether or not it makes me less of a girl, I'm not sure- but I happen to love this show. It's a nice, refreshing, gory change from all the CW garbage I watch. Disclaimer: The only reason I didn't put Chuck Bass on this list is because he deserves his own post entirely. Duh.

Hope you all are finding much to be grateful for, despite the a$$-bitingly cold weather. 'Tis the season, after-all.

Peace and Love.

Talk About the Good Times

2011-10-31T13:44:00.002-06:00

"No man was ever eloquent by trying to be eloquent, but only by being so."

-George Henry Lewes

Certain words, pairs of words, phrases- reading them makes me feel  more real. I love the art that lies within an eloquent, silent elocution  of prose. At times I find nothing more stirring than a string of  carefully chosen words. I recently just finished Flaubert's Madame Bovary, written  around 1857, I think. It had both romance and debauchery- two elements  my needy soul craves in a story. But what I la la loved about it wasn't  so much the tale being told, as the way it was told. And I have  often had this reckoning when reading other works born in that period of  time. It's in the very language: flowery without being fussy,  calculated yet seemingly natural, as if from the beginning of time,  words were always meant to be dispelled in exactly that way. When I read  things like this, it makes me long for a time in which I've never even  existed; when one's words were their very brand, their instrumentality for  distinguishing themselves amongst everyone else. 

 A very good man once said, “Sloppy  language and sloppy ways go together. Those who are truly educated have  learned more than the sciences, the humanities, law, engineering, and  the arts. They carry with them a certain polish that marks them as  loving the better qualities of life, a culture that adds luster to the  mundane world of which they are apart.” (-Gordon B. Hinckley)  

Truly a votary of anything eloquent, I agree with that very good man  with all my heart. How  we speak, and what we choose to speak about, can either beautify or  tarnish the way we are perceived by others. How charming is it to be in the company of someone  who speaks not only articulately, but with the polish that inevitably  comes from quiet confidence and a subtle but apparent appreciation for  the "better"? I know that whenever I converse with someone who speaks  eloquently, intelligently, and with optimistic undertones, it revives my  desire to do so. Regretfully, we don't have to search very far to find  conversation which revolves around the negative, the harsh, the cynical,  the base, and the everyday vulgarity that seems to proliferate like  Nobody's biznass. It is effortless to indulge or even instigate the  casual kind of discourse that revolves around nothingness and is  propagated by cheap and pallor-ic cadences, for the  path of least resistance is quite easy to succumb to. But nothing that  comes easily is really ever worth having. (Nothing LASTING, I should say. For if I'm going to be honest, there  are a good many things that come puh-retty easily which I do consider  worth having: eclairs, Pepsi, lemon bars, Cafe Rio, cheeseburgers, naps,  mascara, laughs. And yeah, after "cheeseburgers" I had to really  stretch the imadge so as not to seem like a total obese-tress.) But are we really better off after  engaging in such trite conversation? Do we stand more firmly footed,  walk more assuredly and with more direction, and find more nobility in  ourselves through speaking insubstantially and even crassly at times? Doubt it.  

I've  said before that I believe in the power of the individual. If every  living man and woman strove to achieve, a little more each day than the  last, their own personal level of greatness, even by the smallest measure and irrespective of means or  circumstance, just imagine the different kind of world we would live in.  It's hopelessly idealistic, I know. But... so much power lies in mere words! If "words can never harm", then my name isn't Brittany Anne with an "E". Humor me with this naively arcadian notion, but do we not all speak words, all the live-long day, every live-long day? And if by the simple act of choosing to speak them with simple  sophistication, and about things that are actually meaningful and pleasant and important, wouldn't the world, even by the ever-so-smallest measurement, be just a little more lovely?   

Please know that more than anything, I am chastising myself in the guise of altruism, but if there's anyone else out there who speaks like a pirate-hooker and knows better, I lower my glass to you, too. Mediocrity is a rampant epidemic, but it doesn't have to be. Seek to emanate the goodness that inspires you by speaking about it. Choose "better" words, words that reflect a meaningful existence. 

 Let  us all  "be the good we wish to see in the world", if only with our  words.  

Peace and Love. 

I Believe In the Man In the Sky

2011-10-10T00:18:00.005-06:00

"...Be thou an example of the believers, in word, in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity."

-1 Timothy 4:12

It is here that I am most honest, I think. Because I am writing to really no one in particular but myself, I can express and catalog and capture the things about this existence that inspire me, that change me, that cause me to wonder, and the things that are most precious to my heart. I have expressed adoration for music, for family, for "culinary thrills", for summer, amongst many others. I realized today though that in all the time that I have spent writing about things that matter most to me, I have yet to express my devotion to the thing I consider most precious above all the bounteous joys that this life has brought my way. 

"Be thou an example of the believers." Depending upon what one believes, this has infinite application. I believe in many things. I believe in the power of the individual. I believe in the efficacy of beautiful words. I believe that music is the language of the soul. I believe that we should leave the earth better than we found it. I believe that we should all work to make the world worthy of it's children. I believe that nothing is too wonderful to be true. It is what we believe in most deeply that directs us to the paths we pursue, like a compass. 

 I am lead to and/or perhaps by the things I believe in most. I  have often thought about what my life would be like without my belief system,  and though I'm sure that, in the absence of the compass that it has been  in my life, I would have made several different choices which  inevitably would have led me down some rather deleterious if not  completely dissolute paths, at my core I know that I would always feel  that life was more than just the present. Some of us are not inclined  spiritually, and that is fine. But as for little old me, religious dogma aside, I believe that all people are  spiritual beings. C.S. Lewis said it best, I think: "You don't have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body." In that sense, I know  that had I been born into different circumstances wherein religion of  any sort was absent, I probably still would have sought some sort of transcendent outlet simply because spirituality is a very ardent part of  who I am.  

Of all that I love, and in all that I believe, there is one truth more penetrating, more anchoring than all the others, and it is this: Jesus Christ is the son of God, and God is my eternal Father. I believe that anything good, anything beautiful, anything that makes me feel more close to becoming the woman I am meant to be- THAT all comes from God and His perfect son. Belief in Them serves as my most reliable compass.

There is so very much about life that is unsure. That very precariousness has painted parts of my mortality with tangible sorrow, numbing remorse, and abysmal hopelessness, for I have just as much frailty within me as I do strength. But I am yet grateful for these brush-strokes, for it is by them that I have witnessed the power of what I know to be true. It is in those truly helpless moments that my soul has been rescued, redeemed, and comforted beyond any earthly comprehension. I have felt the healing power that comes from bended knee. I have been empowered by the strength that comes from submission. If there is any one thing to which I can attest, it is that God does not forsake.  

I have often thought to myself, "I live a charmed life". And I must say, I do: I laugh, I eat, I sing, I play, I read, I write, I love, I sleep, I work, I pray. I pray. I pray to a seemingly chimerical being, yet He is as real to me as my own flesh-and-blood father. It is He to whom I submit bended knee, and it is He to whom I plead for rescue. And though not always on my ideal timescale, not once have my requests been ignored. I have felt, despite His omnipotent power, His tender concern for little nobody Me. He created all the Heavens and everything that they contain, the earth and all it's majesty, and still, though compared to Him I am the dust of the earth, He hears me. To me, God is not to be feared. He is to be loved. For He is the most merciful, patient, benevolent Being that I have ever come to know. Truly, I have come to understand that there is nothing more panacea-ic than prayer. The more I learn to align my desires with that of my Maker's, the closer I feel to self-mastery.

His Son, Jesus Christ, is the Savior of the world. It is by Him, through Him, and of Him that I can become the perfect version of myself. His grace provides the comfort and the promise that I have so often sought in my moments of despair. The more I come to know Him, the more that Hope permeates my life. His existence provides the perfect framework for what I want my life to mean: virtue, patience, compassion, humility, service, faith, love, and purpose. Without Him, I would have no compass. He is my direction. He is my path. He is my destination. 

I so much want to be an example of the believers. I want to live like I believe, because I do believe. In fact, there is nothing I believe in more. And, consequently, it is this belief that allows me to so fully appreciate all the numerous other things that I have so often blabbed about here, in this private little space. My belief in a Heavenly Father and in his perfect Son has made my life as full as it is. If you are just a little bit lost, helpless, or feel like something is missing from your existence, I would invite you to seek out the spirituality that is organically within you. Nourishing that part of my soul has brought me nothing but peace, direction, and at times, exquisite joy. Whatever you choose to believe in, let it be your compass. And if it is honest, it will lead you to everything good that you are meant to become. 

Peace and Love.

P.S. See for yourself just how hopeful life can be:

{Clickity Click Here}.

Image source: http://lds.org/new-era/2002/12/images-of-christ?lang=eng

Tweedle Dee

2011-09-17T12:49:00.000-06:00

I grew a little bit yesterday: I submitted an essay to Real Simple magazine for their annual contest. Cross your fingers!

Peace and Love.

Image source: http://healthyshouldbeeasy.wordpress.com/tag/detox/

I'll Remember You

2011-08-16T13:07:00.000-06:00

January 8, 1935 - August 16, 1977

I'll remember you
Long after this endless summer has gone
I'll be lonely oh so lonely
Living only to remember you

I'll remember too
Your voice as soft as the warm summer breeze
Your sweet laughter, mornings after
Ever after, I'll remember you

To your arms someday I'll return to stay
Till then I will remember too
Every bright start we made wishes upon
Love me always, promise always
Oooh, you'll remember too

I'll remember you.

Peace and Love, my Love.

Promised Land

2011-08-15T12:25:00.003-06:00

" ‘I’ve been through all this before,’ he says to his heart.
“ ‘Yes, you have been through all this before,’
replies his heart.
‘But you have never been beyond it.’ ”
— Paulo Coelho, Warrior of the Light

I learned of a word recently that I had yet to ever encounter: willowwacks. It means "a wooded, uninhabited area". It's an awfully silly sounding word, but I do love what it implies: portions of space yet to be "habitated". Of course, I have no use for this word in the literal sense; I immediately thought of it metaphorically- as in, "the uninhabited regions of my soul" or, "the uncharted corners of my heart". With all the immeasurable fibers that make up our beings, surely there are portions of ourselves yet undiscovered? Absolutely, there must be fragments of our hearts yet unearthed?

Quite the admirer of all things romantic, I have always appreciated the notion that the love we emote is physiologically connected to the heart. Did you know that our hearts are enclosed in a double-walled protective sac called the pericardium? ...Neither did I. The pericardium services our heart by protecting it, anchoring it's surrounding structures, and preventing overfilling of the heart with blood. (You have no idea how difficult all this is for me to type. Squeamish McGee, that's me. Anyway...)Passed the pericardium lies the outer wall of the heart, which is composed of three layers, and just passed those three layers are the four chambers of the heart. Two of those chambers are "receiving chambers" (they receive the blood) and two are "discharging chambers" (release the blood). I know you're probably bored out of your mind right now, but I swear I have a point...

So the heart, in essence, does it's best to keep the bad out. It sustains the body. And it does all it can to prevent itself from becoming full to the point of danger. Now, dare to venture with me to my much favored and oft-visited land, Metaphoria, where I ask:
{Q} Do our metaphorical hearts do the same? Do our metaphorical pericardia protect us from heartache?
{A} I think my metaphorial pericardium must only have one layer instead of two, and that that layer must be very thin or take lots of holidays, or is just completely defunct, because many an entity has penetrated it's walls.
{Q} Does the love we harbor- in essence, our hearts- anchor our livability?
{A} Yes, love anchors me.
{Q} Is there a danger in letting our hearts be too filled?
{A} I can attest to having my heart [seemingly] so filled that it has inflicted upon my well-being.

I think of all this in relation to willowwacks- uninhabited areas. I've talked frequently and fondly of my own heartstrings; I consider those to be "habitated" portions of my heart. Those people, or places, or things, have made their way passed all protective guards and into one chamber or another and found a welcoming home there. It is those heartstrings which anchor me. But I know that as full as my heart may feel from time to time, that there are still uninhabited portions of those chambers. There are still willowwacks waiting to become habitated.

Those uninhabited areas- why are they so? Has a metaphorical pericardium made them inaccessible? Or, if the P-Word is out of commission (as in Exhibit Me), are there areas so deeply and secretly and quietly tucked away such that no one has ventured far enough to discover them? Or, is at is simple and as complex as they are uninhabited merely because no one and no thing has been able to make a home there? Yet?

Those chambers or portions of chambers, corners, taverns, and pockets of my heart that are willowwack'd- (please allow me to take liberties with the word, for 'twouldn't be the first time) they must remain uninhabited for one or all of the aforementioned theories. But to me that is not a completely desperate thought- it's an exciting one. Knowing that there are still unfulfilled, unharvested, un-tilled, undiscovered areas of love that I have yet to experience is inspiring.

I know that the habitation some of those inner willowwacks lies within me: in the paths that I pursue. As I seek for enrichment, enlightenment, joy, and passion, little by little the uninhabited regions of my heart will become home to the offspring of those endeavors. And I know that as I slowly but surely fill my heart with the things that are compelling enough to reside there, that I will become more Me.

And then, I know that maybe certain parts of my heart are uninhabited because no one has been able to penetrate it earnestly enough to take root there. Maybe no one has had the right tools and the right formula to till the fertile ground that waits there. However, if I'm unsure of when, I'm absolutely convinced of the notion that once tilled, the ground there will be floriferous beyond imagining.

My heart has been impacted, without a doubt, and it has been filled with affection to a debilitating degree at times. The metaphorical "protective sac" surrounding my heart has given entrance to many a wanderer. But feeble and perhaps relenting as that protective layer may be, I am grateful for it's open-mindedness. For no matter how it may end, inviting Love in, no matter how long it stays, will always do a soul more good than harm, if only for the small glimpses of rapture that it brings.

As silly a word as I've ever heard, yet it has inspired me to think beyond the peripheral. Love is true when it can make It's way through the pericardium, over and under and through the many cardiac walls, and make lasting home in the receiving chamber. And as this chamber and that chamber cease to be willowwacks, but become alive and full and habitated with the things that anchor us, we become more alive and full in the process.

Peace and LOVE.

Photo source: http://www.google.com/imgres?q=heart+shaped+garden&hl=en&client=firefox-a&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&biw=1680&bih=809&tbm=isch&tbnid=U7Jk_IOaABC1xM:&imgrefurl=http://blog.groorganic.com/2011/02/11/you-dont-bring-me-flowers-anymore/&docid=IoefhRNK9Jdb3M&w=567&h=567&ei=ymNJTqCHOajmiALi-eHbAQ&zoom=1&iact=rc&dur=303&page=3&tbnh=152&tbnw=164&start=63&ndsp=32&ved=1t:429,r:28,s:63&tx=83&ty=59

Girl: Happy

2011-08-10T20:01:00.000-06:00

I hate that summer's more than half over. How abysmal! Luckily I have a storehouse of topics I've been locking away so that I have things to write about during the less inspiring seasons. Anyway, it's that time again! Here's an ode to the lately-marvelous:

I just watched Exit Through the Gift Shop. So fantastic. I think street art should absolutely, positively be legalized. The song during the beginning credits made me super happy, too. Listen for yourself. A new fave, I'd say.

It's like, I've been waiting for it my whole life and didn't even know it: Clothing inspired by literature. Throw in a free eclair and by golly you've encompassed three of my very favorites into one little thrill...

...And there's more where that came from! Feast your peepers: http://www.outofprintclothing.com

I cannot, repeat, CANNOT, get enough of these. They are more crave-worthy than anything I've ever encountered. (*Disclaimer: I am prone to picturesque exaggeration, but for the time being, they really are the most cravetastic thing ever.)

And how delightful is this? Thank you, Forever 21, for always putting out, and for never charging me too much for it. Especially in this case, since this was from my Mama Dearest.

A great reminder about the preciousness of time, I think. If you can scrape together three buckaroos, go get one for yourself { here }

And lastly, but not ever leastly,

The ever-so-majestic Stewart Falls. The fam and I hiked to this recently and Oh Delilah... It was just the most exquisite way to spend a Sunday evening. The hike down was so scenic and fragrant and lush- my senses were exquisitely enthralled. I have yet to complete my fantasy of bathing underneath a waterfall, however, I consider the mists from these particular falls that tip-toed on my face like fairies' footsteps to be a small prelude of what is to come...

That's all for now, darlings. Peace and Love.

Just Because

2011-07-19T01:36:00.003-06:00

 "I don't understand the question, and I won't respond to it."

-Lucille Bluth

I'm totally jonesing this post off another blog I lurked on today. But I thought it was funciful and so now I'm putting my Brittanyesque spin on it. Well, not so much as putting my own spin on it so much as answering the questions myself, ha. 

Thirty Questions

1. Favorite Song. You thought I was gonna say Moonriver, right? That'd be my second fave. This little badboy is my numero uno.

2. Favorite Movie. You thought I was gonna say Breakfast at Tiff's or Charade or Sabrina or Roman Holiday or Paris When It Sizzles, huh? I adore them all. But, it's Mr. Wonderful that has probably gotten more DVD time than all the others combined. Matt Dillon: I am yours for as long as the sun and the moon shall endure. Here's a clip from one of my very fave scenes. So amazingly 90's.

3. Favorite Show. I'm gonna have to go with Arrested Development on this one. I love TV, period. But the old adage applies: you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone.

4. Favorite Book. 

5. Favorite Quote. "Nothing is too wonderful to be true."

-Michael Faraday

6. Favorite Food. Eclairs.

7. Favorite Beverage. Ginger Ale.

8. Favorite Place. Carlsbad, CA

9. Favorite Thing to Wear. Dresses. All the way.

10. What I Wore Today. Black floral print maxi dress, brown leather belt, lace vest, gold locket, brown gladiators.

11. What I Did Today. Said my prayers, went to the gym, watched the kiddos, watched The Kite Runner aka cried, hung out with my darling Jenny, watched The Bachelorette, talked to my darling brother. Rough day. 

12. What I Ate Today. Carnation Instant Breakfast + Vanilla soymilk, greenish banana, cherry tomatoes and hummus, Chobani Greek yogurt (pineapple flav), cream cheese brownie, baked ziti pasta, watermelon, two snickerdoodles.

13. What's In My Purse. Camera, coin purse, cell phone, cinnamon lipgloss, cinnamon disks, bobby pins, hand sanitizer, glasses,  recipe for Ginger Lemon cookies, TLC Pumpkin Pecan bar, birthday candles (wtf?), hair tie, Eclipse spearmint gum, Tide-To-Go pen, button that fell off my scripture cover, pens, Cafe Rio punch card, tithing slip.

14. A Bad Habit. Picking my face. For real. It's got to stop.

15. A Pet Peeve. As if I haven't preached about this enough: "Could care less." Oh, and when people don't use adverbs.
i.e. "Drive safe!" It's "safeLY", fyi.

16. A Memory. Camping with my family and especially my Bompa in the Mogollon Rim in Arizona.

17. A Goal. Graduate. And then study something I really actually care about.

18. A Secret. I want a baby.

19. A Wish. That no child anywhere ever suffers. (Read or watch The Kite Runner and you won't find this as "Miss America" as it sounds.)

20. A Hobby. I want to learn le French.

21. A Recipe. This is tried and true from the kitchen of my mama's dear friend Crystal. It's simply divine. 

{ Chicken and Wild Rice Salad }

22. A Blog. http://myheartistry.blogspot.com

23. A Piece of Art.

Minerva Tichert

24. A Tumblr crush. http://audreyhepburncomplex.tumblr.com/

25. A Tumblr favorite. http://quotemeboy.tumblr.com/

26. A Dream. All I remember is that we were holding hands. I don't know whose hand it was, but I know I was rapturously happy holding it.

27. A Quote From a Recent Chat. "Of course UVU will accept your BYU credits. If they didn't that'd be like D.I. not accepting clothes from Anthro."

28. Something That Made Me Laugh. Being woken up on the beach and asked to be his girlfriend by a man of African-American descent named Horace. Upon my respectful decline, he then asked ever so eloquently if my darling bff, also asleep, were available ("Wha' 'bout her?"). Oh, Pacific Beach. You truly are the I.E. of San Diego.

29. Something That Gives Me Wanderlust. Eating Greek food. I need NEED neeeeeeeed to go to Greece. 

30. An Anonymous Shout Out. You hardly know me, and I you. But your kisses are oh so sweet. And if summer finds favor in us and allows me to collect them one by one for a little while longer, I will be a very happy girl indeed.

Peace and Love.

Photo source: http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dORssRD64zw/TZvUVh06nhI/AAAAAAAAEps/OiLzWKQAGTY/s1600/holding%252Bhands%252Blove%252Bfriends%252Bcouple.jpg&imgrefurl=http://ashleerohnert.blogspot.com/2011/04/cold-tangerines.html&usg=__bkc2bfVzuJClKCREZrCw1YnYLEM=&h=333&w=500&sz=36&hl=en&start=164&zoom=1&tbnid=BE4eLtoz0OoRuM:&tbnh=145&tbnw=178&ei=PjIlTovrGoessAOJkqDcCA&prev=/search%3Fq%3Dholding%2Bhands%2Blove%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26hs%3DNi5%26sa%3DX%26rls%3Dorg.mozilla:en-US:official%26biw%3D1680%26bih%3D792%26tbm%3Disch&itbs=1&iact=hc&vpx=1024&vpy=502&dur=14065&hovh=183&hovw=275&tx=175&ty=134&page=6&ndsp=35&ved=1t:429,r:31,s:164

All I Needed Was the Rain

2011-06-30T00:18:00.011-06:00

"When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent, which is death to hide,
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent..."
-John Milton, "Sonnet On His Blindness"

There's an alluring summer storm brewing outside. The bellowing thunder is in good company with the "hard rain" that's falling. There was a time not too long ago, when it rained with such insistency that the only explanation was that Utah is way emo and it's lover was unfaithful and all Utah could do to alleviate the pain was cry and cry. Or maybe Utah's favorite dog died and it couldn't get a grip. Either way I think the only reason it stopped was because it ran out of tears and had to resort to cutting itself because that's what Emos do best. Maybe the cutting isn't working anymore though because it's raining again. At any rate, though I am aching for a little sunshine, it being JUNE and all, I am grateful that today, while the sky is sobbing, I have nowhere I need to be but right here in my space.

So I recently confessed to another that "Off and On" relationships have been the bane of my existence. In that context, I was referring to relationships with my lovahs. But it got me thinking. My life itself is one, undying, "Off and On" relationship. School and I are "on", then we're on a break. My spirituality is "on", then it takes some time "off" for a little holiday. My ability to lead my own life, be the creator of my circumstances and not a creature of them, will be "on" and lumionous. And then, a wrench is thrown in my spokes and all that autonomy shuts "off" like the flick of a switch. Does all this On-ning and Off-ing mean I am not a solidly rooted person?
How tragically disappointing.

Socrates said, "Be as you wish to seem." I love the simplicity with which he implies that is to be achieved. Just "be". Similarly, one of my favorite quotes is by Richard G. Scott. He says: "We become what we want to be by consistently being what we want to become each day." A little Socrates + a little R.G.S. = Be what I wish to seem by consistently being each day what I want to become. It sounds so easy, but I struggle. "In vain, I have struggled, and it will not do." (I wish I were saying that in the same context as darling Darcy did, but it's still fitting for the occasion, I think.) So how do I "be" what I'm trying to become? And who is it I am striving to become? I am fond of the parts of me that I know the very best. And it's good to have that sort of appreciation for oneself, I think. It's necessary for our happiness. When we can find subtle contentment with who we are, we find much greater success in finding and creating happiness outside ourselves. But there are quite a few unfamiliar fibers making up my whole, and I think they are to blame for my propensity for indulging in On-and-Off-Again relationships with myself. How to thwart this intrinsic epidemic?

In an attempt at answering the rhetorical, I ask myself:
What does it take to make a relationship work? Like I would even know... But if I venture to analyze what my past relationships have lacked in one way or another, the negative space might help elucidate a more precise formula for success. Lemme see...

{Genuine interest}

which leads to

{Time invested in the right pursuits}

which can often lead to

{Appreciation}

which lends itself to

{Security}

which inevitably breeds

{Confidence}

which encourages

{Personal growth and development}

which ultimately develops
{Joy}

Hmmm.

I've figured it out. My lapse is in Step Two: Time invested in the right pursuits. The deplorable ways in which I spend my minutes... Oh Heaven help me! In my most treasured of books urges the aphorism: "Do not labor for that which cannot satisfy." And therein lies the secret ingredient in becoming what we wish to be. On that new-fangled infatuation I mentioned earlier, Pinterest, I read the following:
"Today,
What have I done for my mind?
My body?
My spirit?
My relationships?
My creativity?
My passions?"
Well mercy. That sounds like a perfect recipe for self-appropriation, if I don't say so myself. Stare those questions straight in the eye every day and NOT investing time in worthy pursuits seems kind of impossible. And in the spirit of impossibility, let me remind you of that ever so delightful quote from Ms. Audrey herself: "Nothing is impossible. The word itself says, 'I'm possible'!"
So there. And please forgive this erratic flow of thoughts but I have to interject an Audrey quote whenever I can. It's my own personal form of Turret's Syndrome.

Here's how I want to be: Happy, educated, insightful, well-read (and not just from F. Scott Fitzgerald's books), cultured, virtuous, a connoisseur of beauty in all it's forms, open-minded, and humble.

Here's who I want to be: life-long learner, writer, wife, mother, faithful daughter of God, disciple of Christ.

I wake up each morning hopeful for the day ahead of me. I know that each day granted me is another chance to work towards "becoming". I don't know why I struggle so feverishly and get so lazy in the building of my character. But I am grateful for the moments of introspection that come on days like today, when the rain outside encourages me to turn inward and realize that attaining ourselves comes with carefully invested time in worthwhile pursuits. How lovely to be able to reflect at the end of the day and say to myself:

"For my mind, I read words uncharted until today."
"For my body, I ran farther than I did yesterday."
"For my spirit, I communed with the Divine. I carried a prayer in my heart."
"For my relationships, I served."
"For my creativity and passions, I wrote. And read. And wrote. And wrote. And wrote."

A formula for a lovely day, indeed. No more missteps for Yours Truly.

Peace and Love.

Source for photo: http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_15B-RmfEHcw/TCy13lWW5nI/AAAAAAAAAGA/yG5y4ogIbsA/s1600/5Summer-Rain.jpg&imgrefurl=http://storyfragment.blogspot.com/2010/07/summer-rain.html&usg=__oE0O-LVDzpc9hHfpArv1Z0JRHew=&h=360&w=435&sz=55&hl=en&start=0&zoom=1&tbnid=hEeCzkjr-P23nM:&tbnh=152&tbnw=186&ei=iBIMTuumLoKCsAKB79WUCg&prev=/search%3Fq%3Dsummer%2Brain%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26hs%3DpKB%26rls%3Dorg.mozilla:en-US:official%26biw%3D1280%26bih%3D837%26tbm%3Disch&itbs=1&iact=hc&vpx=626&vpy=131&dur=3367&hovh=204&hovw=247&tx=145&ty=112&page=1&ndsp=20&ved=1t:429,r:2,s:0

Girl: Happy

2011-06-28T12:28:00.003-06:00

Oh. My. Summer. I've been enjoying it so fully that I've neglected to catalog it...

Firstly, I give you the one, the only: Nina Simone. 

Source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LtVvcgjAaNg

She is often referred to as, "The High Priestess of Soul". Is. she. ever. Nina was so inspired with the classical masterpieces of Bach that she aspired to become a classical pianist and in the process developed an original and distinctive sound. She felt that "pop" music was inferior to classical and so injected as much of her classical training into her music as possible. She is just so extraordinary. I love the bluesy deepness of her voice. It makes me want to listen to her all the live long day. Give this a listen and tell me it doesn't move your whole soul. Dare ya.

Seconduvly, I bring you: 

The Utah Art Festival! I really do love the art festival here. It's so inspiring to see all the tangible creativity. Last year there was an artist by the name of Trevin Prince (Google him!) who creates his pieces with his own blood. Cross my heart. He calls it "Blood Works". He actually has a nurse come and draw his blood and then mixes it with enzymes or something to make it more yielding to paint with. For someone as squeamish as I, it is a  wonder that I can even appreciate something that gross. But I was so fascinated with the concept of his art last year and was totally excited he was there again this year. I can only look at his works for about 13 seconds though before I start getting that light-headed-knees-betraying-me-someone-better-catch-me-before-I-eat-it feeling, but still. So cool. The guy does look pretty flimsy though. I bet he reads all the Twilight books. Here are some other gems from the festival I snappity-snapped:

Thirdly and favorite-ly:

Earlier last week I decided I wanted to start collecting vintage books. I must be doing something Karma likes because she most certainly smiled upon me favorably: literally six hours after I had that little musing I was in the Salt Lake Library sifting through their book sale and found not one, but TWO absolutely loverly vintage books from the 1940's. Best part: They were a buck a piece. How's that for serendipitous? That's exactly the kind of fortune I want to just bottle up and wear around my neck like my bubble necklace from first-grade. Anyway... Don't they look just oh-so-marvelous?

And lastly but not leastly, I bring you, {Pinterest}

  
Anyone heard of Pinterest? It's just the most fabulous thing ever. And since I was in the market for another addiction, I couldn't have discovered it at more opportune time! (There's that Karma doing her thang again...)Basically, it's an online inspiration board for interior design, clothes, food, books, dreamy vacay destinations, quotes, just anything and everything. You simply must indulge yourself, if you haven't already.

That's all for now. But as it is only the very beginning of glorious, bohemian, free-wheeling summer, I cross my heart and kiss my elbow there will be more to come.

Peace and la la Love.

Starting Today

2011-06-21T16:18:00.008-06:00

"Whatever is dreamed on this night,
will come to pass."

 William Shakespeare,  A Mid-Summernight's Dream     

 { hol-i-day } 

-noun

 1. a day fixed by law or custom on which ordinary business is suspended in commemoration of some event or in honor of some person. 

  -adjective 

 2. of or pertaining to a festival; festive; joyous: a holiday mood. 
   
Oh by no means is it an altogether recognized "holiday" to most people. But I am not most people, and The First Day of Summer is, in every above sense of the word, a holiday to me. In my private little sphere of existence, and in a place where four sense-able seasons are not just folklore (R.I.P. Southern Cal), the arrival of summer is like being born again. There is no season which makes me feel more alive, and more grateful to be so, than does summer. It is amongst the lush green grass, the trees voluptuous with leaves and life, the buzzing of bees and the smell of barbeque coals, all whilst drinking in the buttery rays of sunlight, that I feel most assured of the good that is to come my way.

 June 21st marks the beginning of the annual Summer Solstice. "Sol" + "stice" is derived from the Latin words meaning "sun"                  + "to stand still." As days lengthen, the sun rises                  higher and higher until it seems to stand still in the sky. As a major                  celestial event, the Summer Solstice results in the longest day                  and the shortest night of the year. Ancient cultures like the Celtic Druids found just cause for celebration in this, the beginning of longer days. The Druids'                  celebrated this day as the "wedding of Heaven and Earth" (isn't it marvelous?!) with their Fire Festival of Litha. Today, modern Pagan cultures gather at Stonehenge where they light a sacred fire and stay up all night to welcome the dawn of Summer Solstice. Now, I cherish my personal religious dogma with all my heart. But Oh Delilah... I'd venture to say there's a little Druidess in me, absolutely, because I so wish that I could light a fire and dance around naked with flowers in my hair, celebrating the summer. Unfortunately, I haven't gone to the gym in eons and nobody would appreciate seeing that. 

Even though I don't dance around naked to show my appreciation for summer (not in public, anyway), I absolutely can relate to those Druid's enamoration for it. It's not just the warmth and the aesthetics of summer that promote that feeling "so like perfect happiness, that it [can] bear    no other name". It's what summer implores simply in it's be-ing: that unparalleled feeling of bohemian freedom that faithfully dawns with each summer morning. Granted, the tangibility of that freedom has been somewhat diminished with the responsibilities of adulthood. But there is still something about this season that makes me feel like I could do or be anything and that all the universe would conspire in my favor. If only there were a way to capture that feeling forever and live a little off of it each day of each remaining season.

What other season can claim days characterized by mirth and governed by sunshine? Or nights christened with starrier canvases, dreamier repose, and promises of a bright tomorrow? None, I tell you. Summer is intoxication in it's most alluring form. "Be awake and alive as much as you can", I tell myself, because I don't want to miss even one second of it. And therefore sleep comes only because the sun has acquiesced to Rest and therefore so shall I. 

Nothing puts me in a holiday mood, Pagan or not, the way summer does. Happy First Day of Summer to you. May you make as much of your summer as it implores you to! 

I know I absolutely, positively will.

Peace and Love.

Solstice Sources:

http://www.chiff.com/a/summer-solstice.htm

http://www.ibtimes.com/articles/166994/20110621/summer-solstice-june-21-2011-longest-day-year-winter.htm

http://www.fatheroak.com/Druidic_Holy_Days.html

Let It Be Me

2011-06-13T14:34:00.008-06:00

"The essence of the like of you is usually inherent in the name."

-Goethe

Yesterday I said, "That girl gives Brittany's everywhere a bad name." And then I got to thinking... What if other Brittany's out there are saying that about me?! I mean, it's not the most ridiculous notion, by any stretch of the imagination. 

I find it compelling to think that all that I say and do can contribute to making a name for myself. Not in the wordly/successful/Us Weekly/TMZ/Wall Street kind of sense, but in the making-my-name-the-most-exquisite-word-to-grace-the-English-language kind of sense. Though I know that's not ever going to be the case. As Anne Shirley so despondently lamented: "I know I'll never be angelically good." And neither will I. But, if there were adjectives within my human grasp to which I could aspire, what would they be? If in my eulogy, someone were to sugar the memory of me with word candy, what oh what would it taste like? 

Contrary to popular belief, I'm not as vitriolic as I might appear to be. No, no. I have just as many girly fibers as the next lady. And, though I find sardonic pleasure in exploiting my somewhat unrefined traits, it is not {just} these for which I wish to be remembered. No, indeed. When I hope, I hope emphatically. When I enjoy, I enjoy entirely. When I feel, I feel deeply. And when I love, I love absolutely with everything I have. Those quirks are just as real-ly a part of me as are the not-so-becoming ones (lazy, selfish, and my very favorite courtesy of my most recent male exploit, "impossible". Screw you, man.).  

Because L.M.T.'ly is a happy, hopeful place most of the time, normally I would choose not to focus on those somewhat acrimonious descriptors and only spotlight those aspects of my character most desirable. But in order to be completely honest with myself, I must acknowledge all facets of Brittanyness for which I'm going to be remembered. To do this, please allow me to employ that marvelous first-grade tool, the acrostic poem. (Good to know my seven years of college to teach ABC's finally paid off, eh?) In knowing my ins-and-outs, here's what I hope to be remembered for; the good, the bad, and the ugly:

B -  brave, beautiful (gosh I'm needy), bohemian, beneficial, bitchy, brunette, brilliant, brutish, blessed

 R -  righteous, romantical, ridiculous, real, reckless, respectful, respected, resplendent, rude, reflective

 I - irreplaceable, intelligent, interesting, irrational, inspirational, important, irresistible, imaginative, intriguing

T - tender, talkative, temptress, trustworthy, tormentor, tough, tidy

T - thoughtful, thrilling, thankful, theatrical, therapeutic, thick-skinned  

A - able, appreciative, articulate, authentic, absurd, addictive, amusing, affectionate, affordable, alive, alluring, ardent, annoying 

N - needy, nurturing, natural, necessary, naughty

Y - yours (to those people, places and things I loved, most absolutely)

So what is in a name? We  give substance to our names through the living of our lives. We define  our names, we give them meaning, because of who we are. How we execute our hopes, measure our triumphs, examine our pains and gratify our joys, garnish our thoughts, employ our virtues, hone our vices, etc.- that is how we distinguish ourselves from others with our namesake; that is how we make our names meaningful. We "neglect not the gift that is in [us]" and by  so doing, create a name for ourselves unlike any other. So what if others employ the same  phonemic stream of letters to identify themselves as I do? Brittany for  them does not mean Brittany for me. For better or worse.

 Peace and Love.  

It's a Matter of Time

2011-06-11T11:00:00.009-06:00

"Time is on my side, yes it is."

-Rolling Stones

The concept of "time" is precarious to me. On the one hand (heh heh... Get it?), what you do with your time is your own. You decide how to spend your minutes. On the other hand, there are things that Timing decides all on It's own.

When I think about who I was five or six years ago, I marvel at how different I've become. I most definitely have discovered intricacies about my identity that never would have surfaced had certain events taken place or not taken place in the past few years. What I find most liberating is that finally, after living for twenty some-odd years, I have finally allowed myself to feel what I want to feel and think what I want to think without the impediment of being concerned about how it may be perceived by others. (You'd think that would have ended with high school, but alas.) I'm oh so grateful for this awakening, this truth, this discovery. Now that I know and am certain about who I am and who I am trying to be, I wake up each morning confident in my pursuits and my passions and find so much joy in the journey of that becoming.

In years past, those years when I was still in search of "my muchness" (to borrow a phrase from Wonderland), even though I wasn't aware I was in search of it, I let my insecurities and unknowns dictate my decisions. I found comfort in clinging to the parts of myself that were somewhat abrasive, because that sanctioned my emotional safety. Basically, I would not accept new possibility if it somehow didn't fit into my realm of what I thought I wanted, in every facet of my life. I stayed at a mundane and excruciatingly mindless job because it was familiar. I lived in the same apartment complex for four years because it was familiar. I dated the same guy, in varying physical forms, because, it was, familiar. I somehow convinced myself that familiarity was what my soul needed, and so I clung to it. So in the time it took for me to relinquish that familiarity and allow myself to spread my wings, so to speak, in retrospect I realize I have passed up on some seemingly good opportunities because they didn't conform to what I thought was altogether necessary for my happiness. So this begs the question, are some experiences, when refused, gone forever? Or, can they come again, maybe reincarnated in another form? Or, cross your fingers, simply return for a second chance?

I've been pondering on this concept a lot the last few days; lost experiences. And I have to wonder: How much does Timing really factor in? If a situation presents itself and you don't feel ready or willing or inclined to take it, but Time passes and identity blossoms and for whatever reason you are compelled to remember that potential situation and all of a sudden feel that it has been lost because of your emotional ineptitude or fear or whatever it may be, is that it? Game Over? Did you blow it? Or, on the extreme converse end of argument's sake, is there a divine purpose behind things like this and, it simply equates to the fact that you weren't prepared on whatever level to accept that situation but after the refining workings of Time, you now are ready for it, whatever "it" is, and so you get a second chance? (Have I ever mentioned what a devoted fan I am of second chances?) This is what I mean by the precariousness of Time. On one hand, I decided how to spend my time, how to react with the gifts Time was granting me, either accepting or denying them. But on the other hand, of the opportunities I did accept which did not flourish, could those be attributed to Timing as well? In other words, was Timing to blame for those experiences not being as fruitful as they could have been? And conversely,does Timing also look longingly upon opportunities lost and thus warrant a Round Two for the opportunities I didn't accept because of who I was, but would jump through hoops for now because of who I am?
{ Cue hopeful clasping of hands and batting of eyelashes}

As I think about who I have been and am and am trying to be, the frugality of how I spend my time seems more vital than ever. I've felt a certain disquietude as of late, feeling like I've robbed myself of certain experiences and people and you-name-its because I have been insecure and scared and overly-cautious when I should have been casual and underly-cautious when I should have been meticulous. And yes, these emotional stigmatas were obviously intrinsic and somewhat involuntary, but that's who I was at that time. I reacted or under-reacted to my opportunities because of the person that I was then. Given some of those opportunities now, I would react so much differently, because of the Brittany that I have evolved into. And I think the restlessness stems from this whole concept of Time and Timing and how I feel that they are somewhat cruel masters. And, if there was a way to beg each of them for certain second chances, Oh Delilah- I'd sell my soul. That probably doesn't hold a lot of weight since I'd sell my soul for lots of things (and probably have, actually), but still...
I guess all I can really do is be absolutely well-intended with the Time I spend, and hope against hope that Timing is as big a fan of second chances as I am.

Peace and Love.

Girl: Happy

2011-06-03T19:40:00.038-06:00

"Everybody's wearing a disguise, to hide what they've got left behind their eyes. But me, I can't cover who I am."
-Bob Dylan

{Exasperated and melodramatic sigh}
I finally finished all of my chores and can At Last sit down to relish in some time to myself to think about my charmed life.
(I had to vent last time. I try, try, try to be positive but sometimes a woman just needs to roll up her sleeves and hate a little bit, ya feel me?)
But anyway, I have much to be thrillified by/with lately.
And in threeve... two... one...

Bob Dylan's birfday. The folk-master turned the big seven-zero last week. Nooooo, I don't usually celebrate the birthdays of famous people. (Except for Elvis. And Audrey. Duh.) Howev, I did show my appreciation and support for the man behind the music at a tribute concert in SLC. Having actually had the privilege of seeing Dylan perform a few summers ago, I was anxious to hear how some of his gems were interpreted by other musicians.
(Do I need to remind you of my ardent enamoration for live music? Do I?)
The Folka Dots did a great rendition of "Boots of Spanish Leather" (One of my faves! Hear Nancy Griffith's versh {HERE}).
I didn't catch the name of the band that did "Tomorrow Is a Long Time", but it was just loverly.
(Hear Elvis' versh {HERE}).

Extra Extra Read All About It... Bonafide Dylan quote: "The highlight of my career? That's easy, Elvis recording one of my songs.”
SO boss.

I didn't always find favor with Bob- I won't front. Because my pops is such a religious fan of the guy, my childhood was scored by chords of various Dylan anthems. I didn't understand what the appeal was about someone sounding as if they were in excruciating pain (take "Idiot Wind" for example.) Especially when one could be listening to, I don't know, Wilson Phillips instead... (It was the nineties, ok?) But the day I recognized a Strung Out line in his song Abandoned Love (another one of my very faves), my whole scope was broadened. It's like my heart opened up and just swallowed him right up. Since that day, I've seen his influence in so many artists which I whole-heartedly adore. I've not only come to appreciate him for the influence he's had on so many of my favorite musicians, but come to appreciate the artist that he is as well. Truly, there is no other musician more succinctly adept with his words than is Bob Dylan. And he's funny, too, sometimes. Not to mention I've never met a harmonica'd tune I didn't like. Happy Birthday to you, Bob. May you live for seventy more. XO

Pandora.com / Deer Tick station. Oh. Delilah. Who ever do I thank? And how can I ever repay you? I feel like I've sprouted a new heart string.

Paris When It Sizzles = Newest Audrey purchase. Best five smackeroos ever spent! If you haven't seen this one yet, I highly recommend it. I can't believe it took me this long to actually own it. I've also decided that my... appreciation (?) for older men can very well be attributed to Audrey movies. With the exception of Paul Baby (Breakfast at Tiffany's), she most always ends up with a daringly older gent. So not mad at that. Disclaimer: Only older men that are "remarkably well-preserved", FYI. I'm not a grave-robber.

And finally... O. M. Glee. Moonriver backdrop. Literal breakfast at Tiffany's. Wicked montage. Finn and Rach locking lips. A finale indeed.

Oh, and I got new shoes. That might be the most thrillifying thing of all. Just Like a Woman, indeed.

Peace and Love.

Hard Knocks

2011-05-22T22:38:00.005-06:00

"I have the simplest tastes. I am always satisfied with the best."
-Oscar Wilde

There are so, so many things I love about life- which I'm sure you've gathered. There are some things I hate about it, too. In the true spirit of Sunday, let me just elucidate for you a few of my non-favorite things. Just in case we ever meet, you will know what not to talk to me about. Ready, set, go...

1. When people smell like food.

2. Mayonnaise. I've never trusted it and never will.

3. Anime.

4. I believe I've protested against this one before, but, I have absolutely no time for people who say "could care less". No time.

5. Crocs.

6. Bejeweled clothing.

7. People who litter.

8. Guys who wear pink shirts.

9. Waking up to an alarm. 

10. Sticking needles in my arm (Jk).

11. Snow aka @#$%.

12. Fast Sundays.

13. Dreamcatchers. Ugh. 

14. Do I even have to list cats? 

15. Dirty fingernails. Cue gag reflex...

16. The smell of metal.

17. Tobey Maguire in Spiderman. 

18. Anne Hathaway in anything.

19. Animal cruelty. This one's new. And totally unexpected since I don't even like animals. And since cruelty in some form another comes so naturally to me. I don't get it. But whatever.

20. This exchange:

B: "What if God was one of us... Just a stranger, one of us..." 

Anyone, anyone at all: "Hey who sings that?"

B: "Joan Osbourne, I think."

Anyone, anyone at all: "Yeah, let's keep it that way."

B: "Oh... Ha. Welp, excuse me while I go put some water in your mom's dish."

21. Gingers. This abhorrence in particular I inherited from my darling Uncle Brad. (Except for Joan on Mad Men. I la la LOVE her.)

22. Peggy on Mad Men. I do not la la love her.

23. When girls wear purses and backpacks to school. Pick one.

24. Kids. Jk. 

The name Ann. Everyone knows it looks dreadful. Anne with an "e" is much more distinguished.

Loud breathers.

Collarbones.

Hot diggity dogs. I know. How can I even claim being American?

Since I don't want to run the deplorable risk of being heretofore viewed as a pessimist, I'm going to allow my self to leave my Hatorade half-full and stop there. I hope all this negativity doesn't take the cherry from anyone's Sunday. Peace and Love. (I also hate maraschino cherries, btw.)

Girl: Happy

2011-05-18T18:47:00.001-06:00

"Simple things bring infinite pleasure."

-Joan Marquez

Here's what's making your girl happy today:

Lemon Bars oh Lemon Bars. This absolutely DOES NOT mean eclairs have been replaced. It's just that these are more accessible lately and so I'm not about to turn them away.

She's bohemian and passionate and intelligent and a little bit scandalous. Her words feel like my own, sometimes.

This is absolutely divine. You'll never want to leave your sheets. Relax and Refresh, you implore? I don't mind if I do.

I just saw this movie. I already loved L.M. because of Gossip Girl and Chuck Bass. I'd never seen homeboy before but it didn't take long before I facebook status'd his name (the definition of true love). She's delicious. He's delicious. Their chemistry is palpable. I'm jealous of the whole bloody thing. I've probably watched this video 42 times.

My best days are the ones where Aubs and I have textcapades. She is my very kindred-est of kindred spirits.

And... the messy bun. This has been my go-to lately. I love low-mai anything, so naturally, when it comes to my hair, I'm going to be as lazy as possible. Mine rarely looks as good as hers though.

It usually ends up looking more like this.

And on that note... Happy Hump Day. Peace and Love.

Make Me Know It

2011-05-10T13:27:00.001-06:00

Happy Tuesday. Peace and Love.

Girl: Happy

2011-05-09T14:15:00.007-06:00

"I simply remember my favorite things- and then I don't feel so bad."

-Fraulein Maria

The Sound of Music is one of my very most cherished and favorite movies. For awhile I put in on every Sunday as I was getting ready for church. I watched it today with the little peanuts I nanny and even they seemed mesmerized at times by it's charm. (What good is being a nanny if you can't indoctrinate the little people into having good taste?) As we were all (kind of) singing along to "My Favorite Things", it made me think of how Maria was just oh so very right: thinking about one's favorite things can truly turn a hypothetical gray sky to blue. I decided I would compose my own little version of "My Favorite Things" to sing to myself when I'm having a case of the blues, or even the mean reds. I am certainly no poet, so the rhyming is a little feeble... But if it doesn't shout Brittany Anne Smith, then I don't know what does. 

Sing it loud, sing it proud:

Laughing and Audrey and long, steamy showers,

The lovely aroma of lavender flowers,

Old-fashioned movies and cameo rings,

These are a few of my favorite things.

Big, fluffy blankets and tea cups and sighing,

Eclairs and long hair and casually lying,

Songs that are laced with harmonica strings, 

These are a few of my favorite things.

Dictionaries, and libraries,

Laying under trees,

Clean sheets and bubbly drinks, waterfalls, paper-dolls, 

Smelling an ocean breeze.

Sunshine and summer and Earth Day and praying,

Dresses and daisies and piano playing,

Finding just the right word to suit just every thing,

These are a few of my favorite things.

The Stones and Moon River and quarters and dreaming,

Matt Dillon and Elvis and eating and scheming,

Knowing I know not what tomorrow will bring,

These are a few of my favorite things.

A good night's sleep and faith that keeps and

hearing a kindred tune,

Night swims and girlish whims, baby's toes, brand new clothes,
All these things make me swoon.

Mascara and Carlsbad and grammar and basil,
Cinnamon, fireworks, eyes that are hazel,
Fortunes in cookies and butterfly wings,
These are a few of my favorite things.
Anne of Green Gables and singing and starfish,
Hideaway Russian dolls and getting my heart's wish,
Flirting and red and my sweet Eponine,
These are a few of my favorite things.
Carousels and wishing wells and raindrops in the spring,
Romantic chills, scary thrills, summer nights,
being right,
Kissing, kissing, kissingggg.  

So... It's not gonna win a grammy any time soon, but it'll do!

Peace and Love.

Aud(b)rey

2011-05-04T12:39:00.008-06:00

"For me, the only things of interest are those linked

  to the heart."

-Audrey Hepburn

 Happy Birthday to a very classy lady indeed. I can't ever thank you enough.

For attractive lips, speak words of kindness.  
For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people.  
For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry.  
For beautiful hair, let a child run their fingers through it once a day.  
For poise, walk with the knowledge that you never walk alone.  

Not to live for the day, that would be materialistic — but to treasure  the day. I realize that most of us live on the skin — on the surface —  without appreciating just how wonderful it is simply to be alive at all.

Let’s face it, a nice creamy chocolate cake does a lot for a lot of people; it does for me.

And I love to be alone. It doesn’t bother me one bit. 
I’m my own company.

Nothing is impossible, the word itself says
'I'm possible'!

I was born with a terrible need for affection and a terrible need to give it.

I love people who make me laugh. I honestly think it's the thing I like  most, to laugh. It cures a multitude of ills. It's probably the most  important thing in a person.

The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that  she carries, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman is  seen in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place  where love resides. True beauty in a woman is reflected in her  soul. It's the caring that she lovingly gives, the passion that she  shows.

If I get married, I want to be very married.

I believe that laughing is the best calorie burner. I believe in  kissing, kissing a lot. I believe in being strong when everything seems  to be going wrong. I believe that happy girls are the prettiest girls. I  believe that tomorrow is another day and I believe in miracles.

You can tell more about a person by what he says about others than you can by what others say about him.

There is more to sex appeal than just measurements. I don't need a  bedroom to prove my womanliness. I can convey just as much sex appeal,  picking apples off a tree or standing in the rain.

If I’m honest I have to tell you I still read fairy-tales and I like them best of all.

Make-up can only make you look pretty on the outside but it doesn't help if you're ugly on the inside. Unless you eat the make-up.

The most important thing is to enjoy your life — to be happy — it's all that matters.

Peace and Love. Darling.

Girl: Happy

2011-05-02T16:55:00.002-06:00

"It is the sweet, simple things in life that are the real ones after all."

-Laura Ingalls Wilder

Confession: This blog is purely and whole-heartedly a device for cataloging my eccentricities. To what end, I'm not sure. But, since someday I will have children who will only know me as their old battle-axe mother and not as this sprightly young girl that I am now, I feel it important to somehow document the spontaneous and admittedly eclectic thoughts that roam through my mind and heart so that there is proof that this girl once existed.
(Yes, my heart has a mind of it's own. Oh and I hope against hope that I don't ever become a battle-axe, but one never knows.)

I've decided upon a new habit for L.M.T.'ly, one that will hopefully help me achieve one of my New Year's Reso's which was to think absolutely positive thoughts on the reg. With that goal in mind, I introduce you to...

Girl: Happy.

Only those readers who are as enamored with Elvis as I will note that each blog post is dubbed with an Elvis tune as it's title. Marvelous, right? You didn't think I came up with Love Me Tenderly all on my own, did you? (I did have to change it to the adverb since whether a blessing or a curse, grammar is the oxygen that I breathe.)I found the song title Girl Happy exquisitely fitting for what I have in mind. I la la love the idea of finding "Heaven's hand" in the day to day. So often, these simple joys and sweet nothings are what puts the living into life, but sometimes get overlooked by the mundane that inevitably comes with the day to day as well.
If you are asking yourself:
"What the gobstopper is she babbling about now?",
I'll tell you. From now on, L.M.T.'ly will have at least one entry a week canvassing the sweet little nothings and simple joys that helped contribute to my quest for living a charmed life.
Here's what I have so far:

No, I'm not 96, though I think I must be an old soul because why else would I love cinnamon disks and ginger ale so much?

Sally Hansen nail strips. For those lacking in steez what so many of our Vietnamese friends effortlessly execute, these are a girl's bff.

Goodreads.com. I am a lush when it comes to this website. It goes without saying, I think, that books.period. are at the very top of Life's Little Thrills list. Right??

e.o.s. Lemon Drop lip-thingy-stuff. This has made me into that lady from the Soundgarden "Black Hole Sun" video, circa 1994. Anytime I apply it I want to eat my own lips. Yum.

Andddd... Of course, my long-lost love, The Sun. He is radiant and buttery and generous today. And I indeed am a girl (most very) happy.

Peace and Love.

And The Grass Won't Pay No Mind

2011-04-28T12:56:00.002-06:00

"i thank You God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes"

-e.e. cummings

I feel somewhat remiss in taking an eternal week to catalog what was my glorious celebration of Mother Nature last Friday. Yes, I know. Earth Day is not a real "holiday". I get it. But for me, there is something very kindred about that day. I just love what it represents. I do try to live in an eco-conscious fashion when fashion permits. I recycle with all my might, mind, and soul. I sometimes go organic, when my taste-buds find favor in it. I abominate littering to no end, at times even putting my own germaphobia to the test by properly disposing of this tangible form of "blatant disregard"... These are little nothings in the ear of Mother Nature, I know. There are individuals out there far more devoted than I to the cause of stewarding the planet. But I wasn't always so concerned with it as I am now, so you must know that for me, any act participated in, in which the sole benefactoress is not me, is completely out of character. Where did this small step toward altruism begin, you ask? It's simple and disgusting, really. One spring as I was packing up my life to move home, I realized I had accumulated grossly mountainous piles of "stuff", none of which I wanted or needed. I loaded up all this junk onto a bed sheet, folded it up, hobo-style, lugged it down to the parking lot trashcan, and heave-ho'd it into that monstrosity of garbage. What remained was a pit in my stomach that can only be described as material gluttony. How could one so small contribute so vastly to that Juggernaut of waste? I was utterly disgusted and disappointed in myself. It was after that tragical display of excess that I promised myself I would never again be so utterly trash-y. So, of course, when April 22 finds me each year, I find sweet retreat in it and appreciate the opportunity to honor it. Consider it my self-inflicted penance for my past actions. 

Even before my deplorable crimes against nature, I always had a serene sense of wonder for it. (I just didn't connect the fact that lots of garbage equated to LESS nature...) Not so much for the "living creatures" part of nature- there are only about four animals in all creation that I don't find scary or gross. But, there is something so alluring and sacred to me about trees and being in their company, with soft plush grass beneath my feet and all manner of botanicals surrounding us. And therefore a day devoted to the appreciation of such is hard for me to ignore. So, on this earthy day of days, I decided to celebrate by hiking to a  waterfall which is conveniently thriving just down the canyon. (What a  lucky girl am I?!) Oh how I adore waterfalls. I just love their majesty. It was so serene to just be surrounded by the newly green of trees and the rushing sounds of that water. But even more so because Today was in honor of just those things. (I won't talk about the dead elk that was R.I.P.'ing at the bottom of  it... Which only adds more ammunition to my opinion that animals are  creepy and ruin perfectly good anythings). I began that day with a prayer to Above, thanking Him for the grace  which was present in the clear sky and sunshine, and it could not have been a more inviting day to celebrate something so cherished by my little heart. If nothing else, the  weather was proof to me that Heaven also celebrates Earth Day, since the  days and days previous had all been painted with spring rain. Sidenote: I had the thought while journeying down the trail how marvelous it would be to have a baby on Earth Day... Oh my Mind. Sometimes it scares me, the paths It chooses to take! 
(I would name her Sage. Or him, Rush. FYI.) 

 Admittedly, there has always been a part of me that would love to go completely bohemian and live solely and soulfully off of all Mama N's bounteous resources. But alas, there are far too many mercenary pleasures which also have come to be somewhat affinitive to my soul. In a perfect world, I would be able to bathe in waterfalls daily and slumber nightly under whispery willow trees, but still have the comforts of my crisp, clean sheets and the delicacies of Anthro and eclairs. I truly do feel blessed though to live in a place where one can find pleasure in both things temporal as well as things infinite. I love the feeling of sinking my toes into warm summer sand just as much as I love sinking them into a new pair of shoes. I love savoring a crisp, fresh apple just as much as I love devouring a greasy cheeseburger. Sometimes I appreciate the quiet sound of "outside" just as much as I appreciate a Stones anthem. Thank goodness I am SO well-rounded.  

May every day, in it's own little, sacred way, be Earth Day. And may her bounteous beauty live forever as we remember that without her, we are kinda screwed. 

Peace and Love.

P.S. I love knowing that there is a waterfall just down the street, and I can  promise you this: I will find some way, some how, to bathe in that bad  boy before summer is over. 

Killing Me Softly

2011-03-31T09:30:00.001-06:00

"I want a good body. But I want dessert more."

-Jason Love

I love knowing there's an eclair waiting for me in the fridge. Perhaps I'll eat it while on the treadmill today... Peace and Love.

Do Not Disturb

2011-03-24T10:32:00.003-06:00

"What a cryin' shame, what We became."

-John McCauley

Apparently the jinx ghost reads LMT'ly because You appeared in my doorway this morning. Without warning. There's nothing like a big, hearty bowl of your past to start out the day... Breakfast of champions. Peace and Love.

Don't Think Twice, It's Alright

2011-03-22T11:02:00.003-06:00

"I think of your smile; I'm in love with your teeth."

-Deer Tick

You don't exist in my reality anymore. Your teeth don't gleam in my awakening like they used to. You are undeniably absent in what is real.

But you are alive as ever in my reverie. You are the thought I most enjoy, though the thoughts I lend your way don't bring me any pleasantries. I have to make a strained effort not to think about You. It's a cognitive fight like I've never fought before. Usually I succumb to the masochism and invite you in for tea anyway. Because sometimes I would rather drown myself in thoughts of you than breathe smoothly in a world where you don't reside anymore.

I want to sink into the abyss that was Us. You made me feel flawless and wreckless. How oh how did you get me to abandon what I'd always protected so fervently? I almost discarded it - all of it - for the sake of ultimate proximity. Somehow, it seemed worth everything. It seemed sacrificial and selfless. Emblematic, somehow. Important and necessary and poignant. The pain in your eyes was more compelling than any argument or justification you ever made.

I miss you almost all the time. Especially in my lonely moments. I know we cannot be. I know in my core I don't want Us to be, either. But Reason never was a friend of mine, was it? The emptiness I felt with you is better than the emptiness I feel now. I felt hollow when I was in Us. But I craved you. That rough exterior canvasing your feeble heart: It held me hostage. I've never in my life so willingly been held captive. You entered, and I was rescued. You exited, and I was broken and weakened and less. My existence is forever marred because of yours. But I'd rather live with the scar of your intrusion, than to have the immaculate facade that would have come from never encountering you.

What perversity exists in me that I'd rather ache for you than pray for numbness? I've never been one to abandon humanity, but this is crippling. I can still hear your rhythm and see your unmistakable silhouette. I know them best in this dark place. I loved the space you took. That space is a phantom now.

Everything about Us pervades my reason. Escape seems futile and necessary and poisonous. Here I remain, a pathetic fragment of what I used to be- wanting to rewind and yet abhorring the past.

Sometimes I think I'd cash in all my chips for just one more surrender. Just one more premeditated detraction. We, we are all that matters when the moment opportunes our collision. A collision- that is exactly what it is. A marvelous, ruinous escape into corrosive plains. It is beautifully destructive. Becoming a part of you subtracts from my existence. And yet I ache for it. If, by some miraculous misfortune, you were to appear in my doorway, I would lack the strength to turn you away, though I know it would mean cancer for me. But in my deepest, most private places, I will wish for you and miss you and let you exist as you once did. And I will find no solace from that.

To know you is to be entangled in you. It is to feel tangibly what was once just an idea. I was always fighting for a cause which my deepest taverns of identity could not embrace. It created a war within my own heart. Every even beat for you, every odd beat in protest. You came dangerously close to triumph.

All of your endless words. So many words and each of them lost now, congregating somewhere waiting to greet us and remind us of their existence. They will exclaim: "Welcome to Another Lifetime; We will make sense here. Here, we will provide the promise that was impossible There. Now, what was once a hopeless, debilitating fight, is now Meant. It is what was always supposed to be, here, in Another Lifetime."

Those words and affectations, exquisite and demoralizing, could hold no promise Here or Now, but were laced with the possibility of fruition in some other world. And they were the sweetest kind of poison.

Pieces of My Life

2011-01-19T14:22:00.002-07:00

 "I found that if you have a goal, that you might not reach it. But if you  don't have one, then you are never disappointed. And I gotta tell ya...  it feels phenomenal."

 -Peter LeFleur, Dodgeball

Last night I was bored and being the narcissist that I am, decided to read through some of the posts here on L.M.T'ly. Last March I wrote a little somethin' somethin' called "Follow That Dream", which was basically a confession of what I want my life to look like by the time it's over. I guess that's referred to as a "bucket list", but I like to refer to it as my "future memories". Anyway, upon reviewing that list last night, I had the giddy little thrill of realizing that in the last ten months, I had accomplished some of those very deeds. I know what you're thinking... "Oh! Isn't it marvelous?!" And that is exactly what I thought too. So in honor of making a small but note-worthy dent in my Future Memories List, I decided I'd catalogue my experience with those once-hoped-for-and-now-just a lovely memory to relish- experiences.

{Get a gym membership} - Sure enough, hell froze over and Yours Truly decided to enlist in that quest so many of us have found ourselves in. I am now a bonafide member of one Gold's Gym. I never thought I'd say this, but exercising is not my least favorite thing. I've come to appreciate the sense of accomplishment one feels after running or throwin' them weights around. I've already accepted the fact that I'll never achieve an Audrey-esque waistline (no thanks to my adoration for confectionary thrills), but recently I've noticed that I'm far less grotesqued by my derrierre than I was a year ago... THAT in and of itself is quite inspiring, don't you think? 

{Not need my inhaler} - Though this one cannot be completely hacked off the list of things hoped-for, I am halfway there. I can now run for an hour without taking one hit... Howev, laughing hysterically still presents a problem. It's safe to say though that eradicating hysterical laughter out of my life would be far worse than any old asthma attack.

{~~See an opera~~- ~~any opera~~ (~~which will most likely spoil everyday life for me forever-after~~)} Oh Delilah. There are just no words for this one. La Boheme. (Insert slow, enraptured sigh HERE.) It was like... a dream. That's the only way I can think of to describe it. Between the rich poetry, the mellifluous music, the tragical amore... I was completely and utterly intoxicated. Oh, and yes, every day life was spoiled for about a week or so. Then I somehow managed to remember that with all the living I have to do, I shouldn't write Life off just yet. And I simply cannot discuss this experience without expressing my deeply heartfelt gratitude to him who afforded me this rapturous experience: If you're reading this C- Thank you, thank you, thank you...

So I know this list seems inconsequential since there are a whopping three accomplishments, but a goal is a goal, right? I believe I've noted before my affinity for list making and the thrill I get from crossing things off of them. I can't be altogether sure, but I would compare the sensation I achieve might be similar to one a serial killer feels after yet another victim... What? So even though it's quite a small little dent in that list of mine, it's a dent nonetheless and crossing off those three accomplishments was sheer exhilaration.

Now, here are the ones I plan to knock out this year, or at least get started on 'em:

{Learn how to sew}

{Learn the French}

{Master my "muchness"}

{Not go one day without praying}

{Dance to Moonriver in an ethereal white dress}

... Along with my WWAD Resolution (see this little badboy),of course.

Here's to 2011 and all the opportunity it brings for being in love with your life.

Peace and Love.

Image artwork found at http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs48/f/2009/177/9/9/puzzle_piece_Tattoo_by_yitux.jpg

The Bullfighter Was a Lady

2011-01-11T21:40:00.007-07:00

"Why can't a woman be more like a man? 
Men are so decent, such regular chaps. 
Ready to help you through any mishaps. 
Ready to buck you up whenever you are glum. 
Why can't a woman be a chum? 
Why is thinking something women never do? 
Why is logic never even tried? 
Straight'ning up their hair is all they ever do. 
Why don't they straighten up the mess that's inside? 

  Why can't a woman behave like a man?"

-Henry Higgins, My Fair Lady 

The whole idea of "womanhood" has been a dilemma for me. Perhaps this is because I find myself often on the male edge of thinking. Not logistically, of course- since "'Brittany' [Ahab] never thinks, she [he] just feels, feels, feels"- but I guess more on the desensitized, indelicate side of male thinking. I attribute this to my dear father and uncles, who, though I love them with every beating of my heart, have an amazing talent for making even the most crass and crude of commentary seem apropos for the moment. Whether it's a talent, or just a lack of, what's that word again? Oh yeah- tact- we may never know. But regardless, my being born with estrogenical phenotypes has done nothing to sway this brand of synapses from propagating in my female mind. And I welcome them! Because having that dad and those uncles and brothers who you've epitomized as the definition of humor, applaud your humor, is the kind of compliment worth writing home about. This is all fine and dandy, but... I can't help but feel like it is a sort of betrayal to the womanly virtues I've been granted, too. "What the world needs is a return to sweetness and decency..." (-Princess Ann, Roman Holiday). What of tenderness, and grace, and eloquence?
In the last week, I've managed to prioritize six Audrey films into my schedule. If one were to paint the portrait of a lady, I would say that my beloved Ms. Hepburn is the epitome of what a lady should be. Some characteristics of Lady Aud that come to mind: class, eloquence, style, grace, serene sense of humor, kindness, concern for her fellow man. Audrey and all her essence are indeed the receivers of many an admiring eye, both male and female alike. No man can admit that she isn't refreshingly and flawlessly lovely, and no woman cannot admire her. I doubt Audrey ever voiced a crass or harsh thought toward another living creature.

It would be absolutely divine to be able to effortlessly exude such poise and grace, but I just don't think it's in the stars for me. Channeling my inner Audrey- my inner lady- takes a conscious, strained effort... I would imagine it's much like a paraplegic trying to walk. It's not that I'm (totally) white trash or vulgar or anything. It's just that I happen to love It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia just as much as I love Pride and Prejudice. (Maybe not AS much... But I do quite enjoy it far more than any woman venturing to call herself a lady ever should.) I've decided my quest for 2011 is to acquiesce to my feminine proclivities and hone those propensities for the opposite with which I've seemingly been graced. In order to prepare for this quest, I have to consider those ladies who inspire me the most, both real and fictionary...

Carol Calhoun - Grandmother. Once described in my journal as, "possessing a formula of the tenderness and intelligence and wisdom and humor that makes for a perfect person. And she's beautiful." I can honestly say I've never heard one profane word exit her mouth. That might be the most inspiring thing of all.

Sabrina Fairchild - The charming little heroine of the movie, Sabrina. She handles her disappointments so gracefully and with such poise and fragile acceptance.

Anne Shirley - Maybe my most cherished literary heroine of all time... Her idealistic imagination and whimsical use of words are nothing short of inspiring to Yours Truly.

Chanin Warren - Aunt. She's oh so sensible, classy, funny, and naturally beautiful. And has the most distinguished good taste out of any woman I know. Every visit to her home is like a luxury vacay at a four-star hotel. She is a charming and considerate hostess, an unsurpassed chef, and a kindred spirit. There is nothing about her that I don't admire and whole-heartedly adore.

Charlotte York - Here's where I admit to my Sex and the City crush. Though Carrie is my favorite, it is Charlotte who portrays the qualities I find most commendable. She wants "nice bedding" and to be a mother and despite being surrounded by three other women who are somewhat indelicate, she manages to maintain a delicate feminine quality that I find quite refreshing.

Amy Winehouse - jk.

Ariel Allen - BFF. Her heart is three times bigger than anyone's I've ever met. She is selfless and giving. She is exquisitely lovely. She appreciates and protects the planet. She knows so many good words. She is funny and brave. I truly believe there is nothing she can't do.

Fraulein Maria - Yes, thee musically-inclined-nun-turned-governess-turned-wifey of the delicious Captain von Trapp. She lived through music. She enriched lives. She created her own happiness.

Annie - The little ginger orphan. Always optimistic, was she. I mean, the dame had red hair and no parents, and she STILL opted for optimism: "The sun'll come out, tomorrow..." You get it.

Of course, there's no such thing as a perfect woman. (Except for Audrey.) But as the new year is upon me, I feel that now is as good a time as any to labor for fine-tuning that perfect version of myself. My New Year's Reso's are usually foiled by the time March rolls around... But I'm a little more determined this year because this is something I've been musing about for awhile now; trying to figure out how to be true to who I inescapably am, yet still somehow capture the portrait of a lady in my being. In considering the character traits of the ladies listed above and in knowing my own poisons, I've come up with the following resolutions:

1. The over-arching, "umbrella" resolution: Ask myself,

"What would Audrey do (WWAD)?" and then... Do it. Or not do it. If she wouldn't.

2. Actually USE all those words I love so much and have highlighted in my Webster's Vest Pocket Dictionary (to which I refer even when I'm not wearing a vest... Yeah that's right)INSTEAD of the choice words that sailors and I have in common.

3. Say "thank you" at least three times a day.

4. Invite lovely things into my life... Music, literature, art, people, experiences, whatev will enrich my life.

5. Cherish virtue.

6. Be more tidy. Just because I'm the only one living my life doesn't mean I don't have to be inconsiderate to myself... Ha.

7. Recycle. Reduce. Reuse.

8. Pray always.

9. Think happy thoughts. Is it any wonder that "optimism" and "opium" begin and end the same way? I think not.

10. Think more of others than myself.

11. Make time for reverie.

We'll see if I can get past March...

With these goals in tow, I don't have to wait for good fortune to smile upon me because I'll be creating it, and hopefully become more of a lady in the process.

Peace and Love.

The Lady Loves Me

2010-11-04T15:46:00.001-06:00

 "You don't have to say anything.

 But you have got to mean everything."

-John McCauley

So. Often on this space, I've taken it upon myself to delicately muse about the different fibers of my being... my sister, my penchant regard for heartstrings, my cherished tastebuds, etc. And although I've already born testimony about my kindred-like affinity for music... Here I go again. Of all the things conspiring in my favor to make L.I.F.E. Lovely, Inspiring, Fervent, and Exquisite, I hold those alchemists of language and melody- conjuring up the elixirs that we know as song- almost solely responsible. My mind reels and reels throughout the day; sometimes to an irritating degree. But when it meets an empty moment, it so often (perhaps involuntarily) grants invitation to What Ifisms: "What if I had to choose ONE song to listen to for the rest of my life?" ... "What if each thought had a melody? Each feeling? Each decision?" ... "What if music was first, then Adam, then Eve?" ... "What if there were no such thing as red heads?" ... "What if I lost my hearing tomorrow? What would be the last song I would want to hear?" There are a few things that I can think of that would be more tragic than a world void of music... But only a few. 

Last night I saw this healing elixir come to life on stage. Of course it wasn't my first time... (When it comes to live music, I guess I am "THAT kind of girl".) I forget, each time, the thrills that watching music brings. Yes, "watching". The synergy of strings and percussion and keys coming together to create the combination of chords that melody into something that you know was instrumented entirely for your ears and yours alone... Watching lips relinquish the parade of words that for whatever reason seem to echo within your core. It is this art form for which I find the most appreciation and also the most ineptness at expressing my gratitude. Songs with words, songs without words, songs with words I don't understand... It doesn't matter. After having the blessed privilege of Opera-ing (fancy, right?) for the very first time, I was still at a loss for a word to describe the  fullness of that experience weeks afterward. There just doesn't seem to be a word in the  English vernacular with which to adequately describe it. Perhaps I shall  have to invent one. (Please stand-by for that.)

 I once was officially encouraged to think of the things in life that make me happy. This was not a difficult task by any means. As dissolute as her inhabitants can be (which therefore leads to the pernicious and debaucherous society we sometimes lament), Mother Earth herself is not. She is a "benefactoress" (to borrow a word from Anne Shirley herself) of beauty and experiences and opportunity for joy. And the more I seek out her assets, the more I find myself overwhelmed by the proliferation of these amenities. Point: There is much in life to be happy about. And though it is not Mama E herself that creates the music which is such sugar to my soul, it is She who provides the inspiration for those who create the art that I consider one of my most favorite things to be happy about. So, in addition to all the countless other things for which I owe Her gratitude, I thank Her for the living inspiration that She is, so that I can bask in Her wonder and so that those far more eloquent, poetic, and awakened than I, can translate that inspiration into "that which cannot be spoken, and on which it is impossible to remain silent". {Insert delicate and enraptured sigh HERE}. I think it is safe to say, that music  is, and will always be, my mistress.
Peace and Love.

Artwork by Jason Alexander Cruz, http://www.jasonalexandercruz.com/design.html

Got A Lot of Livin' To Do

2010-09-16T23:01:00.003-06:00

"It's not what the world holds for you, it's what you bring to it."
 -Anne Shirley

So much in what life holds for us depends on what we're willing to put into it. A few years ago I had a completely loathsome, mind-numbingly life-deteriorating mundane job at a call center in which I often idled away hours on the clock with what I now refer to as "musings". I would let my mind wander (because it was never in use for the four hours I was there dialing phone numbers for potential water softener clientele... Yes you read correctly. That really was a job.) And during those shifts on the clock I found a way to be productive by musing about a better way to spend my time. I would doodle and scribble and imagine all over the back of my "lead sheets". The ones which were particularly compelling to me, I made a point to save and tuck away, promising myself to make good on them someday. I recently came across one such "musing" which I distinctly remember investing very serious, contemplated, compensated (heh heh) hours for. I chose my words very carefully. Though less scripted than some of my others, this particular sheet, Water Quest logo'd (R.I.P.) and all, speaks volumes in it's simplicity. Upon re-discovering this little mind memoir, I couldn't help but think of the Bob Dylan gem, 
"All I Really Wanna Do". It goes a little somethin' like this:

"I ain't lookin' to compete with you
Beat, or cheat, or mistreat you.
Simplify you, classify you,
Deny, defy, or crucify you.
...
No, and I ain't lookin' to fight with you,
Frighten you or uptighten you.
Drag you down or drain you down,
Chain you down or bring you down.
...
I ain't lookin' to block you up,
Shock or knock or lock you up.
Analyze you, categorize you,
Finalize you or advertize you.
...
I don't want to straight-face you,
Race or trace you, track or trace you.
Or disgrace you, or displace you,
Or define you, or confine you.
...
I don't want to meet your kin,
Make you spin or do you in.
Or select you or dissect you,
Or inspect you, or reject you.
...
I don't want to fake you out,
Take or shake or forsake you out.
I ain't lookin' for you to feel like me,
See like me, or be like me.
...
All I really wanna do,
Is baby, be friends with you."


Now, my "All I Really Wanna Do" ballad differs from Bobby D.'s in that it does not relate to creating (or more accurately I guess, subtracting from) someone else's life, but to creating my own. I think the reason why his song reminded me of my "musing" is because of how he chose his words. Maybe you won't see the connection, or maybe I just think everything circles back to Bob Dylan (thank you, Pops). But either way, you are the author, the artist, the composer of your life. After re-reading the following words on that little 4 x 6 scrap of weathered paper, I have made the solemnest of vows with myself to make good on it in some little way every day, as best I can, starting today. Basically, I promise to bring to life everything the world has to offer, and absorb it completely. For, truly what better way is there to be alive than to feel alive?

Word by word, here it is:

"I will: endure. thrive. uphold. cherish. nurture. believe. bequeath. strive. expect. reciprocate. empathize. construct. perpetuate. promise. protect. abandon. comfort. satisfy. support. acknowledge. champion. fulfill. laugh. cry. enthuse. internalize. learn. study. teach. seek. find. practice. perfect. search. explore. implore. interrogate. uplift. impassion. fortify. succeed. exceed. sanctify. realize. relinquish. grasp. rejoice. repent. redeem. esteem. adore. dismiss. welcome. provide. settle. waver. define. redefine. discover. rediscover. elaborate. exaggerate. yearn. plead. protest. desire. succumb. supply. create. choose. remember. forget. epitomize. prioritize. neglect. play. work. overreact. ignore. compel. cave. faulter. stumble. struggle. conquer. prove. disappoint. impress. offend. applaud. disarm. appease. argue. evaluate. reevaluate. approve. improve. testify. torment. apologize. beguile. enjoy. digest. comprehend. indulge. sacrifice. inundate. transcend. believe. believe. believe. overcome. 
Peace and Love.

Artwork: Vincent van Gogh, "Still Life with Three Bird's Nests", 1885

Mono - Life In Mono

2010-07-29T16:23:00.001-06:00

I found it altogether alluring. Quite-ly so.

Barefoot Ballad

2010-07-15T12:08:00.010-06:00

 "Summer afternoon - summer afternoon; to me those have  always been the two most beautiful words in the English language."  
-Henry James

Dearest, Darlingest Summertime,

Every relationship must brave it at some point, if there's ever a hope of progressing anywhere. The point has come for us I'm afraid. The DTR. These aren't fun for either party, I know. I've been told by other lovers that I don't act upon my feelings very adeptly, so, with that in mind, I feel like I owe it to you to express how I really feel about you. I'm so much more charming on paper, so please don't think me cowardly for versing my feelings this way. I think it'll be easier for me to truly elucidate how I feel if I refer to you in the Third Person. So here goes. I am deeply and importantly in love with summer. There are so many reasons why, really. The carelessness of summer, for one. I don't mean carelessness as in void of generous thoughts for others or negligence or anything like that. I mean the without-a-care-in-the-world kind of carelessness that inevitably comes with the dawning of each summer morning. It's impossible to wake up on the wrong side of the bed in the summer. In fact, I think that side hibernates during the summer. "Happy" gets redefined. I would say that sadness is an anatomical impossibility. ME! She who not only dabbles in emotion but drenches herself in it. I'm crossing my fingers that- Heaven forbid- any tragedy ever befall me, it will besummer me, because at least if something life alteringly disheartening happens between June 21st and whenev the last day of summer is, it will happen when I can cling to summer's embrace. {If it weren't so premature, I would say August 14th, the day Elvis died, should be the last day of summer. It might as well be the death of summer too, that way it can be the date for disarming not one but two things that make my heart beat. I never bother to learn what the last day of summer is because I don't want to know the exact date of The End.} Anyways. Oh summer. You and your effulgent rays. I want to bask in you all of my days. There's just so much that contributes to the wonder of it all (you).Here are just some of the culprits behind my undying love for you: 

{The beach}

{Popsicles}

{Super Soaker fights with the neighborhood kids}

{Swimming at the grandparents & inventing dives with my brothers}

~To this day Alex maintains he invented the much acclaimed "Penguin Dive"... But he is sorely mistaken.~

{Swimming at our neighbor's house down the street and me always thinking it was odd that Becky (the M.I.L.F.y mom) used her bras as bikini tops. Now I think it's cool.}

{Crocodile Mile} 

{Collecting sand dollars}

{Renting movies from 80's Albertson's}

{Staying in our family's timeshare in Carlsbad with all my cousins}

{Frequent stops to the 7-11}

{Swimming lessons}

{The Beautiful South}
{Endless sunshine}

{Snow Cone shacks popping up like daisies}

{The smell of sunblock}

{The sound of lawn mowers}

{Endless BBQ's(aka endless opportunities to eat a cheeseburger)}

{The. Pool.}

{Outdoor concerts}

{Warm nights}

{Sundresses}

{Bike rides}

 {Being tan}
{Watermelon} 

{Sublime}

{Bonfires}

{Running through the sprinklers}

{Baseball games}
{Staying up late just because you can}
{Truth Or Dare}
{Summer salads}
{Black bean salsa}
{Corn on the cob}
{Whimsy being a part of every day living}
{Outdoor flea markets}
{Farmer's markets}
{Strawberries}
{New sunglasses}
{Monsoons}
{No such thing as snow}
{Hiking}
{Ladybugs}
{S'mores}
{Floating the river}
{The Fourth of July}
{Fireworks!} 
{Meteor showers}
{Bare feet}
{Night swimming} 
{Camping}
{Grandma & Grandpa's cabin}
{Fishing}
{Slurpies}
{Warmth}
{Sunsets}
{Picnics}
{Henna}

...To name a few. Oh summer. My only complaint is that you are ephemeral. If there were a way to capture you and keep you inside a glass bottle and drink you in and visit you any time of the year, I would sell my very soul. You can never understand the depth of my ardent adulation for you. I cherish you with all that is nearest and dearest to my heart; my allegiance is to you and you alone. Though I can appreciate fall's alluring metamorphosis and spring's cheerful awakening of life (winter- there is nothing upon which to congratulate you, I'm afraid), it is you, summer, to which all my enchantment is bestowed. How can I ever thank you for the exquisite rapture I find in your entity? I don't know. But I can promise you this: You will always have my heart, my devotion, my loyalty. And when you fade into the changing colors of fall and then become absolutely absent in the abysmal winter, my heart will slow it's beat for you, but will remain ever faithful. And when spring presents itself to to the world once again, my yearning heart will slowly find it's normal beat again, and through the hope that comes with that awakened season, will meet it's true source of life when spring gives way to you again. I remain yours affectionately and eternally,
Brittany Anne.
Peace and Love.

Gentle On My Mind

2010-06-29T23:44:00.009-06:00

"' I'd like to add some beauty to life,' said Anne dreamily. 'I don't exactly want to make people know more, though I know that is the noblest ambition... But I'd love to make them have a pleasanter time because of me... To have some little joy or happy thought that would have never existed if I hadn't been born.'"

-L.M. Montgomery, Anne of the Island

 Today I was listening to my go-to Sunday music, the Original London Cast recording of "the seminal Broadway classic" Les Miserables. Ohhhh how my heart beats for everything Les Mis. I was first introduced to it when I was about five years old. Grandmothers are so exceptional for reasons which go without saying, but I will forever find my Nanny (as I call her) a "benefactress" because it was she who exposed me to the poignant, so-soul-stirring- that-it-feels-familiar-even-though-you-have-never-experienced-it-before-sort-of-way, musical perfection that is Les Miserables. I remember oftentimes in the summer I would go to work with my Nanny and it was during those summer morning drives when she would play the soundtrack and with each song, "mellifluously" describe to me what was happening to the characters and why they were singing what they were singing. I remember being distinctly affected by so many of the songs, even as a little girl, and not just  because of the words, but also feeling susceptible to the music itself. The strike of certain chords would trigger something so tender within me that it would bring my little five year old eyes to delicate tears. Ever since that summer, now twenty one years later, I remain nothing less than completely enamored with that music and the story itself, which I ended up reading years later in middle school. I believe that this early experience with music was what instigated what  I now refer to as my utter and complete susceptibility to music. To  this day, I can't hear certain chords without being held captive by a tear or two. 

Awhile back I happened upon this quote from Victor Hugo (author Les Miserables, the novel on which "my" beloved musical is based): "Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent." What a perceptive statement to make, for over a hundred years after his renowned novel was published, writers with their own incalculable gift for music would translate Hugo's words into an epic musical phenomenon in which even without the words, one can feel the power of the emotions being expressed in each song. Upon reading Hugo's quote, and probably in connection to my keen attachment to the play based on his words, I felt that I had never read anything more exquisitely true!

Maybe I was born with a special organ that only functions when I hear "Bring Him Home" (or all of Les Mis for that matter), or Pachelbel Canon, or any of the songs from Anne of Green Gables, or any of Alexandre Desplat's exquisite scores, or the whole soundtrack to "The Age of Innocence", or any version of Adagio in G minor, or "The Crisis" by Ennio Morricone. Whether anatomic or not, something physical occurs when I hear something I like. There are just certain chords or measures of songs or songs as a whole that will echo to my core. Ohhhh how my soul just reels. An admitted Emotionist, when I feel anything significant or dramatic, I want to feel it as much as possible. Any emotion is in good company with appropriate background music, right? Happiness (Regina Spektor, Abba, The Beatles), Pain/Sorrow/Heartache (Nina Simone, Ray LaMontagne), Anger ("Bro Hymn" by Pennywise, naturally), Peace (ahhhh Enya), Frisky (Jem, Portugal. The Man, Muse, Bob Marley, The Rolling Stones, Joss Stone), Romantical (Etta James, Carla Bruni, Elvis)... Grungy (Nirvana-ahhh {R.I.P. Kurt C. We miss you desperately})... Just to name a few. I truly believe that some thoughts just cannot come to be without being induced by instrumentals. Though I especially feel a connection to the music itself, which as Hugo stated so eloquently, speaks without words, there are of course lyrics in company with a song that can strike a chord with my soul as well. Indeed, that is why I think we love the songs we love, most of the time- because the songwriters have found a way to express in both word and art that which we sometimes cannot seem to express ourselves. For example, Bob Dylan's, "Don't Think Twice, It's Alright" states far better than I ever could all the reasons why leaving is the only option left. 

I often wonder which would be more tragical: being deaf or being blind. Naturally my first instinct is to say that being blind would be absolutely unimaginable. Except the opposite- because you'd have to imagine what everything looks like. But living without music... I shudder at the thought of that. It's just that there are moments in life that not only deserve but cannot be fully lived without background music. Sometimes I'll hear a song and think, "Oh, this is what falling in love sounds like", or, "Hmmm, this is what it sounds like when you are divinely happy", or, "This is what I will hear when my heart loses a part of what makes it beat." Not literally, of course. How completely enchanting would it be though if there was surround sound wherever we went and whenever we experienced anything significant, an appropriate song would automatically play to accompany the moment? For me, because I saturate my life with music, I just automatically hear those accompanying songs all on my own. My very own "background music" that only I can hear. It's not as looney tunes as hearing voices, right? It's like, the experience is the cupcake, and the music is the frosting. The cake is sufficient enough, but the frosting completely transforms the cupcake into something much more appealing and desirable and worth devouring. The cupcake tastes so much better with the frosting; life is so much richer with music. Maybe I just find too much surrender in the tunes and chords and notes and lyrics that I hear. But I'd rather live eargasmically than impartially. After all, if so much of "the music to my ears" contributes to thoughts otherwise never "synapse'd", well it's certainly more dangerous to never tread that territory than to tread it. 

"Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent." Couldn't have said it better myself. So I won't even try. Peace and Love. 

Reconsider, Baby

2010-06-14T13:55:00.016-06:00

"All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of  letting go and holding on." 

-Henry Ellis

When I was little, one of my favorite movies ever was

Bye Bye Birdie starring the scandalous Ann-Margaret (I've loved her ever since, and ESPECIALLY after learning about her affair with Elvis- what more credibility does a woman NEED??). In that movie, her character Kim MacAfee, an endearingly naive 16-year old, coquettishly sings about the glory of being a woman, in which the last verse of her song is the following:

 "How lovely to be a woman, and have one job  to do:

To pick out a boy and train him, and then  when you are through,

You've made him the man you want him to  be...

Life's lovely when you're a woman, like  me!"

In her defense, it was the 50's. However, from the time we are little girls we begin to cultivate in our imaginations what life will someday bring us, including in the way of our "other half". We are fed fairy tales about princesses and being rescued almost as much as we are fed our three square meals a day, and this inadvertently lends itself to enchanting (*cough* polluting) our minds with ideas of our very own future. As we grow up, though we slowly relinquish our childish, whimsical ideas of what life must someday mean for us, we do continue to sprout and cultivate fantasies of how our life will unfold and present itself to us. Through whatever stimulus or propaganda we encounter as we grow, our idea about what Life should look like and how it should happen gets molded and shaped and rearranged and finally, solidified... until we think we have the perfect schema of what it is.

Picture this lifetime-generated idea of Life as a box. We inadvertently (and obviously hypothetically), fill this box with contents (requirements, stipulations, ideals) we feel are non-negotiable in order for us to accept it as really ours. The contents are different for everyone, but everyone has their box. It's not wrong to have it, mind you- in fact, it's good to have expectations for oneself and for what one wants. It can be a dangerous venture though, because if we become too enraptured with our figurative "hope chest", it can blind us from seeing the goodness of reality.

I think that when Heaven designed me, It made me innately proclivitous to long for things. Sometimes I think it may be the tragic flaw of my humanity; to actually long for something in such a way that it comes to be somewhat of an adopted appendage. I call it a tragic flaw only because when paired with a propensity for addiction (another highly sought after trait I've been fortunate enough to have congenitally been given), it can be debilitating and thus hinder one's [*ahem* my] progression as a human being. As someone who governs almost all decisions according to the argument her emotions protest, I know this to be true. This kinesthetic relationship with one's feelings coupled with the aforementioned preconceived Box of Life, can be covertly malignant... Because one becomes intoxicated/disillusioned with an idea of what is "altogether necessary for [their] happiness" (-Christian Bale, American Psycho... And yes, I'm a psycho for even watching it... Whatev) all the while thinking one is being totally practical. Oh and when I say "one", I am of course, referring to Yours Truly Scrumptious. But assuming I'm not the only "one" out there, what do we do when life throws a wrench in our spokes? In this context... What do we do when we encounter something we just adore with every fiber of who we are but doesn't quite fit into our box?

Do we give up the entity or give up the box? ...

Kim MacAfee sang about finding a malleable man and rearranging him to make him fit into whatever box she had contrived. That does not make being a woman lovely, that makes being a woman tedious. And how sad for that man, who probably was a good guy to begin with, right? I only use this example to compel the point that finding Happiness does not always mirror a contrived notion of "happiness"; that reconstructing an entity to make it more conducive to our conceived ideas of happiness can sometimes be more destructive to finding joy than constructive.
In other words, I don't think the answer comes in giving up one or the other, but in sometimes deciding which you have to rearrange to find Happiness. Whether it's the entity or the box itself.

I ask again, does one give up the entity or give up the box? ... Maybe, you rearrange the box to fit around the entity, and get a reality better than anything even you, one who really has quite a talent for imagining things, could ever dream up yourself.

Peace and Love.

Always On My Mind

2010-04-12T20:24:00.008-06:00

"One cannot live well, love well, or sleep well, until one has dined well."
-Virginia Woolfe

My homeboy Vincent van Gogh once said,
"The way to know life is to love many things." For those who aren't familiar with our boy Vince- aside from the fact that he was a prolific Post-Impressionist during the late 19th century- he was also... ardently alive. His passion for living fueled his art, and, conversely, his art actually served as a cathartic means by which to release some of the stresses he indubitably brought upon himself because of the intensity in which he felt alive. It was Vince's "loving of many things" which I'm sure allowed him to feel so passionately about the world and his circumstances and his aliveness. 

Let's translate that ideaology to... Brittanyology. I feel that Vincent and I may be kindred spirits for several reasons which are far too convoluted to discuss on this simple minded little blog BUT it is the aforementioned quotation which I feel binds us because, it was something he preemptively said only because I wasn't alive yet to say it. I am a self-prolaimed lover of many things. Many, many, many things. And as my dear, long-lost friend Grant used to say about me, if I love something, I "love the hell out of it." (He also used to say, "and if you don't like something, you HATE it. You are a living superlative." I don't think anyone's ever pin-pointed my personality as acutely as did he that day. I miss you, my good man.) 

I could loquaciously divulge all the many, many, many things that allow me to fervently "know life", and verbally illustrate why they make my cup so very half full. Instead, I'm going to concentrate on merely one aspect of my aliveness that sometimes brings me more joy than I'm comfortable admitting...

Have you ever taken a bite of something for the first time and had the immediate, soul-penetrating musing:
"Surely Heaven designed this with me in mind"?
{"Why, yes, yes I have- and don't call me Shirley!" would be my resounding response.}
Among my most cherished memories are the poignant moments I've shared with my taste buds and had the aforementioned question resonate within my entire being. I remember getting strep throat a few years ago and upon convalescing, was grievously concerned that my taste buds would never heal. It was literally the most debilitating thought I've ever had. Oh, but they did. And how marvelously they've recovered. I'm afraid that words seem to fail me when it comes to describing those foods that have brought me such mellifluous joy, that have created a symphony in my mouth, that have turned my gray skies blue...
So, I will instead visually stimulate your own taste buds and allow you to cogitate on what you (or your taste buds) love so much that it truly does allow you to "know life" a little bit better. Indeed, at least for me "the way to know life is to love many 'foods'." 

There is no humanly possible way I could deliver every, single food item with which I have an unhealthy relationship so I just narrowed it down to the ones I crave/dream about on a regular basis (in no particular order). Drumroll please... 

Chocolate Souffle Cake with Vanilla  Bean sauce from CPK. And... you gotta go a'la mode  or go home.

Carne asada esta sooooo good. My Pops raised me right.

I've been known to  eat my body weight in cinnamon rolls in less than thirty minutes. 

I'll avo your cado any day of the weeeeek.

Dear Vegetarians, You. Are. Boring.  Love, B. 
(Except for you, Em.) 

P.S. Why do you think Heaven made animals?? 
It's b/c of BBQ sauce. Duh.

Pesto, Pesto, you are the very best-o.

Best formula ever, sorry to disappoint you Al Einstein: 
(1) Late Night with Chelsea Handler + (1) big fluffy bed 
+ (1-3) bowls of PB Crunch = Divine.

Sometimes really all I can think about for hours on end is a cheeseburger.

Creme brule. This is where words do indeed fail me.

I discovered these during one of my "organic only" phases. They're organically delicious. But the wrapper isn't bio-degradable, which is so disappointing.
 

 "Since when is it illegal to hide caprizzi salad anywhere?"

If only I knew where to buy cake bite seeds so that I could grow a cake bite tree. Lemme know if you ever come across any. (You can buy some actual cake bites here. They don't sell the seeds though.)

I'm pretty sure pineapple was the fruit on that one tree that Eve wasn't supposed to pick from. Because it's positively sinful. 

Not as sinful as this, though. I hate her.

Queso dip. I discovered this on an "organic only" phase too. Naturally.

Tip: Nachos from the gas station aren't as good as they look. But I will hit that when a more viable option for hot cheese isn't readily accessible.

I am not even mad at the frozen yogurt craze and I'm crossing my fingers the dream never dies. My fave is Original Tart. I never try anything else. I'm not a dare devil.

Member cranberry limeades from Sonic? Best. Thing. Ever. Don't get me started on nugget ice. Don't eeeeven get me started.

I LOVE me some whole grain, American toast. But really? This > That. I love French toast, French kissing, and French fries. And in that order.

If you call this "Orange Sherbert", I officially hate you. There's only one "R" in sherbet, FYI.

And Oh Delilah... What would life be without creampuffs?? I don't want to think about that right now. I'll think about that tomorrow.

...

Peace and Love.

Artwork by Ju Duoqi, on display at the Paris-Beijing Photo Gallery, in the featured exhibit, "The Vegetable Museum". This piece is made out of various vegetables used in Chinese cuisine, including tofu, cabbage, and ginger. Radical.

Love Letters

2010-03-29T23:33:00.004-06:00

"The  sudden bound from mournful resignation to infinite felicity seemed to  upset me. Even now I am still beside myself and sometimes I tremble lest  I should suddenly awaken from this dream divine."

-Victor Hugo, in a "love letter" to his wife Adele

 Dear Kidneys,

Sorry about the 3 pound bag of Sweettart jellybeans I ate today.

Love, B

Dear All The Clothes I Hand-Washed Today,

You are annoying.

Love, B

Dear Jackson F. Brown,

You are the best thing that's ever happened to me. So far.

Love, B

Dear Lavendar,

I wish the whole world smelled like you.

Love, B

Dear Taco Bell Drive-Thru Man Whom Gave Me a Free Pepsi Today,

Thank you!

Love, B

Dear June,

I can't wait see you again. I will basque in you.

Love, B

Dear Clean Sheets,

You may possibly be my highest ideal of earthly bliss.

Love, B

Dear Sleeping In- My Long-Lost Friend,

We will reunite someday.

Love, B 

Dear Chewable Vitamin-C Tablets,

The jig is up. I know you're candy in disguise. And I'm not mad.

Love, B

Dear Elvis,

Oh just... Everything. 

Love, B

Dear Beloved Cameo Collection,

Just thinking of you makes me serenely happy.

Love, B

Dear Webster's Pocket Dictionary,

You are my favorite nerdy pleasure.

Love, B

Dear Pachelbel Canon in D,

You never stop giving. My soul is ardently enamored with you.

Love, B

Dear Ginger Ale,

I think I'm the only human under the age of 67 that drinks you. But I'll drink you 'til I'm 67 at least. 

Love, B

Dear Singing In The Shower,

You make me supremely happy.

Love, B 

Dear Always Sunny In Philadelphia,

You are completely inappropriate. But I love you just the same.

Love, B

Dear Tiramasu,

Thank you for all that you are.

Love, B

Dear Getting Waxed,

You're so worth the agony.

Love, B

Dear Brothers On Missions,

Sometimes I miss you all the time.

Love, B

Dear Little Sisters,

Stop growing.

Love, B

Dear Popsicles (Dad),

I owe you: about four sets of tires, a totaled Range Rover, some car payments, among other things. You will probably never get them from me. But I love you more than Webster's or I can express.

Love, B

Dear Mama,

I want to be you in most every way.

Love, B

Dear Scoliosis,

Go away.

Love, B

Dear Cheeseburgers,

I could eat one of you every. single. day.

Love, B

Dear Downloading Music Until The Wee Small Hours Of The Morning,

I may need to leave you for awhile and seek out some sort of 12-step program.

Love, B

Dear People Who Say "I Could Care Less",

I hate you.

Love, B

Dear Les Miserables,

I think you were written just for me.

Love, B

Dear The Age of Innocence,

You are tragically beautiful. Just like Elpheba.

Love, B

Dear Pile Of Laundry I Have To Fold,

See you on my floor in a big pile tomorrow! Take care.

Love, B

Dear Organic Skim Milk,

I know you're a scam. But I can't stop!

Love, B

Dear Washing My Hair Every Day,

R.I.P.

Love, B

Dear Cary Grant,

You are intoxicating.

Love, B

Dear Hello Kitty,

I still kind of adore you and get a little thrill when I see you on stuff, like the Band-Aids I bought at Target last week.

Love, B

Dear March Madness,

I don't get it.

Love, B

Dear Antique Stores,

How does one live life without you?

Love, B

Dear The Kardashians,

Be nicer to Scott. He's kinda funny.

Love, B

Dear Bompa (My three-year old moniker for "Grandpa"),

My heart belongs to you.

Love, B

Dear Carla Bruni,

I loved you even more when I found out you had an affair with Mick Jagger. Please tell me there is a love child out there somewhere... And where I can buy their album...

Love, B

Dear French,

I want to learn you soon.

Love, B

Dear Hearing and Sight, 

Please never, never leave me.

Love, B

Dear Anne Shirley,

I want to be you. Minus the red hair of course.

Love, B

Dear Swimming Laps,

Let's be friends again.

Love, B

Dear Now 'N' Laters,

I thought I'd be over you by now. It seems I'm not. 

Love, B

Dear Making Lists,

Please explain why crossing things off of you gives me such sick thrills? So much so that I write mindless things like, "Brush teeth" on you just so I can cross it off? I don't understand.

Love, B

Dear Book About Jack The Ripper That I'm Reading,

You are a creep. And I am a creep for reading you in the first place.

Love, B

Dear The Word Diabolical,

I kind of love you.

Love, B

Dear Making Paper Chains To Count Down To Stuff,

I don't think you're juvenile. I appreciate everything you stand for.

Love, B

Dear The Phrase "Son of a B#*%$",

You very well may be my go-to.

Love, B

Dear Scarlett O' Hara,

So much of me wishes I could be you.

Love, B

Dear Kona Mochas at See's Candies,

Marry me.

Love, B

...

Peace and Love.

Follow That Dream

2010-03-10T00:48:00.005-07:00

 "There is a danger in the word someday when what it means is 'not this day.'...The thought 'Someday I will' can be a thief of the opportunities of time and the blessings of eternity."

-Henry B. Eyring 

Someday I will:

Birth a child

Go to Greece

Go to grad school

Visit Green Gables

Get a gym membership

Read the Bible

See The Rolling Stones with my dad

Not live in snow

Have a beach house

See my Uncle Brad again

Choose someone else's happiness over my own

Bathe in a waterfall(not even kidding)

Have a son named Henry

Learn how to sew

Cut my hair regularly

Watch the real news instead of E's Daily Ten

Meet Matt Dillon

Not need my inhaler

Buy a beach cruiser
Be one with nature

Have a dog named Elvis

Be the best at something

See Van Gogh's Memory of the Garden at Etten for real and somehow try to exit the premises with it on my "person"...

Know all there is to know about the mafia

Learn to make a souffle
Read all of Edith Wharton's books

Sleep outside

Skinny-dip... again

See Les Mis in London

Read The Age of Innocence under a tree with minted Ginger Ale and... macaroons

Try Raspberry Cordial for real

Catch a fish

Buy something from Anthro not on sale

Recycle, Reduce, ReUse

Initiate a national ban against mayonnaise

Publish a manuscript
Drink however much water a day I'm supposed to

Plant a garden

Smile though my heart is aching

Dance in my kitchen with Mr. Wonderful
Have an intoxicating kiss in the rain just like Holly and Paul

Furnish a home in love, laughter, truth, and vintage

See India

Dedicate a whole day to Cary Grant movies

Perfect my glow

Personify "incandescently happy"

Play the piano again

Love a little girl named Fiona. Or Vivienne. Maybe I will love two little girls (!)

Perfectly epitomize Audrey H.

Master my "muchness"

Find the perfect pair of pencil pants
Visit Venice

Make love not war

Protest against littering

Sing on stage

Stop believing in mermaids

Bow at my Savior's feet

Learn how to prioritize

Save money

Have a trellis of hydrangeas

Be enchanted by NY again

See the orchestra- any orchestra

Put my personal touch on the world
Sing Moonriver as a lullaby

Memorize all the parts of the brain and their functions

Learn to separate my imaginings from my realities

Learn to cope with my imaginings not being my realities

Try a Turkish Delight

Not go one day without praying
Hold a starfish

Will not want what I can never have
Reach my potential
Know every little thing about something utterly significant
Know every little thing about something utterly insignificant (I'm well on my way to that one already, actually)

Go almost all the way completely Green

Have to stop going to Strung Out shows...

Not regret not smoking weed
See an opera- any opera (which will most likely spoil everyday life for me forever-after)

Be the portrait of a lady- at least once

Be able to shop at a Farmer's Market every Saturday morning

Know all about all the constellations
Care about politics
Dance to Moonriver in an ethereal white dress
Find meaning outside myself
Learn French

Put notes in my kids lunches

... Hopefully before my eternity runs out. Peace and Love.

Artwork: "Memories of the Garden at Etten" by Vincent Van Gogh

I Think I'm Gonna Like It Here

2010-02-10T01:17:00.008-07:00

"To a superior race of being the pretensions of mankind to extraordinary sanctity and virtue must seem... ridiculous."
-William Hazlitt

Here are just a few things I will miss (not) about Provo. That is, when the blessed day that I extricate myself finally arrives...

1) V-necks and skinny jeans. On grown-ass men. How do they... nevermind. I don't even want to think about how they accommodate themselves into the geometry of the skinny jean. And enough with the man-cleave. Your poor dads.

2) Guys who don't know their shit's weak. Basically, almost every guy being "That" guy.

3) Sword and Quill club at BYU.

4) Snow

5) Snow

6) Snow

7) No legit Mexican restaurants, except for La Casita. But that's in Springville, so... Noted.

8) Girls who wear Nikes with every every every outfit. I.e.: BYU Sweatshirt, BYU sweatpants, Nikes; floral 90's blouse, jeans, Nikes; Lacy bottom-trimmed camisole, White V-Neck T-Shirt, jean skirt, Nikes. Gruesome.

9) The filth that is commonly referred to as Fry Sauce. AKA pink mayo. Can we not?

10) No Dunkin' Donuts! WTF.

11) The tweaker girls that work at Crest on 9th (I will however, miss the Crest gas stations themselves. Gems.)

12) Utah drivers. And this is from me, who took three tries to get licensed in the great state of CA.

13) P.P.D. aka Provo Police. Really? You take your job THAT seriously?

14) The weirdo rapist creepy As that talk to themselves riding the 832 and only have four teeth. 

15) "Could care less"

16) Hipsters* (*see #1 and #28 for more information)

17) Being afraid to visit the Sev because of being mobbed by All-Stars. FYI: You're 39. You mayyyy want to think about making some life choices. (Related: #24)

18) The unbelievably relentless toolishness of University Towing- who is solely responsible for my fear of parking anywhere in the U.S. that is not my driveway.

19) Snow

20) The sheer audacity of Utah breds referring to Utah lake as "The Beach." For real?

21) No beach.

22) Utah Dating on Demand. Classic.

23) Shandies. You know who you are.

24) The most prolific trend/epidemic being douche-baggery- any and all forms. (Related: #28)

25) Snow

26) Having to break for DEER. Go. Back. To the mountain. Before I have my brother shoot your face.

27) The unparalleled ineptness of the natives- which can probably be attributed to delayed aftermath of polygamy. Mabes. Haha. I'm sorry, so because you "don't work in produce", does that mean that you are physically unable or forbidden to retrieve me a box from the warehouse, or that you are mentally unable/therefore forbidden to retrieve me a box from the warehouse? Ah. Sorry. Didn't mean to give you an aneurysm by assuming you knew how to... cerebrate.

28) Oh! The slaughtering of anything and everything sacredly legit. Like, let me see... music for instance. Let me run through the tragical process with you:
-Step 1: "Exhibit A" (i.e. a song, a band, a clothing item, a movie, or, most recently, a restaurant, etc.) reaps "dope" status in California.
-Step 2: Rumor of "Exhibit A" makes it's way to Utah, sometimes months or even years later.
-Step Threeve: A Mormo gets wind of "Exhibit A" and smothers it.
-Step 4: Said Mormo then proliferates "Exhibit A"'s exposure by bearing their testimony about it. As everyone knows, once one Mormo gets ahold of something they like, it's only a matter of time before it's a Mormon Sensation. Thus leading directly to...
-Step 5: The whole Mormo population smothering and strangling and raping and pillaging and annihilating and pulverizing and stripping the legitimacy out of once sacred "Exhibit A".
-Step 6: "Exhibit A" has now become and will forever remain... just one of the many, many components of douchebaggery.
And so ends the once sacredly legit status of "Exhibit A". We will miss you. R.I.P.

29er) Having to drive forty minutes for a semi-satisfying shopping experience. So not ideal.

30) Snow

31) BYU couples. You're gross.

Thanks P-Town. It's been real. Peace and Love.