It seems as if the last three weeks have been dedicated to the rise of my self esteem. If I was at notch 3 before the cosmic universe seemed to have been on the path of getting me to notch twenty. If my title did not give this blog away I would like to now announce that this will be purely philosophical, By pure I mean all the stories will have been of detrimental worth if I consider them anything but slightly intangible.
Not too long ago I believed that the guys I like are the guys I am not worthy of. Pretty? Not for me. Nice? Can't stand the sight of me probably. Honest? Now why would I even look at him without paying a fee?
The same rules almost applied to women. Except instead of admitting my uncool defeat with them I would hate, despise and torture them, claiming the disdain was genetic. But now, if anyone missed and episode, I had that one guy that made my misconceptions about all of that disappear into a dark Neverland mist. That clicked my confidence up about ...hmm 10 notches?
I also had those roommates that were lovely and nice. The loveliest and most popular of them all hugged me for heavens sake. I may have discovered a way to alter genetics... up about 3 notches.
New best friend, 5 notches.
But then there was Jigga. None of this would have passably been able to sustain itself through my old memories and daunting nightmares if Jigga had not assigned me some self esteem homework. Scriptures, talks, and more scriptures were emailed to me and I was ordered to read.
I believe it may be irreverent to express what I wish to in a blog situation so I will merely say that that may have put all the other clicks to shame.
Have you ever seen a trick done ten thousand times and assumed that that experience alone was enough to make you expert the first time you tired? That you could make the most golden cookies or make that watch disappear? But true experience has now taught you, seeing is only believing, not feeling. At the first test for each of these facts that people tell me about myself none of them withstood their first test. Although I will always believe myself beautiful because of the mysterious stranger that swept me off my feet, believing is not a feeling.
So how was it tested you ask? In the same way all young women are tested, with the undeserving eyes of a dog. A dog licks and plays but the bite is so terrible that the scars last a lifetime. Because all of this new self confidence had not yet been tested to be strengthened I allowed myself to be treated as if I believed the dog was of more worth than I...
Thankfully that is over. Thankfully he is gone. Thankfully I have a David.
So When I see it, I'll believe it, but only when it's tested will I feel it.
And that's my new Philosophy!
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
To See Unexpected Sights
Card Captors was one of those anime wonders that helped to raise my generation. From this short lived show I take the wise words of the living beanie baby use it in all aspects of my life, "Expect the Unexpected." Of coarse he was referring to the monsters that would regularly attack and confuse the thirteen year old in a mini skirt, but when I was in middle school I applied it to whomever would show up to my after school club. Strangely enough no one ever showed up in the same order, some even came in pairs! I was never caught off guard in those days.
But the days where my maturity was at its true peak are long passed and I have forgotten many of the lessons TV has taught me. So in recent days I have been falling pray to being knocked on my backside by the lightest of unexpected breezes.
For example, yesterday I passed the boys apartment not expecting to see any lights on. But Lo they were and I found myself inside chatting while I truly had other things I could (and should have) been doing. Laughing and having a wonderful time some words popped out of my mouth. I had been pondering this for a long time so all that was strange was the timing. I asked David to be my best friend.
Such a proposal to someone so much older than I (and well a boy) I expected to be shot down. Card Captors could have saved me from making such a hasty judgement. As you may now expect as the learned reader, he said yes. We laid out the rues and regulations and sealed the responsibilities of each other in this lofty position. Now I see with the up most clarity the face of my reason to be a good little girl. As you may expect part of the rules include punishment for my excessive flirtation. I just won't be looked at sideways with the eyebrows up again! I can't stand such torture!
So I glided to work this morning not expecting anything. Such a mistake, such a mistake. I walked in to open the kiosk and saw a single cherry red rose sitting on my seat. I know who it is from, and no he has never been mentioned in this blog, and no, I am not interested. Another instance where Card Captors could have saved me, my heart stopped by the act of affection. My mind now has the lonely mall chair and Kiosk enhanced by the loveliest blooming bud, almost filling the great hall with a presence of peace. Most unexpected.
So what have I learned from this? That firstly, I must go back and watch Pokemon and Yu Gi Oh so that I may be the knower of all things. Secondly, that sometimes not expecting the worst can be a pleasant surprise.
But the days where my maturity was at its true peak are long passed and I have forgotten many of the lessons TV has taught me. So in recent days I have been falling pray to being knocked on my backside by the lightest of unexpected breezes.
For example, yesterday I passed the boys apartment not expecting to see any lights on. But Lo they were and I found myself inside chatting while I truly had other things I could (and should have) been doing. Laughing and having a wonderful time some words popped out of my mouth. I had been pondering this for a long time so all that was strange was the timing. I asked David to be my best friend.
Such a proposal to someone so much older than I (and well a boy) I expected to be shot down. Card Captors could have saved me from making such a hasty judgement. As you may now expect as the learned reader, he said yes. We laid out the rues and regulations and sealed the responsibilities of each other in this lofty position. Now I see with the up most clarity the face of my reason to be a good little girl. As you may expect part of the rules include punishment for my excessive flirtation. I just won't be looked at sideways with the eyebrows up again! I can't stand such torture!
So I glided to work this morning not expecting anything. Such a mistake, such a mistake. I walked in to open the kiosk and saw a single cherry red rose sitting on my seat. I know who it is from, and no he has never been mentioned in this blog, and no, I am not interested. Another instance where Card Captors could have saved me, my heart stopped by the act of affection. My mind now has the lonely mall chair and Kiosk enhanced by the loveliest blooming bud, almost filling the great hall with a presence of peace. Most unexpected.
So what have I learned from this? That firstly, I must go back and watch Pokemon and Yu Gi Oh so that I may be the knower of all things. Secondly, that sometimes not expecting the worst can be a pleasant surprise.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Awkward Fun!
(More) Fiction
That is the second day you wouldn't look at me. I didn't know there was going to be an awkward stage. Man, I haven't done one of those in years! How come you didn't tell me? But how would I know without you telling me? Really, how could I have misinterpreted so badly and skipped all that great fun!
Just look at the time I've waisted on being your 'just' friend when I could have been in transition mode. I could have come into work half done and unshowered! I missed out just because I was perfectly willing to take this thing to the sub level seamlessly. I suppose you would know that that's inappropriate; you learning to be normal and all. Maybe you wanting to be normal right now may teach me how to.
But Man oh man how I would have loved putting some lemon drops in my eyes to sport the red puffy look! I've wanted to since every one started doing it this season, just look at all people tryin' on hay fever. Unfortunately the lemon drops would have been necessary. I don't have hay fever and I just didn't cry. It seems I don't when something minor like that happens.
But now that I know where we are, for real, not friends just acquaintances that avoid each others glances every one in a while, I can leave work early. You know, when the sight of you just becomes too much. Melodrama! What great fun days off, lazy mornings and Halloween makeup tricks will be!
How long was this normal natural stage going to go on for again? Playing games is fun, but I hate watching the both of us be something we're not for too long. You know, that normal thing?
That is the second day you wouldn't look at me. I didn't know there was going to be an awkward stage. Man, I haven't done one of those in years! How come you didn't tell me? But how would I know without you telling me? Really, how could I have misinterpreted so badly and skipped all that great fun!
Just look at the time I've waisted on being your 'just' friend when I could have been in transition mode. I could have come into work half done and unshowered! I missed out just because I was perfectly willing to take this thing to the sub level seamlessly. I suppose you would know that that's inappropriate; you learning to be normal and all. Maybe you wanting to be normal right now may teach me how to.
But Man oh man how I would have loved putting some lemon drops in my eyes to sport the red puffy look! I've wanted to since every one started doing it this season, just look at all people tryin' on hay fever. Unfortunately the lemon drops would have been necessary. I don't have hay fever and I just didn't cry. It seems I don't when something minor like that happens.
But now that I know where we are, for real, not friends just acquaintances that avoid each others glances every one in a while, I can leave work early. You know, when the sight of you just becomes too much. Melodrama! What great fun days off, lazy mornings and Halloween makeup tricks will be!
How long was this normal natural stage going to go on for again? Playing games is fun, but I hate watching the both of us be something we're not for too long. You know, that normal thing?
Monday, August 24, 2009
The Temple Watches
Many Literary geniuses have used a towering building in their art. They create a structure that is far superior and far more useless than the common dwellings that surround it; maintaining a contestant symbol of some kind. But because all the authors in the world seem to be tortured in one fashion or the other the symbol is commonly dark and sinister therefore much too ominous to expect anywhere in our safe world of real life, right?
Alright, safe is not the word to be used when referring to real life; those authors were tortured because they had been a part of that very experience. But I do not experience real life, you see, I live in Provo. Each symbol I have found in this magnificent novel has turned classic literature on its head. The mountains that surround us do not close us in on ourselves and our nightmares, oh no, they are partly the Pride Rock of Mufasa and partly the gigantic Y that people hike to to change their lives. Mountains are walls surrounding us is an encouraging safety, duh, how could you think otherwise?!
When the winds begin to blow and the clouds roll in from the east, the atmosphere morphs; a new kind of breath is drawn. This breath does not rattle, quiver or shake; in fact you want to breath more deeply and relax. The smell produced by this overtaking darkness leaves the air sweet and perfumed, even making the thought of romance more prevalent.
But along with these terrifying and confining omens inside a perfect little town...we also boast the almighty looming structure. There are eleven of these hill toppers in all of Utah, despite the small militia they say it is this very object that changes all that its light touches.
The Provo temple can be seen from wherever you are. Look and you will see your true goal, your reason for going home early, the way to happiness, the reminder you are blessed...and the contradiction this has to all learned men is that...well, there is no contradiction in it. No rich gentlemen lives there in daily agony and loneliness, no witch has cast a spell and no, there isn't even a slightly unsettling feeling produced by its presence.
What kind of reality is there when the rules laid down for us by fiction are ignored, even mocked. I say Something has to give, either Perfect Provo goes or depressing symbols do.
No matter what the masses choose, I stay; some tortured author has to pick up the pieces.
Alright, safe is not the word to be used when referring to real life; those authors were tortured because they had been a part of that very experience. But I do not experience real life, you see, I live in Provo. Each symbol I have found in this magnificent novel has turned classic literature on its head. The mountains that surround us do not close us in on ourselves and our nightmares, oh no, they are partly the Pride Rock of Mufasa and partly the gigantic Y that people hike to to change their lives. Mountains are walls surrounding us is an encouraging safety, duh, how could you think otherwise?!
When the winds begin to blow and the clouds roll in from the east, the atmosphere morphs; a new kind of breath is drawn. This breath does not rattle, quiver or shake; in fact you want to breath more deeply and relax. The smell produced by this overtaking darkness leaves the air sweet and perfumed, even making the thought of romance more prevalent.
But along with these terrifying and confining omens inside a perfect little town...we also boast the almighty looming structure. There are eleven of these hill toppers in all of Utah, despite the small militia they say it is this very object that changes all that its light touches.
The Provo temple can be seen from wherever you are. Look and you will see your true goal, your reason for going home early, the way to happiness, the reminder you are blessed...and the contradiction this has to all learned men is that...well, there is no contradiction in it. No rich gentlemen lives there in daily agony and loneliness, no witch has cast a spell and no, there isn't even a slightly unsettling feeling produced by its presence.
What kind of reality is there when the rules laid down for us by fiction are ignored, even mocked. I say Something has to give, either Perfect Provo goes or depressing symbols do.
No matter what the masses choose, I stay; some tortured author has to pick up the pieces.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
I sat down to a Test One Day
(fiction)
I sat down to a test one day. Rubbing my eyes and yawning enough to daze me I pulled out my exam tool kit: three pencils, an eraser and a fuzzy black pen. I hadn’t studied, oh, no one had. Each of us knew this because our noses had been in our notes and not pressed up against the summer warm windows. The end was so near. We were now counting down in hours rather than days, 182, 179, 160, but all seniors were required to take
one
more
test.
“Begin,” the Procter said.
My classmates and I had all been separated, five feet apart, at long desks. I cracked my back to the right, then to the left (for luck), then turned the first page in my packet. The first few questions were easy, I wouldn’t let that fool me, security in testing was a fools game. I began to notice, none of this had been in the notes! Was I wrong, had I not studied well? I went back to review my answers. They were all right, they had to be. But who else would know these answers? Questions about paint colors, emergency procedure, fast food.
I skipped ten pages ahead in my packet. The questions were all the same! It asked about my friends, my family, my childhood. What kind of test…how did they know that…who…why did we have to take a test on my life to graduate? I looked up, sure that someone else might have noticed. The person to my right was almost halfway done, but the poor guy to my left, his hands were shaking. I put my finger on the next question, “The people in your testing center are: A. taking a state test. B. all part of your dream. C. taking specialized tests. D. all more sane than you are.” I shot out of my seat, out of reaction. Some people were just finishing up and others were following the example of poor guy next to me; he was now sweating profusely. I sat down and quickly marked C. I breathed deeply, cracked my back and continued.
Oh how simple that test should have been! I had eighteen years to study! Countless hours to ask my father where he used to catch beetles or wonder about the shade if my eyes. I skipped the questions I did not know. Twenty pages later I looked at all the hole I had left. Approximately one of every ten answered, ONE of every TEN! Most people had finished, some even had gone; allowed to leave by some unknown authority. That poor guy had been allowed to leave when he fainted. I had watched as they gathered his test and straightened his chair. The test had gone into a manila envelope. I knew what was happening to that test…
I went back to the beginning and went through each question racking my brain for clues. I kept telling myself all I needed to do was pass, pass. I had never needed to tell myself that before. How many times had my test set the curve; driving everyone into a competitive rat race? How many hours had been spent volunteering, or filling out college applications? That time had been well spent. Homeless people got soup and I got something sparkly to put on my resume. Win, win. Where was the question about that? Give me a question on how much money my parents made last year and I’ll give you an answer. Or what school Katie was going to. Not this, not this, “Katie conceals her views on change because,” Money was my life! Boys were my life! Graduation was my life!...it was my life. That? That was my life?
I stacked my test, put away my pencils and stood, slowly.
“What now?” I said allowed. I wasn’t asking anyone. I didn’t even expect an answer.
I sat down to a test one day. Rubbing my eyes and yawning enough to daze me I pulled out my exam tool kit: three pencils, an eraser and a fuzzy black pen. I hadn’t studied, oh, no one had. Each of us knew this because our noses had been in our notes and not pressed up against the summer warm windows. The end was so near. We were now counting down in hours rather than days, 182, 179, 160, but all seniors were required to take
one
more
test.
“Begin,” the Procter said.
My classmates and I had all been separated, five feet apart, at long desks. I cracked my back to the right, then to the left (for luck), then turned the first page in my packet. The first few questions were easy, I wouldn’t let that fool me, security in testing was a fools game. I began to notice, none of this had been in the notes! Was I wrong, had I not studied well? I went back to review my answers. They were all right, they had to be. But who else would know these answers? Questions about paint colors, emergency procedure, fast food.
I skipped ten pages ahead in my packet. The questions were all the same! It asked about my friends, my family, my childhood. What kind of test…how did they know that…who…why did we have to take a test on my life to graduate? I looked up, sure that someone else might have noticed. The person to my right was almost halfway done, but the poor guy to my left, his hands were shaking. I put my finger on the next question, “The people in your testing center are: A. taking a state test. B. all part of your dream. C. taking specialized tests. D. all more sane than you are.” I shot out of my seat, out of reaction. Some people were just finishing up and others were following the example of poor guy next to me; he was now sweating profusely. I sat down and quickly marked C. I breathed deeply, cracked my back and continued.
Oh how simple that test should have been! I had eighteen years to study! Countless hours to ask my father where he used to catch beetles or wonder about the shade if my eyes. I skipped the questions I did not know. Twenty pages later I looked at all the hole I had left. Approximately one of every ten answered, ONE of every TEN! Most people had finished, some even had gone; allowed to leave by some unknown authority. That poor guy had been allowed to leave when he fainted. I had watched as they gathered his test and straightened his chair. The test had gone into a manila envelope. I knew what was happening to that test…
I went back to the beginning and went through each question racking my brain for clues. I kept telling myself all I needed to do was pass, pass. I had never needed to tell myself that before. How many times had my test set the curve; driving everyone into a competitive rat race? How many hours had been spent volunteering, or filling out college applications? That time had been well spent. Homeless people got soup and I got something sparkly to put on my resume. Win, win. Where was the question about that? Give me a question on how much money my parents made last year and I’ll give you an answer. Or what school Katie was going to. Not this, not this, “Katie conceals her views on change because,” Money was my life! Boys were my life! Graduation was my life!...it was my life. That? That was my life?
I stacked my test, put away my pencils and stood, slowly.
“What now?” I said allowed. I wasn’t asking anyone. I didn’t even expect an answer.
Friday, August 21, 2009
What You didn't did Last Summer
The plan, for one good long year, was that I attend my University for two split semesters. This became the decision after a complicated series of maybes ad what ifs. A constant flux in variables is only to be expected in such impacting choices, but in the end the only imporatnt variable to me was that I attend school at all. You see I am going to become smarter; defying all odds. Unforunatly, I never really concidered math as a porion of my intellect. The varioubles became mixed, there was some bad adding and missplaced subtracting and the solution came out to one good long year off school.
My determination to continue to grow in my intelligence remains strong. In theory, this emotion is unshakable. In theory, so much time to focus on the importance of money and balance should aid me in molding my priorities, and education is one of them....but I have been in school for the last thirteen years...and I have worked in the summer before...is this really one big fat glorious season filled college vacation summer? The only thing that keeps people from going haywire when their shades are on and the top is down is the knowlegde that their tuition is due. The very essence of carefree is the current light hearted feeling in my chest.
Watch out roommates, batten the hatches Captain, deploy the lifeboats Titanic, she's about to BLOW! Her mind is a slush ball being kept in my fingers to the ears!
My first lesson to you as Professor of things you wish you could do: Hold under the microscope sandcastles and snow forts and you will find that the only differnce between them it that one has study questions edtche into it. But not for me! Fasinating business, no? And no, I will not be thinking so hard about the one whole year that...wow.
This is so not real life, but it is going to feel like it. If my cranium implodes please publish my journals, but I will admit, I did not spend a good long summer correcting my spelling.
So whatever you didn't do last summer is what I will become an expert in. If I spend my time learning, you will know that your vacation was duely wasted. If I learn to have more fun than any beach could have provided without the use of any thought, well, you may just regret what you didn't did last Summer.
My determination to continue to grow in my intelligence remains strong. In theory, this emotion is unshakable. In theory, so much time to focus on the importance of money and balance should aid me in molding my priorities, and education is one of them....but I have been in school for the last thirteen years...and I have worked in the summer before...is this really one big fat glorious season filled college vacation summer? The only thing that keeps people from going haywire when their shades are on and the top is down is the knowlegde that their tuition is due. The very essence of carefree is the current light hearted feeling in my chest.
Watch out roommates, batten the hatches Captain, deploy the lifeboats Titanic, she's about to BLOW! Her mind is a slush ball being kept in my fingers to the ears!
My first lesson to you as Professor of things you wish you could do: Hold under the microscope sandcastles and snow forts and you will find that the only differnce between them it that one has study questions edtche into it. But not for me! Fasinating business, no? And no, I will not be thinking so hard about the one whole year that...wow.
This is so not real life, but it is going to feel like it. If my cranium implodes please publish my journals, but I will admit, I did not spend a good long summer correcting my spelling.
So whatever you didn't do last summer is what I will become an expert in. If I spend my time learning, you will know that your vacation was duely wasted. If I learn to have more fun than any beach could have provided without the use of any thought, well, you may just regret what you didn't did last Summer.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
She Shows Her Underwear.
I feel as if I have begun to misrepresent the Female Gender. I have found myself in a situation where I must live my self made slogan "Live Beautiful." Many of you may know that this is not in any way correct grammar, but it inspires a certain joyful sunlit image that makes you want to join in. I now daily put on a makeup designed for my face and bone structure, make sure my outfits are form fitting and wear pink. Pink is the lovely color that Carma threw at me. When coming up to Utah I told my mother that I was going to abandon dark colors so that I would be inspired to be happy daily. Now I sell Mary Kay.
My two uniforms consist of either pink lettering or pink stripes of pure joy. I sleep in a pink bed and work in a pink booth. If I were to tell you that being beautiful daily has not become a joy in my life I would indeed be lying; the amount of pleasure I get from it may never be duplicated in the course of my life. This being said I must now admit that beauty is only painstakingly pinned and painted deep. I have gotten in the habit of hanging out with boys. And now my work clothes are my beauty and my chill wear is running mascara. So in order to be comfortable around boys I enjoy I must be...manly. So with them I have hiked, devoured three bags of popcorn and stood and cheered when Batman flipped over a 16 wheeler. Yes, I am truly feminine. Don't let the pleasant light misted smell deceive you, it is a well crafted witches brew that smudges all the ruff and tumble edges that are my new found qualities.
So the question must be posed. What should people believe? The cellulite-free blemish-less Goddess? Or the suspicious smell in her kitchen? I know what one person would answer. My dear friend David has a brother that met me on Halo II night. I sat and reveled in the testosterone air as six men called each other girls. (That in itself deserves the question of gender definition) I ate brownies and laughed at the jokes I should never have known the punchline to. I expected myself to burp at any given moment. Then today I had dozed off on Dave couch and his brother walks in and notices that the shirt I had thrown on to replace my work shirt did not cover my pink striped underclothing. despite my graceful sleeping position this lack of concern could only mean two things on my part, that is to any one looker. That, one: I was expected to show my underwear anywhere, or two: that I don't feel like a girl around those dang boys. I am hoping that number two is that wonderful revelation, simply because I know that this three color blend of eyeshadow does not suggest hooker.
My two uniforms consist of either pink lettering or pink stripes of pure joy. I sleep in a pink bed and work in a pink booth. If I were to tell you that being beautiful daily has not become a joy in my life I would indeed be lying; the amount of pleasure I get from it may never be duplicated in the course of my life. This being said I must now admit that beauty is only painstakingly pinned and painted deep. I have gotten in the habit of hanging out with boys. And now my work clothes are my beauty and my chill wear is running mascara. So in order to be comfortable around boys I enjoy I must be...manly. So with them I have hiked, devoured three bags of popcorn and stood and cheered when Batman flipped over a 16 wheeler. Yes, I am truly feminine. Don't let the pleasant light misted smell deceive you, it is a well crafted witches brew that smudges all the ruff and tumble edges that are my new found qualities.
So the question must be posed. What should people believe? The cellulite-free blemish-less Goddess? Or the suspicious smell in her kitchen? I know what one person would answer. My dear friend David has a brother that met me on Halo II night. I sat and reveled in the testosterone air as six men called each other girls. (That in itself deserves the question of gender definition) I ate brownies and laughed at the jokes I should never have known the punchline to. I expected myself to burp at any given moment. Then today I had dozed off on Dave couch and his brother walks in and notices that the shirt I had thrown on to replace my work shirt did not cover my pink striped underclothing. despite my graceful sleeping position this lack of concern could only mean two things on my part, that is to any one looker. That, one: I was expected to show my underwear anywhere, or two: that I don't feel like a girl around those dang boys. I am hoping that number two is that wonderful revelation, simply because I know that this three color blend of eyeshadow does not suggest hooker.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
~[Again] With Feeling~
I know many who are of the opinion that when left unchecked life....remains absolutely the same. Adventure is a new liquid detergent and romance is found on page six. And while, yes, these are golden nuggets of news that must be shouted from the mountain tops, my own series of adventures come in more of a Soap Oprah fashion. In Utah I have found that I have a series of faithful listeners that have an instinct as to when to tune in. Most of my day to day does not stray too far from the hole in the laundry basket or burnt popcorn, but when I report it I report it with the fiery passion of the viking; surviving as I can, in an unnecessarily difficult way.
For those of you just joining us I am a college freshmen living in Provo but attending school in Orem, I work at a Kiosk in a land far far away from my home, and sell Lisse', The Cellulite Ice Wrap. (join us on the web at www.lissewrap.com) In truth though, all you really need to know, to know me, is that I am driven by passion, a terrible reckless force that pushes me into corners and cars and couches.
Presently I am enjoying the memory of an unmatched weekend, one that if I had ever attempted to imagine it I would have never proceeded. I went to a party, left a party and returned to a patternless boy for the swing. Within twenty minutes I was sitting on his lap, my number in his pocket, interviewing him for a space in my memoirs. At one in the morning the suggestion that we go for a drive together was made and he officially became something to write about.
Though our first few moments had been so deep and meaningless, for some reason I still could not trust him, but the air tasted of something, and I needed a bit of it. And as we took his friends home, his communicate with them struck something within me, my motivation and trust in the situation shifted and I knew him. In two hours I found myself in his arms after a night of romantic clifftops and conversation peppered with laughter. He had surprised me with the beauty of a peak. I closed my eyes as he lead me to the edge and held me. There a world of delicate lights, mysterious lakes, and majestic mountains spanned beneath me. This is a beautiful memory, but not because of the view, but the new and strangely familiar arms that held me.
Since this night I have discovered that this man works in the Kiosk next to mine, so in 48 hours I saw him 4 times, not including work, and danced with him more times than that. even though this episode is finished this Steven character that may prove to be a good refrence point in the season. Tune in next time!
For those of you just joining us I am a college freshmen living in Provo but attending school in Orem, I work at a Kiosk in a land far far away from my home, and sell Lisse', The Cellulite Ice Wrap. (join us on the web at www.lissewrap.com) In truth though, all you really need to know, to know me, is that I am driven by passion, a terrible reckless force that pushes me into corners and cars and couches.
Presently I am enjoying the memory of an unmatched weekend, one that if I had ever attempted to imagine it I would have never proceeded. I went to a party, left a party and returned to a patternless boy for the swing. Within twenty minutes I was sitting on his lap, my number in his pocket, interviewing him for a space in my memoirs. At one in the morning the suggestion that we go for a drive together was made and he officially became something to write about.
Though our first few moments had been so deep and meaningless, for some reason I still could not trust him, but the air tasted of something, and I needed a bit of it. And as we took his friends home, his communicate with them struck something within me, my motivation and trust in the situation shifted and I knew him. In two hours I found myself in his arms after a night of romantic clifftops and conversation peppered with laughter. He had surprised me with the beauty of a peak. I closed my eyes as he lead me to the edge and held me. There a world of delicate lights, mysterious lakes, and majestic mountains spanned beneath me. This is a beautiful memory, but not because of the view, but the new and strangely familiar arms that held me.
Since this night I have discovered that this man works in the Kiosk next to mine, so in 48 hours I saw him 4 times, not including work, and danced with him more times than that. even though this episode is finished this Steven character that may prove to be a good refrence point in the season. Tune in next time!
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