Good... And Good for You

i leave it to you... best break up songs (sappy, heart break ballads need not apply)

you might ask me why i'm in a good mood today. and i might tell you it's because i get to put all my belongings which i somehow managed to cram into my little two door car (sans the box of cheerios my mom woke me up to remind me to take) into an apartment. an apartment. my apartment. courtesy of this man and his wife. no. more. commuting. and no more exorbitant weekly gas expenditures. (there are way too many big words in that sentence) to show my gratitude to my parents for their patience with my boxes lining their hallways for the last month, i decided to make sunday dinner. chicken pot pie . my own recipe. which i invented. while i was making it. on sunday. now that i look back at it, i think my main weakness with cooking is that i approach it the same way i did when i was ten... if it looks good, throw it in. this is the technique that led to the banana/tang/peanut butter smoothie of '91. and the black bean surprise of '98. i will say this about the chicken pot pi

every couple of years i go through my cell phone and delete the people i don't call anymore. it's a big event, because i can't help feeling that deleting a phone number is the same thing as deleting a person from my life. and, i mean, really it is the same thing. because i don't have any phone numbers memorized. and i never have the energy to look one up. then, i go through my instant messenger list. and really once you're off of my hotmail contacts list, you're out of my life. this is not something i take lightly. which is why i only do this every couple of years. if i did it any more regularly i'd be a horrible, callous recluse. so, what have we learned today? that i'm not ready for pizza pipeline to be gone from my life.

"lost" is the best show on television. and i intend to prove this statement. but please bear in mind that i haven't taking geometry since i was a freshman in high school and even then, i wasn't good at proofs. given: a group of blog readers with good taste in tv shows. prove: "lost" is the best show on tv. axiom 1: people with good taste want to watch something besides the 5 billion copycat reality shows out there. ("martha stewart's apprentice" theorum) axiom 2: a good non reality tv drama has a lot of intensity, plot twists, and action. ("dallas" theorum) axiom 3: intense situtions are made more intense and believable if the characters are dynamic. (my 11th grade english teacher talking to us about shakespeare theorum) axiom 4: dynamic characters are made more interesting when there's a love triangle. (every movie ever made theorum) axiom 5: especially when there's a bad boy in the love triangle. (han solo theorum) axiom 6:

ok ok. maybe i've been a bit hastey. maybe utah's autumns aren't all bad. and maybe the indian summer part of utah's autumn is the most beautiful time of the year.

this morning, all my stuff had b een moved to another desk. i d o n't know why. i don't r eally care why. they can mov e me to the closet if they want, and my moo d won't change.

if there's anything i've learned from watching "star wars", it's this... everyone needs an obiwan. or a yoda. or even just a mentor. and i have one. batu. seriously, his name was batu. he was my intermediate drawing professor. really all he ever did was compliment my drawings a lot in a really thick mongolian accent. but that's kind of yoda-ish, right? the point is, he made me want to be an artist. later on, i had so many insane professors who told me my contour drawings were not up to par, and i had no handle on what cubism was, and once a professor walked up behind me and said, "gosh! you SUCK today!"... but somewhere in the back of my mind i could here batu saying, "ooooohhhhh.... so beauteefull! so deleecut." it was my own little, "use the force the luke" mantra.

when i was six years old, i broke my nose. and i when i say i broke my nose, i mean that my sister and i were playing superwoman on our swingset in the backyard and i got swung too high. and when i say that i was swung too high, i mean that my sister laughed diabolically as she swung me higher and higher until i slipped off the swing and fell on my face. but don't feel bad for me because i gave as good as i got. and when i say i gave as good as i got i mean that i have a very distinct memory of rushing at her one time and biting her. hard. awkward. now then... because i have a broken nose, i have a rotten sense of smell. i didn't always know this. until i was 19 years old, i thought i had a normal sense of smell. and when i say i thought i had a normal sense of smell, i mean that i never really had cause to think about it. and when i say i never really had a cause to think about it, i mean that i just assumed everyone else was exaggerating or being over dramatic when the

but what it all comes down to is that, in the end i can fool my mind, but not my hair. plus the possibility of a muddled, backwards blog. or you might have to put effort into remembering what you're not thinking about , which involves a lot of step retracing and thinking backwards. and experience what people call a pang . you might remember it all of a sudden. but eventually you're going to have to remember what it is you're not thinking about . and worry about them later. and i'm forgetful anyways, so it's really easy to shove things to the back of my mind. especially about things i can't control. because i don't like to be stressed or worried or angry. and 2 nd , it reminded me that i repress things. 1 st , that i might have been more stressed last month than i realized. but their appearance reminded me of two things. they're gone now. *this morning i found 2 grey hairs . *maybe you should start here and read up.

there is an inate desire deep within us, to not live at home. and if there isn't, there should be. it should be instinctual. i don't want to seem ungrateful. i've been crashing at my parents house for the last 2 1/2 weeks. and i love my parents. i get along really well with them. my mom even made me a lunch to take to work with me today. the exact same lunch she gave me all through elementary school and junior high... half a sandwich cut diagonally , chips, an apple and 2 cookies. my parents are great. but there is an inate and profound drive for me to not live with them. which is why it gives me great joy to tell you that i am signing a lease for my new apartment today at 5 o'clock. it's all very exciting.

"ecstasy is a drug you should do with a lover... and not with your cousin... trust me." and this is why it's important to be able to talk to the candy packaging kids in the back room. because you'll never be bored. sure, you'll shake your head and seriously wonder about the direction their life is taking, but you will never be bored.

in high school there was one decision which defined you. your morning radio show. the morning show that you listened to as you drove to school. so that when you sat down in first period, you could look over at the person next to you and say, "did you listen to ________ today? " and really, as far as my waspy , teen angst y social circles reached, there were only two shows to choose from. chunga or radio from hell . top 40s or alternative. personally? i was a faithful radio from hell fan. x96 was as edgey as a skinny, honor roll, cheerleader girl like me could pull off. i've since been introduced to tupac, metallica, tim mcgraw, and even jazz. but as far as morning shows go, if it's not monotone mockery , i want no part of it.