Playing with Phantom Planet.
happy. birthday. ME.
19 September 2008
.epic.
As if Bryce Avery or the Rocket Summer actually needed any defending.
Playing with Phantom Planet.
happy. birthday. ME.
Playing with Phantom Planet.happy. birthday. ME.
18 September 2008
Of Unattaining Men
I went to a wedding reception recently, and it made me wonder if I’ll ever actually have one of those of my own. I don’t really date guys very seriously. I’ve never been in a real “relationship.” I’m not really bothered by it because if anything, I have an excess of young men in my life. Believe me, I’m not complaining—but with so many young men around, you would think I’d have a lot more dating under my belt. Frankly, I do not. I mean, I’ve had my share of little flings, but I think people assume I’ve been around a lot more than I have. Apparently I give off that vibe, but that’s a completely different blog just waiting to be written.
It could be that I’m afraid of commitment—well, not so much afraid of commitment as much as I’m afraid of getting too close to someone. Apparently I’m one who loves the chase, the unknown, the does-he-or-doesn’t-he. Either that, or I’m a sucker for self-inflicted heartbreak. Why? I don’t know. You’d think I’d prefer security over insecurity, but I’m not defending or trying to justify myself here. I’m only saying.
Not surprisingly then, I tend to pine for men who are unattainable due to lack of mutual interest, distance, and/or marital status. Since apparently it’s easier for me to go on participating in a one-sided relationship, I get pretty creative when it comes to men.
For example, I’m recently intrigued by someone because of his blog. I’d say it takes a singular kind of person to be attracted to another person because of the way he writes. Nerdy, right? Also, completely ridiculous. Regardless, it has lead me to facebook-stalk him. I always read his blog with every intention to make some kind of dazzling, witty comment, but rarely follow-through because everything I come up with is lame. I’d rather not be lame, so that’s the extent of my relationship with Intriguing Blog Man.
(I have to admit how strange it is for me to write “man” instead of “guy” or “boy.” I should probably explore the possibility that my hesitancy to acknowledge someone’s adulthood would indicate I’m uncomfortable with the idea of an adult relationship. Boys are those you have crushes on, guys are the ones you date but not very seriously, and men are grown up enough for marrying—in other words, the Ultimate Commitment. Being able to call someone a man in all seriousness would also imply that I am a woman, and that is a word I feel awkward using to describe myself.)
I used to work at the Missionary Training Center bookstore. For such a crushy person, you’d think it would be the last place I’d want to work, surrounded by thousands of young men (many of whom are really quite attractive, for the Spirit is a great beautifier. And so is Brazil, because I haven’t met a single unattractive native Brazilian so far). In that sense, it’s actually a pretty safe place for me to work. It provides me endless opportunities to crush on boys (since I can’t date them at all, to say nothing of seriousness, and they are most certainly not men) without the possibility or terror of it developing into anything. I’d be lying if I told you a lot of them don’t flirt with me, but it’s nothing very personal—we’re the only Real Girls they have contact with, and when you’re stuck in that spiritual vacuum for ten weeks, who can blame a guy for wanting to talk to a Real Girl?
A word about flirting. I’m starting to think my natural tendency to flirt is a major factor that leads people to make unfounded assumptions about my dating history. Curiously, I think it’s also my flirting that not only disinterests anyone I might actually pursue for an extended amount of time, but it’s also what makes me become disinterested. It’s all part of that chase thing, where the minute flirting prompts any kind of line crossing, snap! I freeze up, start worrying too much, and that’s the end of that. Don’t get me wrong, I love to flirt, but I think I look forward to the day when there’s just an instant, electrical connection with someone. I’ll probably marry the man who cuts to the chase, kisses the snot out of me, and then says something that would live on in movie history, should they ever make a movie out of us. No more games or interpreting body language, thank you.
I had an evening-long tryst with a guy once as he was getting ready to go on a mission, and therefore unattainable. We didn’t know each other very well then, we don’t know each other any better now, and as I drove home that night, I laughed to myself about my silly behavior. That’ll teach me to NCMO ever again... To my surprise, I also found myself in the metaphorical driver’s seat—he was the weird clingy one who couldn’t really figure out what he wanted, so of course it threw me for a loop. Usually I’m the one who is used and left behind to sort out my conflicting feelings, thereby landing me in the one-sided relationship. This time, I wasn’t at all interested in a relationship; I just wanted was a make-out-ship. Concluding that this wasn’t fair to any parties involved (especially my ear, because boy howdy! did my ear grow a fondness for that guy), I backed off completely, in spite of later invitations to join him in the hot tub. What a test of constitution and will power. Yeesh.
I’ve done the long-distance crush too. I can’t really call it a “relationship” since we never spent that much time together, and then I moved across the country. For better or worse, the crush that began when I was 13-years old continued to burn within me for the next five years as I wrung each letter dry (letter, mind you. Oh, we didn’t fall victim to any of these newfangled conveniences like email or the telephone. That would strip the romance from it, you see!), interpreting every word as proof that we would live the fairytale life someday, and have an incredible How We Met story to boot.
Needless to say, that one didn’t work out. And you know, thank goodness for it. We’re not nearly as alike as I thought we were when I was 13.
Married people are “safe,” too. Now hear me out before you get all shocked and find your underpants all bunched up—I have never pursued a married man. I will never pursue a married man. I would be horrified beyond reason if I ever found myself in a position where a married man might pursue me. Just, no.
That said, married people are not dead, nor are they ugly, unfunny, or disagreeable. In other words, a man’s marital status does not necessarily discourage attraction to them on my part, though it does immediately discourage any inclination to flirt or play any games I might with a similar person who is unmarried. I mean, hello! I have eyes! So I take a step back and appropriately enjoy their charms because I’d rather die than break up a family, and he’s already blissfully married. It’s the epitome of an inappropriate crush, but at least I’m secure in the knowledge that the relationship will only end when I’ve grown tired of it.
There are scores of celebrity would-be suitors, and while a small part of me hopes that someday, one or two of these romantical aspirations might be realized, let’s just be honest with ourselves.
In this vein, I suppose it would be useless for me to go into any detail about the men who are the most utterly unattainable, in that they are celebrities and, inconveniently, dead. This does not prevent me from loving, perhaps irreverently but with every inch of my heart: Gene Kelly, John Keats, W. N. P. Barbellion, Charles Brandon, Christopher Marlowe, Robert Cummings, Montgomery Clift, Buster Keaton, Philip Sidney, or Thomas Middleton. To name a few.
And you know, ultimately I think this is the reason why I might not have a wedding reception of my own someday. I might meet some lovely guy tomorrow, but there will be that looming question: does he write as well as Intriguing Blog Man?
It could be that I’m afraid of commitment—well, not so much afraid of commitment as much as I’m afraid of getting too close to someone. Apparently I’m one who loves the chase, the unknown, the does-he-or-doesn’t-he. Either that, or I’m a sucker for self-inflicted heartbreak. Why? I don’t know. You’d think I’d prefer security over insecurity, but I’m not defending or trying to justify myself here. I’m only saying.
Not surprisingly then, I tend to pine for men who are unattainable due to lack of mutual interest, distance, and/or marital status. Since apparently it’s easier for me to go on participating in a one-sided relationship, I get pretty creative when it comes to men.
For example, I’m recently intrigued by someone because of his blog. I’d say it takes a singular kind of person to be attracted to another person because of the way he writes. Nerdy, right? Also, completely ridiculous. Regardless, it has lead me to facebook-stalk him. I always read his blog with every intention to make some kind of dazzling, witty comment, but rarely follow-through because everything I come up with is lame. I’d rather not be lame, so that’s the extent of my relationship with Intriguing Blog Man.
(I have to admit how strange it is for me to write “man” instead of “guy” or “boy.” I should probably explore the possibility that my hesitancy to acknowledge someone’s adulthood would indicate I’m uncomfortable with the idea of an adult relationship. Boys are those you have crushes on, guys are the ones you date but not very seriously, and men are grown up enough for marrying—in other words, the Ultimate Commitment. Being able to call someone a man in all seriousness would also imply that I am a woman, and that is a word I feel awkward using to describe myself.)
I used to work at the Missionary Training Center bookstore. For such a crushy person, you’d think it would be the last place I’d want to work, surrounded by thousands of young men (many of whom are really quite attractive, for the Spirit is a great beautifier. And so is Brazil, because I haven’t met a single unattractive native Brazilian so far). In that sense, it’s actually a pretty safe place for me to work. It provides me endless opportunities to crush on boys (since I can’t date them at all, to say nothing of seriousness, and they are most certainly not men) without the possibility or terror of it developing into anything. I’d be lying if I told you a lot of them don’t flirt with me, but it’s nothing very personal—we’re the only Real Girls they have contact with, and when you’re stuck in that spiritual vacuum for ten weeks, who can blame a guy for wanting to talk to a Real Girl?
A word about flirting. I’m starting to think my natural tendency to flirt is a major factor that leads people to make unfounded assumptions about my dating history. Curiously, I think it’s also my flirting that not only disinterests anyone I might actually pursue for an extended amount of time, but it’s also what makes me become disinterested. It’s all part of that chase thing, where the minute flirting prompts any kind of line crossing, snap! I freeze up, start worrying too much, and that’s the end of that. Don’t get me wrong, I love to flirt, but I think I look forward to the day when there’s just an instant, electrical connection with someone. I’ll probably marry the man who cuts to the chase, kisses the snot out of me, and then says something that would live on in movie history, should they ever make a movie out of us. No more games or interpreting body language, thank you.
I had an evening-long tryst with a guy once as he was getting ready to go on a mission, and therefore unattainable. We didn’t know each other very well then, we don’t know each other any better now, and as I drove home that night, I laughed to myself about my silly behavior. That’ll teach me to NCMO ever again... To my surprise, I also found myself in the metaphorical driver’s seat—he was the weird clingy one who couldn’t really figure out what he wanted, so of course it threw me for a loop. Usually I’m the one who is used and left behind to sort out my conflicting feelings, thereby landing me in the one-sided relationship. This time, I wasn’t at all interested in a relationship; I just wanted was a make-out-ship. Concluding that this wasn’t fair to any parties involved (especially my ear, because boy howdy! did my ear grow a fondness for that guy), I backed off completely, in spite of later invitations to join him in the hot tub. What a test of constitution and will power. Yeesh.
I’ve done the long-distance crush too. I can’t really call it a “relationship” since we never spent that much time together, and then I moved across the country. For better or worse, the crush that began when I was 13-years old continued to burn within me for the next five years as I wrung each letter dry (letter, mind you. Oh, we didn’t fall victim to any of these newfangled conveniences like email or the telephone. That would strip the romance from it, you see!), interpreting every word as proof that we would live the fairytale life someday, and have an incredible How We Met story to boot.
Needless to say, that one didn’t work out. And you know, thank goodness for it. We’re not nearly as alike as I thought we were when I was 13.
Married people are “safe,” too. Now hear me out before you get all shocked and find your underpants all bunched up—I have never pursued a married man. I will never pursue a married man. I would be horrified beyond reason if I ever found myself in a position where a married man might pursue me. Just, no.
That said, married people are not dead, nor are they ugly, unfunny, or disagreeable. In other words, a man’s marital status does not necessarily discourage attraction to them on my part, though it does immediately discourage any inclination to flirt or play any games I might with a similar person who is unmarried. I mean, hello! I have eyes! So I take a step back and appropriately enjoy their charms because I’d rather die than break up a family, and he’s already blissfully married. It’s the epitome of an inappropriate crush, but at least I’m secure in the knowledge that the relationship will only end when I’ve grown tired of it.
There are scores of celebrity would-be suitors, and while a small part of me hopes that someday, one or two of these romantical aspirations might be realized, let’s just be honest with ourselves.
In this vein, I suppose it would be useless for me to go into any detail about the men who are the most utterly unattainable, in that they are celebrities and, inconveniently, dead. This does not prevent me from loving, perhaps irreverently but with every inch of my heart: Gene Kelly, John Keats, W. N. P. Barbellion, Charles Brandon, Christopher Marlowe, Robert Cummings, Montgomery Clift, Buster Keaton, Philip Sidney, or Thomas Middleton. To name a few.
And you know, ultimately I think this is the reason why I might not have a wedding reception of my own someday. I might meet some lovely guy tomorrow, but there will be that looming question: does he write as well as Intriguing Blog Man?
15 September 2008
Of desperation
When I walked into my house this afternoon, I smelled a bad smell. At first I was worried it was something like the sewer or rotting foundation or something gross and financially inconvenient, but no. No no, I think this stink is something a little more familiar, a little more dire.
It is the sorry smell of desperation.
The very word just ooooooooooozes pity and self-defacing and makes me flinch and recoil. Try saying it different ways. Desperaaaaaaaaation. Despera-see-yon, like the French. Try flipping the R. No matter how you say it, the bottom line is that desperation is the active form of despair, the act of despairing, the physicalization of despair.
Despair.
De spair.
Des pair.
Desp air.
I don't feel very desperate. I do not feel like I am actively despairing. Certain friends of mine will know of my propensity for reacting somewhat dramatically to various events in my life--shocking, I know. But I mean really, I'm not a mopey, sad, emo kid, even if my favorite band is something as musically insignificant as The Rocket Summer. So sometimes I wear 80 black plastic bangles on my wrist, and paint my fingernails black and navy blue, and I like a man in guy-liner! These are NOT cries for attention!!
Maybe what is a cry for attention, however, is my current facebook status: Emily braucht ein Kuessen. Jetzt. Jetzt jetzt jetzt. Or in English: Emily needs a kissing. Now. Now now now.
Now I know some people like to get all mystical and vague and "insert deeper meaning here" with their facebook stati, but not me. When I say I want a Kuessen, I mean I want a Kuessen. I want someone to pop on Facebook chat (which is actually making me despair at the moment, as it is slow and kicks me/my friends off every 4.5 seconds) and say something like, "Casual kissing? No attachments, just a few minutes of carnal-but-chaste indulgance to take the edge off? When can I come over?"
Normal people, or in other words, those who are not filled with despair, do not make blatant, desperate Facebook attempts to secure a NCMO. I guess I should cheer myself with recognition of the fact that I would not necessarily accept propositions from just anyone, despite my obvious desperation, so clearly I'm not that desperate. Also I'm not anxious to justify myself. Clearly.
I could name you at least six people with whom I'd make out with, no questions asked. I'm not going to tell you who they are. Maybe that will leave you desperately wanting to know more. Or maybe not.
Don't worry. My desperation is not limited to kissing, lest you think that's what this whole post is about. Please. I'm not so desperate as to focus all my desperate attention on one single area and I know how to multi-task, thank you very much. I'm also desperate for things like approval, to be considered for various roles in various shows, a money tree, a new wardrobe, a Diet Coke. Were it so easy to be simply desperate for one single thing, but I'm increasingly convinced that's not really possible. When you allow yourself to be overcome with overwhelming need for a thing, it easily becomes two things, and then three and four things, and pretty soon you're able to list all of these things you're just craving to get, like your insides are all boiling and you're starting to feel shaky and your eyes are crossing.
Desperation in it's most foul, most pathetic form is not limited to public pleas for kissing. You might be desperate to impress someone, desperate to avoid something uncomfortable, desperate to live up to the standard that's been created for you by others or yourself, desperate to get out, desperate to get in, desperate to convince a person you're worth the chance, desperate to shake the unyielding attentions of someone who's desperate for you in their own way. I feel like I'm surrounded by all this desperation, all this metaphorical scrambling and scratching and crawling...
WHY do we feel the NEED to IMPRESS each other so MUCH!!
Don't mind me. I'll just curl up on the floor in a necessary fetal position, rock back and forth a little, and concentrate on the desperation that surrounds me, this stink-pot of desperation where everyone parades around with smiles like everything is fine, even though on the inside everyone has frizzy hair and their toes poke through their worn-out sneakers and everyone is screaming like, "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!"
Do you hear circus music playing? I feel like I'm in a Tim Burton nightmare. And there's no one for me to kiss anyway.
It is the sorry smell of desperation.
The very word just ooooooooooozes pity and self-defacing and makes me flinch and recoil. Try saying it different ways. Desperaaaaaaaaation. Despera-see-yon, like the French. Try flipping the R. No matter how you say it, the bottom line is that desperation is the active form of despair, the act of despairing, the physicalization of despair.
Despair.
De spair.
Des pair.
Desp air.
I don't feel very desperate. I do not feel like I am actively despairing. Certain friends of mine will know of my propensity for reacting somewhat dramatically to various events in my life--shocking, I know. But I mean really, I'm not a mopey, sad, emo kid, even if my favorite band is something as musically insignificant as The Rocket Summer. So sometimes I wear 80 black plastic bangles on my wrist, and paint my fingernails black and navy blue, and I like a man in guy-liner! These are NOT cries for attention!!
Maybe what is a cry for attention, however, is my current facebook status: Emily braucht ein Kuessen. Jetzt. Jetzt jetzt jetzt. Or in English: Emily needs a kissing. Now. Now now now.
Now I know some people like to get all mystical and vague and "insert deeper meaning here" with their facebook stati, but not me. When I say I want a Kuessen, I mean I want a Kuessen. I want someone to pop on Facebook chat (which is actually making me despair at the moment, as it is slow and kicks me/my friends off every 4.5 seconds) and say something like, "Casual kissing? No attachments, just a few minutes of carnal-but-chaste indulgance to take the edge off? When can I come over?"
Normal people, or in other words, those who are not filled with despair, do not make blatant, desperate Facebook attempts to secure a NCMO. I guess I should cheer myself with recognition of the fact that I would not necessarily accept propositions from just anyone, despite my obvious desperation, so clearly I'm not that desperate. Also I'm not anxious to justify myself. Clearly.
I could name you at least six people with whom I'd make out with, no questions asked. I'm not going to tell you who they are. Maybe that will leave you desperately wanting to know more. Or maybe not.
Don't worry. My desperation is not limited to kissing, lest you think that's what this whole post is about. Please. I'm not so desperate as to focus all my desperate attention on one single area and I know how to multi-task, thank you very much. I'm also desperate for things like approval, to be considered for various roles in various shows, a money tree, a new wardrobe, a Diet Coke. Were it so easy to be simply desperate for one single thing, but I'm increasingly convinced that's not really possible. When you allow yourself to be overcome with overwhelming need for a thing, it easily becomes two things, and then three and four things, and pretty soon you're able to list all of these things you're just craving to get, like your insides are all boiling and you're starting to feel shaky and your eyes are crossing.
Desperation in it's most foul, most pathetic form is not limited to public pleas for kissing. You might be desperate to impress someone, desperate to avoid something uncomfortable, desperate to live up to the standard that's been created for you by others or yourself, desperate to get out, desperate to get in, desperate to convince a person you're worth the chance, desperate to shake the unyielding attentions of someone who's desperate for you in their own way. I feel like I'm surrounded by all this desperation, all this metaphorical scrambling and scratching and crawling...
WHY do we feel the NEED to IMPRESS each other so MUCH!!
acute, atrocious, audacious, climacteric, critical, crucial, dangerous, despairing, despondent, dire, drastic, extreme, fierce forlorn, frantic, furious, futile, headlong, heinous, hopeless, incurable, irretrievable, lost, monstrous, outrageous, precipitate, rash, reckless, remediless, terrible, urgent, vain, vehement, violent
Don't mind me. I'll just curl up on the floor in a necessary fetal position, rock back and forth a little, and concentrate on the desperation that surrounds me, this stink-pot of desperation where everyone parades around with smiles like everything is fine, even though on the inside everyone has frizzy hair and their toes poke through their worn-out sneakers and everyone is screaming like, "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!"
Do you hear circus music playing? I feel like I'm in a Tim Burton nightmare. And there's no one for me to kiss anyway.
14 September 2008
Maybe I DO suck at writing
Sometimes I feel like if it weren't for making lists of crap, I wouldn't be able to write blogs.
WARNING: Writing lists is habit forming.
WARNING: Writing lists is habit forming.
03 September 2008
Best summer EVER omg lol!!!!1!!!!11!!!
So I know we're into Day 2 of the school year, but you guys, 2008 was an EPIC summer. I would be ungrateful if I didn't go back and give the last few months a proper send-off. Though the order of events is not particular, none is more important than another.
Highlights from the Best Summer Ever
- Bringing home the bestest little baby named Sprout. This was technically during Finals Week of Winter semester, but we fell in love this summer, so it counts.
- Seeing Rooney with Valerie, and dancing to When Did Your Heart Go Missing? by myself in the crowd.
- Seeing Ben Folds with Tyler and (sort of) Marie, and elbowing a guy as he attempted to push ahead of me.
- Talking to Alex on FB chat at 5am, more than once.
- Working at the MTC with all the mostly cute/sometimes obnoxious/always ridiculous missionaries, like Elder Swinney.
- Watching the Sister Montgomery/Elder Commons drama unfold.
- Having a crush on a beautiful missionary from Russia named Bogdan (bling!)
- Moving from my room to the spare room.
- Getting into a car accident that provided the funds for me to live in London for a month.
- Driving a deluxe PT Cruiser for a month that smelled like cigarettes and Febreeze when I attempted to get the smoke smell out.
- Having Ghost Hunters marathons with myself.
- Talking to Biz for hours and hours about our futures.
- Learning that I can, indeed, belt and that my mix voice is not the limit of my vocal horizons.
- Getting cast as Amy in Little Women even though I wasn't even called-back for the role and didn't know how much I wanted to play that part.
- Discovering blonde is not a scary/awful look for me.
- Singing The Most Amazing Thing and loving that performance more than any other, even though Rhett had been stuck with a pin from his pants in a very uncomfortable manly place.
- Having as many costume changes in various parts of the theater as I did in the actual dressing room.
- Misplacing my slip during my quick-change outside, thereby flashing my corseted charms to all of Orem, Utah, as well as my castmates. I never made that mistake again. Maybe I wanted to, but I never did.
- Mao, and Silent Football.
- Reuniting with Courtney onstage for the first time since high school.
- Going to the midnight showing of Wall-E with Alexis, Steve, Rhett, Joel and Kacey. We fell in love with a robot, but who wouldn't?!?
- Sister pow-wow.
- Going to King & I with Kyle and Darick, then talking to the Jeffs family afterward.
- Going to Footloose with Cory and Matt with Coscto churros and an entire pizza. It's fine.
- Going to The Drowsy Chaperone and meeting my boyfriend, Jonathan Crombie, of Anne of Green Gables fame.
- Arrested Development on my iPod.
- Seeing Indiana Jones 4 with Jeremy and Matt-- and driving up to Jordan Commons in Jer's BRAND NEW CAR!!! Also, skipping Little Women rehearsal to be there.
- Getting the greatest haircut of my entire life, with the best hair color of my entire life, which color I did myself out of a box from Target, thank you.
- Watching Celebrity! at the Shell and making comments probably a little bit too loudly. Who cares. That was My Band, you guys.
- Texting funny things with Julie, usually including a great deal of "circus music."
- Going to the Olive Garden and being snarky with Jen and Whitney. I seriously love being snarky with Jen. Jen, why aren't we more snarky more often?
- Clue night at the SCERA Shell with AJ, Julie, Kyle, Jeremy, Janessa, Heidi, etc. "I don't like boobs." Also, going to Denny's afterward.
- What am I talking about-- going to Denny's, anytime, with anyone. But mostly Julie, Kyle, AJ, Ness, etc.
- Watching Impromptu and talking with Heather until 4am.
- The Tudors season 2. MY BOYFRIENDS ARE SO ATTRACTIVE.
- Having Spencer take my new headshots practically moments before I left for England, and having my favorite one be the most-ignored one of the whole bunch.
- Going to Hooters with Jeremy, Matt and Melinda, followed by The Dark Knight on IMAX. The IMAX part made up for the disgusting fried pickles.
- Deciding to pursue acting as a potential career, and being recognized for my efforts-- both by directors and producers, but also people on the street saying, "Hey weren't you in Little Women?" I mean literally, on the street. Because I hang out on the street.
- A single chapter from the Italy section of Eat, Pray, Love.
- Staying at Applebees till all hours with Katie and Heather the night/morning I left for England.
- Picnicking with AJ at Stardust. Clam Supreme that was almost made without the clams.
- "Not to sound weird or anything, but you two are really cute together." We know. Thank you.
- Being able to do another show with Mom.
- Learning to seriously love myself. Seriously.
- Thai food with KTB, Julie and Kyle.
- EUROPE. Dream. Come. True.
- My big yellow purse from Camden.
- Kissing a stranger from Australia
- Losing weight without trying.
- Having dinner and going to a show with old folk dance friends. Turns out I miss them, even if I don't miss the program. At all.
- Watching The 39 Steps with Jeremy and Heidi.
- Our first rehearsal for Pericles after returning from London.
- Megan and Cathy having babies.
- Watching Stranger Than Fiction with Andy.
- Shopping with Jackie for school stuff and discovering our mutual love for cardigans.
- Finally meeting and hanging out with much of the extended Oblad family.
Favorites
Songs: Low--Flo Rida; Disturbia-- Rihanna; 4 Minutes-- Madonna
Albums: Walk This Way-- The White Tie Affair; The Trick to Life-- The Hoosiers
Plays: ...some trace of her-- Royal National Theater; The Revenger's Tragedy-- Royal National Theater; Merry Wives of Windsor-- Shakespeare's Globe Theater
Buildings: Westminster Abbey; Big Ben; the National Portrait Gallery; Hale Center Theater Orem
People: Jonathan Rhys Myers; Ben Jonson; Queen Elizabeth II
Highlights from the Best Summer Ever
- Bringing home the bestest little baby named Sprout. This was technically during Finals Week of Winter semester, but we fell in love this summer, so it counts.
- Seeing Rooney with Valerie, and dancing to When Did Your Heart Go Missing? by myself in the crowd.
- Seeing Ben Folds with Tyler and (sort of) Marie, and elbowing a guy as he attempted to push ahead of me.
- Talking to Alex on FB chat at 5am, more than once.
- Working at the MTC with all the mostly cute/sometimes obnoxious/always ridiculous missionaries, like Elder Swinney.
- Watching the Sister Montgomery/Elder Commons drama unfold.
- Having a crush on a beautiful missionary from Russia named Bogdan (bling!)
- Moving from my room to the spare room.
- Getting into a car accident that provided the funds for me to live in London for a month.
- Driving a deluxe PT Cruiser for a month that smelled like cigarettes and Febreeze when I attempted to get the smoke smell out.
- Having Ghost Hunters marathons with myself.
- Talking to Biz for hours and hours about our futures.
- Learning that I can, indeed, belt and that my mix voice is not the limit of my vocal horizons.
- Getting cast as Amy in Little Women even though I wasn't even called-back for the role and didn't know how much I wanted to play that part.
- Discovering blonde is not a scary/awful look for me.
- Singing The Most Amazing Thing and loving that performance more than any other, even though Rhett had been stuck with a pin from his pants in a very uncomfortable manly place.
- Having as many costume changes in various parts of the theater as I did in the actual dressing room.
- Misplacing my slip during my quick-change outside, thereby flashing my corseted charms to all of Orem, Utah, as well as my castmates. I never made that mistake again. Maybe I wanted to, but I never did.
- Mao, and Silent Football.
- Reuniting with Courtney onstage for the first time since high school.
- Going to the midnight showing of Wall-E with Alexis, Steve, Rhett, Joel and Kacey. We fell in love with a robot, but who wouldn't?!?
- Sister pow-wow.
- Going to King & I with Kyle and Darick, then talking to the Jeffs family afterward.
- Going to Footloose with Cory and Matt with Coscto churros and an entire pizza. It's fine.
- Going to The Drowsy Chaperone and meeting my boyfriend, Jonathan Crombie, of Anne of Green Gables fame.
- Arrested Development on my iPod.
- Seeing Indiana Jones 4 with Jeremy and Matt-- and driving up to Jordan Commons in Jer's BRAND NEW CAR!!! Also, skipping Little Women rehearsal to be there.
- Getting the greatest haircut of my entire life, with the best hair color of my entire life, which color I did myself out of a box from Target, thank you.
- Watching Celebrity! at the Shell and making comments probably a little bit too loudly. Who cares. That was My Band, you guys.
- Texting funny things with Julie, usually including a great deal of "circus music."
- Going to the Olive Garden and being snarky with Jen and Whitney. I seriously love being snarky with Jen. Jen, why aren't we more snarky more often?
- Clue night at the SCERA Shell with AJ, Julie, Kyle, Jeremy, Janessa, Heidi, etc. "I don't like boobs." Also, going to Denny's afterward.
- What am I talking about-- going to Denny's, anytime, with anyone. But mostly Julie, Kyle, AJ, Ness, etc.
- Watching Impromptu and talking with Heather until 4am.
- The Tudors season 2. MY BOYFRIENDS ARE SO ATTRACTIVE.
- Having Spencer take my new headshots practically moments before I left for England, and having my favorite one be the most-ignored one of the whole bunch.
- Going to Hooters with Jeremy, Matt and Melinda, followed by The Dark Knight on IMAX. The IMAX part made up for the disgusting fried pickles.
- Deciding to pursue acting as a potential career, and being recognized for my efforts-- both by directors and producers, but also people on the street saying, "Hey weren't you in Little Women?" I mean literally, on the street. Because I hang out on the street.
- A single chapter from the Italy section of Eat, Pray, Love.
- Staying at Applebees till all hours with Katie and Heather the night/morning I left for England.
- Picnicking with AJ at Stardust. Clam Supreme that was almost made without the clams.
- "Not to sound weird or anything, but you two are really cute together." We know. Thank you.
- Being able to do another show with Mom.
- Learning to seriously love myself. Seriously.
- Thai food with KTB, Julie and Kyle.
- EUROPE. Dream. Come. True.
- My big yellow purse from Camden.
- Kissing a stranger from Australia
- Losing weight without trying.
- Having dinner and going to a show with old folk dance friends. Turns out I miss them, even if I don't miss the program. At all.
- Watching The 39 Steps with Jeremy and Heidi.
- Our first rehearsal for Pericles after returning from London.
- Megan and Cathy having babies.
- Watching Stranger Than Fiction with Andy.
- Shopping with Jackie for school stuff and discovering our mutual love for cardigans.
- Finally meeting and hanging out with much of the extended Oblad family.
Favorites
Songs: Low--Flo Rida; Disturbia-- Rihanna; 4 Minutes-- Madonna
Albums: Walk This Way-- The White Tie Affair; The Trick to Life-- The Hoosiers
Plays: ...some trace of her-- Royal National Theater; The Revenger's Tragedy-- Royal National Theater; Merry Wives of Windsor-- Shakespeare's Globe Theater
Buildings: Westminster Abbey; Big Ben; the National Portrait Gallery; Hale Center Theater Orem
People: Jonathan Rhys Myers; Ben Jonson; Queen Elizabeth II
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