Saturday, March 30, 2013

Anyone else feel like an idiot trying to flirt-text?  Anyone?

I have an idea.  How 'bout you just call me up and we go on a date instead and talk like... I don't know what like.  LIKE TWO PEOPLE WHO CAN HOLD A CONVERSATION.

Good comparison eh?

Or better yet?  Why don't I call you up?  Oh right, because I'm a wuss.  Yeesh.

I feel like it should be easier flirt-text.  Flixt?  Tirt?  Flex?  I have all this time to craft the perfect response, but that only results in over-thinking every word.  Talking in person fosters more genuine reactions I think.  If I'm awkward now (after 21 years) I can only imagine the results after I've spent 18 months completely restricted from all flirtatious interactions.

Did you hear that?  It was the sound of minds blowing.  Mind-blowingly awkward.

Tuesday, March 19, 2013


"Oh, winter's rains and ruins are over,
And all the seasons of snows and sins;
The days dividing lover and lover,
The light that loses, the night that wins;
And time remembered is grief forgotten,
And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,
And in green underwood and cover,
Blossom by blossom the spring begins."

Algernon Charles Swinburne

"'I'll never be a poet,' said Amory as he finished.  'I'm not enough of a sensualist really; there are only a few obvious things that I notice as primarily beautiful: women, spring evenings, music at night, the sea; I don't catch the subtle things like 'silver-snarling trumpets.'  I may turn out an intellectual, but I'll never write anything but mediocre poetry.'"

This Side of Paradise

F. Scott Fitzgerald, you have my heart.

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Dear Lizzie

Dear Lizzie,

I just wanted to thank you for those green workout shorts you gave to me.  Ok, you didn't actually give them to me. I took them out of the trash bag you'd designated for give-away clothes.  But you said I could.  So basically it's the same thing.

Now that's it's finally warm enough to wear them, I was pretty excited to put on those shorts.  I went to the gym and biked (the kind of bike that you recline on, you know that kind I'm talking about?  Not an upright bike) and they were so comfortable and man I felt GREAT!

You'll also be pleased to know that I didn't notice the huge hole in the crotch until I returned home.  An hour later.

Can't wait to see you!



Sunday, March 3, 2013


I think I have a problem you guys.  I'm staging my own intervention.  With myself.  Thanks Self.  You're the best.  And your hair is growing out so nicely!  Psych.  You look like a fetching mullet gone wrong.  But that is not the point of this post.

The point is, you have an unhealthy obsession with wearing men's outdated clothes, and thriving on compliments about them.  Someone said they liked your jean jacket?  Do NOT triumphantly declare (in your head or otherwise) "THANKS!  It was my DAD'S!  TWENTY YEARS AGO!  People do not care.  They do not care and likely they think you're a freak for 1) happily admitting such a thing and 2) for wearing that outfit in the first place.  The same goes for his socks, his shoes, and multiple items purchased from the DI.  Did I mention people don't care?  Oh I did?  Good.  Because not only do they not care, but there's a very good chance they don't actually mean any of the compliment.

There's two kinds of compliments you see.  There's the sincere compliment (rarely given) and the stuff people say trying to make their words sound like a compliment when in reality, what you're doing/saying/wearing is so completely embarrassing that they feel awkward for you and all the stares you're getting.  Thus, they try to diffuse the pathetic situation by addressing the elephant in the room (YOU) and making it seem admirable somehow.  You know this.  You've watched this happen between OTHER people.  But when it comes to you, well then, all bets are off.  Because you tend to not be able to read any social cues when it comes to yourself.  Your sad sad naive self tends to think that every word people say, every gem that falls from their mouths is completely sincere and honest.  We call this Papa Jim syndrome.  You walk away from every interaction thinking, "MAN.  That person is SO NICE."  Unless they just killed your dog and tripped you.  Then you think, "Well they probably had a hard day, maybe someone forced them to commit murder.  And as for the trip, well that was pretty funny wasn't it?  What a great sense of humor."

While this innocence may be endearing to some, it's really messing up your sense of reality.  As in, you have none.


Why do you get such a perverse pleasure from it anyway?  Are you trying to flaunt some societal norm?  Listen, I'm not asking you to wear a sock bun or black leggings with tall brown boots or anything else worn by seemingly every.  fetching.  female. at BYU.  Go ahead, flaunt some style or whatever you call it.  But ENOUGH with the bragging about outdated mens clothes.

Grace please come back into my life.

Trust me, your future self (there's quite a lot of these "selfs" aren't there?  have you checked your meds lately?) will thank you.

I'm glad we had this little talk.