Wednesday, August 31, 2011

i will stay. if you dare.

he loved her, he loved her, and until he'd loved her
she never minded being alone.
truman capote

p.s. enjoy this song. if you're in the mood.
and trust me, you are.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

why i love fall #1: free people.

every year. about this same time.
i get all-giddy-and-girly and start crushing...
crushing on fall's new wardrobe.

this year.
i'm cursing the name of free people.
why-oh-why are they so perfect?

pictured above is their 'ever ryder knit job pant'
a fancy way of saying very stylish sweatpants.
i'm in love. so in love.
i'm a creature of the nineties.
throw any sort of femine, baggy sweatshirt in front of me
and i'm yours forever.
this is their 'genteel v-neck tunic'.
fabulous, right?
their 'loving fall tea length skirt'.
one of the more charming things i've ever seen in this life.
i don't have the height or the anorexia to pull it off like she is.
but a girl can dream, can't she?

i might cry if i don't find a way to get this jacket.
curse my love for expensive things.

'the darla platform.'
yes, this is right. oh-so-right.

'the vegan, leather bodycon dress.'
sexy, right?
not sure where i would ever wear it...
i mean, me and all the clubbing and fancy dining that i do...
but hey, i still love it.

free people = my heart.
'the wide stripes pullover'
i could get comfortable with this.

and finally....
i've saved my heart's one true love for very last.
'the austonian boot'.

i know, i know.
but i'm such a sucker for a sexy, western inspired fall boot.
especially when it comes up to cap the knee.
it's just too sassy for words.

there you have it.
reason #1--why i love fall.

see this all. and more. at free people's website.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

the time you changed my life.

"...i don't ask you to love me always like this,
but i ask you to remember.
somewhere inside me,
there'll always be the person
i am tonight."

-f. scott fitzgerald

p.s. thank you everyone who participated in my "words of..." series last week.
i love you all. reading your words has changed me for the better.
and i'm not just saying that.
more to come on that topic.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

words of reminder. by jessica.

jessica is another one of my friends forever. one of our 'fantastic four'.

many of my college days and nights were spent with jess. literally--we shared the same bedroom, same bunk beds. the whole she-bang.

being the sweetheart that she is, jess let me have the bottom bunk (she's got a good few inches on me). i was grateful for this. until i realized that she had a painfully early start to her day. and being the motivated-go-getter kind that she is, she would set her alarm every morning for an even earlier time so that she could get up and be 'productive' before beginning her crack-of-freakin'-dawn-work-day.

that being said.

i would listen to that alarm go off about six or seven times every morning. and everytime, she would get up, jump off the bunk (rattling the whole bed--which isn't hard to do, that thing was a piece of sketchiness anyways), hit snooze on her cell phone alarm, and then leave it on the desk so she would have to get back up again. and again. and again.

yup, that's why i love her.

jess is a high school english teacher. never complains. secretly thinks she is beyonce. and is extremely talented at what she does.

and that dearies is jess.

Though I am a hopeless romantic myself, (dreaming of the perfect moment, with an unknown Him, under a starlit anything) I can’t help but write about a different kind of love today.

This kind of love comes from saying no; it comes from showing up alone; it comes from dashboard drumming and kitchen dancing; it comes from knowing you can and showing you did. This kind of love is for numero uno, it’s self-respect, it’s faith in you, and it’s a won confidence.

My eyes have recently been opened to just how many people struggle with this concept. For example, I may see a girl that’s proficient at keeping her cool, kicking up her feet with hip new jeans and straight, white teeth. Come to find out, that when the only breath in the room is her’s, “cool” is an adjective she never thinks. She spreads her job, her money, her body, her friends, and her intelligence across the floor, setting them ablaze with flammable words like, “I’m not good enough. They need more.”

She performs for the masses and breaks down in the dark. I couldn’t tell…If only I had known.

Human beings are sometimes creatures of comparison to a fault. Who has the best style? Who has the best swing? The best smile? The best SATs? You can wager and weigh until your blue in the face, but it will most likely not make you a better you.

I’m passionate about this subject because everyone deserves to feel worthy. So, to anyone who has metaphorically or literally burned their life into embers…to anyone who just doesn’t feel good enough, here are a few reminders:

No one has it all figured out.

The grass may not be greener.

Your quirks and habits belong.

Your opinion matters.

Show yourself you can do it. You CAN do it.

Please, don’t try to please everybody.

Feel good in that custom skin.

Smile at your reflection.

I am the first to admit that I can’t sing, I make funny facial expressions, I’m slightly awkward around that really cute boy, and I know little about fashion. I also know that if you push me in the dirt, I’ll get back up, I can sink a solid three pointer (or two or three), I laugh at dorky jokes, but most of all, I’m still learning this life. Everyday, I’m more and more comfortable with the me that’s showing up for life. I want that for you too…

and trust me when I say that you are you and that is what’s cool. Nobody knows the difference.

read more about jess here.

Saturday, August 20, 2011

words of faith. by erin.

er-bear (erin) is one of my best and most cherished friends.

we just have that special something. not sure what it is. perhaps it was our multiple nights spent sleeping on our awkward-king-henry sofas. crying and throwing tissues however far we could muster the strength. (we were young. give us a break)

or maybe it was that i just immediately fell in love with her confidence as an individual and her desire to stand up for her beliefs.

also. she introduced the-beloved-heart-cookie into all of our lives (which i love and hate you for er-bear).

erin is currently going to dental school at creighton university. is one of the most brilliant, scholastic people that i've ever known. was recently married to her high school sweetheart (but trust me, it is a more detailed story than that). and loves kanye's 'gold digger' just as much as me. (if you ain't no punk holla' we want pre-nup!)

so, happy day. here is erin.

Trusting, hoping and believing in someone or something. Yes, faith is involved in religion, but it also encompasses so much more. It is the knowledge that after a cold, depressing winter… flowers will bloom and icees will reign over hot chocolate once again. It is faith in yourself, in others and in something bigger.

I remember a time, not so long ago, that I claimed that my happiness was over. I was scared of my boyfriend leaving, of moving to a new place and even my unsure future. After a dental school acceptance, marriage to said boyfriend and an exciting mid-west life I realize my flaw. I lost faith in myself. I had tunnel vision of the past and had lost my future’s telescope. From this I am learning to use the heart cookies of the past to give me the courage to focus in on the future. When school is stressful and I just want to go back to my love sac in Provo… I look and see my future degree, future house and future family. I guess mostly I want to say that you can change your future, and to have faith that it will be better than the past.

There are certain people that hold reservoirs of my faith. I believe in my mom making everything better. Through cards, calls and visits she fixes most any of my problems. Her charity and talents astound me. I believe in her. My husband. Still kind of getting used to that adjective, but all the same I have faith in him. Even when I act a little crazy or forget that he has a family too, he’ll still love me. I know he can remind me of my faith in myself and in us. I love having faith in the man he is and the one he will become. I have faith in my friends of past and present. I love that even a thousand miles away I can still count on them for late night food binges and phone call advice. My faith grows in myself because of the people they are. Beautiful, ambitious and witty… the perfect combination for heroes. My family, while not perfect, I have faith in the people they make me and the people they are. I have faith in others, but these are the ones that come to mind.

Now something bigger. My choice for faith in something beyond myself is through religion. I know many object to such a belief, but I hold faith in my religion. I include this only because I know of its importance. I have seen those with faith lose it. I’ve seen the sadness and hatred take over their lives. It does not have to be in God. But I think it’s important to believe in something to reduce fear of tragedy and encourage the desire to do good. If for nothing else than to know that bad things are for a reason and good people will be rewarded for being good.

These are my thoughts on faith. I will admit my chosen naivety on the matter. It makes me a happier person to believe in a better tomorrow. Even on empty glass days I hope for a better tomorrow. My advice? Work on faith in any one of these areas. Learn to have faith in yourself, or contemplate the “faithfull” people in your life or even look to the stars to imagine something beyond this world.

you can visit erin's lovely blog here.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

words of encouragement. by mandy.

mandy is one of the most lovely people that i know.

not only is she stunning (seriously--like really stunning), talented, and successful, but she is also one of the most kind-hearted individuals you will ever meet.

you can read more on her very charming blog here.

she is classy, stylish, and a gifted writer.

so--ladies and gentleman--this is mandy.

So many of the posts this week that Kristen featured relate to love. The hope, the desire, the need to be loved – something that has occupied days, weeks, months of my life in thoughts, in prayers, in experience, in every part of who I am. I am not the expert in love, but I have found it, and just celebrated one full year of being married to my husband Kevin. After one full year of marriage and having seen every season of being married to Kevin – I understand love better now than I ever have before, and have some words of encouragement for those of you are searching or hoping for love of your own.

I met Kevin as a camp counselor in New Hampshire, and knew within days– that I wanted to be with him for the rest of my life. People hate hearing that, because it seems to them that it came so easily for me. I should let you know though, that I had my fair share of heartbreak and struggle before Kevin, and not everything was so easy and simple the way it was with him. I think people see those who are married and feel envious because all they are looking at is the end result. They can’t possibly see the ex-boyfriend or girlfriend, the pain of heartbreak, the months of healing that ensue. They see the happy result, but love cannot be measured by one result. Love can never be a single event.

The truth is, before I met Kevin I was in love with someone else. I wanted to marry him for years, but things never worked out. We would break up constantly and every time I felt this suffocating blackness, that things could never work until we were together again. We could get back together and I would cry because it wasn’t what I wanted but the hard thing was that I didn’t know what I wanted. Our relationship was toxic for both of us. Even knowing in my heart that it was not right, the hardest thing I have ever done is say goodbye to him. I knew I had to, but I couldn’t bear the thought of living in a world where he did not exist with me. I cried for months.

For years I knew only that love, so when I met Kevin, it was as if someone had flipped on a light switch. He was funny, so funny that I would gasp for air, so funny that on a scale from one to hilarious he was more than I could handle. He knew how to tell me how he felt with abandon – he was not afraid of a return, or reciprocation. He loved without symmetry. He was so good, too, and I think his goodness is what made me fall so fast. He was so gentle with me, with my feelings, with my love as if he knew too that this was something so precious and rare.

We fell in love under a giant willow tree in New Hampshire. We would lie on our backs and look at these enormous branches and leaves, bowing to the wind, sifting the sunlight as if through a sieve. We held hands for the first time under that tree. We had our first kiss in a hammock by the lake. He said I love you for the first time when we were saying goodbye. He proposed under a sea of stars in the middle of nowhere. We were married and covenanted forever, agreeing in our hearts that we would never stop trying. Last weekend we celebrated our first anniversary in Vegas with a drunken man playing the flute in the hallway outside of our hotel room and more love in our hearts for each other than we ever had before.

It is impossible to know when love will come, but I believe that the first step has to be letting go of what is not right, even if it means more pity parties and “Girls Night Outs” and ice-cream than we can stomach. It takes so much courage to tell someone you love goodbye, but it is so necessary. It is better to be completely alone, than with someone who you are not yourself with. It is important to learn to be your own friend, to love yourself because when we don’t love ourselves we are far too reliant on the love of another. We use any form of love we can as reassurance, as proof that we are lovable. But as humans, as individuals, we are too important to settle for less than the right kind of love - We need the kind of love that will make us whole, not desperate.

Whole love is the kind of love I know after one year of marriage. And those are my words of encouragement.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

words of comfort. by aubry.

aubry ann is my very best friend. in the whole-wide-world.

we're a unique pair. different in many ways. and yet so understanding of each others' lives.

some might call us a balancing act.

when we were fifteen
, i taught aubry that it was--in fact--okay for a girl to wear some mascara and blush. and in return, she taught me that my then-very-long-blonde-hair did not need to be perfectly and meticulously curled on a daily basis (thanks for that aubs.)

we help each other 'come correct'. ew. (honestly, i still hate that phrase so much. i just can't even say it without feeling foolish)

aubry is studying to be a high school english teacher, is one of the funnier people i know on this planet, has a serious eye for anything fashion related, and is overall a pretty world-rocking-individual. oh. and you can check out her blog here.

take it away aubs.

My nephew is the most darling thing that has ever lived. I'm not even remotely exaggerating. (Kris back me up...)

Ever since he was an infant he has sought to be completely comfortable at all times. He would stretch his stubby little arms behind his head as soon as he figured out how to use them...and took long naps while everyone wished he would wake up and play. Now he takes his two fleece blankets, that's right two, everywhere he goes and burrows his baby soft, blonde haired, blue eyed, two year old face in there gentle embrace instead of the hardness of your shoulder. Even on the long drive to California, with the car's air condition battling the oppressive heat of Las Vegas (and losing might I add) he still insists on both blankets being wrapped around him, face read and hair damp. But he has his two blankets so he is happy.

He seeks to feel warm, secure, and comforted.

The way I feel when I read To Kill a Mockingbird in my back yard in alpine, on a not so hot but not so cold day, in the shade of those huge cotton trees that gives everyone allergies in the spring, but their shade is so perfect you forgive them. Or when I play badminton with the family in the back yard on Summer days after church; trash talking Justin even though his team has never lost, and kinda thinking I am still going to win despite the widely know fact that you have horrible coordination.

How I felt when I would go visit my Great Aunt Margie (my idol) on Catalina Island Linkand even though she was sixty she would swim with me all day, buy a big olaf (a giant waffle cone with a sundae in yum) with me and I would wake up with the ocean breeze blending flawlessly with her coffee heating up in the kitchen.
Like living with three of my best friends in all the best apartments Provo has to offer. Spending my days doing everything I possibly could to keep Erin and Jessica from leading their overly responsible lifestyle (to the point of wrestling Jessica over the temperature of the heater) and occasionally going on stalking adventures with Kristen (I'm not talking about facebook here...and Kristen honestly has a gift....taco tuesday 2008). And of course.... heart cookie (or should I say the cause of all our future heart attacks cookie).

The times when I was sitting in a young women's lesson and I decided I wanted to be really good...and it didn't even seem like it's going to be hard.

It's those moments of calm simple happiness that I want to put in a tupperware, stick in my freezer, and gobble up when life gets a little too hectic, like the time smoke came billowing out of the front of my car while driving down state street, or when I drank three energy drinks in an effort to stay awake during finals week and fell asleep anyway. Yes Shakespeare can be just that boring.

Yes mam, I will take one scoop of unconditional love.....actually make that two scoops.

Add some whipped blissful happiness and sprinkle it with carefree laughter and Elise's chocolate chip cookies!

Now let me put on my sweats, pull back my hair, and kick up my feet because who cares what I look like, I feel no pressure to impress at the moment.

It's those times where I successfully disregard worries and insecurities that I feel like little Willy Will with his two blankets. Holding on no matter the heat. Holding on to the two things that give him the most comfort. That make him the most happy. I think when you can hold on to your serenity, your peace of mind, your testimony, your inner happiness (whatever you want to call it) that have arrived.

You become the kind of girl or boy that people like even though they don't really know're just always (or mostly, anyone who is always anything is just faking it) happy, and that's refreshing.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

words of hope. by neesh.

neeshy-neesh (nichel) is my youngest sister.

she lives in hawaii,
is planning on touring through europe next year in a volkswagon van (i'm crossing my fingers she makes it through without being raped), and is just about one of the most confident, sassy, and oh-so-insanely-beautiful individuals that i know.

i've always looked up to her (i mean, physically speaking she is taller than me). but for real. this girl lives life the way she chooses to live it. she has never been afraid to dream. and she has never been afraid to go after what she wants.

i admire her confidence in herself. i always have.

so, there you have it.

ladies and gentlemen, this is neesh.

For starters, I'm not a writer. Most my English teachers could tell you that but I have learned a thing or two this past year about having hope for love. So Kris, this is for you babe.

A year ago next month you wrote this post for me.

You taught me a lot about life and what to gear up for...but i will never for get what you taught me about love.

You told me
not be afraid to fight for love and to love with all my spunky heart, because it is worth the fight.

You told me I'd be the source and the victim of heartbreak, but through it all love is worth fighting for.

I can't tell you how many times i've read that blog post over and over again.

It got me through my highest highs and lowest lows in Hawaii.

And every time i read it, it becomes more and more true.
There is something to say about hope..hope for the world...hope for people...hope for the stars...hope for peace..
but most of all hope for love.

The topic of love is among the most fragile delicate of subjects that there is. And i can't say i know much about the topic except that I am 100% head over heels in love with the idea of being in love. I also know that I have never been more afraid of anything in my life. (I know I try to act like I can take over the world without a fear but fact is i have lots of them.)

Unconditionally loving is something we all aim for.

We dream of love, pray for love, and hope for love. Some of the things in life I was born to love. Others I have learned to love. Most of all loving unconditionally is something I strive for...scares me to death...but one day I know my heart will be open to loving with all that I am.

We put up walls, trust less, and lose hope.

At first it seemed I was the only one who put up walls when it came to love. But when we are being completely honest, these walls come from any love being lost...from anytime.

I have hope for the day that I meet him and when I know. I will never need anything but him to make me perfectly happy. And I have hope that love will work out for all those who it has not yet graced.

So this is a hope for all of the hopeless out there.

Don't be afraid to love.

Love what you do.

Love where you are.

Love who you are with.

Love what surrounds you.

Love what your passionate about and love the world around you. Because all of it is beautiful...every single tiny inch of it.

Loving is the purest form of happiness.

Allow walls to fall. Trust in loving and unconditionally love. Love is the greatest hope we can have.

So give a hand to the world.

Give a hand to the people.

Give a hand to the stars.

Give a hand to peace...and give a hand to hope and having hope for love.

That is my hope to all the hopeless.

thanks nichel. (this may or may not have made me cry a little).

mmmgh. love you so much.

Monday, August 15, 2011

words of honesty. by nate.

nate is one of my dearest friends.

an extremely patient mentor (seriously, thank you for putting up with my never-ending-social-media-web-related questions). someone i trust with all of my heart. and seriously, one of the most reliable sources for anything marketing/media related.

he's a charming individual
, a gifted writer and is pretty kick-ass at everything he does.


I’ll be honest. Being a guy is tough. Being a gentleman is even tougher.

The fact that I have two very distinct chromosomes means that throughout my life I will be known by many girls (roommates, sisters, and mothers) as “the jerk” or “the heart-breaker.” I can try my best to be sensitive, kind, and compassionate... but sometimes it just doesn’t work out, and suddenly I’m branded.

Over the years, I’ve learned that the “jerk” thing just comes with the penis. You just learn to live with it.

My chromosomes got me stuck with the job title of The Pursuer, The Provider, and The Protector.

Because I’m a guy, I’m in constant competition with other guys... even when there aren’t women around. We live in a world of alpha males and douche bags who are always trying to size each other up - you know - assert their dominance. And when you don’t play the game, it’s assumed by most that you’re submitting.

It’s exhausting.

The peacocking is so overrated... and yet I live in a world of booty calls, and one-night-stands where the plague of the Douche Bag runs rampant. I spend my weekends sifting through an ocean of trite, empty-headed, shallow 20-somethings who want nothing but a free drink, or a night of self-indulgence with minimal attachment or expectations...

It gets frustrating, because that’s not what I’m looking for... yet often times it seems like that’s all that’s offered.

I’m searching for a girl... my problem is, I don’t know who exactly she is.

I do know that she exists. She’s just elusive like the Sasquatch or Bigfoot.Maybe that’s not the best comparison... but the point is that I, and most guys like me, have a secret...

In the spirit of honesty, I’m going to open up the kimono and let you in on this little may never hear a guy admit again, so pay close attention.


We’re not as tough as we make ourselves up to be.

We like to be in love.

As a matter of fact, we love it.

And, sometimes, just like girls, we get our hearts broken.

We feel alone, and hurt. We just don’t like to talk about it. At all.

We don’t get the chance to curl up in our PJs with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s
Chunky Monkey ice cream, and watch a self-indulgent chick flick where everything works out in the end.

We don’t get to call our moms and go get mani-pedis, as we talk over a mountain of french fries and extra large Diet Cokes.

We don’t even get to cry.

Standard protocol is to “suck it up.”

Be a man!

In worst-case-scenarios, a broken heart calls for a Guys Night full of mind-numbing sessions of Halo, while chugging Mountain Dew and eating cheap $5 pizza.

The only real conversation on nights like this (other than the profanities that only Halo can inspire) revolves around you friends smack-talking the girl you held so dear to your heart, and encouraging you to do the same.

Deep inside, what we really want (and when I say “we,” I mean “I.” I can’t be alone in this.) is that simple, storybook kind of love.

You know the kind I’m talking about.

It’s the love where I can’t sleep through the night, because I keep waking yourself up to make sure she’s still there and that I weren’t really dreaming... because it feels like a dream to have her there next to me.

It’s the kind of love that has me running out the door after work just to get home and smother her in kisses, and present her that bouquet of wildflowers that I hand-picked on the side of the freeway because they reminded me of her.

I’m trying to find the girl who can talk to me about books that we read together, and not who got cut from The Bachelor this week.

I’m desperate for the girl who pushes me to pursue my dreams... and a girl who has dreams of her own.

I yearn for the day that I come home from work to discover her in one of my baggy t-shirts, and a pair of old, tattered jeans with paint on her exhausted face and hair pulled back into a simple ponytail.

She explains to me that she woke up that morning and thought the living room just needed a change.

I want to spend my weekends waking up early to embark on scavenger hunts at farmers markets, garage sales, and music stores... watching her hunt for the perfect little treasure that will complete or inspire her next big project.

I want to open her doors, hold her hand, travel the world, and run to the store late at night to buy her tampons.

I want to watch romantic comedies, and have her realize at the end that I’m her prince charming, or her knight in shining armor. And together, we’ve got it better than any fairy tale.

I want to dance in the kitchen at 2:00 in the morning, and kiss her flat on the mouth after telling her I’m sorry for proving her wrong. Just kidding... she’ll never be wrong.

I want to be in love. You know... that can't-eat, can't-sleep, reach-for-the-stars, over- the-fence, world-series kind of stuff.

And I don’t want to be afraid to tell her... because it’s true.

I love her.

And I always will.

And that’s the honest truth.

check out more of nate's words here. and visit his boss music blog here. (seriously, go to nate for music. he knows his stuff.)

words of those who inspire. by keen.

this week. i am trying something new.

as you know. i write. a lot.

and of course, i love it. that's why i have this somewhat-revealing-and-yet-vaguely-mysterious online hub of mine.

a hobby.

a passion.

an obsession.

i don't really know. but whatever it is. i love it, and i keep at it.

some don't really know how to swallow it. and others seem to enjoy and relate to it. either way is okay with me.

i'd never force my words upon anyone. i'd never insist that people listen to what i say. (okay, that's a lie...sometimes i get a tiny bit demanding. but for the most part, i would never).

that being said, i feel that it is time to give credit where credit is due.

and that my friends, is to those who inspire.

who enhance my life. who teach me. who have helped me develop into the person that i am. and who are continually encouraging me to grow.

those who make me laugh.

those whom i run to when i need comfort.

to the besties that have seen me through it all. to the family that i don't know how i would live without. to the 1 a.m. chocolate-chip-heart-cookie-makers (erin, that is mainly a shout out to you dearest). to my 5th grade teacher mr. lowe. to mckette, the beautiful-young-mom that stood as my idol through my teenage years. to my aunt sandy who has taught me strength.

to all the funky, loving kick-a people that come in and out of my life.

you all. seriously, you all have inspired me.

so this week, it is about you.

and i've invited some different people to do the talking for me this week.

they'll be writing on a variety of topics. words of just about anything they are inspired to write about. words that may mean one thing to me and something completely different to you...

and that is the sexy part behind words.

you never quite know who you will relate to. or how you will relate to them. kinda mysterious, eh?

so. here we go.

please enjoy.

p.s. have you ever, ever, ever seen a more perfect sitting room? the sleekness of those retro chairs has me giggling out of sheer giddiness, that crazy sexy console with the eclectic artwork has me biting my nails in anticipation, that wheeled-cart-reclaimed-wood-coffee-table has me feeling officially and totally infatuated...and that rug gets me a little more excited than a rug probably should. yup, i have a big-fat-crush on that rug.


okay, now here we go.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

will someone please go with me... the loy kratong festival in
chiang mai, thailand?

Saturday, August 13, 2011

breakfast at mickey-d's.

i'm not usually a diet-coke-at-eight-in-the-morning kind of girl.


on a normal day, i would wait well into lunch to start chugging down the caffeinated and chemically-enriched-artificial-sweeteners.

but not today.

for two main reasons
, 1) i had to be up much earlier than my rem cycle would have liked (seriously, this last week i efficiently went from being a semi-decent morning person to being the least effective early riser on the planet. i guess consistently going to bed at wee hours of the morning will do that to a person. who knew, eh?) and 2) i woke up from the night with my stomach already on the fritz...and nothing helps ease it through a rough morning like some carbonated bubbles.

this being the case, i decided to swing by my favorite mickey-d's on my way to work.

this mcdonalds is amazing (p.s. i have a slight obsession with mcdonalds as a whole--weird, yes---let me explain. it is not because i eat there often--though i do love their new oatmeal and fruit breakfast and am guilty of craving their fries way too much--but because they are one of those apple that seem to always have the lead on their industry. they do it first. they do it right. and they are always about five or six steps ahead. when you stay rule. and others have to follow your command. nevermind their contribution to obesity and food with ridiculously high fat content (seriously, people should learn moderation anyways). mickey-d's plays the game. and not only do they play the game, they create the game as they go along. it blows my mind. and sure, soon enough disney, apple, mcdonalds, walmart and oprah may take over the world. but until then, cheers everyone.)

anyhow, back to my morning...i love this particular mcdonalds because the employees are all so very, very friendly and accommodating. (honestly, i am a hard-core-sucker for good customer service--one of the reasons i go to the same gas station over and over again in provo, and the same reason i love shopping at nordstrom. customer-freakin'-service.)

however, the drive-thru line was ridiculous. so i decided to go inside.

while in line, i began chatting with a sweet elderly man standing behind me.

he had quite the story to tell.

he told me about living his whole life in utah. raising children. and losing his lovely wife just a few years earlier.

he couldn't tell me enough how beautiful and sophisticated she was.

and how much he had loved her.

my cup was handed to me. and his dollar menu mickey-d's breakfast was served to him on a plastic tray. and we parted ways.

as i turned at the door to give a parting wave, i watched him take a sip of his orange juice and unwrap his sandwich.

i suddenly felt sad. almost enough to make me cry.

his wife was gone.

and i wondered. what is it that he is now looking for?

he's had great love. he's felt of its magic.

does he want to find it again?

perhaps he just wants someone to talk to while he eats his breakfast...? or maybe is just counting down the days until he will once again see his wife? does he believe in life after death? is he holding onto this breath of this world or ready to give it up?

one of my favorite parts of meeting new people is learning about what matters most to them.

sometimes you'll find that there just isn't a lot of depth. it's just this phase of life. the 'young adult' time can very easily become a 'selfish' time of living. and i am not exempt from that. trust me. i have been on my fair share of dates and spent enough time in young adult social scenes to know that there are just some people that don't seem to have much substance.

sad, but true. whatever.

and then there are those people that rock my-little-humpty-dumpty-world right off of my blog-writing-love-searching-skeptic-romantic-deep-at-heart wall.

people that seem to understand things that i do not.

people with extraordinary depth.
and an understanding of life. of love--in any form. and an experience with a reality that i have not yet experienced.

and these individuals are the ones that mystify me. that leave me lying in bed at night. just thinking.

the peeps are the ones i yearn for.

last night i saw
crazy stupid love.

overall, a tiny-bit depressing. but sprinkled with very comical moments. and of course, topped off with some ryan gosling.

basically a simple story about people having different objectives. different experiences. different goals. different motives. and yet, all wanting the exact same thing in the end. love.

and it got me thinking.

thinking about what is most important to me.

sometimes, i honestly convince myself that being single and independent is just easier. because in many ways it is.

you only have yourself to worry about. you can control your life. keep it stress free. stay unattached. and focus on individual progression.

really. can anyone deny that?

but then i discover pinterest. and i realize. i realize that it doesn't matter if it is easier or not. it is what i want (which is basically the moral of the movie last night).

yes, pinterest.

a friend told me about it. and i am decently close to being obsessed with it.

let me explain. eh?

so, today i finally decided to go see what the whole 'online pinboard' thing was all about.

the gist of it. as you browse websites, blogs...tumbrs etc...and you 'pin' the things you like to different 'boards' that you create. i know, right???

it's quite simple. and quite brilliant.

frankly, i'm a little pissed i didn't think of it first, but whatever.

and while experiencing a serious pinterest-weed-like-high today...i realized that out of all the pictures of fashion icons, designer homes, and beautiful was this picture of a spunky-little-blonde-haired diva that took over my complete attention.

and i wanted that (once again. my napolean dynamite reference found here.)

more than anything.

more than my coveted trip to seattle. more than my trashy dream to see pearl jam live in concert. more than my childish desire to have a library full of books. more than i crave having a long-haired cow hide rug for my husbands future office.

...more than the career i often fantasize about. more than the kick-ass-eclectically-simple-home i will one day have. more than all the money and beautiful items of free people clothing in the world.

more than all of it.

i want that love.

just like everyone, really.

a special, romantic, funky love between my husband and i. the kind of love that you can't really explain without sounding foolish....and the cherishing, nurturing, 'could-i-ever-love-anything-more' kind of love for my children.

because really...if we're getting down to the nitty gritty.

the fact of the matter is, when i hit up mcdonald's breakfast menu at the age of eighty-nine (and of course, by then they will have taken over the world)...

the insane amounts of surprising and oh-so-satisfying love i experienced in this life is really all i will care to talk about with the twenty-three year old diet coke addict standing by me in line.

whether she really cares or not.


that just all kind of spilled out. my apologies (but hey, that's why i write...i guess.)

...i think that little old man brought out a little bit of my romantic side.

go figure.

here's to beginnings.