A New Year's Song For You

Shoddy recording, shoddy acoustics, shoddy lighting in my dungeon of a room... But have a happy crossing over from 2011 to 2012.

Edit: Shitballs, the audio is way off. I'll leave it up for those of you who hate me and want to laugh at me making a fool of myself. The rest of you can just turn it up and walk away from the screen. Oh, my giant teeth!

I lost 55 pounds in 2011. I don't plan on finding anything in 2012 but bikinis, short shorts, and triathlons.

I did find perspective in 2011. I don't plan on losing that anytime soon.

Wake me up when New Year's Eve is through

Ring your bells and blow your whistles, too

The next one hundred days will be the best

But they don't pass the test without you

Crowds of people laughing everywhere

Me pretending that I do not care

The past one hundred days, they flew by

And it's sad to say goodbye

But without you, it's hardly a new year

Maybe next year you'll be here

Baby, let's make this the best year

Wake me up when New Year's Eve is through

I'd rather stay in bed than struggle through

The next one hundred days will get their start

We both know they'll break my heart

But without you, it's hardly a new year

Maybe next year you'll be here

Baby, let's make this the best year

Wake me up when New Year's Eve is through

Wake me up when I'm waking up next to you

Really Deep Thoughts: Open to All

Hi.
Sorry about that slight meltdown in which I locked my blog down.
I've used this blog to chronicle the highs and the lows of the last three years. But sometimes, when I glance through my archives, I'm so humiliated/ashamed/enraged at the mistakes I made.
It was all I could do not to Ctr + A and DELETE.
A blog should never be a chore, or dead weight on a to-do list.
I started this blog three years ago as an outlet for thoughts that had zero purpose in my life, because sometimes I can't stand that of all the millions of thoughts we have, only one or two are preserved daily. That's a lot of thoughts that pass and disappear.
My blog (obviously) reflects things that are going on in my personal life, and this blog morphed into a journal. That is NOT where I intended it to go. That is NOT where I intend to keep it.
I get SO sick of myself, you know? The last thing I want to write about at the end of the day is my silly problems, my life, my kid, my, my, my, me, me, me...
I write for about three hours a day total, without fail. I write stories, dabble into projects, write in a notebook just for the sake of moving my hand across a page and making words. I can't afford to have a blog that weighs me down.
Part of my issue is that I've had shifts in the past year, two years, three years... Haven't we all? If you could look back to your random thoughts from a year ago, would you stifle a gag like I do and think, "Oh, little girl, you and your ridiculous worries?" It's hard to keep everything in place and saved forever on the Internet when I feel like it represents where I was, not where I am now.
Ugh. Rambling.
My blog is, and always will be, open to all. I love that you read this. I'd write it anyway. The Internet is just a funny place where any misspoken words or undeveloped concepts are kept alive for eternity, and nothing ever dies.
Thanks for caring. Thanks for reading.

And happy Thanksgiving back.

Reasons Why I Should Love Pride and Prejudice (and Other Jane Austen Books)

They're a cozy read.
I'm secretly jealous of women (because, let's be honest, men are not reading these books) who curl up on an ottoman with a throw and a Jane Austen book and are zapped into a world where people are proper. Something about the winter season always makes me want to read Jane Austen, so I can be one with my sisterhood.


The language is fantastic.
The words are charming. Jane Austen was a good writer.

The characters all have such good manners.
There's something compelling about books where the worst personality trait someone has is they are a little too feisty. Or maybe I've been reading too much Salinger.

It's pleasant and violent-free.
There are no wars, no physical tiffs, no abortions, no drug lords, no mental hospitals. Or maybe I've been reading too much Palanuik.

The movie has Keira Knightley in it.
I watched the opening credits, then fell asleep. Then woke up to turn it off and turned something else on. Even though I adore Keira Knightley, I had a hard time.

But... I'm sorry, Jane Austen fans. I just can't get into it.
Why?

I don't like stories where women tame men. Women, let's just be as wild as they are.

An Open Letter to my Blog

Blog,

I'm sorry I've neglected you as of late. But we both knew that this relationship would be rocky at best.

I have a list of links, drafted blog posts, photos, and recommendations to post on you... But what's the point? I might as well come clean.

Blog, I've been cheating on you. For a month. With other projects. That's right, I've been writing somewhere else. That's why you feel so cold and alone.

I'm not saying it's over forever, blog. But I think we should attend counseling, and possibly talk about a new form of commitment, an open relationship where I can write on you and on other projects without you losing your confidence.

What?

No, blog, having a baby right now would just bring more problems! Are you trying to trap me?

Love, Lindsay

And I Quote

We're playing a board game. I ask the question on the card: "Truth be told, I cannot..."

The fill-in-the-blank answers from my family members:

...Cannot throw a ball.
...Cannot catch a ball.
...Cannot play football.
...Cannot run.

Truer words never spoken.

Pumpkins, Hay Bales, and a Girl Rolling in Corn

Tori Amos: Night of Hunters

Tori Amos released her new album, Night of Hunters, and, as a devoted fan, I rushed to get it and listen.

Now I review.

Tori was given a scholarship to the Peabody Music Conservatory when she was just a little girl, which put her studying classical piano with the country's best pianists. She took a detour from this and was removed from the school a few years later, and put her focus into rock.

Album after album, she's produced achingly honest music that obviously draws from her classical training. But in Night of Hunters, she takes fourteen actual classical compositions and re-arranges them, adding lyrics and orchestration.

It seems a right fit for Tori.

My only complaint is the same complaint I've had for her last four albums. Angry Tori is gone, which means her frustration is gone. She no longer channels that passion through her music. But how could I ever be upset that someone I care about (even though I don't know her) is finally a happy person?

She went from this:

To this:

And I have loved watching it unfold. Even though I still relate more to young, fiery Tori, I am grateful that she has documented her life. Someday I hope to achieve the kind of calm she has.

Here's a link to NPR, which has the whole album on their website to preview. Give it a listen. It's fantastic.

College Translations: FYI

"You look smart."
Translation: "You have no revealing cleavage."


"Exactly how many pages do you want the paper?"
Translation: "How little work can I get away with doing?"


"I'm not very good at writing poetry."
Translation: "Please offer me various compliments on my writing and pry into my previous writing credits."


"Yeah, a publisher asked to see my book."
Translation: "I'm pretentiously trying to act like I know anything about the publishing industry."


"I liked the example on page one in the textbook."
Translation: "I only read page one in the textbook."


"Can I have expresso?"
Translation: "I'm pretending I know about coffee to impress the art major in line behind me, and I will sputter when I get my first sip of 'expresso' in a minute. Wait and watch me spill it on my man-boots."

Razor Sharp Wit

My history with cell phones is succinct. In ninth grade, my parents bought Hannah and I a brick cell phone. It was blue, but my dad referred to it as purple. This gave us leeway in that bratty teenager sense:

Dad: "Where's the purple phone?"
Us: "We haven't seen a purple phone."

I got my first flip phone at the tail end of the flip phone trend. It wasn't a Razor, like everyone else's. That was THE phone to get. But I was satisfied with my little Nokia flip... it even had a camera!

My phone for the last year has been, ironically, an old hot pink Razor. This is ironic because the phone was sold in 2005... and because I hate hot pink. Yet I'm not a picky person when it comes to phones. It stores 30 texts (whoa!) and about 12 photos (look out!).

I had made peace with my ridiculous cell phone. I'd learned to ignore the stares when I whip it out and text in a frenzy on my funny light-up buttons. But the other night at Old Navy, I was shamed to turn around and see the obnoxiously voiced, mousy, nosy woman on her cell phone... holding a Razor!

Instantly I knew it was time to look for a new phone. I couldn't have the same phone as someone like this, no way! And I certainly couldn't look like that when I talked on it, I looked like an audition for That's So Millennium.

I can't afford a new phone, of course, so I knew I'd be stuck with the Razor. But my Razor-hating thoughts apparently formulated into action. My charger quit. My battery died. I am Razor-less.

I'm trying to be grateful that I even have a cell phone. And I am, certainly. I'm taking these moments away from my Razor to become a stubborn fan of my Razor once again.

After all, if a phone was good enough for Jack Bauer, it's good enough for me.

A Little Query Letter Humor...

Dear Agent,

When God created the world, he knew the people He made would eventually get themselves into trouble - and His own son would end up paying the price.

In THE BIBLE, a 775,000-word historical fiction/religious memoir, God is the Creator – He from whom all things flow. His creations are uppity things: some of them turn His name into a curse word, some set up false idols in His place, and some eat food He specifically told them was His. One thing’s for sure, God isn’t letting these ungrateful bastards into Heaven until they're redeemed in His eyes.

That’s where His son comes in. J.C. was created to die for the sins of man and open the gates to Heaven, but nobody asked him first. Thrust into existence with doom hanging over his head, he’s just trying to live his life: hanging with religious rebels The Apostles, doing standup in the temple, mixing it up with moneylenders, chatting up feisty “former” prostitute Mary Magdalene. J.C. knows his buddy is about to turn him in to the authorities on a trumped-up charge, and pretty soon he’s going to end up nailed to a tree – but first he’s going to party.

I am that I am. I am currently working on a sequel, THE BIBLE II: RUSH LIMBAUGH IS STILL A BIG FAT IDIOT. Thanks be to Me for your time and consideration.

Sincerely,

The Lord


Found at QUERYSHARK

My Week Off

Summer semester over! Woot!
I got a well-earned A in Art History, which was by far my favorite class in college so far. It was frighteningly difficult, and therefore exhilarating.

I got an ill-earned B in Psychology, which I'm fine with. I was so burnt out that I somehow justified skipping three quizzes so I could spend more time in Tumblr. I honestly am so over it.

I have a new major, a new set list of classes to take over the next three years, and I am seriously so excited. Why did I ever think this wasn't for me? I get to take Advanced Poetry Writing, Topics in Shakespeare, Rhetoric in Literature, and The Great American Novel. Classes like those make me drool and swoon, and other double "oo" words.

So, what to do with a week's break? I have big plans.

I'm watching a few movies:

Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist

Blue Valentine

Marie Antoinette

I'm watching a marathon of this:

Gilmore Girls

I'm listening to these:

BYU's classical music station

Modern Scholar audio books, and don't judge me!

Burst Apart by The Antlers

I'm eating these:

Frozen Greek yogurt: GODSENT!

Larabars: Hey, I know all these ingredients!

Chocolate covered espresso beans... 

I'm reading this:

U2 by U2

And that's about it!

But let's be honest. About one day into this lounging, relaxing, ridiculous week off, I'm going to go nuts and need to start "creating." Blah. What's wrong with me, that I can't watch eight straight hours of TV in a row? I'm a disappointment to my generation.

Anyways, happy week off! And I'll leave you with this tweet of mine, from a while ago. It sums up my lack of summer vacation.

"Anyone else ready for their neighbor kids to be babysat by unsuspecting, underpaid teachers?"