Hi world.
Two things.
I'm not writing on this blog, probably ever again. I'm finished with writing about my personal life and thoughts in this manner, so even though I'll leave this blog open forever, it won't be updated. Yes, that scary picture of me in a swim cap will be the last image you have of me on Wonderful Blunderful Me.
But...
I have a new blog. Granted, it's not about me or Finley or momming. It's about my work in the publishing industry as a reader, writer, and intern. So for those of you who like books, or are writers, or who enjoy my dazzling wit, you'll love it.
It's called Wrapped Up in Books and it's at... (ready for it?) lindsayeagar.blogspot.com.
Come on over.
19.7.12
15.1.12
Really Deep Thoughts
One of my greatest, guiltiest pleasures in life: mindless entertainment awards shows.
And the dresses.
And Ricky Gervais insults.
And the dresses.
And Ricky Gervais insults.
8.1.12
Bathing Beauties
31.12.11
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.
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
22.12.11
Really Deep Belated Thoughts
I'm back. I'm sorry. I'm here.
I'm not going to pressure myself to update you on everything. Here's the big things.
On School
I just finished my fourth semester. I had a creative writing class and a sociology class. I loved them both. This was, by far, my favorite semester--favorite professors, favorite course material, favorite classmates, favorite homework. I wrote my first set of short stories. I laughed through every sociology class with Hannah, my favorite classmate of them all. I'm excited for next semester. I'm excited for a much-needed summer break from school.
On Writing
I still love it. I still do it. I write for around three hours a day. Sometimes I work on specific projects, sometimes I just doodle with words. I'm humbled by the men and women in my life who are also writers who happen to be succinct, brilliant, and inspiring (Dad, Jess, Bree...). I think I'll be perfectly happy if my stories are only read by my little sister and my deranged best friends. My blog has been severely neglected, but I hope to change that. My blog has been a good way to communicate in the past. I hope to keep that up in 2012.
On Running
I'm training for a sprint triathlon. I try to run between three and five miles a day. I get a runner's high that probably outranks any substance abuse high I could search for. I'm in the pants size I wore before I had Finley, even though my body looks different. I love my body in a new way. I'm officially a runner.
On Christopher Hitchens
A man who was a writer, essayist, and philosopher died last week of esophagal cancer, and I'm mourning his death. He was fascinating, the type of person who spoke brutal truth regardless of the situation, and the world is now without one of the best minds of the twenty-first century. He was one of my people of the year in 2010. It broke my heart to hear that he's gone.
On Music
My childhood piano, the one my grandparents gave my parents when they got married as a wedding gift, is back in my life. This sounds over-dramatic and sentimental, but it's like being reunited with an old teddy bear. The piano is sitting in my room. I play it daily. The B-flat two octaves below middle C still sticks.
On My Family and Friends
My friends, my family--they continue to be the buoys that are keeping me afloat.
On Finley
Finley turned two. Finley talks in sentences. Finley knows The Nutcracker. Finley got a haircut. Finley imitates animals. Finley dances like a spaz. Finley can count to ten. Finley didn't cry when she saw Santa, and when he asked if she was a good girl, she answered, "Yep!"
On Life
Things are good. Really, really good.
I'm not going to pressure myself to update you on everything. Here's the big things.
On School
I just finished my fourth semester. I had a creative writing class and a sociology class. I loved them both. This was, by far, my favorite semester--favorite professors, favorite course material, favorite classmates, favorite homework. I wrote my first set of short stories. I laughed through every sociology class with Hannah, my favorite classmate of them all. I'm excited for next semester. I'm excited for a much-needed summer break from school.
On Writing
I still love it. I still do it. I write for around three hours a day. Sometimes I work on specific projects, sometimes I just doodle with words. I'm humbled by the men and women in my life who are also writers who happen to be succinct, brilliant, and inspiring (Dad, Jess, Bree...). I think I'll be perfectly happy if my stories are only read by my little sister and my deranged best friends. My blog has been severely neglected, but I hope to change that. My blog has been a good way to communicate in the past. I hope to keep that up in 2012.
On Running
I'm training for a sprint triathlon. I try to run between three and five miles a day. I get a runner's high that probably outranks any substance abuse high I could search for. I'm in the pants size I wore before I had Finley, even though my body looks different. I love my body in a new way. I'm officially a runner.
On Christopher Hitchens
A man who was a writer, essayist, and philosopher died last week of esophagal cancer, and I'm mourning his death. He was fascinating, the type of person who spoke brutal truth regardless of the situation, and the world is now without one of the best minds of the twenty-first century. He was one of my people of the year in 2010. It broke my heart to hear that he's gone.
On Music
My childhood piano, the one my grandparents gave my parents when they got married as a wedding gift, is back in my life. This sounds over-dramatic and sentimental, but it's like being reunited with an old teddy bear. The piano is sitting in my room. I play it daily. The B-flat two octaves below middle C still sticks.
On My Family and Friends
My friends, my family--they continue to be the buoys that are keeping me afloat.
On Finley
Finley turned two. Finley talks in sentences. Finley knows The Nutcracker. Finley got a haircut. Finley imitates animals. Finley dances like a spaz. Finley can count to ten. Finley didn't cry when she saw Santa, and when he asked if she was a good girl, she answered, "Yep!"
On Life
Things are good. Really, really good.
24.11.11
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.
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.
10.11.11
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.
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.
1.11.11
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
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
20.10.11
Finley Files: Security Purse
Dear Finley,
Sometimes you act/dress/look more like someone almost 80, not someone almost 2.
You have a purse that you carry with you at all possible times. When I try to take it away, you scream. When I try to analyze its contents, you scream. And to be fair, I should know better than to try to separate a lady and her handbag.
But last night when you were asleep... We dumped out your purse to take a peek...
Necklaces (because you're like a pirate)
Your psychic talking meatball (obviously)
Two binkies (because you've gotta have a spare)
A toy lizard (for company)
Your cell phone (needs to be charged, by the way)
Your cup (for Starbucks refills on the go)
Your mini toy organ (because sometimes a girl needs to jam out to a 60s rock organ riff)
I just can't even tell you how precious you are to me and how much I love you.
Love, Mama
Sometimes you act/dress/look more like someone almost 80, not someone almost 2.
But last night when you were asleep... We dumped out your purse to take a peek...
Your psychic talking meatball (obviously)
Two binkies (because you've gotta have a spare)
A toy lizard (for company)
Your cell phone (needs to be charged, by the way)
Your cup (for Starbucks refills on the go)
Your mini toy organ (because sometimes a girl needs to jam out to a 60s rock organ riff)
I just can't even tell you how precious you are to me and how much I love you.
Love, Mama
18.10.11
13.10.11
Really Deep Thoughts
Does anyone else experience an awkward moment when someone compliments your shoes/clothing?
Them: Hey, I love your shoes!
Me: Thanks!
What it really should be like:
Them: Hey, I love your shoes!
Me: Oh, I'll tell the manufacturer.
Them: Hey, I love your shoes!
Me: Thanks!
What it really should be like:
Them: Hey, I love your shoes!
Me: Oh, I'll tell the manufacturer.
8.10.11
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.
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.
3.10.11
Really Deep Thoughts
I hope that the student who is employed as the parking ticket hander-outer at UVU is being paid a buttload, because I'm certain there's a special place for him in hell.
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