For the Love...of Coleslaw
Coleslaw is a wondrous thing. I won’t deny that. Some creative mind (through divine inspiration I’m sure) transformed cabbage and mayo into a fine fettle American classic… I filled my face with this IGA deli delight. Shoveling in as much as I could consume. It was amazing how incredibly scrumptiouliscious my eating experience was. Unfortunately, I had to swallow. And once I did, the most horrible after taste overcame me. It was unbearable, I ran for water…for breath mints, and then eventually for Juiceifuls. It was after my fourth or fifth Wintogreen Cert when I had my greatest epiphany in the history of Melissa-Gerth-Light-Bulb moments. Coleslaw is like love. When you are eating it all up, it’s GREAT, heavenly, a blessing disguised in mayo. But that after taste…the bitter after taste; it sends you running for Water, Certs, and even Juciefuls. And it leaves such an impression, that you vow never to take another bite of coleslaw again. The problem is the place of purchase. IGA is hometown proud of their coleslaw. But then you shouldn’t expect much from my hometown. So where has all the good coleslaw gone? It’s at KFC.
Mix Tape...Mixed Life
Swiss Army Romance: Yeah... I’ve had one of those.
Deja Entendu: je ne sais pas.
Tell All Your Friends: Baaaaaa.
Living Well Is the Best Revenge: Works like a charm.
Places You Have Come to Fear the Most: The testing center.
You’re Favorite Weapon: Salon Care Honey and Almond Shampoo.
So Impossible EP: Brown eyes, and guys that just don’t quite fit in.
Where You Want to Be: I wish I knew.
I am the Movie: Sometimes it feels this way.
Save the World, Lose the Girl: Yeah Spidey! Sheesh.
Forget What You Know: If only it were that easy.
My "Home"
I just want to go home... But I know that the “home” I wish to return to does not exist. I want to come back to a house made just for Dad, Me, and Sparky. (Please, no strange inhabitants wandering around asking where we keep the Corel plates.) I want to return to a colorful 1710 Pleasant Valley Dr., filled with the grandest family I’ve ever known. (But the life of that house is in Dallas.) I want to call up 838-3223 and have the voice on the other line say Hi Gerthy; no other words mattering. THIS is home. I just want to go home…I guess Mt.Vernon, Indiana will have to do. Song of the Day: So Long, So Long by Dashboard Confessional
Single NonSnoring Female seeking Single NonSnoring Male+
SPINSTER PART 2...You might ask how a seventeenth century one-hit-wonder was able to resolve my marital destiny. First, I’ve realized that there is just no way could I deal with vibrating Z’s for fifty plus years. Most guys have serious flem problems, studies show seventy-one percent of the male population snore. So now that there’s only 4350 non-snoring BYU male fish left in my sea, I have to catch one that I could actually stand for an eternity…HAHHAHHAH yeah right. So here’s my list of standable characteristics (in no specific order): You have to like
Dashboard,
Brand New,
Straylight Run,
Taking Back Sunday,
Something Corporate,
Snow Patrol,
and the occasional Brian McKnight (if you think he’s a girl, you’re out),
Fight Club,
Wedding Singer,
Dumb and Dumber,
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,
Serendipity,
Enders Game,
Holes,
Ethan Frome,
Swiss Miss,
Stars,
Dogs,
Kids (7+),
Ice skating,
Drive-In Movies,
Late night convos,
Concerts,
Cooking,
Cleaning,
Big Cities,
Chuck Taylor’s,
The smell before rain, and
Parking lot hugs.
ESP, Artistic Talent, Chivalry, Witticism, Poetry, Humor of all kinds, Loyalty, Honesty and an IQ above 170 are mandatory preferences. Did I mention you have to be a worthy, young, spiritually uplifting Latter Day Saint returned missionary? So if you can meet ALL of these qualifications, call me...because you are my "Pachelbel's Cannon." My number is 371-3398. (Indiana Boys Need not Apply)
Life Aspiration: Spinster
I’m an insomniac. There are two theories on why I have sleeplessness: 1) My conscious thoughts are far more entertaining than sleep or…2) My roommate’s snarking insufflations make it physically impossible for anyone with any sense of hearing at all to fall asleep in the same room with her. I’m leaning more towards the roommate premise…let’s face it, nothing’s better than sleep. For 4 a.m. relief I pop on my head phones, click repeat, and listen to Pachelbel’s Cannon in D minor until I’ve slipped into the refuge of a REM cycle. I have found Pachelbel’s Cannon to be the only song I’d never tire of. Last night as I lay in bed, lost in the strings and woodwinds for the fifth time or so I had an epiphany of the sort. I wondered if I could ever love someone as much as I love Pachelbell’s Cannon. This is when I realized: I will never get married…To Be Continued
Drama Schmama...
I'm still on strike...but I just HAD to vent to someone about my hecka-awful Monday. And since there are no people awake at 5:12 a.m. I guess this will just have to do. I opened up the dryer, prepared to heave the wrinkled lob of attire into my small hamper four feet below. However, I met a small container of Carmex at eye level. I fought a frown and lost as I picked the melted plastic and balm out of the lint catcher. I ended up with fuzzy-chicken fingers:(. Yeah this is reason number twenty-four on my “Why I Should've Stayed in Bed This Morning" list...can anyone guess number one?? There was some good in the world...Dano turned 19!!!! Happy Birthday Elder Larsen:)
For Brett
My heart was already wading in my stomach; wrapped up in the surrounding knots. I sat numbly, staring at the computer screen. I despised the pink characters swimming in the pitch black pool. I despised the time slots that rhythmically recorded each and every let down. But most of all, I despised Meli464…
(Wow, I could use some Soco Amaretto Lime…)
I miss Twinkie jackets.
I miss Cappuccino noises.
I miss “Grr like a hairy beast”.
I miss the cotton candy dance.
I miss spoon-eyes moments.
I miss high fives.
I miss tunnel singing.
I miss someone getting my jokes.
I miss visits.
I miss singing Brand New.
I miss a lot more than I thought I would.
I miss a lot more than you think I do.
Skipping Birthdays
I put down the lid on my Physical Science book and leaped onto my featherbed. Just as I was about to envision dancing sugar plums I realized that I had failed to set my alarm. So, I grabbed my cell phone and started plugging in the dreadful hour of 9 a.m. I double checked the date (just in case). It’s funny what memories a simple 12 and 4 mixed with a few backslashes can impose on you. I thought of how the clock was striking 3 in the old Vern and silently wished that the silent treaty was gone…just for one night. Half tempted to text him a Happy Birthday; I settled for a Dashboard song, some things will always be so impossible. This isn’t the first time I thought about his birthday or how he forgot mine. I woke up early this morning and called every friend I had left in the state of Indiana, begging them to do what one who is 1600 miles away could not…decorate his locker. This is a childish tradition that continues to stir up guilt inside of me (I skipped the act last year because of a similar silent treaty). Unfortunately (or perhaps it WAS fortunate), no one was available and I left it at that. After all, we haven’t spoken in 3 months; it would be ridiculous to go out of my way for him. But nevertheless, he has been my best (yet worst) buddy since the 10th grade. (And if you are thinking: Woo, 3-year-old-friendship, like that’s worth a penny, realize…) It’s not that he’s been my best friend for the past 3 years; it’s that he will be my best friend for the next 62. Even if we don’t speak but once from now til then. Unwritten rules override silent treaties…Happy Birthday Matt Rice.
Molding Irony
I headed to the computer lab for a quickie print job. 5 people and far too many second thoughts of running-into-the-room-screaming-, “I JUST NEED TO PRINT!!?!?!” -later, I gained part-time possession of a computer with printing capabilities. After printing my whole one page in mere seconds I carried on like a Diana Ross song back to T Hall. (Actually, I ran like Forest. It was 12 degrees outside.) Glad to be out of the Antarctic-wannabe-weather I entered the lobby with delight. I stopped at the entrance to remove my 76 cent Wal-Mart gloves. As I looked up, I saw the room was filled with at least a dozen people. I began to notice a pattern, a couples-pattern. Every person in the room was embracing a significant other/N.C.M.O-partner-in-crime. I felt like the ugly purple wool sock in the back of drawer number two whose mate was lost long ago in the wash. I knew I was screwing with the room’s Karma so I hopped the next elevator. Luckily, I was its only passenger. So I just let it all out, “SEPTEMBER NEVER STAYS THIS COLD WHERE I COME FROM!!!!” That’s about all I could get in; the elevator was in a hurry to dump me. I entered my room, and for the first time utterly despised my happy-daisy theme. But the cure for whatever ailment I had was just a pair (everything seems to come in pairs) of headphones away. Dash always does the trick now doesn’t he? “So this is odd,
the painful realization that all has gone wrong.
And nobody cares at all,
and nobody cares at all.
So you buried all your lovers clothes
and burned the letters Lover wrote,
but it doesn't make it any better,
Doesn't make it any better
And the plaster dented from your fist
in the hall where you had your first kiss
reminds you that the memories will fade.
So this is strange,
our side stepping has come to be a brilliant dance
where nobody leads at all,
where nobody leads at all.
And the picture frames are facing down
and the ringing from this empty sound
is defeaning and keeping you from this sleep.
And breathing is a foreign task
and thinking's just to much to ask
and you're measuring your minutes by a clock that's blinking eights.
This is incredible,
Starving, insatiable,
yes, this is love for the first time.
Well you'd like to think that your were invincible.
Yeah, well weren't we all once before we felt lost for the first time?
well this is the last time.
This is the last time,
This is the last time."
The Showdown: Utahopia vs. Home Sweet Home
A deciding moment as bold as a double yellow on black cement doesn’t happen to everyone. But you surely know one or two souls whose thoughts revolve around one event in their life that seemed to change everything. And memories and moments are grouped into two categories, before and after. There was a fork in the road. And they had to choose one life over the other not knowing where either path would lead. I’m at the fork, about to become a before-and-after person. And all I can think is Choose-the-Right…if only I knew what was right. My two lives: 1) I’m a Brigham Young University student. I’m attending my dream college and majoring in a field I had planned to excel in since my 7th grade year. I am regularly hugged by the spirit and am given many opportunities to increase my faith and testimony. I benefit greatly from the relationships I have made, my friends are always uplifting. I never see any of the bad in the world, the biggest crimes at BYU is parking offenses. However, I am incredibly uninterested in my classes and have found that my major is dreadfully all wrong for me. 2) I am an Indiana University student. I’m attending a college that is legendary in my family. I can visit them whenever I want because home is just 3 hours away. My best friend since the 7th grade is my roommate and we have the BEST of times. I attend institute once a week, but do not get the spiritual fill I did at BYU. However, I am given more missionary moments and my trials and temptations have made me stronger. I have a hard time with dating, there are few young men who share my values but I know that someday my prince charming will come. I am enjoying and excelling in all of my classes. I am an interior design major (a program not offered at BYU), my top career choice. I can see a hope and possibility in each life. So how do you Choose the Right when they are both right? Song of the Day: Jude Law and a Semester Abroad (acoustic version) by Brand New
