"It's Empty Tonight And I'm All Alone"

Dear Chocolate Easter Rabbit My Grandmother Sent Me,

It's not that I don't love you. You're a part of my Easter tradition, and indeed, it cannot really be Easter until I take a bite out of your rich, chocolatey ears. The yellow slip telling me you are in the office waiting for me calls out to me during the day when I'm at class or in the library pretending to do research. But at night, when I come home from a long day filled with projects and papers and demands on my time, well, usually the office has closed and locked you in its nefarious, malevolent grasp. I surely hope the new management has not taken nibbles out of you. There is a process to eating chocolate Easter rabbits, and I'm certain those cretins don't know it. You don't know me yet, my easter rabbit, but I am a methodical person. First will go your ears, then your head, and all that will be left at the end is a pair of good-luck feet that I will relish with the utmost relishness. You will bring me much pleasure this year, my friend. If only I could claim you.

With the fondest hopes and dreams,

Elizabeth

"Even If I Wanted To, I Don't Think That I'd Get To You"

It's time for another list. I've compiled some popular ideas about me I've spotted floating around, whether whispered friend-to-friend or merely plucked from your brain itself. I've already told you I'm far better than you could ever believe me to be, don't think it's beyond me to read your mind.

You know me. Think again, buckeroo. Making assumptions doesn't count as knowing me. Generating fantasy Mes doesn't count as knowing me. I wouldn't have to go through stuff like this if people knew me.

I enjoy your company. I leave it to you to decide this one. I leave plenty of hints for those willing to pay attention.

I take pleasure in breaking people's hearts. It makes me sick to think anyone could believe this one. If you find yourself in that camp, see above and remove yourself from the guest list.

I don't take responsibility for my actions. I might not be the most responsible person ever, but when it comes to my actions, I take full responsibility. I'll even take full responsibility for your actions. I'm not certain everything is always my fault, but until God Himself comes down and tells me that, that's what I'll believe.

I enjoy flying. Okay, I'll admit it, it's true. But can you tell me why?

I read a lot. I can just see your minds convulsing over this one. Is it true or not? Let's see how well you REALLY know me. Answer: You don't.

I'd be HAPPY to proofread your paper for you. It's probably just a load of old tosh. Especially when it's 11 p.m. and I've been working on my own stuff all day and I'm exhausted and you refuse to let me keep it overnight when it's not even due for class the next day, or at all. Get out of my apartment.

I'm a nice girl. I'll tear you apart.

I'm cold and heartless. Cold, heartless people cannot be guilt-tripped. Cold, heartless people can watch someone they don't even know get hurt and not care. Cold, heartless people can even watch someone they DO know get hurt and they don't care.

I care about grammar. It almost never bugs.

I can define that word for you. They invented the OED for a reason.

I have a good memory. That's why I have lists. I'm good at lists. In them go the things I know I should be remembering, but that I won't. Things just don't encode well in my brain. Chances are I don't even remember talking to you, and especially not anything you said to me. See how important you are?

I'm mocking you right now. Probably. My internal mockalogue is vicious, and I delight in it.

I'm a vegetarian. I don't even know where this one came from. I like animals. I like them a lot stuffed with mushrooms and grilled. I can even feel myself salivating as I type this. PETA can shove it.

I have a lot of patience. Please. Don't even waste my time with this one.

DISCLAIMER: If you were hurt or offended by this post, I apologize. It was not my intent to hurt or offend; in fact, such is never my intent. Come talk to me, and we'll sort it all out. I just wanted to clear up some misconceptions.

"You Are My Only One"

This has never happened to me before. This writing of an awesome post and this suckiness of the internet. It's a shame, because it was some of my finest work in a while. I have a policy, though, that stems from the fact that you can never write it as well the second time. I won't even touch what I had written before.

The only things I remember are the opening line that read "I'm far better than you could ever believe me to be" and the offer to take responsiblity for all your problems. Just toss them off in my comments section, and I'll take the blame.

It was snowing as I walked home tonight. I contemplated not coming back. For a long time, actually. I don't really know why I did, but I assume it has something to do with my superego.

Everyone should call my phone and listen to my voice recording telling you to leave a message. Do it soon, because I'm going to change it shortly. I have no idea to what; any hints regarding this would also be appreciated. Maybe something like, "If you actually leave me one, make sure that it's urgent or that I like you." One of these days, I'll be strong enough to just stop checking altogether.

"Sorry I'm Late, I Was Out Spoiling My Liver"

Who plays Truth or Dare? Seriously, who? I've been asking myself that for a while. I spent so long dwelling ont he question that I decided to resolve it by trying a game of it myself with two of my friends, perhaps unlocking the key to the allure of the game in the process.

It didn't work.

Apparently none of us are very good at the game. Either that, or it's a dumb game. Anyone who can clue me in on what I'm missing, feel free. But until then, I'll be asking myself, "Who PLAYS that???"

In additional news, ... okay, it's been an hour, and I haven't thought of anything additional. I might be lying about the hour thing, but you'll never know. I'll just close with a thought contributed by Rachael: "He's not naked if you can't see his penis." BYU and its controversies... gotta love the place.

"Just A Kiss And Then We Break The Spell"

Sometimes you're talking to your best friend online and she mentions something like that her lips hurt, but her Blistex is downstairs and too far away to get. That would be an opportune moment to say something witty like, "Stop kissing boys." At those times, it is a good idea to make sure that you're not talking to someone else online at the same time and that you don't accidentally send it to the other person, who has not and will not ever kiss a boy in his life.

That's my story.

"I Live Right Here At My School"

I did it. Yes, that's right, I am officially holding the paper that has plagued my existence for the last month and change. Fifteen pages of gloriousness. That will probably fall in a puddle on my way to the F Smith and be ruined. Seriously, it would be just my luck. I'd like to thank the people who unknowingly helped me concentrate last night when I got home from a hellishly busy day. I was so exhausted and to the point of casting myself prostrate upon my bed and sleeping the entire night away. You reanimate me; thank you.

"Can You Feel The Tension In The Air"

Tension and resolve. Holding a single, discordant note almost longer than bearable, then moving slowly, deliberately up a half step to the conclusion, which is sweeter than you can express. You relish it in the notes that follow, weaving your sound through others.

Tension and resolve. Life is built around this. The moments of discord that stretch on almost longer than we can bear, but amazingly beautiful in their way, followed by a resolution, a shattering sweetness to be savored.

There are many, many other notes, but in that moment... there is nothing else. Time itself seems to stop. Or perhaps I'm still very much remembering who I used to be and what I gave up.

"Floating And Fighting Like A Kite On A String"

Spring Break is now officially over. Sad. Can I tell you, first of all, how exhausting it is to keep the late, late, so early hours of a college student on break and then get up to go to classes? I would chill with Art online until 5 a.m., get caught up doing something else after that, not sleep til 6:30 or later (if I even slept at all, and there were a couple nights I didn't), and drag myself to classes the next day... or later that day. But it was sooo worth it. Art's good at keeping me entertained, even if he's frustrating me and my only regret is being too far away from him to tackle him like he needs to be tackled. An example:

Me: If you explode, I'll concede
Art: *splat*
Me: You did not
Art: *splat*
Me: Art Furler
Art: *splat*
Me: Do not make me reprimand you
Art: *splat*
Me: What are you about?
Art: *splat*
Me: ...
Art: *splat*
Me: Fine, I concede
Art: Muwahahaha

One of these days, Art... one of these days.

Basically my entire week was like that. Go to class, get home, IM Art, hang out all night, sleep (maybe), and go to class. If I could've cut out the going to class, it would've been a perfect week. Oh, and if I could've cut out the not ACTUALLY being physically in my spot on the couch. And the various impasses we always seemed to reach. Still, a fun week. There's a lot more to it than that, but I'm not laying it all out here on my blog.

It was a week I bowed down to the fact that I've become officially boring. I didn't go ANYwhere or hang out with ANYone, with the exception of Friday night, getting ice cream and going up to Sundance. It was freezing, but the stars were brilliant. I could even see Draco snaking through the Big and Little Dippers.

Nick came back. He's been online quite a bit of late, presumably listening to the tracks from the new Copeland CD that are up on purevolume. I am coveting like I have never coveted before. Which is perhaps an exaggeration, but you'll never get me to admit it. I fell asleep to their old CD every night; that's how amazing it was. The new one = even better. As Nick says,

"|

|-| 3 /\ |2 '|'

( 0 |> 3 |_ /\ |\| |) !"

The last thing I'd like to say is, It's okay to be selfish when it's what all parties want anyway. Then it's not selfishness. Several people I've talked to recently seem to have forgotten that.

College is designed to kill people. Of that I am certain. Our middle-aged counterparts wouldn't be able to last with this kind of schedule for more then three weeks. And I have several more YEARS of this.

I'm too tired to even come up with a title.

"Don't Fall Away And Leave Me To Myself"

I call this the allegory of the white stuffed rabbit.

Almost a year ago, a friend of mine gave me a present. We weren't that close so it suprised me, but it was for my birthday, so I accepted it as just one of those things that happens and thanked him. I unwrapped the paper and saw a stuffed animal. A white rabbit, specifically. It was kinda cute, and I put it on my shelf in my closet where I could see it if I wanted to. In April, I started packing to go home, and the rabbit was relegated to a box and stuffed into storage, along with almost all of my possessions. I went home, had a fantastic summer, didn't want to come back (you have no idea how badly I didn't want to come back), but got on the plane anyway. As I was unpacking my things, I found my rabbit and pulled it out and set it on my bed. I was happy, and the rabbit brightened the place even more. Then things started happening, things that broke my happiness and tried me to the very limit. Every night, I would crawl into bed in defeat, and every night, I would hold the rabbit in my arms as I struggled to fall asleep. The rabbit became essential to me. I couldn't fall asleep if he wasn't in my arms, his ears snuggled under my chin. Something I hadn't really given much thought to when I had accepted it had come to mean everything to me, and I would break if he were taken away from me.

I'm writing about a stuffed rabbit that I sleep with; I think it's painfully clear that I've retreated back into a scared little girl. My rabbit is even now sitting in the crook of my arm. Is this what we do when we're reeling from the hurt and confusion--we retreat back to a pretended safety? I see marked evidence supporting that: pleading like a four-year-old with someone to like me perfectly illustrates my point.

One of the worst pains imaginable is to watch yourself being forgotten; I won't do that. At the end of things...

"But I have had your friendship--grace to you
A woman's charm has passed across my path."

"I Just Want You To Be True To Me One Time"

As per Jennifer's request.

You won't regret clicking here.

"I'm Worse At What I Do Best"

When I was still living at home, my family would gather nightly for family dinners. My mother insisted that we sit around afterward and "talk." My mother is crazy, I assure you. Well, I've always liked the attention that absurdity gathers (as demonstrated by my waltzing into my physics classroom one morning and announcing that I didn't believe in gravity--turns out I do, but the look on the teacher's face was priceless). One thing I liked to do was inform my family that I wanted to be Kurt Cobain when I grew up. And this was post-1994. That was the start of an obsession.



Now picture him eating cornflakes.

"My Library Was Dukedom Large Enough"

The desire for culture is eating away at me. I am an Uptight East Coast Loser Girl, and I embrace that fully. Part of that Uptight East Coast Loser Girl-ness is being a cultured snob. My ring tone is the aria from Mozart's The Magic Flute; it's my favorite opera. I refer to composers like I refer to old friends; I'm intimately aquainted with their work. I drool when I think about the London Phil or seeing Shakespeare done well. The Impressionists at Argenteuil exhibit rocked my world, and I can pick out a Monet from two galleries away. Foreign and independent films are no strangers to me, and indeed, there was a time when that was ALL I would watch. It doesn't hurt that I can view the French movies sans English subtitles. I crack open Dickens for pleasure, and I know his voice like I know my own. I understand which fork to use when and how to make smalltalk in between.

My point? The Tempest, April 24th, 7:30.

"Prepare for Domination"

I hate when I mean to update my blog but things keep getting in the way. Here's a catalog of the events that have kept me from posting for the past few days....

Napping on the grass under some fluffy cumulus humilus. It's a hard life I lead, I know. All the nice spring air playing over my skin as I drift off.... And yes, I know the technical name for those clouds you sometimes see on really nice days. One of the great tragedies of my life is that BYU has no program for meteorology.

Seeing Suburban Legends. The East doesn't know what ska is. That's usually what I use to comfort myself when flying back to Utah. And ska + cool people + Jennifer punching a guy in the face = so goood.

Getting myself involved in a fight. I know you don't always read this, pansy boy, but bring it. Like I informed Mike, I'll have you crying three minutes in.

Eating a very extended lunch with That Wussell Kid. He's in DanceSport and needed to tell me all about his latin pants. Sorry, guys, but he's learning the paso doble which means he automatically ranks higher than any of you.

Birthday celebrations. Everyone's having a birthday! March is a crazy time for it. I'm not even going to go into what that implies, I'll just wish a happy birthday to Bart and mention that without Sam organizing everything, we'd be boring, boring, hungry people.

Hockey. Until Carl stole my stick like a parasite (picture some hand motions here... Char can vouch for their awesomeness). Jerk. And then he assaulted me and tried to tell me I'm stronger than he is. Kid was stoned. That's what taking pain medication will do to you, which is why I always avoid it.

Craving a pedicure. Never let your best friend talk you into getting one. Because once you get one, nothing is ever the same. You'll always want your toes to look that good. Maybe Becca will go get another one with me. I definitely owe her some hang outage.

"It's So Good To Be Alive In Such A Hazardous World"

Why expend my energy writing a whole bunch when I can just link to a perfectly brilliant summary? You can read about my weekend here.

Today was a great day. I woke up half an hour before my alarm clock went off, which meant I had half an hour to drift around in my head, imagining all sorts of nice things; it also meant I didn't have to be woken up suddenly by shrill beeping, which is always a plus. Then I dinked around, took a shower, got ready for classes and spent some time deleting spyware that had worked its way into my system due to certain sites (ahem, Microsoft... ahem, AHEM Drive-Thru Records: I expect better of you in the future. Well, okay, not really of you, Microsoft.) requiring IE usage. It feels good to delete things. I recommend it to you, just don't get delete-happy, because that would be bad.

I walked to class in some of the most beautiful weather imaginable. Last night was great too, walking to orchestra in the deep blue of late twilight, the air finally cleared of those persistant, clogging inversions, a perfect night for jogging. Too bad I had class and couldn't spend more time just enjoying. Anyway, class was nice, logic isn't always logical, and where in the fricative they got ~H from I'll never know. But it ended early, and then I sat in on the Psychology 111 lecture with Jennifer, the class I was supposed to take but decided to take the Geography of Climates instead. It was a good lecture, and I left feeling refreshed and hungry. So I stopped by the Wilk to grab some food and eat it outside because, ya know, the weather is perfect... and then I saw Evan.

He put an instant halt on any enjoyment and relaxation and he kept it halted for 37 minutes, even though he had an Accounting midterm to study for. I tried people, I really did. I kept saying things like, "Well, I should let you go study now," and "Have fun studying!" and "No, really, go study. NOW." but it wasn't until I told him goodbye and turned away that the conversation was broken. People need to learn to read when I'm antsy and want to get away. Or I should have some kind of visible skin color change like those lizards. I'll turn more and more purple the more uncomfortable I get and maybe swell too until I turn deep indigo and explode all over everyone, leaving a mess of violet goo. Because I'm sure some people would let me get to that stage of uneasiness.

So after I left Evan, I finally entered the Wilk and ran into Matt Wright and Whatever His Wife's Name Is, and she's pregnant, and it made me very frightened for the future of our planet. I finally got some food, the fries were NOT too salty, which means they will be on Friday, grabbed a copy of the Daily Universe, and proceeded to settle into the niceness outside.

My day wasn't even ruined by the fact that we discussed parallel grammatical structure in philosophy today. It wasn't even ruined by the arrival of my bank statement. It wasn't even ruined by the load of homework I am at the moment avoiding. I need days like these.

"This Place And This City It's Good For Nothing But Feeling Down"

So I have this saying that goes something like "Girls are jerks. Stay away from them." It's amazing how often I have occasion to bring out this particular motto. Sitting around of an evening, conversing with friends and family, trading stories and banter, things come up, and those things are not pretty.

Thing is, I don't know so much about girls. I had to ask a guy today if girls really consumed ice cream to cheer themselves up. Because I didn't know. I knew the movies say they do, but the movies have this carefully constructed imaginary world in which fantastic things often occur that never occur in reality. I don't know where this Movie Land is hidden; it seems pretty nice usually, but then sometimes people drink shampoo in Movie Land to, I don't know, get over their ex or conjure her up or something (I'm not too clear on what the purpose was, I was trying to forget the movie as I was watching it).

What I DO know about is guys. I know a lot of girls label guys as jerks and have guy-bashing parties. I also know a lot of girls only hang out with guys because they're "so much better than girls." What a load of garbage. Girls are jerks and guys are idiots, but what would life be like if guys and girls never mixed?

It would be boring and there would be nothing to complain about. Or to love. So when I say "Girls are jerks. Stay away from them," I mean, "Ouch. That stinks. Um, ice cream? I hear people do that when they feel down." In the end, it all boils down to the need for decency. I haven't forgotten the campaign. I think it's time we made t-shirts.

"You're Afraid 'Cause She's Got You Closer"

I'm going to have to blog about my weekend eventually. "Eventually" does not mean "right now," so I have the freedom to talk about, oh, self-reliance, for example.

A Friend: Who else does she have to turn to?
Me: Herself?

You need to get to that point where you can rely on yourself before you can be anything at all like truly, fantastically happy. Until then, you rely on others. What would it be like if instead of relying on other people to make things better, we just sat around enjoying each others' company? And there was no back-stabbing or underlying malice? That would be nice.

"I'm Lookin' Like A Fool Again"

I miss hearing bad jokes. I used to get one every day, but not so much anymore. So I thought I'd tell a joke, even though this one happens to be not bad, but really, really good. Let me paint the scene to start off: Picture me in seventh grade algebra, an intensely boring class that also happened to be frigid and right before lunch. Good thing we were seated in alphabetic order and my best friend was alphabetically next to me. She told me this joke all these many years ago while we were supposed to be studying quadratic equations or something equally silly. This one's for you, Kacie. And Shapiro's pants; definitely cannot forget the pants.

There once was a man who lived in a house. One day, he heard a knock at his front door. He got up and went to answer the knock (as society had conditioned him to do), but as he opened the door and looked around, he saw not a soul. Up the street and down the street he peered, then gave up and began to close the door. As he did so, he looked down and his eye caught on a snail standing on his stoop. It was the snail who had rung his bell! The man, in a fit of unexplainable passion, picked up the snail and chucked it as far as he could.

One year later, the man heard another knock at his door. (He can't have been too terribly popular.) Once again he got up and went to answer the door, and once again no one was there. But then he looked down, and there was the snail! Sitting on the porch! ...Because it had taken him a year to snail himself all the way back!!

HAHAHAHAHA! Oh the antics of that snail! HAHAHAHAHA!!

[Yes, I am really laughing THAT HARD. I find it all absolutely hilarious. Shut up and go away if you can't appreciate a fine sense of humor. Jerks.]

"With The Sun On Your Face, All These Worries Will Soon Disappear"

I've been going to bed earlier and waking up feeling (mostly) relaxed these past few days, and the change is brilliant. If I could only remember to eat three meals a day, every day, I think I'd start to officially feel normal.

Letting my body tell me when to sleep, though, might not be the best plan, because I might fall asleep in apartment 13, and I might be woken up by someone breathing on my face, their own just inches away from mine. If that were to happen, I might freak out or something. And if that were to happen a second time, I might kill the perpetrator. I'm just sayin'.

I'm just glorying in the nice weather that we've been getting. I'm sad that I can't play in all the snow that everyone back home has been getting, but sitting outside with a nice breeze playing in your hair and the sun warming your back is really kinda nice. March is a nice month, and March babies are really the best kind. Not that I'm biased or anything.

""There's No Point In Running 'Less You Run With Me"

So many people love and swear by the book He's Just Not That Into You, but I hate it. I don't blame anyone who recommended the book to me or praised the book to me or loaned the book to me. It still is a good book. It just makes me realize why my life sucks it up.

Here is why this book is not good for me.

There are guys who like me. Who absolutely adore me. Who would do anything for me. I inspire that sort of craziness and foolery fairly often, due to what people label the LIZ Factor. At last count, I have had two proposals, two guys sit down with my roommate and tell her to make sure I didn't get married in their absence because they want a chance, and a multiplicity of other outpourings of love. Granted, a lot of these people have no idea who I really am, or they wouldn't really want to be married to me, but my smile does at least dazzle them enough to make them believe they at least WANT to know me. They're the kind of guys the book says I should be with: attentive, loving, crazy about me, whatever. Sooo... why am I not with them? Oh, that's right, because I'm broken.

The list keeps getting longer and longer and I keep getting closer and closer to desperation. Something really is wrong with me. Why can't I just fall for a guy who adores me? The self-loathing is intense at times.

And yet, I know that I CAN care. I know that I can sit and wait for months on end, construct hope out of nothing, be there emotionally if not always physically, support, encourage, and develop a wonderful connection with someone. I can do that, without fail, for a long time. I just need the right inspiration. I am an idiot, but I'm not afraid to play the fool if I can see what I want, and I'm not afraid to play the fool forever. It just would be nice to have that foolery returned.

This book says I'm better than that. I AM better than that. But what the book doesn't say is that sometimes there are a lot of great guys you're not supposed to be with, and when you find what you're supposed to be with and maybe he's an idiot, you're in a real tight situation.

Conclusion? Hey, at least the Bishop's bird loves me and I love him back equally. Oh wait, he died. Nevermind, I am going to end up old, cranky, and alone.