How To Get Engaged

Brian Harris is engaged.



I want to leave that sentence to stand for itself and let the shockwaves of the news reverberate throughout the universe, but since most of you don't even know who Brian Harris is, all that will probably reverberate is a big wad of confusion and some dust bunnies of consternation (consternation bunnies, as I like to call 'em). And that doesn't reverberate so well.

So, Brian was a guy I knew many years ago at BYU. He went on a mission, came back, and twenty days later put a ring on some young thing's finger. We're a crazy people, I know. But even bigger than that is the idea that I was right, I AM right, and I will always be right. If you practiced a little methodological skepticism and pared away the universe to the bare essentials of Truth, you would find not "I think, therefore I am," but rather "Beth = right." Or, I don't know, "Liz = right," or "Elizabeth = right." (My name is clumsy and doesn't pare down so well - blame that on my parents.)

And give me a high five the next time you see me.

I Love My Computer For All You Give To Me

I want you all to know that I have a thing for computer nerds. Even just as friends, they're sweet and endearingly awkward at times, and they tend to be incredibly loyal, which I always appreciate.

But even more than that, I just want to be understood when all I want is a piece of funfetti cake and a chance to destroy the entire Mongolian civilization in Sid Meier's latest creation.



(And I like unscrewing stuff and finding out how it works and putting it all back together in one smooth-running, gorgeous piece of machinery. That can do math problems for me.)

Getting Back To Some Of The Older Family Traditions

I was having one of those internet conversations with my (former-)roommate Jennifer the other night, and I expressed my amazement at her ability to starve her body of sleep. That's something I absolutely cannot do - I'm a night owl, yes, but I need my sleep in the morning, and I would rather fail everything and explode than not get that sleep.

That's actually the conversation I hold with myself when the alarm goes off in the morning: "It's time to wake up. Remember? Life?" "No. Go away." "But you need to." "No." "You'll fail that test if you're not in class to take it." "So? It's a test. How much will I regret failing? Not that much? How much will I regret not sleeping? I will regret it forever and ever." Clearly not at my most rational when I'm being startled out of nightmares so vivid I can feel my liver failing.

Then Jennifer pointed out that I go without eating like she goes without sleeping. Right now in my life it's vitally important that I find out just how far I can stretch that gift.

Soon Will Be Thanksgiving Day, Gobble Gobble Gobble

Thanksgiving's here, which is a pretty big holiday in my family, what with the Pilgrim ancestors who came over on the Mayflower (and fell off and were rescued) and all. It's just me and Mom and the Pon, and the Pon is working until 5:30, so Mom and I went to the temple visitor's center today to watch the Joseph Smith movie.

It was incredible, we cried, we wandered around the visitor's center and looked at the trees - and lo and behold, there on the wall was the "Howland Family History" (John Howland being said relative who came over and fell of of the Mayflower). Yep, yep, we're a pretty impressive family, all things considered, so don't even worry about it being a little depressing that our Thanksgiving gathering is so small this year.

After all, I get to spend time with my mother, the woman who, today, put mail out, and after we came back from our daytrip sighed and took it out of the mailbox saying, "I guess the mailman's not coming today." "It's thanksgiving, Mom." "I know, so?" "It's a federal holiday!" "What's that got to do with it?" What's that got to do with it, indeed.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig

Well, I'm home for Thansgiving, finally. I went to UMD last night to go to Jennay's recital, and man was that worth the four-hour drive (the last hour of which was spent in fierce Beltway traffic) - Josh Ho was there, all grown up, Phyllis was there and roped me in to do some kinda somethin' for her, Hannah was there, two of my old students were there, Craig was there, Aimee was there looking radiant, and I got to meet Jennay's boyfriend (who seems like a really, really nice guy, for a change).

The recital was, quite simply, amazing. To see someone play with such passion, and to have witnessed their progress from a child on to this gorgeous, confident woman in a shining white satin gown - well. I know the Lalo was hard, Jen, but you were brilliant.

And now I'm back, and dazzled by all the things to do here in town. There's a mall! With stores! Where you can buy things! And a Target! Oh, how I have missed Target. And traffic. I've missed you, traffic, and I was beginning to forget how absolutely retarded Maryland drivers are. Thank you for reminding me. I won't be staying, though, and I hope you don't come following me. I don't miss you THAT much.

The Games I Play

I stole something from someone and you have to guess what it is and whose.

Making A List Of Things I Aboslutely Cannot Accomplish And Why

1. I buy bottled water with sports caps because it's the only way I've found to be able to drink water at all. Pretty much every other time I try, I fail. I either drink it too fast and choke on it and look like an idiot who doesn't even have enough brain function and coordination to control the swallow muscles, or it spills out all over my face and whatever shirt I happen to be wearing at the time.

2. There is an international ban on my playing pool ever. It's actually been listed as a crime against humanity because my skills are so entirely lacking that people die whenever I attempt it. Throught the years people have tried to teach me but my incompetence is so monumental that I am plain unteachable. The only way to play pool with me is to bodily move me - arms, legs, fingers, pool cue, my entire body - into proper position. This is usually best accomplished by hoisting me onto your shoulder and carrying me around the pool table. Oh, and I won't cooperate with you, either.

3. I cannot find the Chick-Fil-A french fries I bought today and saved for dinner. I know I got them out of Jaela's car, but after that, it's a complete mystery. Maybe the apartment ghost got to them.

4. Tell the truth. The reasons are obvious.

Sweet Sweet Hawaiian Rolls

I went grocery shopping yesterday, figuring I'd need something besides Wheat Thins to tide me over 'til Thanksgiving Break when I go home and mooch off my parents.

I walked into Wal-Mart and saw a huge pile of dinner rolls on special, so I bought two packages. Two packages of 24 rolls each.

I've eaten 19 alone today. (My family will in no way be surprised by this.)

Hair Color

I clicked on a picture of Soledad O'Brien and immediately sighed, "I'd love to look like her," whereupon Jaela looked over and was like, "Um, you're way prettier. She's fake, like a mannequin." I agree that she's fake like a mannequin, but oh, the dark hair and dark eyes. Covet covet covet.

But I will never dye my hair darker, because a boy WILL LIKE ME EVEN THOUGH I'M BLONDE, DANGIT.

Smart boys? Smart boys do not want blondes. They're all like, "Blondes, yeah, they're so passé, I'd take a dark-haired girl any day - everyone likes blondes, how cliché." The cool thing about that sentence that you just read, though, is that I said it out loud and spontaneously to my roommate, growing increasingly frustrated that all my words seemed to be rhyming. (Go ahead, reread it.)

Maybe I'll catch a boy by speaking in lines of casual poetry (and a dark wig).

Save The Fish

I was looking at my fish this morning - if you've never done this, you need to try it, because there is something so incredibly soothing about watching fish bob around in their watery world, with their plants, and their rainbow gravel, and their lights that glint off those silvery scales - because it's what I do when I need a moment to think. I actually needed about three hours, or maybe even seven weeks, to think, but I gave myself a moment in between the necessary studying and eating and assembling clothes on my poor neglected body.

I noticed one of my fish flip onto his side (they're all male, since they haven't made little fishy babies in the four months I've had them, and I like the idea of boy fishes better) and start "gasping" for oxygen molecules. I panicked a little, as anyone with an emotional attachment to her fish would, and then he just...stayed there, gasping; and he looked, I guess, sick - except he's a fish, and how does a fish possibly look sick? He's missing patches of his scales, and he's a lot thinner and smaller than the rest, and his fins look ragged. Oh, and by the way, this fish? This is Nameless, the one Art (didn't) name. Art's fish is dying, maybe, probably, and I'm utterly helpless to do anything.

Just like how I can't do anything to save the closest friendship I've ever had, that has wasted away into a mere aquaintance. Just like how I cannot stand to be anywhere around it, because who could? Who could confront the loss of something so precious? It's inevitable that his fish would be my favorite fish, and if he dies....

Another One of Those Touchy-Feely Posts

There were people who came into my life a year ago, when I most needed it; people I have not been able to forget, who have meant more to me than I have ever told them. There was Andy Coffman, who would spend hours instant messaging me in the middle of the night so I could get my internet fix. Andy Coffman who invited me to his house for Thanksgiving so I would have somewhere to go. Andy Coffman, whose family is so brilliant, so warm, so endearing, that I remember all of their names to this day, and I am not a name-remembering person. And there was Dallan, who rescued me. Who took me away from my apartment and would just talk to me. About philosophy, about religion, about how dead sexy Jon Stewart is in a tie. About life. Who would let me tell him that I was having feelings, and who would listen to me patiently through all of my rantings, and who was always there to reassure me and to comfort me.

Andy Coffman spent the night hanging out in my living room, and Dallan sent me the most incredibly heart-warming e-mail. This is what it is to be loved. This is what it is to be devoted to someone, even in a small way - to give your time, your thoughts, your warmest (and sometimes saddest) feelings to someone, and to trust them with the memories. I hope they feel special and precious to me, because they are.

Oh, To Be Young

Two things happened today:

I was appointed the chairperson for mudwrestling to somehow advertize the school's literary magazine (?)

and

I saw my first counterfeit money



Don't even bother asking me for details about the first one, because I'm confused and dazed and thinking, What the heck, this is from the professor who thought the slogan "Submit Your Piece" was too sexual - but feel to come on by and watch me mudwrestle? I guess?

As for the second, I was so so excited. It was a $5 bill and pretty well-done and there was much excitement with the police coming and everyone wanting to see it. Oh, and we got it from the bank. So watch yourselves, people, because the bank is giving out counterfeit money.

Your Young Men Shall Dream Dreams

I had a dream last night that I was back in Utah, surrounded by everyone. I was chilling on Jennifer's floor, and all my old friends were there, talking and laughing with me about everything.

And then Jennifer looked at me and she said, You're different. Somehow. Lighter and happier.

I woke up and realized I am different. Somehow. Lighter and happier.

But I'd love to be in Utah surrounded by all my old friends. If only I could take all of my new friends with me, too.

A Call For Help

I don't open up so well. I need to learn to do that better. Any suggestions?

Off Topic Again

Things I Said Out Loud Instead of Researching for My Big Philosophy Paper:

"My hair is orange."

"You don't get to decide who I vote for."

"I really want some pizza. And a boy to make out with."

"I'm only going to take a half-hour break."

"Can we get some pizza?"

"No, seriously guys, I want pizza so bad."

"I'm never going to sleep ever again."

"Ooh, I'm going to go Febreze my car."

"I'M BORED."

"Why is it just not possible for me to have pizza right now?"



In my defense, It's 1:30 in the morning, and I've been reading straight philosophy since 6:30 p.m. (except for that half-hour break which maybe um turned into an hour-long break) and it will continue on like this all night long, for the third night in a row.

Oh, and did I mention that I lost three hours' worth of notes this morning when the power went out?

So I'm entitled to be off-topic once in a while. And Jaela made me pizza rolls, so I got my pizza in the end :-)

You May Tell 12 People Whatever You Want

No names, just say how you feel:


1 - I don't know very many people who could put up with half of what you do. You deserve so much better than that psychologically abusive freak you're somehow attached to. Let's run away somewhere, together.

2 - I'm not mad at you. I am disappointed, but I chalk it up to just desserts. Thank you for forgiving me.

3 - Your wife misses you. I want to throw the heaviest book in my bag at your face sometimes. You never did buy her those flowers like I told you to, did you?

4 - I'm afraid for you. I'm afraid that you care too much, and that the world is breaking you. The only sound that still has the power to make me shake like I'm going to die is the sound of your crying. I tried not to let him hurt you, but he did, and now I'm gone.

5 - I liked you, but then you went and made out with someone else - and to think, we would have made such an unstoppable couple.

6 - I cannot be wooed, won, or had, by any means. But thank you so much for acting like an arrogant child when I explained how it's gonna be. Tell me this: had I capitulated and gone along with your fierce desires, in what possible reality could we have built something together? None. Not one single logically potential world holds a spot for us. Also, I hope you learn to be nicer to people, because you may think it's cute, but it really just puts me on edge and forces me to do things like kick you out of my ontology of being.

7 - I wish I were as graceful as you can be. Really, you have a lot of the gazelle in you, with those impossibly long legs and slender frame. And I have somewhat of a peahen. We should band together and start a zoo.

8 - I incorrectly judged you before I even met you, and the only thing that could possibly make me feel better about that is that you did the same with me. Just so you know, I'm afraid of girls, and especially brunettes, but you have been such a godsend that I would not know what to do without you. I'm glad you're staying.

9 - There's so much I want to tell you, but I can't even begin. Maybe one day you'll love me for who I actually am, but that will take most of eternity, so I'm not holding my breath.

10 - You put up with me through everything, and even now, you're the only one I feel like talking to when my life implodes upon itself. You were always there when I wanted to come back to you, and that loyalty quite simply, warms my heart.

11 - Now I'm not so positive that things are irreparable between us, and that I should cut my losses and learn to think without your words wrapped around me. I'm not so positive, but I'm not ready to actually hope for a future. Actually, that was a bold-faced lie - you know me well enough to know that I cannot help hoping. I'm just tired of feeling like we're only close in your loss, because to wish for an us is to wish you sad again, and I cannot do that.

12 - No one else in the history of ever can or could make me laugh with the sheer rapture that you can. Call me?

Why I Turn To My Books For Comfort

"The best thing for being sad...is to learn something. That is the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honour trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then - to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting."

Ah, to have something that I cannot regret,
and that I cannot lose.
Except it would be my lot in life to watch
as even that is slowly torn from me.

Broken Flamingo Hopes

Sometimes - sometimes what you need is to confront God and say to Him squarely, This isn't how I go.

Because He has known that for a long time, but it's not until you believe it and demand better that anything has any hope of changing.

This is not how I go.