from keen.

a funny thing.

2012-01-24T10:19:00.005-07:00

i was the type of child that wouldn't talk to strangers (which i slightly blame on being mildly traumatized by the weekly escaped-convict-on-the-loose-and/or-kid-brought-a-gun-to-school-lock-downs at my elementary school)

yes, extremely obedient. cautious.

and careful (honestly, i have my suspicions that i suffered from some form of childhood anxiety. i know, right? i was cool. cool little keen. and since we're already at it--i also had glasses that sat crooked on my face by the time i was in third grade. so yes, here we have an anxious, worry-prone, terrified-of-guns, nine-year-old with crooked circular glasses and straight a's on her report card. mmmgh-hmmm. yesssss, please. pour me up a child like that for myself.)

strangers inquiring about my life always caused me wonder and hesitation. even at a young age. i wondered why they wanted to know the things they did. i felt like there was always some hidden agenda.

i found myself curious as to their motives.

distrusting, maybe? (i know, most little kids will tell anyone just about anything. i was a freak child apparently)

i mean, i didn't know them. therefore, i felt no obligation to tell them anything about myself or my life. no obligation whatsoever.

may have made for some awkward lingering moments when i wouldn't respond to a question or choose not to go into depth on a subject (but then again--i was about as awkward as you get as a child. so whatever).

strangers and me. just not a match made in heaven.

now twenty-three years old.

and after twenty-three years of living in this world, having friends and loved ones always around me....endless amount of people to go to with my concerns and cares....twenty-three years of faces i know that are willing talk to me with the most intimate of details...

it is the stranger that i find myself confiding in. telling them the things i struggle telling to the closest of relations in my life.

yeah.

walking into a strangers home. two people that don't know each other.

i observe the interiors. notice the toys scattered across the floor and hear the voices of small children and dora the explorer from a room down the hall.

the smell. the sofa. the pictures on the wall. i don't know any of it.

maybe that's it.

somehow being around a new face in a place i don't know, with no past judgements, and absolutely zero back-story just does it for me. my heart softens, becoming just a little less guarded. my pride is set aside. and the truth, yes--the truth--then finds its way home.

the truth about the aching. the truth about my feelings. the truth about what angers me and how i feel i've been let down.

the honest-to-the-heavens-above truth. what makes me happy. what wrongs that i've done. the acceptance of my weaknesses and strengths.

of life and everything that keeps me up at night.

it's in the home of the stranger.

that i find no hesitation or doubt in my voice. no worries of hidden agendas. where i can take a clean breath and speak as free as i choose--as if i've been confined in some 'big-brothered' world where i worry about who may hear what and what they will take of it.

where i can listen to their lives and understand what their pains and worries are.

we both just breath. okay with the fact that we don't actually know each other. different stories. different lessons learned. and at the same time---so much that we can understand together.

two strangers.

brought together by some form of fate. or an unexpected answer to an undeserving prayer. maybe it was really nothing, just a text message and a phone call later.

and then, i walk out the front door of a home that i didn't know existed a mere two hours earlier.

saying goodbye to a stranger.

a beautiful stranger.

and i ache for her. for her pain. for how many tears i know she cries during the dark hours of the night after her kids are fast asleep and her husband fails to come home.

and then i get in my car, unsuccessfully hold back the tears and drive away.

yeah.

funny thing, isn't it?

how something i was frightened of as a child is now an interaction that i crave?

cassandra barney.

2012-01-23T08:00:00.000-07:00

"the incumbent"

by cassandra barney

i'm obsessed.

isn't it whimsical and yet, so profound?

see, my mother is an artist.

it's simply what i grew up with.

it's what i know.

just like boys grow up to watch sunday afternoon football,

i grew up with a deep-rooted love for art.

the smell of a canvas spread with fresh mixed oil paints,

the sophistication of ink smudged across fingertips

...and the stain of watercolors left on the paint palette.

i realize it's no ball game.

but it's what i love.

xoxo.

from keen.

my week. instagram style.

2012-01-22T15:23:00.007-07:00

top instagram moments from the last week (or so)

1. bought new fantastic bedding

pretty, eh?

compliments of t.j. maxx, ikea, and home goods (all my faves)

2. i have a small love affair with this utah winter...

the beautiful skies and mountains tease me constantly.

3. weekend outfit:

cherry red grace and audrey cardigan w/ favorite jeans

4. bought this vintage stanley thermos for a friend

rad seafoam green, right?

5. brought out the leopards one night...

when i was feeling extra sassy.

love them with all my fashionista heart.

6. night out on the town with my hip b.f.f.

xoxo.

7. fell in love with an antique hutch...

i know. it's the definition of the world charming.

8. struggled with insomnia for a good portion of the week...

found myself resting my head on my desk.

drinking way too much dc.

9. did my nails in champagne sparkles.

and found matching vintage pumps...

so there was my week.

at least---according to instagram.

xoxo.

from keen.

to love.

2012-01-18T17:00:00.001-07:00

i wear my heart on my sleeve.

okay, no i don’t.

but i wish i did. really, i do.

sadly. my memory no longer allows me the luxury of remembering such frivolous times.

nonetheless, i’m completely infatuated with the idea.

and it’s raining outside.

from keen.

the fight she waged.

2012-01-17T15:10:00.006-07:00

“she stood there, a victor in the good fight which all her life

she had waged against the assaults of reason:

hump-barked, tiny, quivering with the strength of her convictions, a little prophetess, admonishing and inspired."

thomas mann, buddenbrooks

need a song for the day? here you go.

just like couples do.

2012-01-14T10:00:00.011-07:00

i have one wish.

a wish for a little something. that couples do.

and i realize, i’m not completely deserving. yes, of course i realize that.

i’m not perfect. i’ll never claim to be.

impossibly difficult doesn’t even begin to describe how stubborn i can be at times--you know, when you catch me on the wrong day or during a more ‘emotionally sensitive’ time of the month.

moderately ocd is a more-than-generous-way of labeling my dishwasher-color-material-sorting, endless-bleach-sinking, visually-controlled-mind.

and sure, i struggle--more than some--with handing over the reins when i think things should be done my way.

i have weird habits. yeah, i get that. like oreos for example. i pull the cookie apart. take the side without the frosting, break it into a few decent size pieces and then ‘scoop’ them into the frosting from the other half. whatever frosting i don’t use, i throw away and then eat the other chocolately half of the cookie.

num-num.

and yes, i have a defensive nature that is sometimes uncalled for. in my defense, i believe that it comes from being the oldest and having two very much-too-beautiful sisters. i couldn’t help wanting to kick the sorry-a of any guy that treated them in a way i didn’t approve of.

i still do.

so yeah, i’m not deserving. i realize.

i’m prideful. i have this fire within me that has been kindled over the years, where i refuse to be walked on or taken advantage of or put in a position where i will get hurt. and i’m not the quickest to forgive when i feel i’ve been wronged.

and though i think they rock, i guess i do want to name my children strange names like ‘valley’ (yup, sounds like it’s spelled) and ‘mila’ (m-eye-la).

i get it. i’m weird. but still, there is this thing that couples do.

yes, yes. i know i get grumpy in the cold and no, i will not be a happy camper if you insist on taking pictures of me when i’m having “one of those days”--that all females have--where nothing seems to be going well. hair is not working. butt seemed to get bigger over night. and the zit forming on the ol’ chin appears to be extraterrestrial.

yeah, don’t take a picture of me on those days. i’m not gonna like it (just a friendly note from the females of the world--probably avoid that if you can).

i know, i know.

i’m not always the optimistic delight you’d probably wish for. sugar and spice and everything nice--sadly not really me.

you’ll probably get sick of my obsessive list composing. wonder how i can drink so much diet coke. and want to scream at me for always having an opinion. cause yes, i always do. and most of the time i freely express it.

like i said, noooooot perfect. i get that, k?

and at the end of the day, i’ll be the first one to admit it.

i’m undeserving. but still.

there is just a little something that couples do. that i really, truly want.

my wish.

to come home, to a kitchen much like this (uh-huh. perfect, i know).

with you--darling--standing there. one of your playlists of mellow music playing in the background--the kind i like. you'll stand there. work clothes still on. top collar button loosened--making the chicken that i left you instructions for.

i’ll set down my bag and slip off my heals.

‘how was your day?’ i’ll ask. like most couples do.

you’ll turn around, as to be expected. and my hands will wrap around your waist. i’ll prop my head against your chest, giving you time to brush your lips across my forehead.

the tom petty track that was playing will switch.

and some sidney bechet “si tu vois ma mere” will begin playing.

a little bit of magic will fill the air (as it always does when this song comes on, no matter where you are in the world).

time will stand still. you will pull me in tight and say, “it was fine love. how was yours?”

just like couples do.

we’ll kiss.

you’ll turn back toward the chicken and i’ll start chopping the vegetables for the salad as we chat about this meeting and that co-worker. and haggle over our weekend plans.

si tu vois ma mere will linger in the air.

and we’ll go about our evening.

you'll turn on your espn. i'll scroll through my instagram and throw on my gym clothes.

just like couples do.

so deserving or not, that is my wish.

there it is.

and seriously. listen to that song here. it's my "it's-a-beautiful-life" song.

dream catchers and a pretty dress.

2012-01-13T09:00:00.005-07:00

i watch that dream catcher sway back and forth.

whimsical, isn't it? brave in a way--fighting off evil during the night and all.

heroic, maybe?

and despite the lack of opportunity it’s being given to ‘filter away the bad dreams’--considering my current struggles with insomnia (yeah, my brain is hating on sleep these days)--i know that it does its job well.

and yes, i like to embrace my navajo heritage (okay, navajo by marriage. but still.)

because as i watch it be. i’m starting to remember what was forgotten.

the good dreams.

remembering what it’s like to wish something wouldn’t end. feeling that power within your chest as you take it in.

mmhhhm.

that eagerness to know more. wishing you could close your eyes and see. see what good is coming. just a quick glimpse of how it all ends--just to keep you going through the day.

to be renewed, able to start fresh. to feel that sense of being. a sense of being a part of the world. of purpose. and of life running through the veins.

embracing the different paths that wait so patiently there in front of you (and oh-how grateful i am for their patience).

remembering, that all you really have to do is choose one. make the decision. and run. and keep running. and you are good at that.

look straight ahead. and tell yourself to focus.

let the adrenaline rush through your body as quickly as it will (adrenaline is my current crush. yeahhhh, it's just so sexy).

feel the winds coming at you from every direction. letting the sun pierce at your right cheek bone from the west. and breath in the chilled air from the eastern mountain shadows.

salute to the sun. and breath in it’s magic.

this, this is the good dream.

when you wake up on a friday morning.

realizing that your problems are absolutely nothing compared to that most beautiful individual you met this past weekend. most beautiful in every possible meaning of the word.

the one who struggles to walk and is living on the mercy of time--which could run out at just about any moment.

he never complains. and continues to do what is right. and rather than ‘waiting’ out his remaining days. he is embracing them; focusing on the good dreams.

i have so much to learn from this individual. and i’ll stand nearby, dumbfounded. watching him cling to what is right when something so very very wrong has taken over his life. wishing i could change the scene in front of me.

yes, the good dream.

when you sit at work, going through your g-mail and can’t help but click on the web clip at the top saying “robert pattinson shaves his head! omg!”

suddenly feeling moderately embarrassed for yourself--that your google account is now automatically feeding you entertainment news.

invasive? no. not really.

you’ve accepted the fact long ago that this world is no longer a place of privacy. you do what you do and you share it with the world.

and then that presents its own question.

a question of truth.

what do i do? and what am i sharing with the world?

your thoughts linger back to that man with limited days on this earth. who struggles to even lift his left leg. he’s too young. much too young to be leaving this world. he has so much to do. so much to share.

you cry.

and then think about that dream catcher. brave. heroic. legendary.

it’s peaceful. and beautiful. and protective.

so sure of it’s purpose. of what it is doing and what it is sharing with those who choose to care. yeah, i kinda envy it in that way.

maybe one day i’ll be able to say that for myself.

and though i know i will never live up to the strength of that beautiful individual that so bravely carries on day by day, i will never forget the simple truths he has taught me.

and like a dream catcher. like this new friend of mine--i will hold tight to all of those beautiful, hopeful, "please-don’t-wake-me-i-have-to-see-how-this-ends" dreams.

oh, and you're probably wondering about the pic? yeah, totally random. i just fell in love with it. and decided that one day--in the future--i want a dress jussssst like it.

got it from here.

the drill.

2012-01-05T10:00:00.001-07:00

she looked up from scanning through e-mails on her iphone.

which may as well have been an appendage to her small framed body.

those two blue eyes looked glassy, shadowed with dark circles--dark enough to suggest at least two or three sleepless nights. though i couldn't decided whether the wateriness was a product of emotion or irritation.

"yeah, it's ok. i'm fine. really."

she trailed off and began sipping up the last bit of her diet coke--an unconvincing reply to my previously asked question. her eyes scanned back down to the screen of her phone.

i shifted in my seat, preparing my next verse. praying for some inspiration. i desperately wanted to say the right thing.

my lips opened, not sure of what may come out, when she quietly and unexpectedly continued.

"i'm no stranger to the feeling."

her gaze was now shifting back and forth, from different points of the room back down to our table. never directly at me.

"eventually," she began with a deep inhale, "...eventually a girl just learns."

what do you mean? i asked.

a small, nervous-slightly-cynical sounding laugh came from across the table.

"i mean, you learn the drill.

cause it'll always hurt. being alone again will always suck. but you've been through it before and you know that you can get through it again.

you take a deep breath every morning. and forbid your mind from wandering too far into what-has-been-lost when you get in bed at night.

it's the drill.

find ways to keep yourself distracted. avoid any 'old-nostalgic-songs' or country music radio. because you know that shit about rain and heartbreak is just going to leave you swallowing your own endless tears, trapped and alone in 5:00 traffic. putting on a comically pathetic show for your fellow traffic-jammers.

the drill. where you start thinking about every possible way that you can improve your life--you know--things like getting a new hair cut, buying yourself some new over-priced blouses from nordstrom, hitting-up the tanning beds, visiting your local barnes and noble to buy all those books you've 'been-meaning-to-read-but-just-never-had-the-time'...and making all sorts of new goals to be the best you that you just never could be.

and after a massive and mildly dramatic self-improvement attack, you'll find yourself burning out. snapping at the core. breaking down. unsure of what to do next.

tears--not only from sadness--but also the unsettling nature of the unknown.

of starting fresh. of picking up where you left off. and honestly, you can't remember for-the-life-of-you where that was.

the drill of dreading all the things people will say. and of the things they may be thinking. and at the same time...not really caring.

being reminded that you're actually really good at being a hermit. and that mexican food can be a great comfort.

and though the winner does usually take it all. and you wish that could be you. because you're a competitive beast by nature...there are times when nobody wins.

when you both go home. without words. without explanation. without any real understanding. sharing the knowledge that you played all your cards...the only way you knew how. and somehow, you both lost.

you'll always love them. you wish you wouldn't. but you will. wishing you could have just had some crappy-a parting. the kind that you see in movies--where you turn and walk in one direction--and never look back.

but that wouldn't be the drill.

you'll pretend like you're over them. you'll pretend like you don't still cry at random times when that song comes on. you'll pretend like you're stone. that nothing can getcha' down.

yup. these are things a girl just learns...

and then you'll head home, turn off the bathroom lights and hop into a dark, steamy shower. and just stay there for a while.

maybe because no one can hear your crying amongst the sound of running water. or maybe because it just helps you calm down. maybe it's just a good place to think.

or maybe, because that's just the drill."

there was a long silence. her eyes met mine briefly. then fled back towards her new text message. she began composing a message back. to someone. someone who probably had no idea what she was feeling.

someone that didn't understand--not that it was their fault.

because she would never tell them.

here, i began as i stood from my chair, let me refill your diet coke.

she looked up and smiled, "thanks..."

"you know the drill".

my most recent obsession.

2011-12-30T13:09:00.003-07:00

picture from my instagram here.

acai bowls

they are so delicious. healthy. and refreshing.
and they're real simple.
(and for those of you that know me in the kitchen--i need simple)

just blend frozen strawberries and acai juice
add sliced banana
sprinkle with granola and drizzle with honey

num-num.
straight from the land of hawaii
thanks to my sis-sis neesh

also, i did a little guest post on a friend's blog today.
check it out here.

oh and you should follow me on twitter.
i'm really into it these days.

winter glam.

2011-12-27T08:00:00.000-07:00

so, i styled for a photoshoot earlier this month.

and i'm kind of in love with the way it turned out.

i know, right?
angela is too pretty for words.

see more of the shoot on the lovely chantel's blog.
and if you're in need of any wedding/lifestyle photography...
she's your gal.

diet ibc and a happy new year.

2011-12-26T08:00:00.007-07:00

the other day. i almost bought diet ibc rootbeer.

yeah, it's true.

diet ibc.

is that some sort of all-time-low?

i mean, as if wandering around walmart, picking up six-packs of an alcohol-look-alike-not-even-moderately-caffeinated soda isn't bad enough.

and then to tag the 'diet' label onto it.

eh-he-hem. man, i am weird.

i made it 3/4 of the way up to the cashier before realizing that i had no idea what the hell i was doing.

and then found myself standing--somewhat lost--in the produce section, laughing at the bizarre-pathetic nature of what i was experiencing. with that--i immediately set the six-pack down and left to pay for the mascara i initially went in for.

eight dollars.

eight dollars for a tube of brown-black goop that i sweep onto my eyelashes on a daily basis. eight dollars for a product that makes my eyes 'pop out'. eight dollars to 12-long-lasting-hours of distraction from the dark circles beneath my blood shot eyes (i currently have a eye-straining-cold)

eight dollars--that somewhere along the line of growing up as a female, enduring through puberty and staying afloat amidst the ninth grade politics--that i choose to spend on a monthly basis. to be the kind-of-beautiful i should be.

no--i'm not a feminist. i love my make-up and hair products. i enjoy dressing up and strutting some serious game in my most flirtatious heels.

i mean, who doesn't?

instagram, ladies. instagram.

but i do at times think about these kind of things while standing in line at the community walmart, dropping a solid eight dollars on a 4 1/2 inch long tube of chemicals. chemicals that the world has said will make me sexxxxxxy.

perhaps, perhaps i should have stuck with the ibc.

it's these moments. moments standing in the walmart line with the slightly-emo-eighteen-year-old-chica at the register...wearing a stained t-shirt with a neckline that's dropped about two inches lower that i would have preferred--that i start thinking about things like that charming couple that's been on my mind.

the one that things seem to have worked out well for. the one's living the coveted and 'blog-worthy' life ('blog-worthy' is new lingo for 'picture perfect' fyi).

a life that is--by-all-appearances--m.a.g.i.c.a.l.

sometimes this very thought haunts and teases at me. but only because it's something that i don't understand. i start thinking about my experiences. experiences where i was involved and experiences when i was a by-stander.

watching the happy couple over skype. listening to the woe's of the other in the kitchen.

wondering how some people get it right. and others just don't.

contemplating how i spent so long believing in one thing. and then realizing that it wasn't the reality i thought it was.

and yes. all the while i'm still standing in the walmart line. no, apparently miss-emo-low-shirt is not the quickest cashier in the book.

but i don't mind. i've really got nowhere to be.

why not here?

and honestly, i don't mind the time to just stand and wait. and think. it's been an non-stop couple of weeks. filled with all sorts of ups and downs.

i've heard of more people getting divorced than i even like to mention. and with each and every tale of 'so-&-so" getting divorced because of "x and x" reason, i can feel my heart drop into my gut just a little bit more. icky.

i don't care for it.

and then, on the other-happy-holiday-merry-christmas-grand-ol'-new-year side of things. we've got more engagements popping up on facebook and being announced via text and posted on instagram than i can even keep track of.

coincidence? no, not in my opinion.

it's just that time of the year.

even more than valentines day (most ridiculous holiday in the history/invention of holidays), more than the "june bride" season (running from may to mid-july) and more than the early 'summer-fun-has-come-to-an-end-time-to-get-serious-september' (when people start realizing that bikinis and tans are 'fun and all' but not really the recipe for a satisfying future)...

this holiday season is the time of the year when people want to hope in something.

and not just anything.

they want to believe. not only in the magic of christmas and the fresh start of a new year, but in themselves and in their choices.

it's something in the air.

something that makes people long for love. hope for progression. and take steps towards...whatever.

whether that means the tragic realization that it's time to separate ways with one you have loved. or the beautiful uniting of something new.

yeah.

i picture the intense glow of a rockstar-size-diamond upon that young girl's finger. and i find myself cynically wondering how 'real' this one may be. and how long it may/may not last.

that couple. the one that's known each other less than a year. the things they don't know. the things they will have to work through. the things that scare me...that i try not to think about...

but.

i guess this is where i just may not understand. my inbred logic from my father and learned argumentative ways from boyfriends past often keep me from seeing beyond what the eyes can see. seeing into the sincerity of a heart and of the meaning behind such a commitment.

and i realize. i haven't given credit where credit is due.

because there are things that they do know.

they know that they are in love. they know that the symbolism behind that stunning ring gives them something to hope for. and truly something to believe in.

and nope, there is nothing wrong with that.

so--for those of you ready to embrace this next year--in desperate need of a new start. hoping that you can let go of whatever it is--people or experiences--that may be keeping you back.

my prayer for you is that you will find yourselves again. and that you will clearly understand and support the choices you have made and will make in the future.

i know how it feels. and it sucks. bad.

letting go of someone or something that you've loved is probably one of the most intense forms of torture upon this earth.

you try so hard to remind yourself of the bad. and all you really want to remember is the good.

but please.

you know you need to let go. so please. let it go. let it go kristen.

cling to what is real. and forget about what is not.

and to those of you--also full of hope--committing, taking steps forward, making changes for this upcoming year.

my prayer for you is that you will embrace the changes that you have encouraged. and move forward with every ounce of passion in your beautiful little self.

keep it alive. keep reality in perspective. and go at it with everything you've got.

everything you've got kristen.

'is this all?' my-chesty-emo-friend asked me as she swiped the mascara barcode on the scanner between us.

yeah, i began to respond as i opened my wallet to pull out my debit card...

and then stopped and looked up.

the slight scowl on her face was enough to scare off any innocent passer-by. her size was slightly intimidating...being that she could easily beat the shiz out of me.

but truth-be-told, her pale skin was close to flawless. her black hair hung straight and gave off extra luster. and the depth behind her insanely green eyes was almost shocking.

truly beautiful.

i'm sure she had a story. i'm sure there was a reason she didn't feel like smiling at that moment. and that was okay. thank heavens darling, it's that time of year.

a fresh start. for you. for me. for everyone.

i smiled. and asked.

have you ever had diet ibc?

needing a little pick-me-up.

2011-12-11T21:14:00.003-07:00

hold your head high gorgeous.
people would kill to see you fall.

monday, bring it on.

oh, and listen to this song. and enjoy.

past due.

2011-12-06T12:13:00.008-07:00

yeah...

so i meant to post these hawaii trip pics back in november.
and it simply never happened.

enjoy.

and for those of you who are new to my blog...
this picture is somewhat significant in my life.
up until this trip,
stand-up paddle boarding had been a fantasy-bucket-list item of mine.
chhhhheck!

this was honestly one of the most amazing vacations of my life.
so happy i was able to see my rad-little-hippie-of-a-sister.
and spend time with my family and friends.

so much love goin' round this place.
xoxo.

p.s. again, i just barely added a 'join this site' button on the right side column.
if you want an easier way to follow the blog, just click on that.

awww december. my ol' friend.

2011-12-02T15:24:00.007-07:00

this month gives me goosebumps.

really.

it's in the air. it's down the streets. it's practically humming christmas tunes through the winds (which are ridiculously strong right now--anyone living in the western united states knows what i'm talking about)

you see, i'm not one for expectations. in fact, i despise them. unrealistic attitudes and foresight's all-too-often lead to someone being let down or hurt. or disappointed.

i avoid run-in's with mr. disappointment at all costs.

yeah yeah. don't judge me. i know there is about a million and one sayings out there going on about not being afraid to fail. to take a big leap...hoping to fly. and then you'll end up inventing a light bulb or becoming the next steve jobs or something.

and those are great. honestly, they are.

but i try to balance those out with my realist philosophies that life is the way it is. we know from experience that if we decide we're going to loose twenty pounds in one week and be a millionaire by next tuesday...we're probably going to fall short.

i know right, sucky realism.

because when it comes down to it, i could all-together stop eating from here on out. and i still wouldn't loose twenty pounds by next friday. and i could totally work my a** off and enter my name into every cash prize drawing in the western united states...and i think we all know i'm not going to be a millionaire by tuesday.

i'm sorry. this is probably like being told there is no santa clause for all of you "the secret" believers out there. and--hey--maybe i'm wrong.

it's just the ridiculous expectation thing that really gets me.

the exact reason why i choose to not celebrate valentines day.

don't get me wrong--i'm as hopelessly romantic as the next girl down the line--but the celebrating of sugar-candied-truffle-box-of-high-expectations-and-unresolved-relationship-insecurities-holiday is just not my thing.

it makes me feel ridiculously uncomfortable just thinking about it. bleeeeh.

being required to show someone, through some grand gesture--that outdoes all the other 'grand gestures'--on the oh-so-coveted february 14th, that you really, truly, deeply, madly love them.

eeeeeeky.

why not just do something special for that someone on a random tuesday or wednedsday or friday? or delight her with a clean house when she arrives home from a long day? or schedule a saturday out for him golfing with his buddies while you watch the kids?

that's the stuff that i consider 'not-eeeeeky'.

the cheeseball-i'm-only-gonna-do-this-once-a-year-so-eat-it-up-and-swallow-it-down-with-a-crystal-glass-of-high-expectations thing.

yeah. i opt out of that one.

yeah yeah, so i have issues with setting the bar too high. but it's true. it's easier in many situations (not all but many) to just lower your expectations and find yourself pleased later on.

that's why i hesitate in saying this...but something about december always leaves me expecting something magical (insert twinkling noises)

kinda like this picture.

and no--not necessarily love related.

it doesn't really have to pertain to any certain genre. the only category that it has to fit into is a moment of 'magical'.

whether it's being swept down a curb in a darling dress coat and kitten heels by the hunky-man-of-your-dreams. or watching it softly snow while you sit bundled up with some steamy raspberry hot cocoa in a perfect little mug.

or watching that beautiful new baby boy slowly grow into his own features. week by week. looking more and more like his parents everyday.

maybe it's a moment with old friends visiting. or a brief couple of seconds where that stranger opens the door for you and exclaims--with so much joy it almost rings like a holiday melody--'merry christmas!'

perhaps it's feeling some life run through your veins. maybe falling in love. or a moment of adrenaline as you think of all the possibilities to be found in the upcoming year.

the thought of a second chance.

the inclination to make something right. the desire to serve others around you. the passion that this time of year illuminates within each and every one of us.

mmmmgh, yeah.

magic, i tell ya.

magic.

so with every high expectation i've ever had. with every broken bar of what "i thought" something was going to be. and with every fear i have of wanting something to be more than it was destined to amount to.

to this december, i say...

may you be the most inspiring and magical december yet.

cheers.

p.s. i just added a 'join this site' button on the right column. i decided to make it slightly easier to follow my blog. ha ha. #behindiknow

just celebrating our heritage...that's all.

2011-11-24T15:44:00.006-07:00

happy thanksgiving.

i'm overwhelmed with how much i have to be grateful for.
seriously. i'm so undeserving...

and i'm so thankful for all of you.
thank you for reading.

eh-hem.
oh right, and the warwick family recently discovered that one of our great great aunts...
(or something like that)
was kidnapped by navajo indians way back in the day,
but ended up marrying the chief and were very happy together.
(cute story, right?)

and ever since then...we've felt a sense of belonging
father's side: hard-core puritan pilgrims.
mom's side: mormon pioneers with a married-in native american heritage.
yup, it's the blood in our veins.

so, we built a tepee.

happy turkey day loves.

maybe it's time.

2011-11-18T17:01:00.004-07:00

did you ever love someone so much that you can't explain?

when you're with them,

it's like thunder keeps rolling through your brain...

you can feel it in the depth of your soul.

but you still can't bring yourself to say it...

maybe it's time.

been obsessing over this all week.

sometimes i can't sleep.

2011-11-09T23:22:00.006-07:00

...so i lay here.

and i think.

i recently read somewhere,

that if your dreams don't scare you. they aren't big enough.

if that's true. then i think i'm good.

because my dreams scare the hell out of me.

hello. my name is kristen. and i'm a theatrophobic.

2011-11-05T16:48:00.005-06:00

it seems odd, i know.

but in my twenty-third year of life i seem to have developed a phobia.

and no. not a phobia like normal people. you know, of heights or giant spiders. or of the color red (yeah, real thing. ereuthophobia. and no, that really isn't 'normal' but still...)

nothing ordinary for me.

instead, i have developed a fear of movie theaters. i know, right?

you think i am joking.

but wait.

let me go back.

back to the first time my theatrophobia kicked in. it was late july/early august of this year. i was sitting in the cinemark orem movie theater. seeing rise of the planet of the apes (which i don't highly recommend. see it, don't see. i don't think it will really affect your life either way--other than a complete loss of two valuable hours. but whatev.)

everything started normal.

theater was packed--sold out. probably opening weekend or something.

previews came and went. and the apes appeared (highly educational evening--because i also learned that apes make me super uncomfortable) and i started thinking, "sooooo....i am really going to spend the next two hours watching this odd looking man-monkey grow up and become the leader of an ape revolution?"

james franco, you sexy idiot.

and then the moment hit me.

i gasped for breath.

and not at franco's good looks or the fact that the ape could-in-fact speak. (super believable--by the way). but at absolutely nothing at all. yes, i was struggling for air...for no reason that i could think of.

after a moment of collecting myself. refusing to panic. i took a few deep breaths and relaxed back into my seat.

odd, i thought to myself.

i've never been claustrophobic. i don't smoke. and i've never once used an inhaler.

oh well--i figured. a little glitch in the system.

a few minutes passed. and suddenly another urge to gasp for air.

what on earth? i could not figure out what was going on.

the rest of the movie went on this way--only it became fairly constant. rather than having a few minutes of normal breathing, i was just flat out struggling. for the first time in my life, getting air in and out of my lungs was a mental chore. and a focus of survival (okay, slightly dramatic. but it was an intense moment of my life)

we left the theater and went on with evening (yes, this was a date. thank heavens i didn't collapse in the movie theater, right?)

some yogurt and a game or two later and i realized that i had completely forgotten about my struggle for oxygen during planet of the apes. then again, maybe it was caesar the ape i was truly trying to forget about.

i shrugged it off. convincing myself it was a once-ever type thing.

a week or two passed. and an opportunity for another movie came around. and i went--not even remembering the experience i had last time around.

and sure enough. it was in fact--not the apes or james franco's charm that left my body unable to inhale and exhale.

this happened again.

and again.

fine. simply fine. previews come and previews go. movies begin. and my theatrophobia kicks right on in.

it has reached a point now where i pretty much avoid theaters all together. and if i can't, i take a bottle of water, an inhaler, a brown paper bag, and a bag of swedish fish.

okay, not really.

but i do take swedish fish. cause they are my fave-fave.

and then...cross my fingers and hope for the best. my theatrophobia will dictate the rest. and unfortunately, it doesn't look like we will be curing this problem anytime soon. according to my research, theatrophobia is often caused by traumatic experiences in your early childhood.

hm.

i'm wondering if my near-death collision with the gingerbread-man during my opening performance as a taffy in the california nutcracker had anything to do with this....packed theater, ruffles itching at my neck, plastic ginger bread swarming around, blinding lights...a boom...and then darkness.

dark times, indeed.

and according to google, treatments for a phobia like mine would include counseling, hypnotherapy, psychotherapy and neuro-linguistic programming.

and being that i don't really believe in counseling, refuse to take part of any sort of hypnosis, would rather not have some stranger pry into my psyche and have no idea what the h. neuro-linguistic programming is...

i think it's here to stay.

yes. my name is kristen. i am twenty-three years old. and i am a theatrophobic.

and folks, caesar is home.

and lastly, i wanted to share this incredibly flattering and so-well-written blog post from a face with a name.

you say you want a revolution.

2011-11-03T22:26:00.007-06:00

lately i have been contemplating a heavy amount on what defines greatness.

you see, i am passionate person.

the kind of person that finds happiness in a hard days work. especially when that work is channeled towards something i can really believe in. something i can grab up and run with. full force.

i have been surrounded my whole life by driven individuals that have consistently worked their a’s off--in every aspect of life. wanting to make a change. hoping to leave some sort of mark. something to leave behind. something for this world to remember.

it was born a part of me. and whatever wasn’t--was then tattooed to my wrist to never escape my main focus (metaphorically. of course. but if i did have a tattoo--it would be on my wrist. yes, i have it planned out for that day when i am forced to stain my skin with permanent ink)

why? for starters, i have a father that has never rested a day in his life. almost to a point of obsession.

to an excess amount where you just want to yell at him and tell him to sit down. just sit for two full seconds.

one-mississippi. two-miss-iss-ippi.

nope, he won't last.

and in addition to that madness, i have a mother that never stops thinking of others. their needs. and how she can further serve them.

a true ray of sunshine upon this earth.

yes, she is.

work came before play. (which--let me tell you--seriously blew when it came to disney’s ‘one saturday morning’. i mean, we had from seven until ten to enjoy our one weekly block of pretend ‘cable’--my parents weren’t huge tv people back then...we had a grand total of about ten and a half channels--and unless we got up at six a.m. to complete the chores by seven or eight, we didn’t stand a fighting chance of catching those chip and dale rescue rangers.)

but that has been my life.

and truly, i got over the cartoon thing.

taught by the best of the best. i know what it is to work hard.

and as much as i believe in it, i am not naive to the fact that a strong work ethic doesn't always cut it. sure, it does a hell of a lot. and of course--it is the first key ingredient to getting somewhere in this heavily panting, exasperated world.

ravenous for talent.

drooling over the desire of the coveted american dream.

and obviously, those who work their butts off are already off to a much better start than those who can't seem to put two and two together.

work is key.

absolutely vital but not everything. i wish it was, but the fact of the matter is--i've seen hard work crash and burn. and i've seen it fail and fail hard.

so, what it is it?

what is the secret kick-punch-duo that leads to success? what is the truth that only a great few ever truly understand?

how can greatness be achieved?

much of my reading over the last couple of weeks has consisted of articles related to steve jobs. to his life. tributes to his death. overviews of him as a business man. praises to him as a father.

and to the irreplaceable, inescapable mark that he has left upon his departure from the world.

one article--in particular--quickly caught and kept my attention.

this new york times author focused on what exactly made jobs different from the other successes of his time.

speaking of how he wasn't 'conventionally smart' but was in-fact a genius. (see full article here)

describing that "his imaginative leaps were instinctive, unexpected, and at times magical. they were sparked by intuition, not analytic rigor."

i like that. yeah?

imaginative. intuitive. and magical.

three words that catch my attention with their very existence.

are these the brilliant, wise-beyond-their-years, kick-a factors that separated jobs from other brilliance of this time?

i must know.

i mean, is there really anyone out there that is not intrigued by the life and story of our friend mr. jobs? is there anyone out there that can sit back at the mention of his name and callously disregard the topic with a 'meh'?

if such an individual exists--i really have nothing to say to you.

for the rest of us, let’s really think about this.

the author of this article describes this unique style as an, “ability to apply creativity and aesthetic sensibilities to a challenge.”

when reading this, i immediately thought of another inspiration of mine. another change that the world didn’t see coming and couldn’t get enough of.

the beatles.

a 1960’s band with a hell of a lot of heart. consisting of four extremely talented musicians. who--whether they initially intended to or not--ended up changing the world.

how?

by breaking down barriers and restrictions of recording labels and artist protocol. finding freedom in music. in rock n’ roll. that had never before been experienced. changing the face of pop culture. and therefore, changing the face of society as a whole.

revolutionary. yes, revolutionary would be an adequate word.

their recordings, described by a reporter for ‘the telegraph’ as “the holy grail, the very font of pop culture, when four individuals experienced a kind of collective accelerated musical growth that untapped all the latent potential of pop music...a voyage of wild discovery into melody, harmony, lyricism, rythm, and production...”

agreed. 100%.

i grew up listening to the beatles. they’re my go-to every time i have a bad day. my song that i can always sing along to. my comfort when i just need something familiar, something that feels like home (that--and entire full house gang of course.)

they’re the foundation of music as many of our generation know it.

so where is the similarity here? where are the common themes? where exactly was that button of ‘greatness’ pushed?

let me push it. pleassssse.

here's how i see it. see, i know music. i know musicians. not one personally but i’ve known and dated many of them--probably too many. trust me.

i know grunge. i know classic rock. country. pop. indie. whatever, you name it. and i know that the beatles are not necessarily looked at as some perfectly talented, flawless group that could not be surpassed.

and i agree. there are obviously people out there who--by all technical reasoning--would have been deemed better musicians.

john and paul weren’t necessarily the best songwriters of all time. no, there is really no way to measure that (though i would argue that they just may have been).

and georgey-boy's technical proficiency was probably not perfect.

but that’s just it. because it’s not about being that one perfectly trained mind. it’s not just about being the guy that can sit down at the guitar and play anything under the crazy blue sky. that's fun and all. but isn't going to make the cut between good and great.

so what is missing? what is it that jobs and the beatles both had?

my answer: magic.

the magic created by all that heart and all that imagination.

every ounce of soul that went into each individual note they played. and each brilliant stroke of creativity that went into forming the number one brand in the world.

both connecting with their audiences in revolutionary ways. both--not letting themselves fear failure.

that's where the magic is found.

technically. sure. my boy george could have been beat out by some other guitarist. mathematically, sure bill gates could probably crunch out some high profile numbers at a more rapid rate than jobs ever could.

but emotionally. not a chance.

that deadly mix of talent and heart. a little bit of luck. an undeniable magic. and here we are today. both--still very much alive in all of our hearts.

still influencing the world and its progression.

jobs believed in the power of intuition. the need for imagination, and the ability think creatively.

and he went with it.

trusting in his senses. having confidence in his ideas--even if they had yet to make complete sense. eventually, creating a world that we would have never understood ten years ago.

so, i now ask you again. what defines greatness?

a little bit of magic. some good ol’ fashion intuition. and a great deal of creativity.

yeah?

thank you mr. jobs. and thank you beatles for this song.

oh, and if you’d like a little preview into another up-and-coming brilliance of our time. click here to check out garrett gee.

trust me. it’s impressive.

go cardinals.

2011-10-27T21:57:00.012-06:00

well, i guess it's time.

time to force out some emotion and beat this b. of a writers' block.

really friends, it's been the worst ever. it's lingered like a bad stench. taunted and teased like that pudgy-almost-albino-kid in my fourth grade class. stuck around like a nasty little sickness.

ew. woof.

kind of like that time i got the bird flu. yes, nasty.

like crawling across the bathroom floor, puking into the toilet every fifteen minutes. spending three days living on my disgusting, shady-brown-polyester-blend-sofa in my provo apartment.

can you say i-f-f-y? (i mean honestly, who even knows what has gone down on p-town apartment seating).

watching he's just not that into you over twelve times just because you don't have cable and can't muster up the strength to make it to the redbox.

finding yourself thinking about how much you really do hate scarlett johansson.

come on boys. really?

she's just a little too slutty for my good taste.

yes, this writers' block truly tried to get the best of me. but don't worry, because i'm beating it down with a metaphorical baseball bat as we speak (and i'm currently watching the cardinals vs. rangers game...so that was the first metaphorical object that came to mind.)

honestly, this is the first time ever in the history of my life that i have been interested in the world series.

i grew up a padres fan. san diego represent.

but never really cared.

just like their hat really. padres and mariners. both have that worn navy blue look going on. the sexiest hats of all the hats.

and yet, here i am. loving this baseball game. eating it up. with lines from 'it takes two' running through my head.

m.k. and a. at their finest.

i know, i know. it's gotta' be that can't eat, can't-sleep, reach-for-the-stars, over-the-fence, world series kinda stuff....right?

always liked that saying.

kinda charming in its own right. and not only because it was said by my two favorite-full-house-peeps. other than uncle-j-sexy. of course.

but also because it implies that love should be something whimsical. something that’s once in a life-time. something that will make you stand up and scream like a winning shot. or the much needed home run.

and though i really only agree with it sixty-percent of the time...

not because i am above believing that things like love and romance can be that 'world series' kind-of-mind-blowing, but simply because every-now-and-then i find myself doubting that a harsh world like ours can harvest such whimsicality.

but i do believe. and just like most of humanity, it is what i want.

that can’t-eat, can’t-sleep kinda love.

that sweaty-mess-want-to-impress-kind-of romance. so many of us, on our knees, asking god for a little bit of that magic. a little bit of that knowing you never want to be separated from that person. forever and onward.

nice, eh?

kind of makes me wish i could write songs or something. too bad my extent of song writing goes back to my fourth grade band 'sae girl'.

you heard me.

'sae girl'. like say girl. but 'sae girl' (we just wanted to be different. don't judge.)

we sang acoustically. with optional banging on trash cans, plucking at the violin, and a possible tambourine.

the critics called us 'a colorful blend of the dixie chic's southern hospitality and the raw sexual appeal of the spice girls topped off with the kick-a rhyming abilities of shania twain'.

i know, right.

we're legend around boise, id.

shame that had to die. really.

that. and my life-long dream of dating jonathan taylor thomas. both sad dreams to let go of.

dreams that were eventually replaced by new dreams.

and then once those died, replaced by even newer dreams. and i must say, after twenty three years of dreaming up my future and deciding the woman that i am going to be...

i can honestly look at my life right now. and smile.

really, truly smile.

and as long as i look past the fact that i have a basket of laundry waiting to do and a coffee table covered in books that i have no room for...and a faux hard wood floor that seriously needs a good scrub down.

i'm gonna keep smiling.

because i'm so undeserving of how ridiculously blessed i am.

and that--right there--is a reason to stand-up and cheer.

oh yeah, and the fact that the cardinals just won the world series :).

i'm going away for a week.

2011-10-14T21:03:00.000-06:00

....time to find ourselves again.

the birthday wishlist.

2011-10-08T10:31:00.012-06:00

okay, so. my birthday is next week.

yes sir.

another year older and wiser--at least we hope.

and everyone has been kindly and thoughtfully inquiring as to what i would like...

sweethearts. yes, sweethearts you are.

but sadly, i haven't really had any answer for them.

so. i have created this small-little-list of birthday wishes to share.

eh-hem.

for starters, the fireplace (pictured above) and insane artwork

would make me one happy, happy girl.

no gift receipt needed. guaranteed i won't be returning that dreamboat.

and then there is this living space.

this artwork. the long window sweet. retro furnishings

and sassy rug.

i'd unwrap this in a heartbeat.

next up on the birthday wishlist.

the kitchen of my dreams.

and honestly, i don't have enough charming words in my vocabulary to do this space justice.

if this doesn't come around for my birthday

....i may just have to ask santa.

still need more ideas?

okay, how about the bedroom that pwns all other bedrooms?

come to keen. please.

this combo of texture, patterns, color and reclaimed

wood kinda makes me want to run around in circles giggling.

no, not kidding.

and if you're not liking any of those ideas.

how about this darling chalkboard-wall bedroom for my future son...

perfect, eh?

i think so too.

and for those of you not up for the extremely detailed and expensive

home decor gift options....

i'll take a pair of these fabulous blur zipper ankle boots.

definitely wouldn't throw these beauties out on a cold night.

and of course, we could just go for this whole outfit.

that i am very much in love with.

i know, right?

okay, and for those of you who are not in the market to buy me

expensive furnishings or five hundred dollar shoes....

show up to my door with a kneaders chocolate chip cookie.

yup, it does the trick.

everytime.

so very, very right.

2011-09-29T18:29:00.012-06:00

okay, so.

it is now late september.

and i am writing to you from the lawn chair in my backyard. shorts, tank top, tanning lotion and all.

it’s eighty-eight degrees out.

and yes, it is fall.

does anyone else see anything wrong with this picture? i mean, yes--i am out here. shamelessly soaking up some rays. attempting to salvage any remaining glimmer of my rapidly depleting tan.

but still.

setting that aside, i am willing to admit that it is not right.

my sweaters are feeling neglected. and bored. just hanging there on my portable clothing rack.

and my tall leather boots are seriously suffering in their dark corner of my stairwell closet. it is almost as if my breezy summer wardrobe is mocking them. taunting with the fact that they are the pieces that are still being pulled out and worn...even though technically it is no longer their turn.

but it is not my fault. and it is wrong.

oh-so-very-wrong.

you know what else is wrong?

coming home to find your family dog has passed on.

wait.

correction. you know what else is wrong? coming home to a longtime family dog that is now dead and watching your little brother tear up as the news is broken to him...

hold on. one more time.

you know what is wrong? coming home to a dead family dog, and listening to your bad-a-tough-football-playing-never-shed-a-tear-little-brother and your father--who you have seen tear up maybe a total of four times in your entire twenty four years--both earnestly cry over your lost family pet of thirteen years.

and within moments. you find yourself in tears.

not sure if you are breaking down in mourning for the death of your dog or if it is a side affect the overwhelming sadness of seeing both your brother and dad cry.

wrong. so wrong.

and you know what else? that's wrong....?

how bad things happen to really, really good people.

see, i know a lady. we work together. and we are friends. and she doesn’t know this...but she is one of my hero's in this whirlwind of a life.

this woman is truly one of the most genuinely kind, loving, and optimistic people i have ever met. seriously, ever.

this woman will smile through any heartache. through any trial. through any ass-kicking circumstance that life throws at her.

and unfortunately, this week was not good to her. enough that hearing about it made me want to cry. and yet, she remained as if nothing...absolutely nothing could make her think less of this life. and of all the blessings she has been given.

i can’t even express how humbling this has been to me. me--with problems that basically revolve around me. me--the girl who is not married, has no children, no house payment and no other mouths to feed.

me--the twenty-three year-old that lets herself get distressed over the ‘potential’ of her future not going the way she wants it to. and gets all twisted up about ‘possibly’ having her heart broken again.

i deserve the problems my little friend is facing more than she does.

and that is the truth. that right there is not wrong.

yup, that is why she is my hero. and that is why seeing bad things happen to insanely good people feels so wrong.

eh-hem.

also, wrong. seven dollars for a loaf of gluten free bread.

ha. hell, no.

let me explain.

see, i get this call from my doctor (after having a series of allergy tests done again. and after waiting two weeks for the results because dr. so-and-so decided to take a crazy long trip to the caribbean) and he tells me that in fact, i do not have celiac disease (a complete allergy to gluten) but due to low antibodies-yada-yada-yada-something-i-didn’t-really-understand, have a gluten intolerance and would probably do better if i stayed away from it.

so, being the good girl that i am. i decided to give it a test run. two weeks without gluten. perhaps it would improve my stomach condition.

and then bam.

there i am. standing in the ‘gluten free’ aisle and my favorite grocer--smith's marketplace (oh yeah, and for those of you who aren’t familiar with the ‘gluten-free-scene’. everything. and i mean pretty much EVERYTHING but unprocessed fruits and vegetables--and some dairy--have gluten in them. and being that my body can’t break down lactose, that pretty much leaves me eating rabbit food and whatever the ‘gluten free aisle’ has to offer. which is basically nothing at outrageous prices).

$6.99 for a loaf of gluten-free bread.

i mean, come on doc. i am a pick-up-whatever-muti-grain-wheat-bread-is-on-sale-that-week-kinda-girl. for seven extra dollars of bread every week, i can suffer through a stomach ache or two.

plus, i really don’t want to be ‘that’ girl. the one that is so annoying to take out to any restaurant because i have to drown the waiter with questions of what ingredients are in what dishes and after twenty minutes of deliberating, end up ordering a plate of raw vegetables and a side of fat-free, gluten-free, everything-good-in-this-world-free vinaigrette.

no. no. no.

i just can’t be that girl.

besides. with my new goal to be like my optimistic co-worker, i figure it would be unhealthy to give up my weekly trips to kneaders for a hearty chocolate chip cookie.

instant happiness in $1.25.

i’m telling ya.

overall, i guess we could find a lot of things ‘wrong’ with this fun-little-spastic-world.

like fifty-seven-year-old creeps with overly tanned skin and pearl-like, razor-sharp, slightly-frightening veneers. and stares that honestly make you wonder if you’ve been raped or can still get away if you run fast enough.

w-r-o-n-g.

like the surprising numbers of douche-bags you can catch staring at themselves in the mirrors on the gold's gym walls.

kind of entertaining. but wrong.

like this photo. and the story to go along with it.

it gets me every time. seriously, just started crying while looking at it.

wrong.

wrong, like how this story popped up on my front page of cnn today. front page news people. this world, really?

so, yeah. there a lot of things that are not right. and sure, i could continue to point them out. ha.

but. more importantly.

there are so many, many things that are right.

and if we ca not understand the bad. we can never appreciate the good. a lesson i learn repeatedly.

and there are times, like this week. when i am feeling a tad-bit overly emotional. and find myself questioning over and over again...why so many things seem bad or wrong...(and no, beautiful weather during the fall doesn’t really count--and expensive gluten-free food really doesn't matter--that is just me being my sarcastic self.)

and then i remember the words that president gordon b. hinckley once said...

“It isn’t as bad as you sometimes think it is. It all works out. Don’t worry. I say that to myself every morning. It will all work out. If you do your best, it will all work out. Put your trust in God, and move forward with faith and confidence in the future. The Lord will not forsake us. He will not forsake us.…If we will put our trust in Him, if we will pray to Him, if we will live worthy of His blessings, He will hear our prayers.”

yeah. that pretty much sums it up.

i'm going to stick with that.

because it's true. it isn't always as bad as it may seem. and if our heavenly father is on our side. then at the end of the day--when all is said and done. it'll work out.

and it's all going to be so very, very right.

right?

p.s. i'm obsessed with this song right now. thanks george ol' boy.

like having a giant chalkboard wall.

2011-09-25T20:02:00.005-06:00

"...allow the world to live as it chooses, and allow yourself to live as you choose."
-richard bach

p.s. this will be me one day. take my word for it.

shell-bell.

2011-09-20T00:51:00.005-06:00

i’ve never been much of a dancer.

the words ‘look at that little white girl try to shake-her-thaaaang’ are ones i will never forget. eh-hem. but. but. stop for a second, because in my defense miss-mad-hip-polynesian-dancer-woman--i dare you to try to find another white girl on that dance floor that could pick-up the mad game i was throwing down that night (sidenote: this was years ago. when i actually used to go to dances and parties and such).

i mean, come on. puuuuhlease.

however, even with my desire to be the graceful dancer...the one who is muscularly-toned-in-every-possible-direction and can can move like a mixed breed of beyonce’s hips and the sex appeal of patrick swayze and jennifer grey. the truth is--i’m just not.

i am just a little white girl attempting to shake her ‘thang’.

however, when i was little--i would have never known i was bad. nope. never.

for all i knew, i was the most gifted six-year-old dancer the world had ever know. in my mind, i was going places in the world of point shoes and tutus.

why?

no, i was not delusional. i don’t think.

no, i was not in denial. that i know of.

the reason for my overload of confidence and zest for rhythm that i simply didn’t have, was my world-class mother.

and when i say ‘world class’ i am not just saying that. because my mom is actually in the top ranking of all mothers on this planet. past and present.

let me paint a picture for you. of the type of woman she is.

back to the topic of my dancing career.

when i was in kindergarten, i wanted to be a ballerina. my neighbor catherine was one. and she was just about the most beautiful girl in the world. at least in my eyes.

i’d watch her spin. twirl. wrap her hair back in perfectly slick buns. she had long legs and a swan-like grace about her.

yes, that was my dream.

and one day i decided i didn’t just only want to be a ballerina. i wanted to be in the california ballet company’s production of the nutcracker for that upcoming season.

ballsy, right?

i mean, we’re looking at a girl with very little--if any--dance/ballet experience. suddenly wanting to join a very prestigious group of performers.

now, a lot of parents might kindly and affectionately encourage their child not to reach for such extreme and seemingly impossible goals. they might get them in lessons and find them a more moderate performing group to begin with.

others may laugh in good humor. tease. banter.

all good things. i enjoy some good old’ fashion sarcasm.

who doesn’t?

but my mom. she’s different. she took that dream of mine. and made it happen.

i soon found myself in the backroom before auditions. i started thinking about what was happening. actually letting it absorb. letting everything around me sink in--the sounds, smells, people, everything.

it was then that it hit me.

the fear. the panic. the realization that i know next to nothing about ballet or the nutracker or anything of that category. my extent of dancing experience was a couple months of tap dancing and a few-weeks-max of learning how to point my toes behind the girl with the dried up skin peeling off her back.

seriously--i’ll never forget that little gal’s back. must of had some sort of skin disorder or something but her skin was always peeling off. like it had been sun-burnt or something. i spent the majority of class thinking about how i wish i could pull it off for her. and whatever time remained trying to figure out what a 'plie' was.

whoa. anyhow. back to the story.

at this point, i pretty much tore off my dance slippers and began sprinting for the door.

okay, not really.

but i was about to--when my mom asked me very sweetly if i was ready? i shook my head nervously. and she could see the self-doubt in my eyes.

keen, she said her most calming, loving of voices. you just go out there, with your biggest smile and show them who you are.

she smiled.

she made it seem so much less dramatic. so much more simple. she's always been good at that.

feeling a renewed sense of confidence, i turned the corner with attitude and disappeared around the curtain. you better believe i did my thaaaaang. with probably the largest-known-smile-on-record spread across my face.

call it luck. call it charm. call it stupid. but three months later i found myself jumping out from under mother ginger’s massive skirt (who was actually a man coated in ridiculous amounts of make-up with hairy legs) and dancing around with eight other little taffy-girls and plastic gingerbread men in front of thousands and thousands of people.

yeah. sure thing, i was in the nutcracker. and yes, i was the smallest. i was the least experienced. i was probably the worst one out there.

but you better believe that i made my dream come true.

and the truth of the matter is, i would have bailed on that dream if it hadn’t been for that loving, encouraging, confidence-instilling mother of mine.

oh-how-i-could-go-on about all the things my mother has done. i could tell story after story of my mother supporting and encouraging her children. making us believe that we truly were the best at anything we did. making sure that we had every possible experience that we could have.

and honestly, i don’t know if i’ll ever be able to truly-completely thank her for that.

but today, i want to try.

because it is her birthday (yes, happy birthday shell-bell).

and a big thank you is in order.

a thank you, because you have raised three girls that are all-so-completely-different and all so strong in many similar ways. and a son who is one of the most respectable little dudes that i know.

a thank you. because i rarely walk into any unknown, frightening situation with self-doubt. i walk in with confidence. with a head and standards that are kept high.

a thank you. because your kids have good, smart, kick-ass heads on their shoulders.

a thank you. because we know how to make fun of ourselves. we know how to laugh. and we know how to love.

a thank you, mom.

because never would we have received such love if it weren’t for you.

in any situation. if i ever let insecurities start eating away at me. if i ever let doubt start creeping in. i remember your loving words.

just go in there...with the biggest smile on your face, and show them who you are.

happy birthday shell-bell.

we love you.

p.s. i'm in need of some new reads. any suggestions?

a lost pearl in a lonely sea.

2011-09-15T09:42:00.016-06:00

it's september.

again.

my lighthearted summer wardrobe of shorts and breezy tanks has officially been replaced by large, comfy sweaters with long sleeves that wrap down over my always-and-never-not-icy-cold-hands.

already sporting the brown leather boots and missoni for target leggings (seriousy--wanna know more about the altered-and-italian-designer-line for one of the worlds largest retailers that crashed their website and caused havoc in target stores around the world? read here). oh and already indulging in one-too-many chocolate chip pumpkin cookies. mmmgh. so-num-num.

the air is becoming crisper with every day that passes. which are seriously flying by. i can't believe it's been another year.

i've got some crosby, stills & nash, james taylor, and bill withers playing in the background.

and yesterday i saw a line of trees with red, orange and vibrantly yellow leaves.

fall, welcome.

oh, and i guess i should say hello as well. being that i recently returned from a small trip to the world of panem. district thirteen. and the capitol. (eh-hem. yes, i literally just spent the last three days reading the hunger games trilogy. it was like heroin or something. once i started i was absolutely obsessed.)

really though.

i honestly feel like i just returned back to earth. and even then, i often find my thoughts wandering to president snow, peeta, gale, and the district rebellion.

but then i remind myself. that is not real life dear kristen. get back to reality.

you see, i am kind of a nerd.

while growing up, reading was my favorite thing to do. i excelled at it. and whipped through just about any series that i could check-out quickly enough from the school library.

my elementary school worries would get lost in the mysteries and adventures of nancy drew. the ease and simplicity of little house on the prairie. the blunt, growing-up-as-a-girl details of the alice books. the beauty of the secret garden.

my high school days kicked off not with the homecoming football game (with the exception of making fun of the cheerleaders and pretending to be school spirited with my student council sweater on) but with the dark and sacred truth behind the scarlet letter. the tall grass and meaningless details of my antonia'. the life changing principles behind the chosen. and the enjoyable and frightening reality behind the days of olive kitteridge.

and now. i escape my obsessively-independent-and-difficult-mindset in the political struggles of a post-apocalyptic world, beginning with a story of a girl sent into an arena with the one and only purpose to kill. filled with emotional struggles and the fight to keep others alive. understanding ones own darkness and own good. ending with a bleak, life-shattering victory. left--with a defeated evil--with conquered love--and also a wounded soul that may never fully heal.

uh-huh.

tell me about it.

i'm an obsessive creature, i am.

once you get me liking something. there is no turning back. i will take it and run. and run. and run some more. it is good. and bad.

there is a point when this characteristic begins to frighten me.

case and point: running.

for me--running became the greatest mental game of my life. and once i realized how much of a mind game it was, i became obsessed. full-on-nicotine-addict-obsessed.

not a cute obsessed.

we're talking like out running in the early winter mornings while sick with strep throat kind of obsessed.

stupid obsessed.

yes, that's me. the-stupid-obsessed-girl. let it be known.

then again, maybe it is also passion.

yeah?

the fact that i cling to certain things and not others.

why is that even?

like how out of my entire childhood of dandelion-field-kinda-memories, i cling to the memories of running around the salty ocean side with chicken pox. coming home from school and watching full house. playing 'no bears are out tonight' with grandpa hiding in the closet ready to jump out and scare us. and riding in the back of a mini van, cuddled up with my siblings in our pajamas, slowly drifting off to the serenity of christmas lights intertwined with icicles...and frosty windows reflecting off dim light from the street lamps, and an acoustic version of silent night softly playing over the car stereo.

why do we do that? latch on to certain memories? hold them much-too-close to our hearts and then block out others?

like how i seem to have effectively erased from my memory the first year i moved to utah. a year when i felt very alone and lost in this little world.

a year when i cried myself to sleep. and prayed for friends to find me.

and how that one line. the one line out of so many that were said. after talking for hours, until three in the morning. that one string of eight words that seemed so insignificant at the time. those are the words that randomly come to my mind when swiping my credit card at the gas station or standing under steaming hot water at 6 a.m.

why?

sometimes i swear life seems to make less and less sense as you go along.

you'd think it would be the opposite way around.

but instead, i stand here listening. listening to the words that this stranger is hesitantly releasing for me to absorb, analyze and file away. realizing how different our experiences are.

i don't know this person.

and they don't know me.

and yet, my stomach churns at the thought of someone causing them pain. of this moment passing and our lives continuing on. of what the future means for each and every one of us.

then there is that little girl that always comes to mind.

the one with the blonde hair and big blue eyes. the one that reminds me. reminds me of the world i live in. the world i'm scared to let her venture off into.

i don't want her heart to be broken. i do not want others to tell her things that are not true. things that will eat away at her. and possibly cause her to doubt.

in fact, at this moment. if i had one wish. i would wish to hold this small angel forever and make sure no one hurts her in anyway.

as of now, she is perfect. unharmed. untainted.

one day. that will change.

she'll grow up to be beautiful. she'll have men that give her things and tell her things and make her wonder. they'll flirt and use their abilities to persuade. people will tell her she's great. just stay the way you are, they'll say. some may be genuine. same may not. and then--in her lowest moments--she'll hear whispering from behind the door. telling her to be prettier. to be skinnier. to be more than she is.

to be perfect.

no, i won't be able to stop the world from getting to her. i'll have to face that. i guess. i guess, we just have to hope that she'll be strong enough to face it herself.

eh-hem.

the stupid-obsessed-girl with the nancy drew novel. who will just have to figure it out for herself.

and perhaps, she'll end up writing.

writing to express her feelings. even in the most scattered, unruly of ways. honesty will ease and haunt her at the same time.

she'll tap at her black keys. with a cup of hot cocoa to her side. dreaming of all the beautiful things that are out in the world. skipping over the dark and cynical things she doesn't want to know of. or deal with.

fall nights will come. she'll find herself running through corn-mazes with frightening masks appearing behind her. laughter will fill her life as pictures are taken and words that mean very little are spoken.

it's september again.

and fall is one of her favorite times of the year.

her coat will be buttoned and layers of decorative scarves and necklaces draped around her neck. she'll lace up her boots and take a quick glance back at the mirror.

then--at that momnet--she'll be taken back.

to a september years before.

a day past when she sat in front of a glowing fire. a fire that was made by her indian friend. made from practically thin air and dead grass.

the smoke follows her. they joke of her beauty and long blonde hair.

innocently laughing at things she can no longer remember.

and then, from across the flames. in the darkness of a early autumn night. her cherokee friend with the leather ropes tied around his wrist, leans over to whisper in her ear. she shivers as his long black hair brushes over her bare hand.

the girl remembers the warmth of his breath against her ear as he sighs, leans in just a bit closer...close enough for her to hear over the crackling flames.

'you darling, are a lost pearl in a lonely sea.'

their eyes met and then the world went on.

the fire continued to pop. and the other conversations never even stopped.

she didn't know what he meant then. wasn't sure whether to be appreciative or offended. but for years, she never let the memory escape her. she held onto it for no reason at all. she latched onto the words like they were some key to a future puzzle. some sort of riddle that would one day provide an answer.

and now. as she looked at her reflection. twenty-three. lost. fragile. unique. one-of-a-kind. and often confused.

the words of the cherokee boy. yes, they suddenly had meaning.

so, when the evening comes.

she'll sit down at her computer. the stupid-obsessed girl and she'll type.

because it's how she proves to herself that she understands.

it is how she makes sense of things.

and she'll begin.

eh-hem.

"it's september. again."

dear future children of mine. this is for you.

2011-09-10T12:08:00.002-06:00

i know, right?

letting the heart say its piece.

2011-09-06T11:31:00.004-06:00

when i was eighteen, i fell in love with a boy.

almost exactly five years ago. goodness, time is a bizarre phenomenon.

yes, he was a classically good guy.

admirable in his life choices. understanding of pain and suffering. quick and impressive sense of humor. planned on doing respectable, intelligent things with his allotted time.

had a fluffy-white dog. like every boy should.

yes, he was good.

our story didn't begin like the fairytales. and i was okay with that.

at the beginning, he didn't love me like i loved him. though he found me smart, entertaining and beautiful, he simply couldn't commit to what i hope and prayed and dreamed of for oh-so-long.

but i was eighteen. and quite smitten.

so, i decided to fight.

and when that didn't work. fought some more.

years passed. and i kept up the fight.

and so did he.

toxic. yes, toxic may have been a good word to describe the breath of our relationship. an inconsistent heartbeat. blood boiling in desperation with a solemn understanding. despite our strengths and 'good days'. our love failed. plain and simple.

failed (kind of an ugly word, eh?)

time and time again.

and it broke my heart. and it broke his.

we let this go on. and kept scraping at every inkling of hope that we could. we fought.

damn, we fought.

why won't it work?

i would whimper through my sobs.

please. oh, please. i would beg in my prayers. (this gets happier i promise. stay with me...)

and in the end.

in the very end. it ended with a soaked pillow case. a deep black hole in my heart. with a lost breath. a lost hope. with an aching in my gut. and a hatred for such pain and for things that would cause it.

i promised myself that i wouldn't fight anymore.

and for a while. i did just that.

my heart became chilly. and the depth i once lived for became shallow.

i didn't try.

i didn't let myself care. i kept things surface. i kept things safe. i didn't allow myself to feel more than a good night out, a flirtatious dinner and a meaningless kiss goodbye. and i forbid myself from losing the upper hand. whatever that entailed, i made sure i did not care more than the other (i'm guessing that this is when my pride issues began ha ha).

i began advocating the ideology that 'you should never care the most'. caring more is for the weak. care. but only to a safe amount.

fun, right?

but here's the thing.

and seriously...i am about to throw my ridiculous pride right out this shattered window of all the bull that i convinced myself to believe....

because i was so, so wrong.

yeah, it sucks to fight and lose. those who agree, say 'i'.

nobody wants to endure pain, give time and exert energy that end up being about as worthless as having a data plan with a cell phone as ghetto as mine. seriously, hate t-mobile.

and not a soul in this world wants to be left high and dry after getting their ass kicked by something that was supposed to be so innocent and beautiful.

it's like losing a wrestling match to your little sister. okay fine, losing every wrestling match ever...even when you were six and she was four...to your little sister. (seriously, for some reason i am the worst. it's so weird. i blame it on my weak arms.)

and i know for a fact, that nobody wants to be left in the dark. left behind. left feeling like they have absolutely no idea where to go or what to do next. or how to make sense of what hellish-like-blur just whipped the shiz out of them. left wandering in a world that they really don't understand. (kind of like me in a health food store. yeah, i went into good earth the other day for some vitamins and tea that is supposed to help me be stress-free-and-easy-lovin'. and i happened to be starving and on my way to work. so i walked over to the food aisles. thinking i could easily grab a snack. and honestly, i probably wandered aimlessly for a good ten minutes. confused about everything. i mean, i consider myself a fairly healthy eater. but really? it's freakin' rabbit and hamster food that place has got going on. needless to say, i ended up leaving with nothing but a bottle of mult-vitamins and valerian passion flower compound.)

thank goodness for protein-style in-and-out burger eh?

confusion is a cruel form of torture.

do they love me? do they not? do they kind-of-love-me? do they sort-of-hate me? do they like me at all? do they wish i was dead? crap.

now all i need is a flower with some hearty petals.

let's play this game. shall we? (don't even say anything aubry. i know what's coming.)

he loves me.

he loves me not.

depends on the day.

depends on the night.

depends on how long this flower lasts really.

fun game. best game ever, eh? who even invented that? i'd like to talk to that individual. one troubled little girl. or one very malicious little boy.

we've all played it.

and my point is--no one likes to be screwed.

no one likes losing a game that they put everything down on. trust me, i'm a competitive player.

but sometimes it's what has to happen. because if we don't put something down....we will never--and that is a fact--never get anything in return.

because you're going to try. and inevitably you are going to fail. not all the time, but a good chunk of the time.

sometimes it will crash and burn. and i mean burrrrrrn.

maybe it will go terribly wrong. or maybe it will just kind of fizzle. or perhaps he just won't call you back. or maybe you'll try for years and years and then one day have to suck up the wasted time, eat the losses and just move along.

sign the papers. delete the number. ignore the e-mail. throw out the old hat. whatever it is. but you move along. because you tried. and you fought.

but in the end. it failed.

sad day. (pop out the friends episodes and gold fish crackers because it's time to be depressed)

and then (imagine this screen pouring light out on you and magical-disney-like-music-beginning to play) there is that one.

ta-da.

that one time. when it won't fail.

when you will fight. and he will fight. and you will fight for each other.

and this time, you will realize how blessed you are.

you'll come sprinting. you'll come knowing that you're willing to give just about anything. you'll come in humility. you'll ready to forgive and be forgiven. learning from your past mistakes. you'll come in eagerness.

and for no reason at all---things will fall into place.

and you will win.

yes, you will win. and because you know the pain of losing. and because you know the pain of making mistakes. and the heartache of letting love be lost. your appreciation will be heightened. and you will hold tighter to this individual that you ever knew was possible.

i've seen it.

and though i honestly believe that there has not and will not ever be a 'perfect couple' who has all it all figured out. that will be okay, because you will know it is right. and despite the imperfections, you will have a strong and lasting desire for it to work.

you will depend on one another because you really, really can't imagine your life without them.

nice, eh?

eh-hem.

i'm not sure why i felt like writing on this today. i guess it comes from what i'm seeing and experiencing and feeling. and this week, i've made up my mind to speak the blunt and honest truth.

see, i know a lot of people right now that are in different situations regarding love.

some are struggling. some are kicking-butt. others just don't really know.

but this is my praise. this is my advice. this is my measly two-cents from whatever-the-h. experience i do have (which really isn't very much).

that i know we will all win eventually.

and despite the lost, lonely, confused, robbed, stationary stage you are currently in. don't give up.

i don't know everything.

but i do know this.

and until then. if you're looking for some 'cinematic make mac-and-cheese in your sweats while watching old re-runs of your favorite 90's tv show' music. then check out this song.

here's to september.

2011-09-02T09:13:00.004-06:00

"i want to be alone. and i want people to notice me...both at the same time."

-thom yorke

happy september everyone.
i'm so glad it's here.

p.s. i did a little guest post on the lovely mandy's blog today.
check it out here.
and see her post on 'from keen' here.

warwick. that's our name.

2011-09-01T19:33:00.006-06:00

oh-how-i-love-them.

"At the end of the day, when it comes down to it, all we really want is to be close to somebody. So this thing where we all keep our distance and pretend not to care about each other, it’s usually a load of bull. So we pick and choose who we want to remain close to, and once we’ve chosen those people, we tend to stick close by. No matter how much we hurt them. The people that are still with you at the end of the day, those are the ones worth keeping. And sure, sometimes close can be too close. But sometimes, that invasion of personal space, it can be exactly what you need."
— Grey’s Anatomy Monologue

i will stay. if you dare.

2011-08-31T09:15:00.005-06:00

he loved her, he loved her, and until he'd loved her

she never minded being alone.
truman capote

p.s. enjoy this song. if you're in the mood.
and trust me, you are.

why i love fall #1: free people.

2011-08-27T00:00:00.008-06:00

every year. about this same time.

i get all-giddy-and-girly and start crushing...
crushing on fall's new wardrobe.

this year.
i'm cursing the name of free people.
why-oh-why are they so perfect?

pictured above is their 'ever ryder knit job pant'
a fancy way of saying very stylish sweatpants.
i'm in love. so in love.

i'm a creature of the nineties.
throw any sort of femine, baggy sweatshirt in front of me
and i'm yours forever.
this is their 'genteel v-neck tunic'.
fabulous, right?
their 'loving fall tea length skirt'.
one of the more charming things i've ever seen in this life.
i don't have the height or the anorexia to pull it off like she is.
but a girl can dream, can't she?

i might cry if i don't find a way to get this jacket.
curse my love for expensive things.

'the darla platform.'
yes, this is right. oh-so-right.

eh-hem.
'the vegan, leather bodycon dress.'
sexy, right?
not sure where i would ever wear it...
i mean, me and all the clubbing and fancy dining that i do...
but hey, i still love it.

free people = my heart.

'the wide stripes pullover'
i could get comfortable with this.

and finally....
i've saved my heart's one true love for very last.
'the austonian boot'.

i know, i know.
but i'm such a sucker for a sexy, western inspired fall boot.
especially when it comes up to cap the knee.
it's just too sassy for words.

there you have it.
reason #1--why i love fall.

see this all. and more. at free people's website.

the time you changed my life.

2011-08-23T13:52:00.003-06:00

"...i don't ask you to love me always like this,
but i ask you to remember.
somewhere inside me,
there'll always be the person
i am tonight."

-f. scott fitzgerald

p.s. thank you everyone who participated in my "words of..." series last week.
i love you all. reading your words has changed me for the better.
and i'm not just saying that.
more to come on that topic.

words of reminder. by jessica.

2011-08-21T13:30:00.001-06:00

jessica is another one of my friends forever. one of our 'fantastic four'.

many of my college days and nights were spent with jess. literally--we shared the same bedroom, same bunk beds. the whole she-bang.

being the sweetheart that she is, jess let me have the bottom bunk (she's got a good few inches on me). i was grateful for this. until i realized that she had a painfully early start to her day. and being the motivated-go-getter kind that she is, she would set her alarm every morning for an even earlier time so that she could get up and be 'productive' before beginning her crack-of-freakin'-dawn-work-day.

that being said.

i would listen to that alarm go off about six or seven times every morning. and everytime, she would get up, jump off the bunk (rattling the whole bed--which isn't hard to do, that thing was a piece of sketchiness anyways), hit snooze on her cell phone alarm, and then leave it on the desk so she would have to get back up again. and again. and again.

yup, that's why i love her.

jess is a high school english teacher. never complains. secretly thinks she is beyonce. and is extremely talented at what she does.

and that dearies is jess.

Though I am a hopeless romantic myself, (dreaming of the perfect moment, with an unknown Him, under a starlit anything) I can’t help but write about a different kind of love today.

This kind of love comes from saying no; it comes from showing up alone; it comes from dashboard drumming and kitchen dancing; it comes from knowing you can and showing you did. This kind of love is for numero uno, it’s self-respect, it’s faith in you, and it’s a won confidence.
My eyes have recently been opened to just how many people struggle with this concept. For example, I may see a girl that’s proficient at keeping her cool, kicking up her feet with hip new jeans and straight, white teeth. Come to find out, that when the only breath in the room is her’s, “cool” is an adjective she never thinks. She spreads her job, her money, her body, her friends, and her intelligence across the floor, setting them ablaze with flammable words like, “I’m not good enough. They need more.”
She performs for the masses and breaks down in the dark. I couldn’t tell…If only I had known.

Human beings are sometimes creatures of comparison to a fault. Who has the best style? Who has the best swing? The best smile? The best SATs? You can wager and weigh until your blue in the face, but it will most likely not make you a better you.
I’m passionate about this subject because everyone deserves to feel worthy. So, to anyone who has metaphorically or literally burned their life into embers…to anyone who just doesn’t feel good enough, here are a few reminders:
No one has it all figured out.
The grass may not be greener.
Your quirks and habits belong.
Your opinion matters.
Show yourself you can do it. You CAN do it.
Please, don’t try to please everybody.
Feel good in that custom skin.

Smile at your reflection.
I am the first to admit that I can’t sing, I make funny facial expressions, I’m slightly awkward around that really cute boy, and I know little about fashion. I also know that if you push me in the dirt, I’ll get back up, I can sink a solid three pointer (or two or three), I laugh at dorky jokes, but most of all, I’m still learning this life. Everyday, I’m more and more comfortable with the me that’s showing up for life. I want that for you too…
and trust me when I say that you are you and that is what’s cool. Nobody knows the difference.

words of faith. by erin.

2011-08-20T09:23:00.003-06:00

er-bear (erin) is one of my best and most cherished friends.

we just have that special something. not sure what it is. perhaps it was our multiple nights spent sleeping on our awkward-king-henry sofas. crying and throwing tissues however far we could muster the strength. (we were young. give us a break)

or maybe it was that i just immediately fell in love with her confidence as an individual and her desire to stand up for her beliefs.

also. she introduced the-beloved-heart-cookie into all of our lives (which i love and hate you for er-bear).

erin is currently going to dental school at creighton university. is one of the most brilliant, scholastic people that i've ever known. was recently married to her high school sweetheart (but trust me, it is a more detailed story than that). and loves kanye's 'gold digger' just as much as me. (if you ain't no punk holla' we want pre-nup!)

so, happy day. here is erin.

Trusting, hoping and believing in someone or something. Yes, faith is involved in religion, but it also encompasses so much more. It is the knowledge that after a cold, depressing winter… flowers will bloom and icees will reign over hot chocolate once again. It is faith in yourself, in others and in something bigger.

I remember a time, not so long ago, that I claimed that my happiness was over. I was scared of my boyfriend leaving, of moving to a new place and even my unsure future. After a dental school acceptance, marriage to said boyfriend and an exciting mid-west life I realize my flaw. I lost faith in myself. I had tunnel vision of the past and had lost my future’s telescope. From this I am learning to use the heart cookies of the past to give me the courage to focus in on the future. When school is stressful and I just want to go back to my love sac in Provo… I look and see my future degree, future house and future family. I guess mostly I want to say that you can change your future, and to have faith that it will be better than the past.

There are certain people that hold reservoirs of my faith. I believe in my mom making everything better. Through cards, calls and visits she fixes most any of my problems. Her charity and talents astound me. I believe in her. My husband. Still kind of getting used to that adjective, but all the same I have faith in him. Even when I act a little crazy or forget that he has a family too, he’ll still love me. I know he can remind me of my faith in myself and in us. I love having faith in the man he is and the one he will become. I have faith in my friends of past and present. I love that even a thousand miles away I can still count on them for late night food binges and phone call advice. My faith grows in myself because of the people they are. Beautiful, ambitious and witty… the perfect combination for heroes. My family, while not perfect, I have faith in the people they make me and the people they are. I have faith in others, but these are the ones that come to mind.

Now something bigger. My choice for faith in something beyond myself is through religion. I know many object to such a belief, but I hold faith in my religion. I include this only because I know of its importance. I have seen those with faith lose it. I’ve seen the sadness and hatred take over their lives. It does not have to be in God. But I think it’s important to believe in something to reduce fear of tragedy and encourage the desire to do good. If for nothing else than to know that bad things are for a reason and good people will be rewarded for being good.

These are my thoughts on faith. I will admit my chosen naivety on the matter. It makes me a happier person to believe in a better tomorrow. Even on empty glass days I hope for a better tomorrow. My advice? Work on faith in any one of these areas. Learn to have faith in yourself, or contemplate the “faithfull” people in your life or even look to the stars to imagine something beyond this world.

you can visit erin's lovely blog here.

words of encouragement. by mandy.

2011-08-18T00:46:00.004-06:00

mandy is one of the most lovely people that i know.

not only is she stunning (seriously--like really stunning), talented, and successful, but she is also one of the most kind-hearted individuals you will ever meet.

you can read more on her very charming blog here.

she is classy, stylish, and a gifted writer.

so--ladies and gentleman--this is mandy.

So many of the posts this week that Kristen featured relate to love. The hope, the desire, the need to be loved – something that has occupied days, weeks, months of my life in thoughts, in prayers, in experience, in every part of who I am. I am not the expert in love, but I have found it, and just celebrated one full year of being married to my husband Kevin. After one full year of marriage and having seen every season of being married to Kevin – I understand love better now than I ever have before, and have some words of encouragement for those of you are searching or hoping for love of your own.

I met Kevin as a camp counselor in New Hampshire, and knew within days– that I wanted to be with him for the rest of my life. People hate hearing that, because it seems to them that it came so easily for me. I should let you know though, that I had my fair share of heartbreak and struggle before Kevin, and not everything was so easy and simple the way it was with him. I think people see those who are married and feel envious because all they are looking at is the end result. They can’t possibly see the ex-boyfriend or girlfriend, the pain of heartbreak, the months of healing that ensue. They see the happy result, but love cannot be measured by one result. Love can never be a single event.

The truth is, before I met Kevin I was in love with someone else. I wanted to marry him for years, but things never worked out. We would break up constantly and every time I felt this suffocating blackness, that things could never work until we were together again. We could get back together and I would cry because it wasn’t what I wanted but the hard thing was that I didn’t know what I wanted. Our relationship was toxic for both of us. Even knowing in my heart that it was not right, the hardest thing I have ever done is say goodbye to him. I knew I had to, but I couldn’t bear the thought of living in a world where he did not exist with me. I cried for months.

For years I knew only that love, so when I met Kevin, it was as if someone had flipped on a light switch. He was funny, so funny that I would gasp for air, so funny that on a scale from one to hilarious he was more than I could handle. He knew how to tell me how he felt with abandon – he was not afraid of a return, or reciprocation. He loved without symmetry. He was so good, too, and I think his goodness is what made me fall so fast. He was so gentle with me, with my feelings, with my love as if he knew too that this was something so precious and rare.

We fell in love under a giant willow tree in New Hampshire. We would lie on our backs and look at these enormous branches and leaves, bowing to the wind, sifting the sunlight as if through a sieve. We held hands for the first time under that tree. We had our first kiss in a hammock by the lake. He said I love you for the first time when we were saying goodbye. He proposed under a sea of stars in the middle of nowhere. We were married and covenanted forever, agreeing in our hearts that we would never stop trying. Last weekend we celebrated our first anniversary in Vegas with a drunken man playing the flute in the hallway outside of our hotel room and more love in our hearts for each other than we ever had before.

It is impossible to know when love will come, but I believe that the first step has to be letting go of what is not right, even if it means more pity parties and “Girls Night Outs” and ice-cream than we can stomach. It takes so much courage to tell someone you love goodbye, but it is so necessary. It is better to be completely alone, than with someone who you are not yourself with. It is important to learn to be your own friend, to love yourself because when we don’t love ourselves we are far too reliant on the love of another. We use any form of love we can as reassurance, as proof that we are lovable. But as humans, as individuals, we are too important to settle for less than the right kind of love - We need the kind of love that will make us whole, not desperate.

Whole love is the kind of love I know after one year of marriage. And those are my words of encouragement.

words of comfort. by aubry.

2011-08-17T10:52:00.003-06:00

aubry ann is my very best friend. in the whole-wide-world.

we're a unique pair. different in many ways. and yet so understanding of each others' lives.

some might call us a balancing act.

when we were fifteen, i taught aubry that it was--in fact--okay for a girl to wear some mascara and blush. and in return, she taught me that my then-very-long-blonde-hair did not need to be perfectly and meticulously curled on a daily basis (thanks for that aubs.)

we help each other 'come correct'. ew. (honestly, i still hate that phrase so much. i just can't even say it without feeling foolish)

aubry is studying to be a high school english teacher, is one of the funnier people i know on this planet, has a serious eye for anything fashion related, and is overall a pretty world-rocking-individual. oh. and you can check out her blog here.

take it away aubs.

My nephew is the most darling thing that has ever lived. I'm not even remotely exaggerating. (Kris back me up...)

Ever since he was an infant he has sought to be completely comfortable at all times. He would stretch his stubby little arms behind his head as soon as he figured out how to use them...and took long naps while everyone wished he would wake up and play. Now he takes his two fleece blankets, that's right two, everywhere he goes and burrows his baby soft, blonde haired, blue eyed, two year old face in there gentle embrace instead of the hardness of your shoulder. Even on the long drive to California, with the car's air condition battling the oppressive heat of Las Vegas (and losing might I add) he still insists on both blankets being wrapped around him, face read and hair damp. But he has his two blankets so he is happy.

He seeks to feel warm, secure, and comforted.

The way I feel when I read To Kill a Mockingbird in my back yard in alpine, on a not so hot but not so cold day, in the shade of those huge cotton trees that gives everyone allergies in the spring, but their shade is so perfect you forgive them. Or when I play badminton with the family in the back yard on Summer days after church; trash talking Justin even though his team has never lost, and kinda thinking I am still going to win despite the widely know fact that you have horrible coordination.

How I felt when I would go visit my Great Aunt Margie (my idol) on Catalina Island and even though she was sixty she would swim with me all day, buy a big olaf (a giant waffle cone with a sundae in it...so yum) with me and I would wake up with the ocean breeze blending flawlessly with her coffee heating up in the kitchen.
Like living with three of my best friends in all the best apartments Provo has to offer. Spending my days doing everything I possibly could to keep Erin and Jessica from leading their overly responsible lifestyle (to the point of wrestling Jessica over the temperature of the heater) and occasionally going on stalking adventures with Kristen (I'm not talking about facebook here...and Kristen honestly has a gift....taco tuesday 2008). And of course.... heart cookie (or should I say the cause of all our future heart attacks cookie).

The times when I was sitting in a young women's lesson and I decided I wanted to be really good...and it didn't even seem like it's going to be hard.

It's those moments of calm simple happiness that I want to put in a tupperware, stick in my freezer, and gobble up when life gets a little too hectic, like the time smoke came billowing out of the front of my car while driving down state street, or when I drank three energy drinks in an effort to stay awake during finals week and fell asleep anyway. Yes Shakespeare can be just that boring.

Yes mam, I will take one scoop of unconditional love.....actually make that two scoops.

Add some whipped blissful happiness and sprinkle it with carefree laughter and Elise's chocolate chip cookies!

Now let me put on my sweats, pull back my hair, and kick up my feet because who cares what I look like, I feel no pressure to impress at the moment.

It's those times where I successfully disregard worries and insecurities that I feel like little Willy Will with his two blankets. Holding on no matter the heat. Holding on to the two things that give him the most comfort. That make him the most happy. I think when you can hold on to your serenity, your peace of mind, your testimony, your inner happiness (whatever you want to call it) that tightly...you have arrived.

You become the kind of girl or boy that people like even though they don't really know why...you're just always (or mostly, anyone who is always anything is just faking it) happy, and that's refreshing.

words of hope. by neesh.

2011-08-16T09:40:00.001-06:00

neeshy-neesh (nichel) is my youngest sister.

she lives in hawaii, is planning on touring through europe next year in a volkswagon van (i'm crossing my fingers she makes it through without being raped), and is just about one of the most confident, sassy, and oh-so-insanely-beautiful individuals that i know.

i've always looked up to her (i mean, physically speaking she is taller than me). but for real. this girl lives life the way she chooses to live it. she has never been afraid to dream. and she has never been afraid to go after what she wants.

i admire her confidence in herself. i always have.

so, there you have it.

ladies and gentlemen, this is neesh.

For starters, I'm not a writer. Most my English teachers could tell you that but I have learned a thing or two this past year about having hope for love. So Kris, this is for you babe.

A year ago next month you wrote this post for me.

You taught me a lot about life and what to gear up for...but i will never for get what you taught me about love.

You told me not be afraid to fight for love and to love with all my spunky heart, because it is worth the fight.

You told me I'd be the source and the victim of heartbreak, but through it all love is worth fighting for.

I can't tell you how many times i've read that blog post over and over again.

It got me through my highest highs and lowest lows in Hawaii.

And every time i read it, it becomes more and more true. There is something to say about hope..hope for the world...hope for people...hope for the stars...hope for peace..
but most of all hope for love.

The topic of love is among the most fragile delicate of subjects that there is. And i can't say i know much about the topic except that I am 100% head over heels in love with the idea of being in love. I also know that I have never been more afraid of anything in my life. (I know I try to act like I can take over the world without a fear but fact is i have lots of them.)

Unconditionally loving is something we all aim for.

We dream of love, pray for love, and hope for love. Some of the things in life I was born to love. Others I have learned to love. Most of all loving unconditionally is something I strive for...scares me to death...but one day I know my heart will be open to loving with all that I am.

We put up walls, trust less, and lose hope.

At first it seemed I was the only one who put up walls when it came to love. But when we are being completely honest, these walls come from any love being lost...from anyone...at anytime.

I have hope for the day that I meet him and when I know. I will never need anything but him to make me perfectly happy. And I have hope that love will work out for all those who it has not yet graced.

So this is a hope for all of the hopeless out there.

Don't be afraid to love.

Love what you do.

Love where you are.

Love who you are with.

Love what surrounds you.

Love what your passionate about and love the world around you. Because all of it is beautiful...every single tiny inch of it.

Loving is the purest form of happiness.

Allow walls to fall. Trust in loving and unconditionally love. Love is the greatest hope we can have.

So give a hand to the world.

Give a hand to the people.

Give a hand to the stars.

Give a hand to peace...and give a hand to hope and having hope for love.

That is my hope to all the hopeless.

thanks nichel. (this may or may not have made me cry a little).

mmmgh. love you so much.

words of honesty. by nate.

2011-08-15T14:30:00.002-06:00

nate is one of my dearest friends.

an extremely patient mentor (seriously, thank you for putting up with my never-ending-social-media-web-related questions). someone i trust with all of my heart. and seriously, one of the most reliable sources for anything marketing/media related.

he's a charming individual, a gifted writer and is pretty kick-ass at everything he does.

enjoy.

I’ll be honest. Being a guy is tough. Being a gentleman is even tougher.

The fact that I have two very distinct chromosomes means that throughout my life I will be known by many girls (roommates, sisters, and mothers) as “the jerk” or “the heart-breaker.” I can try my best to be sensitive, kind, and compassionate... but sometimes it just doesn’t work out, and suddenly I’m branded.

Over the years, I’ve learned that the “jerk” thing just comes with the penis. You just learn to live with it.

My chromosomes got me stuck with the job title of The Pursuer, The Provider, and The Protector.

Because I’m a guy, I’m in constant competition with other guys... even when there aren’t women around. We live in a world of alpha males and douche bags who are always trying to size each other up - you know - assert their dominance. And when you don’t play the game, it’s assumed by most that you’re submitting.

It’s exhausting.

The peacocking is so overrated... and yet I live in a world of booty calls, and one-night-stands where the plague of the Douche Bag runs rampant. I spend my weekends sifting through an ocean of trite, empty-headed, shallow 20-somethings who want nothing but a free drink, or a night of self-indulgence with minimal attachment or expectations...

It gets frustrating, because that’s not what I’m looking for... yet often times it seems like that’s all that’s offered.

I’m searching for a girl... my problem is, I don’t know who exactly she is.

I do know that she exists. She’s just elusive like the Sasquatch or Bigfoot.Maybe that’s not the best comparison... but the point is that I, and most guys like me, have a secret...

In the spirit of honesty, I’m going to open up the kimono and let you in on this little secret.you may never hear a guy admit again, so pay close attention.

Ready?

We’re not as tough as we make ourselves up to be.

We like to be in love.

As a matter of fact, we love it.

And, sometimes, just like girls, we get our hearts broken.

We feel alone, and hurt. We just don’t like to talk about it. At all.

We don’t get the chance to curl up in our PJs with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey ice cream, and watch a self-indulgent chick flick where everything works out in the end.

We don’t get to call our moms and go get mani-pedis, as we talk over a mountain of french fries and extra large Diet Cokes.

We don’t even get to cry.

Standard protocol is to “suck it up.”

Be a man!

In worst-case-scenarios, a broken heart calls for a Guys Night full of mind-numbing sessions of Halo, while chugging Mountain Dew and eating cheap $5 pizza.

The only real conversation on nights like this (other than the profanities that only Halo can inspire) revolves around you friends smack-talking the girl you held so dear to your heart, and encouraging you to do the same.

Deep inside, what we really want (and when I say “we,” I mean “I.” I can’t be alone in this.) is that simple, storybook kind of love.

You know the kind I’m talking about.

It’s the love where I can’t sleep through the night, because I keep waking yourself up to make sure she’s still there and that I weren’t really dreaming... because it feels like a dream to have her there next to me.

It’s the kind of love that has me running out the door after work just to get home and smother her in kisses, and present her that bouquet of wildflowers that I hand-picked on the side of the freeway because they reminded me of her.

I’m trying to find the girl who can talk to me about books that we read together, and not who got cut from The Bachelor this week.

I’m desperate for the girl who pushes me to pursue my dreams... and a girl who has dreams of her own.

I yearn for the day that I come home from work to discover her in one of my baggy t-shirts, and a pair of old, tattered jeans with paint on her exhausted face and hair pulled back into a simple ponytail.

She explains to me that she woke up that morning and thought the living room just needed a change.

I want to spend my weekends waking up early to embark on scavenger hunts at farmers markets, garage sales, and music stores... watching her hunt for the perfect little treasure that will complete or inspire her next big project.

I want to open her doors, hold her hand, travel the world, and run to the store late at night to buy her tampons.

I want to watch romantic comedies, and have her realize at the end that I’m her prince charming, or her knight in shining armor. And together, we’ve got it better than any fairy tale.

I want to dance in the kitchen at 2:00 in the morning, and kiss her flat on the mouth after telling her I’m sorry for proving her wrong. Just kidding... she’ll never be wrong.

I want to be in love. You know... that can't-eat, can't-sleep, reach-for-the-stars, over- the-fence, world-series kind of stuff.

And I don’t want to be afraid to tell her... because it’s true.

I love her.

And I always will.

And that’s the honest truth.

check out more of nate's words here. and visit his boss music blog here. (seriously, go to nate for music. he knows his stuff.)

words of those who inspire. by keen.

2011-08-15T09:54:00.005-06:00

this week. i am trying something new.

as you know. i write. a lot.

and of course, i love it. that's why i have this somewhat-revealing-and-yet-vaguely-mysterious online hub of mine.

a hobby.

a passion.

an obsession.

i don't really know. but whatever it is. i love it, and i keep at it.

some don't really know how to swallow it. and others seem to enjoy and relate to it. either way is okay with me.

i'd never force my words upon anyone. i'd never insist that people listen to what i say. (okay, that's a lie...sometimes i get a tiny bit demanding. but for the most part, i would never).

that being said, i feel that it is time to give credit where credit is due.

and that my friends, is to those who inspire.

who enhance my life. who teach me. who have helped me develop into the person that i am. and who are continually encouraging me to grow.

those who make me laugh.

those whom i run to when i need comfort.

to the besties that have seen me through it all. to the family that i don't know how i would live without. to the 1 a.m. chocolate-chip-heart-cookie-makers (erin, that is mainly a shout out to you dearest). to my 5th grade teacher mr. lowe. to mckette, the beautiful-young-mom that stood as my idol through my teenage years. to my aunt sandy who has taught me strength.

to all the funky, loving kick-a people that come in and out of my life.

you all. seriously, you all have inspired me.

so this week, it is about you.

and i've invited some different people to do the talking for me this week.

they'll be writing on a variety of topics. words of just about anything they are inspired to write about. words that may mean one thing to me and something completely different to you...

and that is the sexy part behind words.

you never quite know who you will relate to. or how you will relate to them. kinda mysterious, eh?

so. here we go.

please enjoy.

p.s. have you ever, ever, ever seen a more perfect sitting room? the sleekness of those retro chairs has me giggling out of sheer giddiness, that crazy sexy console with the eclectic artwork has me biting my nails in anticipation, that wheeled-cart-reclaimed-wood-coffee-table has me feeling officially and totally infatuated...and that rug...um...that rug gets me a little more excited than a rug probably should. yup, i have a big-fat-crush on that rug.

eh-hem.

okay, now here we go.

will someone please go with me...

2011-08-14T11:05:00.005-06:00

...to the loy kratong festival in
chiang mai, thailand?

breakfast at mickey-d's.

2011-08-13T15:53:00.009-06:00

i'm not usually a diet-coke-at-eight-in-the-morning kind of girl.

promise.

on a normal day, i would wait well into lunch to start chugging down the caffeinated and chemically-enriched-artificial-sweeteners.

but not today.

for two main reasons, 1) i had to be up much earlier than my rem cycle would have liked (seriously, this last week i efficiently went from being a semi-decent morning person to being the least effective early riser on the planet. i guess consistently going to bed at wee hours of the morning will do that to a person. who knew, eh?) and 2) i woke up from the night with my stomach already on the fritz...and nothing helps ease it through a rough morning like some carbonated bubbles.

this being the case, i decided to swing by my favorite mickey-d's on my way to work.

this mcdonalds is amazing (p.s. i have a slight obsession with mcdonalds as a whole--weird, yes---let me explain. it is not because i eat there often--though i do love their new oatmeal and fruit breakfast and am guilty of craving their fries way too much--but because they are one of those corporations...like apple that seem to always have the lead on their industry. they do it first. they do it right. and they are always about five or six steps ahead. when you stay ahead...you rule. and others have to follow your command. nevermind their contribution to obesity and food with ridiculously high fat content (seriously, people should learn moderation anyways). mickey-d's plays the game. and not only do they play the game, they create the game as they go along. it blows my mind. and sure, soon enough disney, apple, mcdonalds, walmart and oprah may take over the world. but until then, cheers everyone.)

anyhow, back to my morning...i love this particular mcdonalds because the employees are all so very, very friendly and accommodating. (honestly, i am a hard-core-sucker for good customer service--one of the reasons i go to the same gas station over and over again in provo, and the same reason i love shopping at nordstrom. customer-freakin'-service.)

however, the drive-thru line was ridiculous. so i decided to go inside.

while in line, i began chatting with a sweet elderly man standing behind me.

he had quite the story to tell.

he told me about living his whole life in utah. raising children. and losing his lovely wife just a few years earlier.

he couldn't tell me enough how beautiful and sophisticated she was.

and how much he had loved her.

my cup was handed to me. and his dollar menu mickey-d's breakfast was served to him on a plastic tray. and we parted ways.

as i turned at the door to give a parting wave, i watched him take a sip of his orange juice and unwrap his sandwich.

i suddenly felt sad. almost enough to make me cry.

his wife was gone.

and i wondered. what is it that he is now looking for?

he's had great love. he's felt of its magic.

does he want to find it again?

perhaps he just wants someone to talk to while he eats his breakfast...? or maybe is just counting down the days until he will once again see his wife? does he believe in life after death? is he holding onto this breath of this world or ready to give it up?

one of my favorite parts of meeting new people is learning about what matters most to them.

sometimes you'll find that there just isn't a lot of depth. it's just this phase of life. the 'young adult' time can very easily become a 'selfish' time of living. and i am not exempt from that. trust me. i have been on my fair share of dates and spent enough time in young adult social scenes to know that there are just some people that don't seem to have much substance.

sad, but true. whatever.

and then there are those people that rock my-little-humpty-dumpty-world right off of my blog-writing-love-searching-skeptic-romantic-deep-at-heart wall.

people that seem to understand things that i do not.

people with extraordinary depth. and an understanding of life. of love--in any form. and an experience with a reality that i have not yet experienced.

and these individuals are the ones that mystify me. that leave me lying in bed at night. just thinking.

the peeps are the ones i yearn for.

last night i saw crazy stupid love.

overall, a tiny-bit depressing. but sprinkled with very comical moments. and of course, topped off with some ryan gosling.

basically a simple story about people having different objectives. different experiences. different goals. different motives. and yet, all wanting the exact same thing in the end. love.

and it got me thinking.

thinking about what is most important to me.

sometimes, i honestly convince myself that being single and independent is just easier. because in many ways it is.

you only have yourself to worry about. you can control your life. keep it stress free. stay unattached. and focus on individual progression.

really. can anyone deny that?

but then i discover pinterest. and i realize. i realize that it doesn't matter if it is easier or not. it is what i want (which is basically the moral of the movie last night).

yes, pinterest.

a friend told me about it. and i am decently close to being obsessed with it.

let me explain. eh?

so, today i finally decided to go see what the whole 'online pinboard' thing was all about.

the gist of it. as you browse websites, blogs...tumbrs etc...and you 'pin' the things you like to different 'boards' that you create. i know, right???

it's quite simple. and quite brilliant.

frankly, i'm a little pissed i didn't think of it first, but whatever.

and while experiencing a serious pinterest-weed-like-high today...i realized that out of all the pictures of fashion icons, designer homes, and beautiful people...it was this picture of a spunky-little-blonde-haired diva that took over my complete attention.

and i wanted that (once again. my napolean dynamite reference found here.)

more than anything.

more than my coveted trip to seattle. more than my trashy dream to see pearl jam live in concert. more than my childish desire to have a library full of books. more than i crave having a long-haired cow hide rug for my husbands future office.

...more than the career i often fantasize about. more than the kick-ass-eclectically-simple-home i will one day have. more than all the money and beautiful items of free people clothing in the world.

more than all of it.

i want that love.

just like everyone, really.

a special, romantic, funky love between my husband and i. the kind of love that you can't really explain without sounding foolish....and the cherishing, nurturing, 'could-i-ever-love-anything-more' kind of love for my children.

because really...if we're getting down to the nitty gritty.

the fact of the matter is, when i hit up mcdonald's breakfast menu at the age of eighty-nine (and of course, by then they will have taken over the world)...

the insane amounts of surprising and oh-so-satisfying love i experienced in this life is really all i will care to talk about with the twenty-three year old diet coke addict standing by me in line.

whether she really cares or not.

wow.

that just all kind of spilled out. my apologies (but hey, that's why i write...i guess.)

...i think that little old man brought out a little bit of my romantic side.

go figure.

here's to beginnings.

2011-08-13T09:30:00.000-06:00

the big sister.

2011-08-09T19:13:00.004-06:00

"...life, although it may only be an accumulation of anguish,
is dear to me,
and i will defend it."

frankenstein, mary shelley

picture taken like seventeen years ago in ocean beach, ca.
me, si, and neeshy-neesh.
i'd fight anyone and anything for these girls.
yup.
xoxo.

mr. & mrs. dulanberg.

2011-08-06T12:52:00.010-06:00

it really depends on the day.

but there are days.

like today.

when i just like dreaming. of him.

dreaming of him.

as we finally purchase a brand new sofa for our home. strapping it onto the trailer we borrow from the slightly odd but oh-so-delightful-neighbors mr. and mrs. dulanberg.

getting through the front door will be tricky.

but we'll do it.

because we just do stuff like that.

dreaming of him.

teasing me about my obsessions.

as i once again change around the living room artwork. and bring home a new 'surprise' rug with a zesty indian flare that i just absolutely could not resist.

and when i organize the dishwasher by color, size and material. and insist on purchasing fresh flowers weekly for the vase by the bookshelf.

dreaming of him.

as he flips off the lights to hop into bed.

at least, that's what i think he's doing until the room goes silent and he disappears.

playfully i yell out his name, my legs squirming under the sheets.

yup, i know what is coming.

he'll make just-quiet-enough-growling-noises at me in the dark. i'll squeal for him to stop (but really, this is my favorite bedtime game). pitch black. i won't be able to see where he is...

and there i will be. hiding under the covers, laughing hysterically...just waiting for the moment when he will jump up out of nowhere.

and smother me with kisses.

dreaming of him.

he'll tell me that i'm wrong. and that he disagrees.

i am right, he'll say.

we'll argue about it. i'll probably get annoyed. maybe even pissed.

we'll throw around some sarcastic banter.

have an ongoing competition of who can pull out the wittiest of the witty comments and comebacks.

and never really decide who the winner is.

dreaming of him.

who will respect me. my opinions. my choices. my life. me as an individual. me as a best friend. me as a spouse.

and my cooking...that will get better with time. i promise.

dreaming of him.

holding our new baby girl.

sitting on that same sofa, cradled in his masculine arms.

he doesn't know that i'm watching from doorway. he doesn't know that i catch that precious moment when a protecting, most loving of looks sweeps delicately across his usually-hard-to-read face.

i see his jawline tighten as he stares at that tiny creature.

and a small tear fall from his sun-tanned cheek.

he looks up to see me--his wife--just standing there. exhausted. my blue eyes hidden by dark circles, followed by a stained white t-shirt, accompanied by the-oh-so-sexy-post-baby-grey-sweatpants (you better believe i'm staying in my vicki-c.'s sweats for as long as i can possibly can get away with it after having my first child).

he smiles and says, 'she is ours.'

i smile back.

deep breath.

yeah, somedays.

somedays. somedays i allow myself to dream.

the growing up chronicles. revived.

2011-07-26T01:56:00.006-06:00

how do you know you're growing up?

how do you know that you are no longer a kid?

does it just happen one day?

one day when you realize that you would rather hang out with your grandparents for the weekend than the tragically hip 'up-and-coming-name-dropping-know-every-cool-cat-around' boys of provo.

or perhaps the day when you realize you're perfectly content with eating your delicious chicken tacos alone, with your own thoughts, musings, and time to ponder...

that salsa is num-num-a-freakin'-num-num.

growing up.

maybe, it is that night when you have a sleepover up at your parents house with your best friend. twenty-three-years-old and you still lean on each other for an escape from the craze of a singles race that you'd rather not be a part of but are forced to run in. faster than you would like.

at times you sprint. at times you burn out. and you lean on each other for the same comfort you knew when you were fifteen.

it could be, that you know you're grown up when you fall in love.

and it doesn't work.

and then you fall in love again.

and maybe, maybe that doesn't work either.

so you fall in love again. and when that doesn't work, by now you've learned to cry about it. vacuum up the pieces. maybe save a few of them. hope for the best and move along.

eh, growing up?

i'm thinking it is a responsibility thing. when you start taking full responsibility for your own life, your own actions, mistakes, troubles, personality flaws...

when your realize that you too are a very difficult human being. that you are not perfect. you are tough. and you are often at fault.

or maybe it's when you start using websites like mint.com (p.s. i recommend that site to everyone. and their aunt. and their neighbor's cousin. because that website rocks my world.)

responsible, eh? ha ha.

having a website monitor all my finances because really...i'm just not very good at it. these are times when i love technology so freakin' much.

maybe it's when you wake up to an empty house. because all your roommates are in lake powell. so you clean the filthy-on-the-brink-of-being-a-health-code-violation kitchen that you rarely-if-ever use and vacuum your over sized family room. fluff the pillows. bleach the counters. dust the gross, hard-to-reach-places just like mom would do. the places you would have tried to brush past unnoticed when you were a teenager.

it could also be that afternoon you spend at the pool, and you just can't stop noticing how damn cute all these little two year-olds running around in the kiddy pool are.

especially that one little guy. with the bright-as-can-possibly-be blonde hair, the big blue eyes, and the perma-smile that never leaves his charming little face.

and you want that.

so, which is it? when can you officially say, 'yup, i'm grown up.'

i'm not really sure.

is anyone?

in the words of gus from lars and the real girl (one of my favorite parts of the whole movie)...

when asked by lars how he knew he was an adult he responds, "well, it's not like you're one thing or the other, okay? there's still a kid inside but you grow up when you decide to do right, okay, and not what's right for you, what's right for everybody, even when it hurts...

...like, you know, like, you don't jerk people around, you know, and you don't cheat on your woman, and you take care of your family, you know, and you admit when you're wrong, or you try to, anyways. that's all i can think of, you know. it sound like it's easy and for some reason it's not."

for some reason, it's just not.

but one day, one day maybe i will just know.

and then again.

maybe i won't.

yes, okay. i love parades.

2011-07-25T20:06:00.006-06:00

people often question it.
sometimes they just don't understand...
but i love parades...

streets of blissfully happy people.
cheering at...nothing really.
cheerleaders. shimmering floats. and marching bands.
celebrating freedom. celebrating tradition. celebrating life.
yup, i see nothing not to love about that.

represent.
eh-hem.
the 'soul' choir of pioneers.
a crowd favorite of the morning.
we're so cultural.
honestly, it isn't hard getting aubs to go with me...
she loves parades just about as much as i do.
dangerous words.
be careful what you demand out of life.
thank goodness for our pioneer heritage.
days of 47'.
i took a couple shots of the new blue lemon restaurant.
at the new city creek center.
which is already blowing my mind.

there you have it.
we do what we do. and we love it.

the woman.

2011-07-25T14:10:00.003-06:00

"the woman who follows the crowd
will usually go no further
than the crowd...
the woman who walks alone
is likely to find herself in places
no one has ever been before."
-albert einstein

jessica and ash bettenay.

2011-07-21T23:35:00.005-06:00

as fate would have it...
i stumbled across my future today on design sponge.
yes, it was made manifest to me,
through the work of jessica and ash bettenay.
have a look.
straight up,
i really couldn't have imagined this dining area any more perfect.
even in my wildest dreams.
artwork. simplicity. texture. character. beautiful wood floors.
and that little girl is for sure mine as well.

really people. this is how my future will look.
they just got to it before i did.

um. yes. please.
i'm just a tiny bit in love with the tent
and the pirate flag.

mmgh, yup. i'm sure of it.
my future indeed.

thank you jessica and ash.

walkin' tall machine gun man.

2011-07-20T22:52:00.003-06:00

"...ain't found a way to kill me yet.
eyes burn with stinging sweat,
seems every path leads me to nowhere."
-rooster, alice in chains

such a freakin' good song. kinda makes me feel crazy.
try running to to this bad-a song. seriously.
it's a crying shame layne staley had to overdose.

i just kinda died for you.

2011-07-17T22:46:00.006-06:00

everyone needs a home.

a place to run when the world and the truth hurt too much. a place to find a worn-out pillow to cry into. a place where you can look through your old homecoming and prom dresses just for a smile or two.

a haven. where you can listen to melancholy music about wounds and healing hearts.

a place where one of your sisters--without question--will make you chocolate chip cookies. and let you eat a good majority of the dough. just because they love you.

home.

a place where no words necessarily need to be said. and deep breaths can be taken.

where judgement will not get the best of you.

and love comes without any cost.

it is a place where secrets can be told. and some remain kept.

a place where you'll take late night diet-coke-and-apple-pie-runs to mickey-d's. and you'll stay for days on end. just because you need something and you're not sure what it is.

a place where there is no need to feel lost.

and where your stomach doesn't have to hurt.

home.

a little piece of happiness where you can quote baby mama and laugh until your sides ache.

where you are always welcomed by a big green sofa. and a blow-up mattress in the dance room.

yup, that's home.

and everyone needs a home.

p.s. how in love are you with this tree house? i want to live in it so bad.

p.s.s. does anyone know what song lyrics the title of this post come from? (without cheating of course) it's a good one.

i just kinda died for you. you just kinda stared at me.

you wonder what perfect looks like?

2011-07-16T17:53:00.004-06:00

yup, here you go.
...i'm so-crazy-attracted to this bedroom.

me + industrial chandelier + cozy bed + tired saturday night = happy.

to:_____ from: keen.

2011-07-16T10:26:00.005-06:00

to the seven-eleven worker i had so-selfishly neglected for much, much too long.

thank you for remembering me. thank you for your always smiling face and forever changing facial hair (seriously it's impressive how creative you get with your goatee and sideburns).

to the old woman in the downtown elevator.

if you hadn't 'accidentally' pressed every floor button, i wouldn't have such an entertaining and oh-so-very-claustrophobic story to tell. i appreciate that.

to my new friend who loves luxury cars and st. bernards.

real quick, be honest....

to sleep. oh-how-i-seriously-love-you.

i just wish you'd come easier to me. seriously, how-on-earth did my roommate and i sleep through all five of our alarms yesterday? how does that even happen?

to the females of arlington. eh-hem.

when a licensed medical professional tells you your tan has reached a dangerously-unhealthy level. maybe, just maybe you should listen. come on girls, really?

is extreme superficiality really that important?

freakin' paranormal activity going on around this place.

to the old friend i don't get to see very often. who always stays the same.

i missed you.

to shaun t. you're honestly killing me on a daily basis.

i kind of hate you and yet, i keep coming back. i've never seen such 'insane' quick results with anything i've ever done. you rock.

to joe.

the owner of my new and favorite provo-hole-in-the-wall mexican food joint (well not so much a 'hole' as it is the second half of a dirty smoke shop). best chicken burrito ever. thank you for the two free baskets of chips and your kick-a salsa. i don't even care if that means i am too much of a regular there.

so freakin' good.

to the way my hair has become exceptionally wavy with intense amounts of chlorine and sun exposure. yeah, i kind of love you.

so free and careless.

to aerosmith. dude, looks like a lady.

to laguna beach re-runs. huzzah. (i'm such a silly girl sometimes.)

to heat waves. and campfires. happy hour at sonic. and endless bottles of water (seriously, so crazy dehydrated lately). to happiness. to friends that stick by you even when you are difficult (yes, me. i can be a difficult human being). to no expectations. and thinking outside the box. to cozy beds and canyon drives to the lake. to playful banter. growing up. and allowing yourself to breath.

to deciding if it's forever. and knowing that no one could do it better.

yes, to all of you.

thanks.

from keen.

m.k. and a.

2011-07-13T08:29:00.005-06:00

confession. i used to think that only certain accomplishments and certain achievements could bring real happiness.

this embarrassingly naive notion came from my somewhat fantastical view of society and of life.

honestly. i blame it on the one-too-many-mk-and-a (mary kate and ashley) movies i watched in my tweens.

paris. atlantis. australia.

those twins did it all. and always, always ended up with a new-and-oh-so-charming boyfriend by the end of it.

props girls. props.

and it took a few hard-b-slaps across the face. but eventually i realized, life just isn't that way.

there is no easy answer to finding happiness.

i wish i could make it plain and simple. oh, yeah money will bring you everlasting bliss. yeah, just get a lot of that.

yup.

or. yes darling, fall head-over-heels-in-love. that will bring you forever and ever-never-ending happiness and solve all your problems while you're at it.

i mean, i'm not to saying that it can't.

but these things come with no guarantee.

ask my friend with two children. whose husband just up-and-left one day.

sadly, there is no mathematically based formula for a happy life. (and honestly that is probably a good thing because i suck hard-core at math. ask my statistics professor.)

eh-hem.

so.

i am writing today with a message. a lesson i learned in the past forty-eight-ish hours.

a lesson. i want and need to share with anyone feeling that you could be happier in life. anyone who feels a lack of. or that something may be missing.

to the brilliant mind who once told me we could never be content with life because of the gap between reality and perfection that we cannot bridge.

to my dear friend who feels lost in life. who is not quite sure where they want to be.

to the beautiful blue-eyed girl i don't really know all that well. that came home crying tonight.

yes, to all of you.

i'm in your same boat.

yup. in fact, i am rowing right along side of ya.

and though i don't have any formulaic answers for you. i do have this.

a quote. by sharon g. larsen.

"...when we determine within ourselves that we will be the best we can possibly be, the best of life will come to us."

seems simple, eh?

if we focus on being the best possible versions of ourselves. we're going to wake up one morning and realize, that the best of life is getting us.

obviously. there is a lot more that goes into it that callously saying okay, i'll be the best me i can be. shazam.

it takes work.

a hell of a lot of work. and not only the daily repetitive, persistent...just-do-it-until-it-does-you-good kinda stuff. but the emotional stuff too. the kind that will come back to haunt you when you least expect it.

the kind that will tease at your senses.

and cheaply mock your weakest of personality glitches. tugging at your coattails, pulling you downward. hoping--if they succeed in their cause--that they will to leave you along the roadside emotionally torn to pieces. showering in a pitch black bathroom. dreaming of bluer skies.

and that is where it gets tough.

that. my dears. is where we just have to plow on through and continue to progress in life.

and we improve.

one day at a time. minute by minute. lunch break by lunch break. we find ways to improve the people we are.

i heard this quote this past weekend.

it wasn't said to stand out. it wasn't written with hot-pink marker on the white board or sent out in the cute-bedazzled-hand-out-form that relief society sisters sometimes do.

but it rang in my mind with complete clarity.

really. i couldn't have wiped it from my thoughts even if i had wanted to.

it was something that i was destined to hear. something that became the answer to many of my current trials, questions and issues in life.

i guess we often assume that there is some exact answer for our questions and concerns.

or perhaps an all-telling book. 'the one true way to find happiness' (which--by the way--i just googled. and there are many versions of this title to try out. if you wish.)

but no book--no article on the web--no advice column or motivational speaker is going to have answers for you. for your life. for you personally.

no one else will no how to make you happy.

others may love you. they may show you affection. they may cradle you and protect you. it will make you feel warm and equally as in love. it will make you happy. and it's such a beautiful thing.

but--in my opinion--that isn't the foundational happiness of the individual. and that kind of happiness that may or may not hold up in times of struggle.

it frightens me.

when i hear others talk about how if they could only find 'that someone' then they would be happy.

and don't get me wrong--i know that finding that kind of love and companionship brings intense amounts of joy and security. and i want it just as much as the next joe. jill. whatever.

but i find a flaw in that logic.

because you can't depend on someone else to be your reason, your source for happiness.

and yes, i know m.k. and a. seem to find it every time. no matter their whereabouts. those girls have just got it all figured out.

speaking of which, i'm kind of craving some full house. some uncle j. and becky. topped up with a touch of d.j. and a little mary kate and ashley olsen. nothing wrong with that.

eh-hem.

anyways.

just be the best you that you can possibly be. and the best of life will come to you.

i feel pretty good about that. yup.

okay, that's all for today.

apparently.

2011-07-11T00:03:00.005-06:00

apparently. i still have a slight obsession with libraries.

...i'm kind of in love with them.

that's all.

a little secret.

2011-07-08T23:16:00.005-06:00

'i've got this friend. holding onto her heart.
like it's a little secret.
...like it's all she's got to give.'

-the civil wars, i've got this friend

i think we can all relate to this dude.
...in some way or another.

generic brand.

2011-07-07T00:05:00.003-06:00

you know that painful burning-throbbing-pulsing sensation of a stubbed toe?

and how it hurts? and how, when you proceed to stub your toe with other people present you usually make it known and possibly react more dramatically than if you were in a room by yourself?

like when i accidentally fell down the stairs while wearing heels this morning.

it didn't seem like much.

but then i looked down to find a cut and bruised arm with blood dripping down my elbow.

hm. okay.

i mean, if someone had been there...it really could have been a dramatic scene. a frantic tumble down the narrow stairwell, left beaten with a bloody arm. all while wearing platform heels. eh-hem. not too shabby.

but no.

i was alone. and i didn't make a peep.

just cleaned up the mess and accepted the hurt.

when no one knows. when no one is there. why bother with the fuss?

you just clench your teeth, tightly shut your eyes. and wait. wait for the initial sting to dissipate.

it hurts less that way. i promise.

no tears. no yelling. no grunting or screaming.

just pain. pain that only you know at that moment.

kind of like life, eh?

sometimes it really hurts. in fact, sometimes it hurts like hell. the initial pain may be so intense, that it leaves you hurled over on the icy ground choking through tears.

sitting outside a three story lamp-lit window hoping for signs of life.

astounding, isn't it? you'd think as a human race we'd get to used to the hurting.

but really we don't.

and when no one is there to watch. then nobody knows.

you mumble some highly unnecessary curse words and wipe down your swollen, tear-stained eyes in the ill-maintained walmart bathroom.

and you move along to pick up some great value brand cereal and cleaning products. because you're a cheap-generic-brand-kind-of-girl.

the cashier says to you, "honestly, i think this cereal is better than the brand name."

agreed, you respond with a smile.

she doesn't know. she just wants to talk about cereal. and really, you're okay with that.

hm.

i guess my point is. that life moves on.

everyone has their own problems. everyone has something they are dealing with. honestly, most people are currently experiencing or are witnessing something painful.

and you never know what someone may be concealing.

so, what then? you ask.

i guess we do our best. throw on some full house re-runs. take a long, steamy shower in a pitch black bathroom (so emo. but so therapeutic).

and call it a night.

yup.

goodnight dear.

thank you.

2011-07-06T20:39:00.005-06:00

James Furness w/ hearyonder: "Time Heals All Wounds" (WS #63) from Pilar Timpane on Vimeo.

dearly.

2011-07-06T12:20:00.004-06:00

my siblings.

...i love them so dearly.

a popsicle please.

2011-07-04T00:46:00.007-06:00

happy fourth of july everyone.

it is my favorite time of the year.

god bless america.

p.s. i have had a horrible case of writers block for the past week.

i can't seem to get my words out.

promise to write soon.

when i have no words of my own...

2011-07-03T13:42:00.005-06:00

"...there comes a point when you just love someone.

not because they're good, or bad, or anything really.
you just love them.
it doesn't mean you'll be together forever.
it doesn't mean you won't hurt each other.
it just means you love them.
sometimes in spite of who they are,
and sometimes because of who they are.
and you know that they love you.
sometimes because of who you are
and sometimes in spite of it."

-laurell k. hamilton (incubus dreams)

p.s. i will one day have an office just like this.

um, question...

2011-06-29T16:41:00.007-06:00

eh-hem.
so...what exactly do i need to do to arrive here in life?

honestly, i get chills just looking at this.
it's perfection.

purple boots and her golden dreams.

2011-06-23T14:05:00.005-06:00

'hey mama' by mat kearney.
yup, my official summer anthem for 2011.

honestly, i can't stop listening to it.
and the lyrics are so me.
i'm crazy about it.

summer, take a seat. stay a while.

2011-06-22T22:00:00.000-06:00

...being that yesterday was the first 'official' day of summer
i figure it's that time.

yes indeed...

time for keen's-summer-list-of-pure-watermelony-goodness.
(it's become somewhat of a tradtion.
basically i just tell you all the things i am going to do this summer...
fun, right?)

so, here we go.

1. mona.
yes, i was planning on hitting-up my dear-ol'-mona-rope-swing
this week, but unfortunately am now ill.
rest assured, i will be swinging from those ropes asap.

2. rodeo topped with a fair and fireworks.
really, those things all end up going together anyways...
so i am going to shove them all in the same category.
ye-haw, brad.

3. stand-up paddle boarding.
i'm probably much-much-much too excited about this.
but seriously...
so freakin' excited.

4. the fourth of july she-bang.
the 4th of july is one of the true loves of my life.
check out the freedom festival in provo if you don't have plans.
(you're missing out aubs.)

5. st. george, topped with zion's
and tuachan...
honestly, i already have tickets to a couple shows this summer.
and then i'll be heading back in september for,
drumroll please....
my boys: america.
round two. see round one here.

6. farmers market.
we'll see how this goes...
but i'm going to give it a shot this summer.

7. provo river.
yes...i kind of cringe as i say this but i'm going to try and make amends
with the river who has...
for three years in a row now...
tried to take my life. yes, this is happening.

8. listen to lots of good music.
something about great music streaming from the car window
on a steamy summer day.
love.

9. 'time with mi mama and mi papa'
name that movie si, neesh, dane...anyone from the warwick household?
i want some quality time with my family this summer.
my sisters and brother are all grown up now...
and i know there is a lot of hesitant change right around the corner.
i want to eat this time up.
yup, just like i am gonna eat up all this watermelon.
mmmgh.

10. love.
cliche. i know, gag me.
but i have a strong desire just to love this summer.
love life. love what i'm doing. love the moment...
every breath of warm summer-bon-fire-filled air. i want to love it.

okay.
...have i missed anything?
any other activities that i have to do?
i'm open for suggestions....
pretty please.