Wednesday, July 27, 2011

I'd Like To Be Alice

My computer is being fixed. Not that it was broken. It just didn't have much life left to live. My poor little pink net book, my library companion, is getting a new battery (even though it's not supposed to be serviceable) compliments of my uncle. I just wasn't ready to give it up quite yet.

Anyways. I was checking my facebook, email, and the blogs I follow on the 100-year-old family computer (ok, maybe it's not THAT old, but it sure acts like it) and I wandered onto this. Which led me to this. Which contained this beautiful piece:


Date a Girl Who Reads by Rosemarie Urquico 

Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas, and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by God, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.

Sunday, July 24, 2011

I Hope They Call Me On A Mission

Although, it is highly unlikely that I will grow another 12 inches anytime soon.

Being the age that I am (and going to the school that I do) means most of my guy friends have/are soon to be leaving to serve the Lord for 2 years.

And I am just so so excited for them!

I know they are already so awesome (hence our friendship), but I know they will be so much more than they already are. They are going to be fantastic missionaries! They are going to bring the gospel to so many children of God all over the world.

My favorite part about going to school at BYU is the people. They are all amazing! The boys, specifically, are somewhat of a wonder. It was just an amazing experience being so far away from home, yet feeling so safe. Because I knew that I could call up my home teachers, or the elder's quorum president, or my FHE brothers and ask for a blessing, or help studying, or anything, and they would be there. Being able to depend on guys my own age like that is kind of a big deal. You guys are kind of a big deal. And I want to thank you for that.

"And they were all young men, and they were exceedingly valiant for courage (dependability, integrity), and also for strength and activity; but behold, this was not all- they were men who were true at all times in whatsoever thing they were entrusted." (Alma 53:20)

To my friends who are departing on missions:
I look up to you so much, I cannot even describe how much you have each helped me and changed my life. I know you are going to change many more lives, not just in the next 2 years, but for the rest of your lives. I know this because of the people you are and because of the people I know you will become. You are as the army of Helaman. I am working towards and hoping for the day when I can serve the way you are. Love you all, I am so happy for you, go change the world.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Worry

I worry about things. A lot. Especially people, especially when I don't know what else I can do for them. I've always thought of this as kind of a bad thing, my worrying. You must understand, it's a bit extreme, I worry about EVERYTHING. I have an overactive imagination, and that certainly doesn't help.

Yesterday I went to my great great aunt's funeral. She was a wonderful lady. She was so caring and thoughtful of others. Her grandson spoke at the funeral, he said if he had one word to describe his grandma it would be Worrier. He explained that she worried about everyone, which meant she cared about everyone, because why would you worry about something you don't care about?

It's like my cross country coach used to say.
He'd ask us, "Are you nervous?"
"Yes." we'd say.
"Good. That means you care." He never really had anything to say to people who weren't nervous, I'd guess he'd be thinking, "You should be" but he was much too tactful for that.

Anyways, back to my great great aunt. That was the first time I had EVER heard the term worrier be used as a compliment and it really made a lot of sense.

So, what I want to tell you is, the next time your mom, or dad, or husband, or wife, sister, brother, best friend, grandma, etc. worries about you. Calls you every 5 seconds just to make sure you're okay, or asks you intruding questions because they're concerned, or whatever form their worry appears in. Don't be annoyed. Be glad you have someone who loves you enough to worry about you.

Monday, July 11, 2011

Fact.

I was brainstorming facts that most people don't know about me for the next time I play that game, two truths and a lie. So if you happen to be there next time I play it, please pretend you don't know these things.

1. I have lived in every house on my street. And my street is named after me (and my brother and sister, but still).

2. I can fit in a tuba case.

3. I sleep-talk, sleep-sing, and sleep-walk.

4. I am Native American.

5. I like to sit in laundry baskets which are full of warm (clean) laundry. In other words, I'm a cat.


6. I have a birthmark shaped like a T on my face, and that's why my parents named me Trista instead of Emily.

7. Just kidding, it's not a birthmark, it's a scar and it has nothing to do with my name, but you believed me, huh?

8. In middle school I seriously wanted to be one these things when I grew up: wedding planner, lawyer, orthodontist, cake decorator.

9. I love eating lemons straight.

10. I am really accident prone, I have scars from weird items that seem completely safe to the untrained eye, such as: a Christmas bulb, a surfboard, a treadmill, a triscut (yes I am quite serious about that one, be wary).

11.Some people refer to me as T-Rex, that surprises people, so I figured I'd include it.

12. Also some people call me No Wrista-Trista, but somehow that's not as surprising.

13. I love sci fi movies, and sports movies. In fact my favorite movies include Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, Remember the Titans... also That Thing You Do, and A Walk to Remember. But, you know, what did you expect?

14. I think guys with dreadlocks are attractive. Yeah...I don't get it either.

15. I own a lightsaber.

Fact.

Sunday, July 3, 2011

Singles Ward

Yes, I went to singles ward today (insert remark about how I look like I'm supposed to be a Mia Maid) and it made me want to watch the movie Singles Ward, imagine that. Anyways, I went, and you know what?

I liked it.

I figure it's the closest thing I'm going to get to that BYU feeling whilst I am away, except for one little thing:

In Sunday School we were talking about talents, 
"You have to practice to improve your talents, unless you're like, Michael Jordan."
"But, Michael Jordan isn't a real person."

Is it just me or should that comment have been about Jimmer?


Yeah, definitely not BYU, but close enough.

Also, they held Relief Society in the chapel, and Priesthood in the Relief Society room. It seems kind of silly, I mean, the room is labeled and everything.

Saturday, July 2, 2011

Sometimes I just wish

That I had a little more faith, trust, and pixie dust.

That people could read my mind.

That static electricity didn't exist.

That I was capable of writing happy songs.

That I was a professional surfer.

That people didn't have to leave.

That I had the cannon center next door to me again (I know!)

That there was a big light up sign in the sky telling me "Yes, it is right, go ahead!" or "No, crazy! That's a bad idea" every time I have to make a choice.

That I could honestly say I believe in fairytales.

That my wrists were proportionate to my body (but, really, compared to what?)

That I lived in the 80's (or 90's, I can't decide).

That I was more decisive.

That legwarmers would come back in style, for real.

That I had the patience to write a novel.

That I wasn't such a little girl.

That I didn't have to grow up.

That the stars were just a little bit closer.

Sometimes I just wish that we didn't have to move so fast, but moving on is all we really know how to do.