Comedic Musings

Last post.

2006-10-23T14:31:00.000-06:00

This is the last post. Blogging has lost its luster for me, though I will still be a participant in the blogging world. I just won't be an active participant.

That said, I'd like to close this blog with an account of the best day ever! Which happened to be today. In order for you to understand the complete wonderfulness of this day, I have to tell you a story about Boy With Name. Boy With Name was in my ward last semester (at the FLSR), and he had a rather large crush on me at the time. I was not completely unaware of the fact, but I was too busy having an emotional breakdown and fending off other guys at the time to do anything about it. At the beginning of this year, I saw Boy With Name and a friend of mine from the German house at the HFAC. I ran towards them in my typical excited fashion to say hi. Unfortunately, I'd forgotten my friend's name, so after we'd gotten that figured out I turned to him.
"Hi, where do I know you from?"
He gives me a Look. "From the FLSR last year."
"Oh! That's right. How are you?"
He gives me another look. "You don't remeber my name, do you?"
Blush time. Oops, I don't. "Uhhh...well..."
"I liked you! We even went out once!" He turned away and murmered into his shoulder, "Shallow."
Shallow?! That boy just called me shallow! Ugh. I felt so awful. And I still couldn't remember his name. I actually had to look it up on our ward website. After that his name is ingrained into my head, although I still maintain we never went out on a date.

Ok, now back to the best day ever!

8:30 wake up
9:00 Writing Fiction class starts. Not as boring as usual, I get to sit with Kelsey and Matt. We're the dynamic trio.
9:54 I bump into my bishop on campus and we joke about Arizona and academic confrences. It's a relief he likes me--for a while I thought he didn't.
9:55--This is the big one!--Boy With Name comes up and pulls my backpack from behind. He says, "I've been looking for you, can I get your number?" He compliments my on my Curious George tshirt and asks how things are going. I am amazed that he wants to be my friend, and even ask me for my number. This is awesome! I'm forgiven!
10:00 My theater class always starts late, so while waiting I talk to my friend Big Eyes. She tells me one of the people in her scene for Directing dropped out and could I please fill in? Heck yes! I am looking forward to doing some acting.
10:10 My class is studying Bollywood today! They bring in a guest lecturer (much less boring than our usual professor) and she teaches us a dance in one of the Bollywood clips. We dance in the aisles.
11:00 I see my friend Picante, who is directing a show I auditioned for. Callbacks haven't been emailed yet, so I still have a chance.
12:00 Modern dance. It is always awesome.
1:30 I find an unopened granola bar behind one of the chairs after dance. It is my favorite kind.

And now it is three o'clock, and all is well. Nothing else much exciting went on, but yesterday I baked apple pie for the first time! Life...is definetly good.

Oh, and I'm starting a dream blog, since my dreams are epic and really cool.

missing you ( a more personal blog)

2006-09-05T22:17:00.000-06:00

"Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself

constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling into at night.

I miss you like hell."

--Edna St. Vincent Millay

I just read Optimistic's post on his breakup, and I must say he's right. My boyfriend of four months, Joseph (and he can never be anything to me but Joseph) has left my life. He does this for personal reasons of his own and I must say I think he's making a good decision. I wouldn't say it was the only decision, or even the best one, but he has decided to stay in Vernal this semester, and I must admit his reasons are good ones. It just hurts. And I know this is kind of lame after only four months, but I'm not apologizing for it. The pain is worse than when I broke up with my boyfriend of ten months.

I have never missed someone like this before. It's odd. I can put him out of my mind, think easily of the task at hand, but there is always a subconcious emptiness. It's as if a pillar of my heart has suddenly vanished, and although everything seems to be staying up all right, it's a precarious balance. And that's when I'm not thinking about it. When I am, like I am now, I must admit it is much more painful. I am having trouble understanding why he left, though I've asked him to explain a hundred times. My brain understands.

It's strange to me, though, when I detatch my head from my emotions, that I could need him so badly. He's so normal. When someone has such a big effect on your heart, you'd expect them to be supernaturally good-lo0king, or talented, or funny. At least I did. But, as my friend K-star says, I guess that's what makes love so special. It is not reservered for the elite, but given freely to everyone.

As for my own private heartache, I guess I just have to live through it. They say these things take time, and, truthfully, I can think of no other cure.

Oh, Canada!

2006-09-04T19:26:00.000-06:00

I'm back from Canada and (supposedly) ready for school. Canada was fun. I learned things. It was the first time I've been with my entire family on my mom's side. It was fun to discover my uncle cousin and I all share the same high instep. Still, it was strange.

I'm the only Mormon in my entire family, immediate and extended. I often felt like some sort of specimen. Most of my relitives avoided the subject completely. I don't think any of them even said 'Mormon' once. The only exceptions were my two eldest cousins, both of whom I met for the first time last weekend. One was Flippy, who is gay and forty, and the other, Cowboy, his younger brother by three years. Cowboy and I actually get along stupendously. I wouldn't say we're kindred spirits, but parts of our personalities overlap. He was cool about my mormonism, although I don't think he understood. Flippy spent an entire night harrassing me for my decision, doing a kind of pre-emptive defense.

It was painful to have my own flesh and blood against me. I never once said I was against homosexuals, and I even told him I had several gay friends. It's hard to feel the outsider in the middle of your family. But there were good times too. I spent my birthday over there, and we had a grand ol' time. We (meaning my family, the bride and groom included) went to a traditional Japanese restaurant. We all sat in these tiny little boat-tables and cooked all our own meat and everything. It was awesome. My favorite part was when they sang "Happy Birthday". We had at least twenty people, and I got up on the seat and conducted. By the end the entire restaurant was singing for me. That was a great moment for my attention-loving self. ahh.

So, overall, the trip wan't bad. There was a lot of booze and drunkeness, but there was family togetherness too. I had further insights, but it's too much to cover in one post. At tleast for me.

2006-08-06T20:44:00.000-06:00

This post is being written from my dad's laptop, while my kitty licks herself nearby. Yes, I have returned home, to Carlsbad, Ca, in a move that seems to signify pure defeat. After losing my job at the beginning of the summer, I never was seemingly able to procure another. And the concussion stopped me from continuing with my dance classes, so I came here, where there was food and a job waiting for me. As well as a cat. To which I am allergic. It has been nice for te first few days--I've really enjoyed eating food which does not come in sandwich and cereal form. My parents have even been nice to me, seeing as how they can understand a concussion much better than depression. My mom has already decided to blame my little "episode" of last winter on the good conk to my head I received in swing dance. There's a post on it, somewhere.

My psychologist, hereafter named Guider, tells me that I live in my head too much, due to certain childhood incidences which we shall not disclose here. It means that I have problems fully engaging in this life. So, what it boils down to is I just dont want to participate. I have been a great observer all my life, but now I need money, which means I have to enter the real world, and come to terms with the fact that I have a future, and it's up to me to make it a good one. Unfortunately, somehow in my mind this is linked to me finding a job. I copped out of it for now--this job with my dad isn't really a job, I just do stuff for him--but when I go back to school, I'll need something. That scares me. It bothers me that something so normal, so easy, scares me. But I have never done it before. I just don't want to engage. I don't want to be part of the world, I'm not seeing the point. agh. my brain hurts.

poems

2006-07-28T10:20:00.000-06:00

now I'm all afraid of people stealing my stuff. But the need to show off won over the fear, so here we go:

Dress
--to my mother

I remember
your old night-time dress
lilies faded across the waist
strong brown arms against your chest
smooth cotton against my face

And though I was small, and though you were big
and nightmares haunted me
your old night-dress was always there
ready to carry me

Now I am older, and you are old
I find the dress where it sits
smaller and faded; I pull it on
and look--it fits.

Here's another one. It reminds me of Shel Silverstein.

Gone Wrong

I've lost my heart, please,
can you tell me where it's gone?
Only it's the center of me
and now everything's gone wrong.

My blood is lost
in the capillaries of my toes
my eyes seem to be stapled
to the back of my frontal lobe.

And now I can't see where
I'm going
I can't remember where
I've gone

I've lost my heart
and now it seems
everything's
gone wrong.

aaaah...concussion

2006-07-21T17:18:00.000-06:00

Well, the latest report is in, lads. I have a concussion. No, not from falling off the horse. This is another one. This one I got while during a fancy move in modern that turned out to be fancier than I expected. There's really no way to explain it without helpful visuals, so you'll just have to imagine it. Suffice to say, I somehow ended up completely horixzontal in mid-air, like some kind of magician's assistant. Then gravity took over. Now I get a headache when I turn too quickly or eat cold things. The doctor said this was probably the fourth one I've had (big surprise), but if I get anymore, I'll probably have permanent brain damage. Yay. For now, I take special un-dizzifying pills three times a day and sleep for the rest of it. They cause drowsiness, which I think is the understatement of the year. ah well. If anyone wants to bring me cookies and coo over me in sympathy, I wouldn't have the strength to object...

ok, I'm wondering what the deal is.

2006-07-06T21:49:00.000-06:00

I fell off a horse this past weekend. Guess where I landed. YOu got it! My head. I swear, I don't know why this keeps happening to me. Is there some sort of lesson I'm supposed to be learning here? I mean, most Mormons believe that trials are sent to us to teach us something, to let us learn, grow. If we have a repeating set of trials then that is obviously something that is hard for us to overcome. So what am I supposed to overcome here? A straight spine? A low pain threshold? Because with the way things have been going, the last was overcome a while ago, and the first will only take a few more falls to become a permanent part of my past.

In other news, I've started taking a modern dance class, which I love. It also happens to make the rest of my body hurt. Not that I'm complaining in my trials. I am grateful for them. Really, I am. ow. *curses*

Lookee! I'm a poet!!

2006-06-26T18:56:00.000-06:00

Stop.

Do not enter with doubts and fears cloaked
about you.
Please, leave them at the door.

We provide a coat rack there,
very organized, very neat,
every hook complete with a label
'doubts'
'fears'
and most importantly,
'disbelief''.

So come and enter, do
But first take a look
and shed yourself
of these unpleasant things
They'll be waiting, still,
at the door

And in replacement, we offer
angels' wings.

I am a treehugger!!

2006-05-17T00:39:00.000-06:00

because trees always hug back.

Nature Svithe

2006-05-14T15:10:00.000-06:00

I used to think life was all about people. It wasn't something I was particularly happy about, I just accepted it as the way it is. The reason we were set down on this green earth was to learn how to communicate, to love and help others. And through doing that, others would help us learn about ourselves and God.

Today is the first time I really questioned that. I didn't want to go to church today. My new ward scares me, so I decided to go to a Sanish ward. Unfortunaly, because of a dream I had last night, I woke up unhappy. I stayed in my room until my roomates left the house (at one), then changed into jeans , went to seven-eleven to buy water and a Three Musketeers bar, then drove up Provo Canyon. I don't know where I got the desire to hike and eat chocolate, but I did, and so I did.

The walk was really nice. Sometimes it's hard for me to get out of myself when I'm depressed. I get trapped in a train of thoughts that run round and round again in a strangled loop. "What's wrong with me? " "why do I feel this way?" blah ba blah dee blah. the walk helped me get out of that. It was really fun exploring nature all by myself out there in the wildernes of Provo Canyon. I got to follow all the trails (or non-trails) I wanted and climb on fallen trees...basically all the things my Girl Scouts leaders never let me do. Ah, freedom.

As I stopped on a rock to eat my chocolate I started to wonder what nature is here for. Granted, it's beautiful and nice to have around...balances our ecosystem and all that....but what is its purpose here? I have always loved nature; trees, flowers, bugs, slugs all testify to me of the wonder and beauty of life. Ecosystems in all their delicacy become as intricate and holy as living organisms. The scriptures tell us that all things testify of Christ, and it's true. But do they tesitfy of him for us, or just as their way of living? Many would say that man is the greatest of all God's creations and the rest of them were put here for our use. But if that is the sole purpose, why didn't God put us on a glass globe with the tools necessary for survival already there?

Also, why do all the reasons for nature's existance center around man? Why can't it exist for its own purpose? We are sent here to be tested and eventually experience salvation. could the same be said for plants and animals? We are told that animals do have their own kind of heaven. (or something...anyone know the source for that one?). In the book of Genesis, chapter 6, verse 12, when discussing the state of the earth before the flood it says, "And God looked upon the earth, and, behold, it was corrrupt, for all flesh had corrupted [its] way upon the earth" (the 'it's' is from the Moses translation). Flesh does include animale, does it not? I begin to see the reasoning behind the idea of reincarnation, for with that discipline of thought, every living thing has a purpose. That plant out there is striving to learn and grow so that when it dies it can achieve a higher form.

Then there's the question of man's interaction with nature. Adam and Eve were commanded to name and care for all of the plants and animals in the Garden. We assume that we are ocmmanded the same thing. But, as far as I can tell, nature is a closed system. It survives perfectly well without Man. We are as gods, with the ability to create (humans) and destroy (everything else). Was the commandment to take care of nature really just a nice way of saying 'don't kill it all off'?

Sigh. Such weighty ponderings. I wasn't really able to come to any conclusion. I do believe that nature is here for more than just our entertainment and survival, but I can't see it. Actually, that's why I'm blogging this. Any ideas?

Ah ha! God is funny

2006-05-11T21:11:00.000-06:00

I had a bad day on the depression scale today, mostly all sleeping. I had lunch at four o'clock and around five I was laying on my bed again, asking God to let me sleep and to give me a fun dream so I wouldn't have to handle real life for a little while. This is the result. I call it, "Jesus came down in a red beat-up car".

In the dream I was driving along a freeway with people with me in the car. I think it was my family, at least my mom, but I don't remember. It's a clear, hot day, the kind you only find in deserts in the late afternoon. Suddenly there's a small traffic jam at a curve in the road. Someone is crying for help, and everyone else has stopped to find the find the source of trouble. I pull over and spot it immediatly. Across the freeway, just peeking over the drop off the edge, there's a tree--sparse, not a lot of leaves--and a little boy swinging off the top branch, just about to fall off.

The traffic is moving now (one of those dream idiosyncrasies), and I have to dart across the freeway to get to him. As I cross I pray for God's help. When I get there, there is more than one boy. The others are climbing down fine and the one who was in trouble seems to be ok now. I consider my options. I could climb down with them, but I'd most likely just get in the way. I decide to call down instructions if they need them.

Switch to bird's eye view. Jesus comes in a red beat-up car. He pulls over. Someone (possibly the little boy) asks me in a voice-over,
"Who's that?"
"God" I say, "God is here."
People begin rushing toward the car reaching out to Him.
"Why are they doing that?"
"Because that's what people people do when God is here."

I feel like a special friend of his and I understand everything he is doing. I know he'll want to see me. Eventually he comes and takes me and the boys to a cave where he asks us what we want from him. On the way there I freak out because I can't decide what what it is I want. I want to see him again, but I know that's already going to happend, so it seems kind of disrespectful to ask for that. I want to have him with me always, but that is a bit selfish.

A little boy asks for his gift first. He has to undergo a trial before he can recieve it, so I know this is how it works. I leave to help the gift come about, but when I come back to the cave it has completely fallen in. I'm horrified, shocked, scared...somewhere inside me I know that everyone is fine, but still a whisper escapes me, "my friends", and then "Jesus." I begin throwing rocks aside like they were styrofoam, but I've only moved about two when Heavenly Father appears before me. He is wearing a gold shirt with a white cardigan and white pants. We speak a bit, but I don't remember what we said. Then he says something about the "Relax Place" and puts on a black straight tie from the sixties.

Then he takes me (it could have been in a flying bus) to a place I don't remember. Actually I don't remember this part at all well. All I remember is Heavenly Mother opening up an oven full of hot cinnamon rolls, and Heavenly Father asksing me whether they are the way I like them. "Small, right?" I nearly ask if they'd done the special cinnamon mix, but then I realize, it's God, so of course they're perfect.

I woke up laughng my head off at God's sense of humor because, out of all the things I could have possibly wished for, that was exactly what I needed.

Thaleia

This post is being written from the afterlife

2006-05-09T21:39:00.000-06:00

This post is being written from the afterlife, as I still haven't gotten a job or learned to count. Maybe they're connected.

Anyway, this has been a time of firsts for me. This is the first time I've:

moved on my own
lived in a house
threw a party
let someone read my Patriarichal Blessing
NCMOd.
hosted a guest for more than one night
witnessed a marriage proposal
printed more than fifteen sheets of paper (20, exactly)
climbed a house
cut my hair
asked someone for an application for a job

Gee willikers! I am moving fast.

Things I must do before Sunday or Die

2006-05-04T16:27:00.000-06:00

1. Get a job!!
2.vacuum room
3. decorate aforementioned room
3. call and squabble with landlord
4. pay rent
5. learn how to count
6. buy:
gas
razor
really large rug (my carpet is atrocious)
stickytak
7. relax, call mom

So I went to my first official BB event yesterday. It was the indie movie party. good fun. I'd been to Poetasters before, so I'd met Nocturne and Tolkeinboy, and of course I already knew Thirdmango, but this was the first time I got to meet everyone 'en masse'.

It was a bit strange trying to get to the party. I got lost because Optimistic said it was on 600N, but really it was a block up.(angry face at Optimistic). I wandered around for a good while, peeking into all the number two apartments. I was actually brave enough to knock on the door of one, but unfortunately the only person home was an international Korean student who didn't understand a word I saidg. He just kept pointing at himself, saying, "kolean". Luckily 3m decided to answer his phone the third time I called, so I was rescued.

Walking up to the door of Optimistic and Robert Poste's apartment was a little weird for me. there I was, about to enter a room full of strangers who know more about me than my parents do. I busily recited opening lines in my head. When I stepped into the square of light that was the doorway there was a definite awkward moment as everyone gave me a blank stare. Thinking back to my busy rehersal , I opened with the classic, "hi. My name is muse. You all know me, though you don't know it yet." Then I scuttled over to hide beside the couch.

I'm not quite sure what the protocol for sharing names is when you're in a real life situation. I don't know if I should have introduced myself as muse, but how else were they to recognize me?
Fortunatly, the rest of the evening was much less awkward. We already had thinkgs to talk about, as we seem to always be in constant conversation on line anyway. I was delighted with all I met and had a great time. Man, these people make me laugh. Glad I met you all!

2006-05-03T16:54:00.000-06:00

from a note to my father:

Dear DOGHD,

The story of the week: Provo is undergoing a rare spell of nice weather. The sky is blue, the grass is green, and all the little puffy white clouds are doing their very best sheep impressions. It's beautiful. On our house there is a lovely porch with a very dirty pink and white couch resting on it. Yesterday morning I decided to take advantage of this advantageous conjunction of circumstances and took my oatmeal outside in order to enjoy the sunshine and judge the sheep. Alas! all would have been perfect (except for my dirty bottom, but that really couldn't be helped) if my oatmeal were not stone cold. well, ok. Luke warm. Disgusting in either case, so I turned to go back in--and found the door locked! Yes! My roommates actually lock our doors. And now I was locked outside.

Let us pause here at this suspenseful moment for a brief description of the house where I now live. Its tenants lovingly call it The Pillar House for the four thin pillars posted at its front. I would call it the Christmas House, because it's painted red and green, though not in the garish shades normally associated with that holiday. By either name, it is a dang cute house. Besides the aforementioned front porch, there is a side porch thing, really just stairs, covered by a tin roof. There is a tiny backyard, but the size doesn't matter because there are trees! One of them has great promise as a climbing tree. All in all, the house has a quaint cottage look, and would not be amiss in the mountains. Oh, and there is a basement. It smells just like the basements in Canada. Basically, I'm loving my first house experience.
But back to the story. There I am, standing on the front porch, locked out. But wait! I had left my bedroom window open that morning, hoping to get rid of the smell of Pine sol. However, the window is on the second story of the house. I did a quick survey of the downstairs windows, and sure enough, none of them were open. Now, there was no way i was going to spend the rest of the day locked out of my house. I'd done that the day before, and it was a huge waste of time. There was no choice. It was time to climb.

Using the conveniently placed side-porch and my hide-a-key, I backed up my car and, using it as a kind of a help-me-up, scrambled onto the porch’s tin roof. (nearly losing my life, and gaingin a lot of scratches in the process). I crawled carefully along the edge to get to the main roof of the house, and then found that it was much higher that I’d estimated (more around armpit height than chest height). So I sat and moped around for a bit on my tin roof, trying not to be seen by the neighbors. It’s much harder to go down than up. Eventually I picked my way back over to the roof and started theorizing, “let’s see, if I put my right hand here and my left hand here and sort of hoist myself up…” I eventually found myself on the roof of my house, almost by accident. From there, the rest was easy. I paused a moment, enjoyed the view, unscrewed the screen ( I was smart enough to bring a screwdriver), and slipped gracefully into room, though not before I’d waved cheerily at the couple staring raptly at me from their car across the street.

Now I just have to figure out how to screw my screen back on from the inside.

So now I’m back. My two roommates seem nice, although I never see them. It’s a big house for just three girls. The neighbors are Mr. and Mrs. Davis, a very nice grandparent-y couple. Our other neighbors are all boys and very intimidating. The search for a job goes on, and my room is still only halfway made. All my clothes are put away, but that about as far as I’ve gotten. Still, life goes on. I hope things go well for you.

Love, your scratched but proud daughter,
[thaleia]

knuckle sandwich

2006-04-20T12:39:00.000-06:00

In a recent turn of events, I fit my entire fist in someone else's mouth last week.

cutting the hair/pride

2006-04-11T01:35:00.000-06:00

Tomorrow I'm cutting off my hair. There're a lot of different reasons. It's a way of rejecting (rechazar) what I am. Actually, it is a rejecting of many things. Society, what my mom wants from me, my old self. It's a way of finding a new identity. It's also an experiment in this society to see how they react to a boy's haircut on a girl. And I'm sick of taking thirty minutes to comb out my hair. I'll post pictures if I feel ready to give up my anonymity.

Ok, fine. it's really just a call for attention. Sue me.

Liberation post

2006-04-11T00:09:00.000-06:00

so. My psychologist and I have decided that writing is our barometer for how I'm doing. I'm not a perfectionist in any other aspect of life--except maybe grades--but usually every inch of my writing fills me with an incredible loathing. When I'm feeling ok, I usually can overcome this loathing enough to write and in fact have many different writing projects and outlets I love to work on. When I'm depressed I can't write at all, in part because I'm afraid of what I'll feel, and also because in that state my sentences become prison bars and my perfectionism is the ultimate dungeon master. Every sentence is one of death.

However, this is supposed to be a happy post. In fact, it is one. So, changing subjects...

My liberation story. On Tuesday my boyfriend broke up with me. I know, not your usual beginning to a liberation story; however, I'd been reading the signs and kind of expected it. So it didn't affect me too much. On Wednesday Mango was the best friend ever and let me hang out with him. While discussing the breakup, I mentioned that it was the first time I'd ever been dumped. He retorted that I was being cocky, to which I replied, "I'm not cocky!" I was wrong, of course. I was cocky. I am cocky. And a little self-centered. And a lot self-absorbed. That is one of the main factors of my depression. How can you ever be happy if all the time you're wondering why you're not? It was Wednesday when I realized this. On Thursday when I woke up the black empty hollow that I've carried inside me for so long had been filled with a magic joy. Friday was the same way. I was...happy. Not only was I happy but I was able to concentrate on other people and really care about them. God granted me so many opportunities for service and support I was nearly overwhelmed. I'm so grateful for it. Thank you, thank you God.

I'm not saying I'm cured. I relapsed today and Saturday night, but there are differences. And I'm not saying I'm the must unselfish person ever now. I"m always catching myself thinking about me. I saw Nocturne today, and what did I talk about? me. Actually, right now I'm talking about me. You should count the number of 'I's in this post. What I'm saying is that I want to change and I'm trying to do so. I wanted to write this post for you guys, because I know reading other people's experiences has helped me.

A badly written posting

2006-03-31T00:33:00.000-07:00

I think sadness is beautiful, like rain and strong battered women and fancy melting candles and rooms all done up in red velvet. Like wildflowers growing raggedly from a crack in a barren rock, or like sputtering, flickering stars, fighting to shine their light down through earth's muggy, twinkly atmosphere. I want to cup the stars in my hand, make someone's sadness my own, protect it from the tempestuous winds of life, shade it from the overpowering glare of sunshine. In the summer, I lie in the crunchy golden grass and look at the ghosts of giants and heroes and magical beasts placed in the night sky to remind us that we all must pass on, that we are only visitors here in this strange land. And I love them. I love their stories. And then the sun comes out, and the stories fade to a soothing baby blue and all can be forgotten. The heroes and their tragic tales are lost. Their beauty exists only in the darkness.

--from Smurf's blog.

Every day I lie in bed and stare, imprisoned my the viscous grey walls of my cranium. I don't cry, I don't feel, I don't move. The only thing I am permitted to do is think. To think the same thoughts over and over again, like little mice running through my mind. They are the color of ash, and I am theirs. The hours sludge by, mud encrusted, diligent. They pass through me as if I were a ghost. I am a ghost. An insubstantial nothing of fear and hate but mostly just nothing--of no feeling, no being, no body.
My roomate tells me she's jealous of me, my mother tells me I'm feeling blue. I tell them they're wrong. Immobility is not freedom it's pain. Depression is not blue, it's grey. Today it is a thick grey, like porridge gone wrong.
So now I have to choose. I am, as they say, at a cross roads. Like two branches veering off into the sunlight, both tricky to maintain a hold upon. And of course, there is always the option to let go. But that is not an option for me. Toasteroven once said that we use the internet as an emotional bandaid. Mango says that we are all screwed up. I'm just trying to get a grip. Do I withdraw from classes this semester? I know there are only three weeks left, but when doing my laundry is my major accomplishment for the day, should I really expect more? Do I stick it out? What about God? What's wrong with me anyway? And why is it so hard to get help? Perhaps Toasteroven is right, and the internet is a bandaid, but bandaids are supposed to help you heal. I know Mango is right. This is my first confession.
Sometimes
Sometimes I ponder hands, wrists, icy blue veins ensnared by streching skin. I want to liberate them, to shatter hands with my own warmth, to finally know... I am alive. I am. I beat I exist I dance I ponder I pray and I journey. So even if this soul doesn't count for much, at least it's matter. I have to remember that I exist. That is my goal for today.

Cheers,
Melpomene

2006-03-01T12:43:00.000-07:00

You know, having a bruised armpit is just about the weirdest thing that's ever happened to me.

Thaleia

un related rant

2006-02-27T20:30:00.000-07:00

ok. This is to apologize for my writer's block. It's been a special last couple of days. I've just finished reading all of the blogs I could get my hands on and I now I know I have to write.

Isn't it weird how there are people in this world who just seem to be destined to be listeners? The ones who listen to the romance troubles of the opposite sex but never have a romance themselves. The ones who have a lot of good friends and no prospects. The ones who are the most understanding and gentle and kind and they always are careful not to reveal their own loneliness while listening to the woes of others.

I generally try to stay away from those kind of people.

I fell bad for them! I don't want to burden them with my troubles; they have enough already. I have a friend in my apartment complex like this, Popster, and he confides in me and I avoid confiding in him. It makes me feel guilty. I don't want to be like all the other girls he tells me about; I feel bad enough that I can't fall in love with him. I feel like I should kiss him just to make him feel better.

I of course realize that this is all a bunch o' hooey, but still. Of course, I'm the opposite of this kind of person. I tend to have lots of dates and no close friendships. No one wants to confide in me. I haven't actually had a long talk with a person of the same sex in years. And it's funny, but no one seems to think I have a right to complain. I'm not negating the hard times that listeners go through, but the people in my boat don't exactly have a gran' ol' time either. I have no one to talk to when things go bad--until recently I had no one I felt that valued me for me. Most the time, I've only ever talked with them once before they ask me out. And I never get second dates. I mean, sure, all my dates must be attracted to me for some reason, but how can I confide in one of them without them thinking the relationship is going somewhere? I already feel guilty enough for not feeling a mutual attraction; I don't need to lead them on as well. It's not a good situation for someone with serious commitment issues to be in.

Besides, a girl needs friends, not just boys. And all the stupid dates take up valuable hanging out time--essential for that whole female bonding thing I've never been a particiapant of. Or maybe just bonding thing. I'm not closed to the idea of having guy friends, but I'm still bad at friendship. However, I must take into account recent events, which show that maybe I'm growing out of it. As I end this blog, I would like to tell all who read it that it is not in the least related to what is really bugging me right now and most of isn't true anymore--but it's still good for all of you to get another perspective on life.

Melpomene

Four Things

2006-02-16T09:24:00.000-07:00

This is because I decided to skip my moringng class and read Thirdmango's blog instead. I would link it like everyone else does, but I have no idea how.

Four Jobs I've Had

1. "sample lady" at Costco
2. off and on harpist at Tickyboo
3.umm, actually that's it. I've never really needed a job before college.

Four Books I can read over and over again

1. Harry Potter
2.BoM
3.Ender's Game
4. The Giver

Four Places I've Lived

1. Carlsbad, Ca.
2. Provo, Ut.
that's it again. sorry

Four Movies I love (no tv shows. I've never had tv)

1. Great Expectations
2. A Series of Unfortunate Events
3. Memento
4. The Incredibles

Four highly regarded and recomended tv shows I've never watched a single minute of

1. 24
2. Lost
3. Sex and the City
4. Spunge Bob

Four places I've Vacationed

1. Spain
2. Florida
3. Costa Rica
4. Jamaica

Four of my favorite dishes

1. bread and butter and water
2. curry
3. sweet potatoes
4. green beans with lots of cheese and almonds

Four sites I visit daily

1. I mostly just check my different forms of mail *shrug*

Four Places I'd rather be

1. underwater
2. in a hot air balloon (i'm with you mango)
3. on the beach
4. in the jungle

Four Bloggers I am tagging

Actually I'm not sure if I've got four bloggers reading this site. So I absolve all readers of any responsiblity.

2006-02-13T19:32:00.000-07:00

YOUR MISSION: KILL THALEIA

MEANS OF EXECUTION: BY BRAINING HER

I'm convinced that some anonymous league of humans recently received this message. Then they immediatly burned it.

On Saturday I was hit on the head again. Twice. I was teaching a guy to do a dip and he forgot about the whole keeping-the-girl-up part and then four hours later I was dipped right into another dip. It was a double-dip smakaroo of (near) death!
*ahem* Anyways, Saturday was a great day. I got to meet Third Mango, which was exciting. He looks exactly like his pictures but with big hair. I was floosie in his film and pretended to beat up the hero--all while wearing hoops. I should mention, Mango, that I now have bruises on my hand where that kid hit me. I sure hope that shot turned out. Saturday was also the day of swing team's first performance. It went off like a dream. I was really proud of us: it was a huge improvement over last semester. However, I was hit on the head only a few minutes later, so that kind of put a damper on things.

You know, being hit on the head four times within two weeks has really caused me to question the meaning of my existence. Between lapses of unconciousness I have really probed life's inner fabric--and discovered it is terry. I have pondered the most important matter of the universe and found that it is dark. I have asked the eternal question and found that the answer is *gasp* 42!

Ok, so I haven't gotten much further than Douglas Adams, but imagine where another good conking could get me.

-Thaleia

I came in the room and found my roommate crying

2006-02-06T13:24:00.000-07:00

Have you ever noticed how the minute one gets a boyfriend, life becomes a Great Drama? It's true. Three of my six roommates get boyfriends, and suddenly nothing will ever be calm again. Two of them are always on the phone, weeping for who knows what reason, and the third seems to always be dancing around and forgetting to wash her dishes. Except of course for when He comes over, and then it's all our faults that the kitchen is a mess. I thought love was supposed to make you all happy and good, but instead my roomates have turned into a couple of soppy dishrags and a selfish sunflower. The worst part is, they're all so involved with their lives that it's left me feeling very lonely.

And I miss my living room.

yeah

2006-02-05T19:55:00.000-07:00

by the way, I don't think my letter to my professors went over very well.

allegory

2006-02-03T23:47:00.000-07:00

I was dropped on my head again.

No, it's true. On the exact same spot! We were doing backflips this time, but luckily my spotters caught me, so I got more of a hard tap instead of actually falling. I was rather upset, not because it hurt(though it did), but because everyone else could do it, first try, and I felt broken or something. My partner, Bop, finally came up to me at the end of practice and asked if I wanted to try it again. I did, so after a quick prayer, we went at it again. It's funny, but we discovered that it was him that was doing it wrong and it made me feel so much better. Eventually we pulled off a perfect flip. I was really proud of both of us, and I am really grateful for such a simple thing as prayer.

twidddles and tidbits

2006-02-02T19:42:00.000-07:00

Today is going to be a bit of a serious post, since I find my blog has mostly been one-sided. I realize that although my postings are fun, to make people want to read what I write I have to add a bit more soul. Most of my postings read very superficially. I apologize for not updating in a while, but I've been happy of late, and that's what happens.

Right now, I'm doing fine. My neck and head are a bit sore, but they could be worse. The biggest side affect of my accident seems to be an unusual tiredness. I slept until at least eleven on Wednesday, and I went to bed at ten! I'm ready to return to bed now, even though it is only eight. As for the acting major, I unfortunately did not get in. But it wasn't nearly so tragic a thing as I had supposed it would be. I am now a Spanish translation major hopeful and an English major actual. It's good, though I'm a little galled at the fact that's exactly what my mother always wanted me to be.

Seriously, I don't think I've ever been so happy in all my time at BYU. My classes are finally challenging and interesting, and although I'm only taking thirteen credits, they keep me on my toes. Things are being solidified for the Spring and Summer terms. Hopefully I'll be able to stay at the FLSR. My current dream is to be accepted into the Dancers' Company someday, so I'll be taking lots of dance classes over the summer. Yes, I know I'm completely insane. But I dream big.

As a sidenote, I wrote a poem yesterday. I was proud because it was in perfect iambic octameter. I know, a little weird. However, I read it over again today and decided that if ever I had to make the choice between burning all my socks and letting someone read it, the socks would definetly burn. It wouldn't even be a hard decision.

Polyhymnia

oh, and my cousins are cool, though I didn't see much of them and I was unusually shy when I did.

stiff neck

2006-02-01T13:27:00.000-07:00

a letter I sent to my professors today:

Dear Professors of mine,
I missed all my classes today, so I decided to send out a email to all of you, instead of individual ones. I hope no one is offended.
The reason I missed class is because I was recently dropped on my head. Not as traumatic as if it happened to a baby, but still sufficient to prevent me from looking to either side. As this is not a common occurence for people over two years old, let me explain to you how it happened. I am on our wonderful university's local swing team, and we like to do flips and other daring deeds in time to big band music from thirties and forties. Which, as you will admit, requires a lot of skill. As I was practicing what is commonly known as the charlston front-flip, I conveniently forgot to turn right side up again, lacking, apparently, the aforementioned skill. Thus I am found in my present condition. Which is highly uncomfortable, and rather stiff.
However, I am neither dead nor paralyzed, and so will be back in class by tommorrow. I will have a note from my swing coach for those of you who require documentation by Friday, and I hope this will suffice. As a side note, Prof. Scott and Mlle. Nelson, I unfortunately don't have contacts in either of your classes, so if you could email me the homework, I will be eternally grateful. I promise I will secure some telephone numbers when I get back to class.
I thank you for time, and remind you that this letter is a lot funnier if read with an upper-class British accent.
Sincerely yours,
[Thaleia]

whee!

2005-12-16T00:22:00.000-07:00

I failed my Spanish test. That's what I get for thinking a class is easy. However, I only have two more finals left and they're easy, even though there's two of them.

I just realized that today is Thursday. And I've been thinking it's Wednesday this entire time.

But it's all good because I have just been seriously flirted with, and that's always a nice feeling.

Erato

ahh. finals.

2005-12-13T16:39:00.000-07:00

The thing I like about finals is that everyone puts up new blogs. And then there's more to read, therefore giving me more things to do while procrastinating. Finals are going ok for me, I have pretty good grades, so I don't have to worry too much. Not to say I'm not undergoing my fair amount of stress. I am. So don't get all mad at me. I just don't happen to be all that stressed about finals. I'm actually more stressed about GETTING INTO THE ACTING MAJOR!!!! Agh!

so yes. I auditioned on Friday and got my results back on Monday, but unfortunately they don't tell me anything. I mean, it's all well and good to know that one judge gave me all fours and fives, and one gave me all threes, and one just couldn't make up werf's mind, but as I still don't know how everyone else did, I don't know how I did. That's why we came up with concepts like units of measurement: otherwise, we'd have no idea how big anything is. We need something to compare it to!

Ok. I'm breathing. *breathe, breathe*. Other than that minor thing (actually it's a major thing. haha), I'm doing fine. Christmas plans are going great. I'm going home to California for a few days, and then my parents and I are going to Florida for four days to meet up with my mom's side of the family. Which means I'm going to see my cousins for the first time in thirteen years! Exciting, I know. I only have two on that side, but the girl is getting married, and the boy is going into professional hockey(they're from Canada). It's amazing how much of their lives I've missed out on. I jsut realiezed, I wasn't even aware of the Church when I last saw them. I'd better bring some extra BoMs.

So there it is. I feel guilty procasting further. I hope you all have a good holiday and do well on finals.

Clio(it's kinda like a history blog--more like current events, but they don't have a current events muse)

thank you

2005-12-07T21:27:00.000-07:00

My father, [Zeus], is a very funny guy. Here is his Thanksgiving letter--I just thought you should see where I get it from.

Dear Sweetie,

just a quick note form your dear old grey headedDad,(here after referred to as DOGHD, or as party ofthe first part.) Anyway,DOGHD...which tragically, ispronounced phonetically as "Dog Head", had a quiet Thanksgiving at a giant nuclear power plant on the central California coast. I'm sorry you and your lovely mother were unable to visit with me, although I do remember the last visit had a enough pyrotechnicsto keep the faint hearted at bay.

The little worker bees were supplied with a very nice meal in a giant conference room as the cafeteria was closed. At my table we said thanks and watched the sun set in the Pacific.The older I get the more I feelI have to feel thankful for. Tomorrow is my last day at the unfortunately namedDiablo power plant. I'll leap into my shabby little truck and motor up to Sacramento and spend the nightin splendor thanks to priceline.com I'm off to visit with your uncle and family.

I have to admit I am growing very suspicious about my brother and his supposed ownership of a vintage50's British race car, the Morgan. He's claimed to have owned this vehicle for the last three years..and yet every time I show up; it's in the "shop". The last time I was in Chico, we drove around allday to various greasy little garages in the seedy parts of town. He would leap out his car, waving a bizarre artifact at the various stunned mechanics, claiming it was a "transmission", or a "Clutch" or"Thigh bone from the Loch Ness Monster". Blank stares from everyone. I have every reason to believe my brother is telling the truth, or not. A good practical joke can take any number of years to develop.

I, for example, kept a pair of his tye-died underwear from hishippie college days, sealed in plastic bag for almost thirty years. I sent it to him on his 50th birthday. Not a peep from aforementioned uncle. He could very well be up to something. Anyway, The plans for Christmas seem very exciting. It should be a lot of fun.
Love you,
Dad(or party of the first part, dog'shead.)

So that's my dad. He's a good guy.
-Thaleia

tragedy.

2005-12-07T03:49:00.000-07:00

I am Melpomene today. See, I was reading all these other blogs, and I decided that I wanted to make this blog more than an outlet for my creative funny energy. So I've added all the rest of the muses, and this hopefully this will help show all sides of me. Though I hardly know when I'll want to be Urania, the muse of astrology.
But there I go again. This is supposed to be my tragic blog. I have the strange gift being funny when I'm feeling awful. Comedy is my defense mechanism. The sad thing is, I can't seem to break out of it. Here I am, four in the morning, and I can't even speak on an anonymous blog that no one ever reads anyway.

Never mind. I give up for tonight: I have to get up in four hours anyway.

ponderings

2005-12-06T00:08:00.000-07:00

which is really a synonym for musings.
hmm...what shall I ponder on? Shall I ponder on pondering? Let's!

There's pondering, which for all of us at BYU has a religious connotation, and therefore can only be used in certain contexts, usually involving an absence of food. Then there's musing, which requires a thoughtful expression. Of course, we can't forget Deep Thought which not only requires a thoughtful expression but an entire pose to go with it, a là The Thinker. Then we necesarily have to go on to being pensive--I'm not sure if that has a gerund form or not(pensiving?)--which involves a furrowed brow and an anti-social demeanor.

From pensating we move on to meditating, deliberating, ruminating (ooh, that's a good one),considering, reflecting, ...mulling over....The list is endless. And yet, as a Muse, I am afraid that we don't use any of them nearly enough. Cognitate is wailing from neglet. Hence follows a useful list of how-to.

First you need a reason to really sit there and think. Of course, the more advanced ponderers don't require this sort of crutch, but for beginners it can be useful. As a muse, I would suggest, well, me. But that's obviously not going to happen, so we'll move on. There's always deep reading material, and of course death is always a favorite starter subject; but the thing that really works best is a mountain load of homework. Yup, nothing gets the brain off on pointless ponderings like a good procrastination. In fact, many a math teacher has been named honorary muse.

After finding your inspiration, it's advisable to get into the right habitat, with or without food or comfort, depending on the kind of muser you are. I understand that in India it's the standard fashon to do these things in the most uncomfortable body positions. There it's called meditating. Being Greek, I prefer to be just on the hot side of lukewarm with substantial loads of pastries nearby. However, there is one aspect of your ruminating scene which is absolutely fundamental. You must NOT be disturbed.

There are several ways of achieving this. One, as many Eastern cultures have discovered is by sitting (or laying) on a bed of nails. I think the reasons why this works are rather obvious. We won't go there. A second way of achieveing this most valuable result is by beating people up regularly. Intimadation is one of the most effective ways of achieveing piece(s). But once again, that requires a certain amount of upkeep. As a passive-aggresive Muse, I find the most preferable way of securing an uninturrupted meditation is tpretend to fall asleep with book in hand. That way I look studious, but completely exhausted, so that anyone that disturbes me is immediatly served up with a hot guilt trip. It works fairly well, but I've found recently that my thought process never seem to reach conclusion. It's kind of like my train of thought meanders off into a strange kind of inner darkness...but! all this is better than being disturbed. Besides, I don't think my thought trains have all that many stops anyway.

So! when you're done with your reflecting/thinking/pondering/...mulling over..., stand up, stretch, and then go bursh your teeth, because it's always good to brush your teeth after a nice nap. I mean, muse.

And so ends Thaleia's brief pondering on musings! We hope you enjoyed the lesson and the ride, and now she's off to do some more Deep Thinking on her own! Thank you and come again!

zzzzzzzzzzzzzz...................................................

Thanksgiving

2005-11-25T18:23:00.000-07:00

Ok. This was going to be a Thanksgiving rant. I was going to say how it's all about stuffing the already-oversized americans with, ironically, oversized pre-stuffed turkey. And how Christmas is better. And how the stores got it right and we should just go straight from Halloween to Christmas. And that the story that they all told us when we were children about the pilgrims and the Indians was a LIE! It's a lie! It's a holiday based on lies!!!

But I'm not going to say that. I read Smurf's blog about all the stuff he's thankful for and it softened this stone-cold heart of mine. Now it's just a kind of puddley cement. Hence follows Thaleia's warm and mushy blog of thanks. Because I am grateful.

As noted in the previous blog, I'm thankful for myself. Well, more specifically, I'm thankful that I exist. It's a good thing.
For my roommates, who are generally really cool, except when they insist on watching Meet the Fockers (I am not grateful for that movie's existance. It's a bad thing.)
socks.
my mom and dad
dancing
friends

That's it. Well, I'm sure there's more, but I really don't want to stay in this room any more because this movie is Disgusting! Preserve my poor poor ears. Help!!

um..this is kind of lame

2005-11-23T18:43:00.000-07:00

but I wanted to put it on my side bar. However, muses aren't really technologically advanced, so i'm just going to make it a post.

As I sat musing
on being amusing
I thought it confusing
to be a muse musing.

it makes me laugh. *shrug*

yum...gratitude cookies

2005-11-21T22:35:00.000-07:00

Today for FHE my 'mom' had a wonderful idea. We baked cookies for the people for whom we're the most grateful in our lives! I loved it. The thing is, we had cleaning checks just recently and somebody (umm....namely me...), put the little knob on the oven wrong, so that when it said "bake", it was really on broil.
I think you can see the problem here.
Our cookies truned our more like... i dunno. Like turtles. Hard on the top but soft on the bottom. Not a very popular choice. So I ate them all. After all, I'm grateful for myself. And I don't think anyone else likes raw burnt cookies. Yumm....