loves the Weepies!

Check out their new video for Hideaway. There was a contest to make the video and this is the one that won. It reminds me of a mix of Steamboat Willie and the Little Prince. Cute!

isn't "somebody and somebody" yet.

Yay for family blogs! I just found out today that many of my cousins and even my aunt has a blog. Awesome. But along with these awesome revelations comes the fact that I now need to start listing blogs with two names: "Joy and Nate" "Grant and Mindy" for example. I was avoiding this. In fact, I dislike that I show up on my friends' blog lists as simply "Nichole" or even "Trone" when ALLLL the rest of them are "somebody and somebody." Yeesh. There's no remedy for now. I am just commenting on the rising trend of two name blogs and wishing my missionary would hurry up and get home, that's all. No offense if you're a two-namer, I love you all.

is a 50's housewife.

Okay, I'm off of my "lacking inspiration" thing. No more whining for me. Instead, I am going to serve. That is what makes me the happiest. I found a couple simple things to do today that woke me up a little and I'm going to continue doing little things for the people around me as much as I can. I also want to do more projects. I made a list a while back of the things I want to learn how to do:

1. sew clothing
2. braid my own hair
3. play some songs on the guitar
4. garden
5. make good bread
6. throw pots
7. start a campfire (without lighter fluid)
8. knit or crochet
9. make more complex quilts
10. paint and draw better
11. write better poetry
12. ride a horse
13. drive a stick shift
14. cut hair
15. give good massages
16. give CPR
17. play the piano better
18. make stained glass mosaics
19. fix more things on a car
20. bind books
21. have better handwriting
22. can food
23. make soap

I have dabbled in many of these things at one time or another, but now that I have time on my hands, I want to become even more domestic. I love it. I used to joke that inside I am a 50's housewife. Well, maybe I love aprons and baking, but I am not a doormat. I can reach out and be helpful to others and I can keep learning new things.

is lacking inspiration.

I have the summer all to myself. I am at home with my family, who I love to be around. I don't have the pressures of school or work at the moment. I am free to sleep as little or as much as I want. I have quite a few books lined up to read. But I feel so useless and bored. I am the kind of person who loves possibilities, however, my time is nothing but possibilities at the moment and I feel like I'm drowning in them. *sigh*

What can I do? How can I wake myself up again? I am tired of going through each day in the same way. I need to do something different and soon.

wants patience now.

I've been thinking a lot lately about the processes of life. There is no way to get around them, they are inevitable, but they are so important. These processes are what bring us joy. We put in the effort to begin something and then we realize that we may not see the fruits of our labors for years, in fact, we may never see them in this life.

Every good thing has a process: growing up, learning, having children, teaching them, becoming more like the Savior, and so on. All the mundane aspects of life also have processes too: cooking, cleaning, growing plants, building things, sewing, etc. We may not see the bulk of the process because we are consumers, but consider the effort it takes from seed to plate for just one vegetable. I think it's miraculous, actually.

So why all this talk about processes? It's because we live in an impatient world that wants everything now. We want knowledge now, we want beauty now, we want wealth now, we want patience now. Hehe... It never happens this way. Nothing worthwhile comes in an instant, even if it seems that way. I include myself in this when I say that we need to make peace with the processes that life offers us and learn from them. Then we will be able to truly enjoy the fruits of our labors.

I thought of a song by the Weepies that illustrates what I have been thinking about. It's called "Takes So Long":

I don't know why, I don't know why
I don't know why it takes so long

I cut my hair, I grow it back
First the thought and then the act
To think a plant up towards the sun
It can't be done, it can't be done

I don't know why, I don't know why
I don't know why it takes so long

I see you now, I saw you then
I know you more, and different
I can't contain it, still complain
Love's a weed, trust is rain

I don't know why, I don't know why
I don't know why it takes so long
I don't know why, I don't know why
I don't know why it takes so long

In a moment wings unfurl
A butterfly, a little girl
Star pieces fall to the ground
Streaks of light, just tonight

Sam and Libby, Lib and Sam
Made a little one of them
A baby's born a man to die
I don't know why, I don't know why

I don't know why, I don't know why
I don't know why it takes so long
It takes so long
It takes so long
It takes so long

We may not understand at first why the processes of life must take place, but I think it becomes clearer to us as we put out heart into our daily efforts. Each day is a part of the whole that is our life. The result can be joyful or miserable. It's our choice.

is working on chapter three.

This is a first draft of this chapter. I just finished writing it and I thought I'd post it for you here. I would appreciate feedback from anyone who is willing to provide it. I am just trying to flesh out the plot and the characters right now, so this is all tentative.

Chapter Three

After the first week of school, the embarrassing moments seemed to be forgotten. Tom avoided enough human contact and spoke only when he was called on in class that he was avoided by his classmates. No one bothered him about the details of his life, which he wouldn’t share regardless, and they stared at him from a distance. Tom liked it this way. He was sure there were rumors circulating about why he came to the school. He never answered them. Once he’d overheard a couple of girls gossiping about him before he turned the corner, one said “I think he was in juvie or something. That’s why we’ve never seen him before.” He stifled a laugh.

The next girl answered, “Yeah, either that or I think he got kicked out of his old high school for selling drugs. He’s super creepy.” She giggled and shut her locker. When Tom came around the corner, hands in his pockets, staring at the ground, she let out an audible gasp, but quickly turned back to her friend and they resumed their chatter. “Um, so who do you think you want to go to homecoming with?” He laughed to himself, glad that they were frightened of him.

That was how most days went. He never missed class, but he faded into the background. He didn’t want a part of this new life and he was content to be ignored and in some cases, feared. Unfortunately, he was an excellent student and the teachers couldn’t ignore that. Tom knew he shouldn’t try hard if he wanted to blend in, but his drive for perfectionism appeared in his school work, especially in English class. Mr. Wagner, asked him to read a portion of his essay out loud for the class as an example, but he refused. In his history class, Mr. Ibarra gave him an A+ on their first written exam and asked Tom if he wanted to represent his class at a speech tournament that month to talk about the impact of the Civil War. He declined again. Even the newspaper editor heard about his ability to write well and asked him if he’d write a monthly column. Tom’s face turned red under the deep brown of his cheeks and he shook his head quietly. The editor seemed disappointed, but let it go.

When Tom came home at the end of his second week, his mother cornered him the second he was through the door. “I got a phone call today.” She tried to look in his eyes and he looked intently into the corner of the room.

“What about?” He sounded defeated.

“Why didn’t you tell me about all this, Tom?” She succeeded in locking eyes with him, emptying the contents of his soul with one glance.

“I didn’t mean to, okay. The other kids are kind of scared of me, so I ignore them.” He shrugged his shoulders and sat down in a chair at the kitchen table.

She sat across from him, picking up her coffee mug. “What do you mean? You’re not in trouble.” She smiled a half smile, brushing the hair out of Tom’s eyes.

“I’m not? Why did they call then?” He looked up in surprise, but immediately looked back down at his hands.

“Tom, you’re a good student. They want you to be more of an example.”

“How? I’m not an example.” His chest seemed sore with tightness as he recalled how much of an example he wasn’t.

“Yes, you are. That was Mr. Wagner. He asked me if I would please remind you to speak up in class. He wants to use your last essay as an example for another class too. Is that okay?”

“I guess so. I just don’t want to read it.”

“He also had another request. He was wondering if you’d be interested in tutoring the freshmen and sophomore English students that need help.”

“Why would I do that?” Tom seemed almost offended.

“He’d pay you. Tom, we could use a little extra money.” She met his eyes again and he melted with anguish.

“Mom, I’m trying to help? I’ll go get a job today.” He spoke quietly, a quiver on the edge of his voice.

The front door opened, smacking the handle against the wall and ending their conversation. Sam walked in. “Hey mom. What’s for dinner?” He was still in his coveralls with the front unbuttoned, revealing a torn, greasy t-shirt underneath.

“Sam! Take off those boots. You’re going to get grease on the carpet.”

He swung himself down onto the couch and took off his boots with his feet, kicking them at the door. “Better?”

She winced when they hit the door with a clunk. “Yeah, I guess. I’m working a late shift, so it’s TV dinners tonight.”

“I get the fried chicken one!” Sam called from the couch, the TV already buzzing in the background.

“They’re both fried chicken.” She called from the kitchen as she poked holes in the top and slid them into the oven.

“Don’t stay up too late.” She squeezed Tom’s shoulder and grabbed her purse from the chair.

“Mom, don’t worry. I’ll get a job and start helping soon.” Tom looked up at her as she walked to the door.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. Everything will be fine. Oh and don’t let those cook more than 30 minutes.”

Tom ignored his dinner. “I’m going on a walk,” he called to Sam as he slipped out the door. He didn’t wait for Sam’s response. He walked briskly through the neighborhood, past happy families playing lawn games in the lingering summer heat and past couples holding hands, strolling in the twilight. It made him ache to see such carefree people. He turned the corner onto Center Street, looking for a distraction.

The bell on the door seemed a little too loud when he walked into Toquerville Merc. He tried to ease its ring by catching the door before it closed behind him, but he wasn’t quick enough and pulled his fingers out just before they got mashed. The clerk, a young, blond girl with a pen perched behind her ear, leaned on the cigarette counter behind her, laughing under her breath. Tom disappeared in the first aisle to diffuse his embarrassment. He followed it to the back of the store and searched among the mini mart-like goods before selecting a probably stale Snickers and bringing it back to the front.

“Fifty cents.” She said and pulled the pen out from behind her ear to chew the cap.

Tom slid two quarters across the counter and mumbled “thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Hey, I’ve never seen you here. What’s your name?” She continued chewing and looking him up and down with her overly mascaraed eyes.

“Uh, my name’s Tom.” He said and turned towards the door.

“Where are you going? There’s not much to do in this town. If you hang out in here for a while you’ll meet everyone.”

“Right. See you later.” He waved, still facing the door, and hurried out the door, letting it slam.

She was correct. A small group of teens had gathered outside the door, many of whom he recognized from school. He immediately regretted seeking out a distraction because this one was too formidable.

“Hey! New kid!” A shorter boy in cowboy boots called out.

Tom didn’t know if he should turn around or not. He froze and turned around slowly. “Hey,” he answered quietly.

“What’s your name again?”

“Tom.”

“I’m Joseph,” he said and stuck out his hand.

“Nice to meet you Joseph,” Tom answered cautiously, ignoring the handshake.

“Don’t worry, we aren’t going to mess with you. What are you up to?” He said in a friendlier tone than he used in the halls at school.

“Um, just hungry.” He held up the Snickers as evidence.

“Want to come with us? We’re driving into Hurricane for burgers and a movie.” One of the girls seemed upset with this invitation and cleared her throat loudly at Joseph.

“Thanks, but I need to get home.” He smiled weakly at the group and started walking away.

“See you around, man.” He called after him and started talking with the group again.

Tom walked hurriedly to the corner and turned onto his street, breathing a sigh of relief. That wasn’t too bad. He was sure he’d acted antisocial, but he didn’t regret it. He just wanted to be left alone. Maybe they’d get the picture soon. As he walked slowly toward home he ate his candy bar without thinking. It was deep dusk, the sun was almost completely hidden behind the hills and most people had retreated back indoors. He didn’t see a soul. Somehow this made him feel worse. He only found comfort in avoiding people, not the absence of people to avoid. The flicker of the TV in the window of his house almost made him smile.

The following Monday in school as Tom walked into his first period class, English, he noticed that not all eyes were on him for once. He quietly took his seat in the back and saw who everyone was staring at. She had an obvious look of discontent on her face and she stood next to the teacher’s desk with her backpack slung over one shoulder. Mr. Wagner was busy signing a piece of paper for her and handing her the week’s assignments for her to catch up on. Tom studied her face. It was like a negative of a normal girl’s face: instead of red lips, hers were shiny and practically white with sparkly lip gloss; and instead of peachy skin, hers was deep tan with plenty of bronzer to intensify the effect, although it was clearly unnatural. Her hair was also a platinum shade of blonde. It struck Tom as entirely odd; he’d never seen a girl look like her except for in comic books like X Men. Even her fingernails added to her unreal look. As she reached up to brush a whitish strand of hair away from her face, Tom noticed that her nails were about an inch longer than usual and were capped with thick white tips and swirled with some kind of silvery design. She caught him looking at her and huffed under her breath to the teacher, “Can I go sit down now?”

Mr. Wagner looked up from the pile of papers, handed her a copy of Shakespeare’s sonnets, and stood up to introduce her to the class, “Everyone, this is our new student Amie Hayes. Would you mind telling us a little bit about yourself, Amie?”

“Yes I would. I’m here because I have to be. That’s all.” She crossed her arms in front of her and started walking back to her desk as the teacher interrupted her.

“Amie’s dad is the new manager down at the concrete plant. She’ll be with us for this year at least, right Amie?” He said cheerfully.

“I guess,” she said as she plopped down into her seat.

Tom glanced over at her again, daringly, and she gave him a dirty look as she slicked on more pearly lip gloss. He shrunk in his seat, but instead of feeling embarrassed for himself, he felt bad for her because she was forced to be in a place where she didn’t want to be. He knew how she felt. His thoughts were interrupted as Mr. Wagner continued the lecture.

“How many of you like poetry?” The class groaned in unison. Tom stayed quiet. “I thought you might say that,” He continued. “What poets have you heard of?”

One student shouted out “Emily Dickinson” and another “Tennyson.”

Mr. Wagner then interrupted, “Good, you’ve at least heard of a couple. Today we’ll be talking about Shakespeare, who was not only a poet, but a playwright, as you already know. Just listen to one of his sonnets…” He gushed on and it was clear that the class wasn’t following. Tom continued to listen, however, and Mr. Wagner asked “What meter is Shakespeare’s poetry typically written in?” Tom looked at him as most of the class contemplated their desks and Mr. Wagner called on him, to his horror. “Do you know the answer, Tom?”

“It’s iambic pentameter,” he mumbled.

“Do you know what that means?” He dug deeper.

“An iamb is a meter that always ends on the second syllable. And pentameter means five accented syllables in a line of poetry.” The words slipped out of his mouth before he could censor them. Mr. Wagner looked shocked, like Tom had just sworn.

“That’s a good answer, Tom. How did you know that?”

“I dunno.” He slouched further in his seat and looked over at Amie, who was practically asleep with her pencil clutched in her claw-like grip.

Mr. Wagner let it go and continued with his lecture, but kept glancing at Tom throughout as if he were checking with him. Tom didn’t acknowledge his glances but flipped through the book of sonnets, finding his favorites.

After class Amie snapped her head up and groggily pawed through her bag for her lip gloss. As she heavily applied more, she caught Tom staring in her direction. “Do you have a problem?” She looked directly at him as she abruptly zipped her bag shut and pulled it over her arm.

“Uh, no. Sorry.” He looked off over her shoulder and walked past her as if he were late for something.

For the rest of the day Tom couldn’t get away from Amie’s menacing glare. He accidently ran into her in the hall. He hit a ball too hard in her direction in gym class. He even got in the way of her shiny, teal Jeep as she was pulling out and she laid on the horn, embarrassing him. He felt like he was being punished for something he didn’t do by an angry sun goddess. Everywhere he turned he saw her blue eyes piercing him, her platinum hair framing her angry face in a halo of whiteness. She seemed to dislike everything and everyone around her, but he became her scapegoat.

feels good.

This thing is gone. History. Oh yeah.

misses VHS.

I didn't get the opportunity to see Be Kind Rewind after hours of waiting in line at Sundance, but I finally saw it and I'm glad to say it was good. I didn't wait in line for a crappy movie, even though I didn't get in. Be Kind Rewind is in the vein of movies like Nacho Libre and Napoleon Dynamite in the way the plot line runs. It feels random, but it has enough funny and odd moments to keep you interested. I loved Mos Def, he was so likable in this role and Jack Black was typical, but funny. I loved their "Sweded" versions of old favorites. It reminded me of the films that were made in high school for various class projects. This is the kind of movie I wish they made more of. It had an atypical plot, interesting, fleshed-out characters, and more than just a feel-good ending. I also learned a little bit about Fats Waller. Cool.

asked for it.

I guess I asked for it when I told the Relief Society president and the bishop both to "put me to work." They have. :) Now I have a calling and I've been asked to give a talk tomorrow in church. You have probably heard much of it in different bits and pieces, but I wanted to post it here too. Most of the people in my ward now are almost completely new to me or so old that they are new (make sense?) so I wanted to tell them a little bit about me, which isn't new to you I know.

Here it is:

Charity is the Answer

When I prayed to know what to speak about concerning charity, this phrase came to my mind:

“Charity is the answer to all of our difficulties.”

That may sound too all-encompassing, but when I thought about it, I realized that it is true. There is nothing that the Lord can’t resolve in our lives if we turn to him. We can feel his power in our lives when we are obedient.

In John 15:10 Christ said “If ye keep my commandments ye shall abide in my love…”

When we love God we want to keep the commandments and when we keep the commandments we are filled with God’s love. It is reciprocal. The desire for righteousness builds within us as we exercise our agency for good. In this way can be perfected, but we must continually turn to the Lord. Loving God is the first commandment and the second is “love thy neighbor as thyself.” I believe that as our love for the Lord grows, our love for others grows along with it. I know that in this way charity leads to action. I have felt an increased desire to serve because I have felt God’s love for me very strongly in my life.

I want to share a couple experiences that have opened my heart wider and increased my capacity for charity. I am grateful for these experiences because they help me to remember how merciful the Lord is to all of his children. As I share these experiences with you, I would like for you to remember along with me anything that has caused you to feel increased love for the Lord and love for others. As Alma says, “If ye have felt to sing the song of redeeming love, I would ask, can ye feel so now?” (Alma 5: 26) Search within yourselves for these moments and remember how “merciful the Lord hath been unto the children of men” (Moroni 10:3).

I served a mission nearly four years ago in Kiev, Ukraine. I can’t pick one experience out of all of them that I can isolate as one that was more powerful than the rest, but I can tell you that serving in that capacity changed me. I went into my mission not knowing what to expect, except for knocking on doors—which proved to be a difficulty in Ukraine, but I was willing to serve. I recall the scripture that I felt defined my service. In Alma 29:10 it reads “And behold, when I see many of my brethren truly penitent and coming to the Lord their God, then is my soul filled with joy; then do I remember what the Lord has done for me, yea that he hath heard my prayer; yea, then do I remember his merciful arm which he extended towards me.”

I went on a mission partly out of gratitude for the Lord’s mercy, but I soon realized that the reason I was there was not to pay the Lord back in any capacity. I would never be able to repay my debt of gratitude. I was there because I love the Lord and I love his children. This fact was brought to my attention in a special meeting with all the missionaries and Elder Russell M. Nelson. He went around the room asking us why we were on a mission. I raised my hand, feeling particularly correct, and I said that I was on a mission because I was grateful. Elder Nelson seemed to pass right over my comment and on to the next without a second thought. Later I wondered why that was. The answer that he was looking for was not my answer. It was “to gather Israel.” Or to bring the blessings of the gospel to people everywhere—that is the true purpose of missionary work. It is done because of the Lord’s love for his children and we do it because we feel that love too. It wasn’t that gratitude was an incorrect motive, but Elder Nelson helped me to see that what I was truly feeling was the Lord’s love which prompted me to serve. I am grateful every day for the service I was able to give which taught me so much about the pure love of Christ.

Later on, at BYU, I was searching for someone that I might share my life with. I went on dates after my mission in a near-panicked state of mind, believing that my purpose was to find someone to marry as soon as possible. I started dating one of my dear friends. I’d waited nearly a year for this relationship to solidify and I was convinced that he was the one for me. I loved him so much and I had imagined that my life would not be whole without him. Before Christmas, not too long after we’d started dating, he was driving me to the airport so that I could go home to be with my family. I could tell that something was bothering him. As we drove to the airport he confessed to me that he deals with same-gender attraction and that he didn’t think he could continue in our relationship, feeling the way that he did. I was crushed. It seemed like a cruel joke had been played on my happiness. I never could have imagined that this would be the difficulty that the Lord would place in his life or mine. But I realized that I had a choice to make. I could be angry about what happened and be bitter because he broke my heart, or I could try to understand and love him as a friend and grow from the experience. He is still my friend today and I am so grateful that I chose to understand.

This may not seem like something that would remind me of the Lord’s love for me, but it is one of the most profound heart-opening experiences I have ever had. Because of this experience, I have made new, dear friends, many of whom deal with same-gender attraction as well. I have felt more love flow into my life because of this heartbreaking trial. I see, now more than ever, that God loves all of his children. I know that he will support us in our trials if we turn to him and let him heal our hearts. He can also help us to reach out in love toward each other. I think of the hymn “Lord, I Would Follow Thee” when I try to put into words what I learned:

Savior, may I learn to love thee, Walk the path that thou hast shown, Pause to help and life another, Finding strength beyond my own. Savior may I learn to love thee—Lord, I would follow thee. Who am I to judge another When I walk imperfectly? In the quiet heart is hidden Sorrow that the eye can’t see. Who am I to judge another? Lord—I would follow thee. I would be my brother’s keeper; I would learn the healer’s art. To the wounded and the weary I would show a gentle heart. I would be my brother’s keeper—Lord I would follow thee. Savior may I love my brother As I know thou lovest me. Find in thee my strength my beacon, For thy servant I would be. Savior may I love my brother—Lord I would follow thee (Hymn 220).

I know that the Lord loves all of his children and what he asks of us in return is to love him and keep his commandments. We will experience great joy if we are obedient and seek to be like the Savior. He gives us this promise in John 15:11: “These things have I spoken unto you, that my joy might remain in you, and that your joy might be full.” I believe this promise and I look forward to this fullness of joy. The joy that I feel now when I keep the commandments is only a glimpse. I know that doing the Lord’s will brings us the most happiness we can experience in this life. I shared these experiences with you because they have been some of the most acute reminders for me of the joy that awaits us. I am grateful for these learning opportunities. They were not easy. I don’t expect that there will be many things in my life that will be easy, but I am glad for that because difficult things remind me of the Lord and of his love. Every time I am faced with a challenge greater than my own strength, I know I can turn to the Lord and he will bless my efforts for good. I know he will do the same for you because his offer is available to everyone: “Whatsoever thing ye shall ask the Father in my name, which is good, in faith believing that ye shall receive, behold, it shall be done unto you” (Moroni 7: 26).

Charity is learning to be obedient, it is loving our neighbor, and ultimately, it is trying to be like the Savior. I know that the Lord lives. I know that this is his church. I know that we can be like him. All these blessing are available to us if we want them.

welcomes the new poet laureate!

I am happy to know that Kay Ryan is the new poet laureate. I thought I'd share one of her lovely poems with you here on my blog, just to get started.

Patience

Patience is
wider than one
once envisioned,
with ribbons
of rivers
and distant
ranges and
tasks undertaken
and finished
with modest
relish by
natives in their
native dress.
Who would
have guessed
it possible
that waiting
is sustainable—
a place with
its own harvests.
Or that in
time's fullness
the diamonds
of patience
couldn't be
distinguished
from the genuine
in brilliance
or hardness.

That just speaks to me right now.

had another bad dream.

This one left me feeling completely helpless. I had a dream that my car got stolen but my purse was in it too! I had no cell phone and no car. It was terrible. Maybe that's why I went back to sleep for two more hours. Blergh...

loves Oliver.

This is my cousin's baby Oliver. He's SO cute! Don't you wish you had one?



I do. :)

has exposed herself.

I'm emptying out the contents of my purse for everyone to see. Not that it's embarrassing or anything. I just saw it on my friend's blog and I thought it would be cool to do.


On a daily basis I almost always have:

1. Car keys for my mustang with a broken Eiffel tower on the key chain and my dog's tag (RIP)

2. Oversized sunglasses

3. A Motorola W490 phone in bubblegum pink

4. A Black, 30G iPod

5. A to-do list (this one's on a heart shaped postit)

6. Orbit wintermint gum

7. A pink BYU planner

8. A Lodis clutch

9. Burt's Bees chapstick

10. Bonne Bell strawberry Skittles chapstick

11. Feminine sanitary items (just in case)

12. A snack (cheddar Goldfish, yum!)

Don't you feel like you know me better now that you've rifled through my purse?

has a place for her books!

Okay, so I bought this secretary desk/bookshelf on craigslist. It was an uninspiring 70's brown. I thought about it for a while and went out and got some crackle paint finish. This is what it looked like after I finished the crackle and did a yellow wash on the inside:

Here's the crackle close up, cool huh?

Here it is, newly installed in my bedroom! I hadn't added anything to the shelves yet and I got new drawer pulls.

Here's a drawer pull close up. I think we had the same ones in our bathroom before we redecorated it. No worries. They only set me back 97 cents each. I kind of dig the retro feel.

Remember how I was whining about a place to put all my books? Well, by some miracle, they all fit on my bookshelf with room to spare! Yay!

And here's the final product. Ain't she cute? Tomorrow I'm going to get a little white chair to go with it. *sigh of relief* It's done.

redecorates!

I am in the middle of a bedroom overhaul. Until very recently my room was a mess of checkers (a leftover from my high school ska days), blue walls (two different shades, mind you), and various bits of Americana I'd gathered such as: license plates, road signs, maps, and a mailbox. Well, now that I am 26 years old and a college graduate I think it's time to have some kind of cohesive theme. Especially now that I will be living in this room for the next year. As you know, I got a bed from Ikea as a graduation present. I'm still in love with it. And now I'm in the process of refinishing a secretary desk that I bought on craigslist. I regret that I did not take before pictures, but stay posted and I'll have some after pictures soon.

So, I need a little bit of help to keep going with this project!

What do I do with all of these books?!

I have too many books in general!

By the way, do you like how I've decorated my bed? It still feels like a little ship to me...


I love the little buttons on the pillowcases.

But let's get down to business.

How should I organize 10 years of correspondence?

And what the heck should I do with this?


Can you tell I'm obsessed with mail?