Dumb Valentine’s Day Card: Music Video

Valentine’s Day is a colossally dumb holiday. Like a lot of “holidays,” much of Valentine’s Day’s finds meaning in how much you can spend. Supposedly we’re celebrating love and Cupid and being together. That’s nice. There’s chocolate and flowers and restaurants and jewelry. I like that singles call it “Singles Awareness Day”, and that girlfriends go out for Galentine’s. That’s fun.

This commercially dedicated day is framed in a way to appear the only day in a whole year to declare love. Or make some grand gesture of love. You don’t want to miss your chance. But it does seem to be the only day people will wait in line for hours at a decent (or even crappy) restaurant. New couples may get to see an ugly, dark side of their dates as lines stand still; seasoned couples may wonder why they didn’t stay home and cuddle in front of the television. Hello, it’s the Olympics! What’s more romantic than watching people at their peak athleticism and talking about how we’re so much cuter and stronger and, better yet, way more comfortable in our jammies? We (I) do love Johnny Weir and Tara Lipinski, who may be the best commentators of any event in the history of humankind.

But it’s only coincidence the 2018 Winter Olympics overlap with Valentine’s day. And that the Winter Games only comes around once every four years, and Dumb Valentine’s Day (yes, that’s the name of the entire proper noun) is every year.

It’s possible not to celebrate Dumb Valentine’s Day, to make that very deliberate choice, but this is also dumb. If I’m being completely honest with myself, despite this holiday being overhyped and spendy and chaotic and commercial and exclusionary, I actually quite love it. Mostly because my love loves it. Reilly really gets into giving me flowers and chocolate and a perfectly written card. And we have fun giving Z little chocolates. I enjoy this overt expression of his deep and abiding love. Throughout the year he does so many little things to support me and brighten my day. Like laundry: for me, folding clothes ranks below going to the dentist, but Reilly speeds through washing and folding loads of laundry without a single complaint. That’s pretty hot, and just thinking about it makes me wanna …


I don’t necessarily expect a sweeping flourish for Valentine’s Day, but I certainly relish the moments where he puts forth a greater effort beyond his daily, loving actions.

We’ve learned not to go out on Dumb Valentine’s Day itself. We might go out sometime this week, but tonight, people be crazy, so we’re staying in. Besides, I like the idea of spending a quiet evening with my family, of celebrating our love doing something non-sparkly. That’s plenty special.

I love hanging out with my family. It doesn’t even matter what we’re doing: Driving without having a place to go (sorry, environment!), watching TV, eating, sitting around. We don’t even have to be talking. It’s nice to read in the living room near (it doesn’t even have to be next to!) my honeyman, while Z plays or reads or spins around.

In true, self-contradicting, Dumb Valentine’s Day fashion, to demonstrate my love for my family, I have a somewhat grand gesture of my own. (Insert evil laugh here.)

I have been listening to Lorde’s first album–PURE HEROINE–a lot lately. Something about the second song really catches my ear, and it was on repeat for hours at a time, several days in a row. It’s a cute little song called “400 Lux,” and it’s about young love realizing it’s evolved into something deep and real. The couple in the song don’t have to be going anywhere to feel like they’re doing something together. They don’t feel unpredictable and uncertain anymore; their love is stable.

I love these roads where the houses don’t change

Where we can talk like there’s something to say

I’m glad that we stopped kissing the tar on the highway

We move in the tree streets

I’d like it if you stayed

That’s where I feel we are.

Many of my guilty pleasures are often cheesy and awkward things that sometimes cross over into being uncomfortable. I like Hallmark and Lifetime movies. I like movies about animals getting lost so they talk to each other telepathically and find their way home. I have a feeling that I would really like This Is Us. Anyway, I edited together some footage of our family hanging out with “400 Lux” as the soundtrack. Dirty windows, cracked lenses, the works. The result is a cheesy, awkward, and possibly uncomfortable video that I hope you (try to) enjoy. I love our little dog and our growing daughter and my always-super-hot husband.

My loves: I like you.

Happy Dumb Valentine’s Day.

It’s General Conference Weekend, and This Doesn’t “Feel” Contrary …

Life coasts along, life dazzles, life punches squarely in the stomach. What else should we really expect?

I know I keep saying I’ll post actual updates.

A lot is going on,

and I’ve found time to blog about it before, but

Yeah. No legitimate excuse.

Classes, really quick:

My religion class and I sometimes butt heads. But it’s been good for me.

History and Criticism of Rhetoric is fun. We’ve talked about Legally Blonde and My Cousin Vinny, and we’ve done homework based on Sunset Blvd and Law & Order. And this weekend we’re analyzing oratory style of any talk at General Conference, according to Saint Augustine.

Introduction to French Literary Analysis is a lot of fun. I may have to dedicate a post just to how much I love French poetry. Because, SERIOUSLY.

Early American Auto/Biography blows me away. I’m reading excellent things by fascinating people, and I wish we could read more women. But if it’s any consolation to myself, reading what I have so far — Benjamin Franklin, PT Barnum, Ralph Waldo Emerson — makes me feel pretty outstanding. I have stories about this class, too.

My poetry writing class. Oh, my heart. I’m cultivating this profound appreciation and there’s only 11 students in the class, and the instructor is adorable and instructive and encouraging. She stood briefly on a soapbox the other day about how a lot of television these days is produced at a 5th-grade level and that Americans don’t know how to think anymore. I felt so much pride then. And, then it’s crazy how we workshop each other’s poems and how I’ve just had to simply get over or ignore being scared of sharing what I know to be mostly subpar poetry with my genius classmates. I wish you could read my classmates’ poems, because WOW.

Aside from classes, there’s church and dating and work. Visiting friends and maintaining friendships because I love my friends so very much.

OH and applying to grad schools and talking to professors about all my options after graduation.

Which will be in April.

Holy crap.

But my original reason for posting right now is that I want to reblog some useful things I came across this past week. Just two things, one each from a Utah couple I’ve been following for the past five years. I’ve mentioned them before. Winter’s on its way. People get sad in conjunction with or separately from the approaching and increasing darkness. Also, although I’m decently insulated in Provo, I try to remain aware of what’s happening around me. Bad things happen all the time, regardless, and we have to deal.  While we’ll be receiving counsel and encouragement from Church leaders this weekend, I think a few other resources are okay, especially for those square punches in the stomach. Please reblog if you feel the need.

From Jon Armstrong:

Depression Hotline: 1-630-482-9696

Suicide Hotline: 1-800-784-8433

LifeLine: 1-800-273-8255

Trevor Project: 1-866-488-7386

Sexuality Support: 1-800-246-7743

Eating Disorders Hotline: 1-847-831-3438

Rape and Sexual Assault: 1-800-656-4673

Grief Support: 1-650-321-5272

Runaway: 1-800-843-5200, 1-800-843-5678, 1-800-621-4000

Exhale: After Abortion Hotline/Pro-Voice: 1-866-4394253

And, Heather Armstrong (click the quote for the entire post):

What is worse? Being sad because something tragic has happened, or being sad because that is all your brain knows how to do?

Enjoy Conference, y’all.

Full Day

-called mom to wish her a happy birthday

-found supreme delight in how much we compartmentalize things in our lives

-watched the first hour of Ran,  a Japanese version of King Lear

-did a load of laundry

-inner-tubed down the Provo River with Amanda

-shopped at the Roxy/Quicksilver outlet store with Amanda

-put gas in Amanda’s car with Amanda

watched L’arnacoeur (The Heartbreaker), an adorable and funny French film on Netflix and ate Bajio’s with Amanda

-watched Super 8 at the dollar theater with Amanda

-had A LOT of fun with Amanda

It was great seeing Amanda. It had been a year since the last time.

Dangit, summer. Please stay.


Complaints You Could Skip

Two strangers are sleeping in this house right now. The one downstairs is friends of one of the girls downstairs. Her name is Emily, and she seems friendly. Or at least nice enough.

The one on my floor is a friend of my roommate. I haven’t formally met her, because when I came out of my room last night, she was sleeping on a cot in the living room.

The one downstairs has been staying since Saturday, I think. On Sunday night she was talking really loudly on her cell phone to someone in her family. I was trying to watch television, and I had to switch on subtitles. Which I completely understand isn’t a crisis, but I was annoyed. She spoke slowly, almost with the slightest deliberate pauses. Between. Each. Word. She was discussing her options for church. She could try going to a family ward, but then her current bishop told her about an older singles ward. And she told whomever she was talking to that she’d probably try the singles ward because she’d have a better chance of getting dates.

It’s not eavesdropping if she’s in community space speaking loudly enough for the neighbors to hear.

Well, good for her for persisting with and hoping for dates.

I’m containing a rant right now.

Another day, folks.

But sometimes, sometimes I really hate this culture.

I hope these guests leave soon so I can invite my much cooler friends to hang out and play.

That is all.

Mountains and Me

Click the photo, etc.

Summary of the Past Three Days:

1940: arrived at the Gunthers
met children
bedtime stories, family prayer, etc.
talked politics while eating a turkey sandwich
talked about Africa

1000: arrived at the St. George Temple
walked the grounds
went to St. George Town Square
played in a fountain and wading pool
rode a carousel
met random relatives of friends
went to Target
played with kids
had dinner at the Robertsons’
ate Key lime pie

900: arrived at Zion National Park
became a relayer between rangers
hiked the Narrows
hiked the Emerald Pool Trails
was completely blown away for 8 hours
spoke a decent amount of French
got lost and joked about it
ate soup
played with kids
saw a movie with Jera

920: arrived at Duck Creek Village
1000: arrived at the Blowhard trailhead
mountain biked
fell and stuff but still had fun
became altitude sick
ate lunch
2000: drove back to Provo in the rain

1230: placed ice pack on left shoulder
wrote short blog post

There are stories and details ahead. But first I have to try to sleep and grow back skin cells.

I Am Wearing A Snuggie

I am also about to watch another episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Sometimes I’m weird.

On Wednesday, I had a work bowling party. Nine of us came to the BYU Games Center, and I only knew one other person. We divided ourselves into two lanes, and I ended up going third out of the five people on the right lane.

So, at first, whenever it wasn’t my turn, I talked to the one person I knew, but as the game progressed, I loosened up a little and started at least commenting on other people’s games.

Also, I’m really good at being excited for people. I will cheer for you and cheer for you, and I will feel bad for you if I know that you really wanted that strike, or if the gutter was particularly merciless.

Anyway, all that outwardness didn’t stop me from winning. By 50 points over the 2nd-place person. Of course I wasn’t boasty (of course?), and I especially don’t like attention from people I don’t know, so I made sure to deflect attention and accept compliments and the quickly shoot compliments back. The outwardness didn’t help the awkwardness.

It’s sometimes really hard for me to accept compliments, but I do practice at saying “thank you” and actually feeling grateful.

Then later on in the week I admitted to someone that I can be anal retentive.

I spent most of this morning packing up my room before going on a bike ride with some friends. When we got back, I popped some popcorn and we relaxed a bit before moving my stuff to my new place. We laughed a lot about some things, and I laughed until I cried about a thing that I can’t talk about here just in case somebody’s somebody happens to come upon this blog. It’s just hilarious to me.

So, we packed up my friends’ van and moved a lot of things over to the new place.

Then we returned to the old place and saw that I left my NYC subway map on the wall. I removed the pushpins and took down the map and began folding it while my friends were telling a story or texting their family or something. When they finished, I asked them, “Do you know what makes me so happy?” And, they let me answer: “When I can fold a map, and it isn’t wonky and it can lie perfectly smooth when it’s nicely folded.” And they were like, “Uh, sure.”

Then we went out for sushi, because my friends are the best for helping me move, plus one of my friends received a text coupon for a buy-one-roll-get-one-free deal, so we had to take advantage of it. The food was great, and I might have eaten too much, because the rice in my stomach is staging a coup. Too crowded. Overpopulated. Not equal benefits for everyone.

After dinner, we stopped by the new place again to drop off a few other things. We looked at my bed, which was on cinder blocks so that I could store things beneath it. The bed isn’t pushed up against the wall, but a few inches from it, and I expressed a small fear that the bed might not be stable enough. I shook the bed, and the cinder blocks rocked a little. A friend asked if I was going to rock the bed like that, and I said that I wasn’t going to tell her. Personal stuff, you know?

Anyway, I ended up saying that I didn’t want to push the bed against the wall yet because I needed to make the bed, that I really like making beds, that once I make the bed and get all the hospital corners right then I’ll push the bed against the wall and it will be safer. I said that I make my bed every day, that sometimes I’ll completely strip my bed just so that I can make the whole thing over. I said that it is soothing and that it helps me clear my mind.

The same thing goes for most housework.

I can’t believe I’ve dedicated 700 words to how weird I am. Maybe I should scratch that and include the last eight years of blogging. Which is even harder to believe. Maybe not as hard if you’re not me, but maybe you should be grateful that isn’t the case.

Whatever. It’s time for Buffy.

Love Triangle

Utah, I’m so proud of you for topping this list:

Of course, there are the concerts in New York. But I’m not there. I’m here, in Utah. I’m going to have fun here. I’m going to be present with folks here, make friends here, love people here. It’s the least I can do.

This week:

Shakespeare Festival down in Cedar City to see A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Um, Harry Potter 7.2 (DUH)
Hopefully dinner with some Senegal friends if  one doesn’t get chosen for jury duty
Hanging out with people
Llama Fest down in Spanish Fork
Possibly, a date
Possibly, a bike ride

Utah, how about you and I try going steady, and we’ll see where things lead. Don’t get fresh, though.