It's All Coming Back to Me Now

Okay, I wrote this poem last night about my college experiences with Crystal Baune, Loraina Binning, Lauren Pack, Meagan Sanders, and Hannah Shirley. I think the words describe the last two years perfectly. I love you girls!

There were nights when the wind was so cold
That my body froze in bed
If I just listened to it
Right outside the window

There were days when the sun was so cruel
That all the tears turned to dust
And I just knew my eyes were
Drying up forever

I finished crying in the instant that you left
And I can't remember where or when or how
And I banished every memory you and I had ever made

But when you touch me like this
And you hold me like that
I just have to admit
That it's all coming back to me
When I touch you like this
And I hold you like that

It's so hard to believe but
It's all coming back to me
(With tambourine) It's all coming back, it's all coming back to me now

There were moments of gold
And there were flashes of light
There were things I'd never do again
But then they'd always seemed right
There were nights of endless pleasure
It was more than any laws allowed
Baby Baby

If I kiss you like this
And if you whisper like that
It was lost long ago
But it's all coming back to me
If you want me like this
And if you need me like that
It was dead long ago
But it's all coming back to me
It's so hard to resist
And it's all coming back to me
I can barely recall
But it's all coming back to me now
But it's all coming back

There were those empty threats and hollow lies
And whenever you tried to hurt me
I just hurt you even worse
And so much deeper

There were hours that just went on for days
When alone at last we'd count up all the chances
That were lost to us forever (forever)

But you were history with the slamming of the door
And I made myself so strong again somehow
And I never wasted any of my time on you since then

But if I touch you like this
And if you kiss me like that
It was so long ago
But it's all coming back to me
If you touch me like this
And if I kiss you like that
It was gone with the wind
But it's all coming back to me
It's all coming back, it's all coming back to me now

There were moments of gold
And there were flashes of light
There were things we'd never do again
But then they'd always seemed right
There were nights of endless pleasure
It was more than all you laws allow
BABY, BABY, BABY

When you touch me like this
And when you hold me like that
It was gone with the wind
But it's all coming back to me
When you see me like this
And when I see you like that
Then we see what we want to see
All coming back to me
The flesh and the fantasies
All coming back to me
I can barely recall
But it's all coming back to me now

If you forgive me all this
If I forgive you all that
We forgive and forget
And it's all coming back to me
When you see me like this
And when I see you like that
We see just what we want to see
All coming back to me
The flesh and the fantasies
All coming back to me
I can barely recall but it's all coming back to me...now

It's all coming back to me now
And when you kiss me like this
It's all coming back to me now
And when I touch you like that
It's all coming back to me now
If you do it like this
It's all coming back to me now
And if we . . . (imaginations go wild)

We should see if we can get this made into a song or something.

On Feminism

Last semester I was sitting in my history class when the professor began a lecture on the Feminist Movement of the mid-20th century. He began by asking the question, "How many of you believe the word 'feminist' has a negative connotation?' I watched, intrigued, as every male in the classroom raised a hand. Mine remained motionless in my lap while my mind chewed over this interesting little observation. At some point the lecture drifted to the 1968 Miss America Beauty Pageant protest where the term 'bra burning' originated. During the course of the protest, a trash can was filled with bras, high heels, corsets, curlers, etc. to symbolize a complete disassociation with traditional feminist ideals. The 400 or so women assembled discussed burning these items but were not able to obtain a permit, leaving the alleged 'instruments of torture' intact. At this point in the lecture, the boy sitting next to me said loudly, "Now if there had been a boy scout there they would have been able to get the job done." Snickers followed (from the male half of the room, I presume, as the majority of females present were likely Girls Camp graduates, well versed in the art of campfire-building).

Now just to be clear, I think bra burning sounds like a really stupid idea. Physically it makes sense to wear a bra. Financially it makes sense not to burn bras (they cost about $40 a pop). One thing that does make sense though is the idea that women competing against each other to prove whose body is most appealing is fundamentally wrong (which was the way that the Miss America Pageant was going down in 1968). Especially when considering the fact that only a very small percentage of females are able to healthily attain the ideal body as depicted in the media. That however is a whole different post entirely.

If I have not already revealed myself, I would like to take this opportunity to come out as a feminist. Not as a feminist in the traditional manner of speaking, but as a feminist who believes that being feminine and completely different from men is a beautiful thing. The irony of the feminist movement is that its objective was to, in a sense, masculinize women while at the same time standing against everything men represented. Mmm I love a good paradox. I really believe that breasts, hips, maternal inclinations, soft features, sensitivity, and smelling good are not bad things! Unfortunately, these protesters got 95% of the feminist movement wrong. Interesting, isn't it?

Hair So Healthy it Shines

when I was about 8 years old I saw a commercial that changed my life. never has an advertisement company achieved its objective as perfectly as it did for me with pantene pro-v shampoo and conditioner (this is a big statement for a girl who only buys oatmeal from boxes with bob harper's face). i begged my mother for weeks to buy "pantene pro-v, for hair so healthy it shines."

finally the poor woman conceded and purchased it. that afternoon when she walked through the door from the store, i got my greedy hands on my treasure and headed straight for the shower.

sitting in front of the mirror for the next few hours, i waited for my hair to transform from mousy and flat (and greasy?) into computer-animated perfection.

it never happened.

12 years later and against the advice of every hair stylist i've ever been to (yes, i ask every. single. one), I still use pantene pro-v. according to the experts, it coats the hair follicle in wax. contrary to the speculations of my younger, more idealistic self, there is absolutely no doubt in my mind as to whether or not this is true. it just doesn't make sense that hair stylists everywhere have a secret union with the objective of putting pantene pro-v out of business (um, yes. i used to have conspiracy theories. don't judge). i know they are making little girls think their hair can look barbie-commercial perfect and are coating my hair in grease, but guess what, hair school girls! i just don't care.

i'm holding out for pantene pro-v. someday it will start working. mark my words.

until later, chicas!

I Single-Handedly Keep the US Economy in Balance

There are a lot of things that feel really sucky in this world. For example stress, hypothermia is supposed to be pretty painful, and being eaten alive would be up there too. It has taken me 20 years 2 months and 18 days to discover that I haaate climbing out of a warm car. For some reason, being in a car is one of the most comforting sensations to me. As a product of the Technology Age, I am almost physically incapable of accomplishing simple tasks without the aid of music. My little green 1996 Ford Taurus (with a matching swanky green interior) enables me to listen to any kind of music I desire. First of all in the form of radio. Second, an ipod adapter that connects to 1. radio frequencies or 2. the tape deck (I possess both...just in case). Another amenity offered in the vehicle is a controllable climate. This is essential. I have long suspected that I possess a medical irregularity. Anyone who has lived with me would attest to this fear. For some reason, my body's natural temperature is 3 degrees warmer than all other human beings ( I suspect). I am always cold. In my car I can crank the heat up until the interior resembles a tropical rain forest at midday. This is a beautiful thing. Other lesser perks: cup holders, cruise control, mobility, windshield wipers. Thank you Henry Ford for your exploitation of the labor class in order for me to know these joys. All these reasons combined amount to me loathing climbing out of a car. Whether or not I am driving does not matter. In order to avoid this experience, it is not uncommon for me to drive around for inordinate amounts of time "finding a parking spot." As you can imagine, this habit has a pretty significant pitfall. In the form of gasoline consumption. Which, if you pay even casual attention to the economy you would know, is not cheap. I firmly believe that the amount of gasoline I purchase in order to fuel my addiction and car (ha) keeps the United States from spiraling into a depression to rival that of the 1930s.
Having gotten that off of my chest, I have one more thing to say:
Mom, don't be mad when you read this. If it is any consolation, I am a very good driver. I have never gotten a ticket, gotten in a wreck, or fallen asleep at the wheel. One time however, I did hit a pedestrian. Long story.

W.J.

I have a confession to make. I would say this confession is directed to the world in general but to Claire Hoffman especially. First of all, let me preface this story with a description of a man named Warren Jeffs. He is perhaps the most notorious polygamist in existence today. If that isn't creepy enough, he is charged with two counts of rape as an accomplice and currently resides in the Utah State Prison serving two lifetime sentences. The guy's a straight up weirdy. So one Sunday night Hannah comes to me with an idea: make a facebook profile for this guy. I immediately hop on board.

Throughout the next few days we spend literally hours adding friends. I would say only about 10-20% of the people we added actually accepted our friend request and one girl specifically requested that we leave her alone. Ultimately we accrue about 150 friends over the course of 3 days. Among these is a woman named Claire Hoffman. This honestly is the hugest coincidence I have ever encountered, so stay tuned. The day she accepts our friends request Claire writes on our wall:

"warren: are you mormon?"

Upon reading this I respond: "awkward subject... we aren't on the best terms. they would say that i'm "excommunicated", but i just like to say we're on hiatus from each other."

A few days later, being LDS myself, I become curious about why she would ask that question. It was totally random. I look at her profile and realize that she has two masters degrees, one in journalism and one in religion. After closer examination I discover that she writes for the Washington Post. The freaking Washington Post! Unbeknownst to us, the day before we added her she had written an article about the very man we were impersonating. Here's a link to it:

http://newsweek.washingtonpost.com/onfaith/undergod/2008/04/polygamy_and_intrusion.html

In this article she refers to Warren Jeffs and his creepy little clan of followers as Mormons. Understandably, she received a lot of backlash because of this from members of my church. The day after I responded to her question, she wrote another article in response to the backlash. AND SHE QUOTED WHAT WE SAID! Here it is, read away:

http://newsweek.washingtonpost.com/onfaith/undergod/2008/04/readers_response_whats_in_a_na.html

That very day our Warren Jeffs profile got disabled by administrators for claiming to be someone we were not.

So what's the moral of this story? You win some, you lose some. But the loss might be worth it to be quoted in the Washington Post.

Numero Uno

Hello world, and welcome to my mind. Wow, how exhilarating. Okay so...ummm...I can't think of anything clever to say. So yeah...more to come later.