Windmills

This year I moved to Provo, Utah from the Southern Californian desert. Driving away from my hometown, as on any road trip, I passed these and several hundred other windmills on the way out:

(Photo: Jeff Turner)

Imagine my pleasant surprise when, from the top of Maeser hill, I spied these windmills on the edge of Utah Valley:

Last night, I had a conversation with a friend about what makes the place you live home. My parents moved to a new house while I was away at school, and so when I visit the desert, there are places more familiar to me than the house my family lives in. I was looking at a PostSecret book, and someone had sent in a card reading, "I want to go home. But I am home." It reminded me that (no offense, family; I'm excited to see you) I will probably wish I was back in Provo when I go back to the desert in about two weeks.

I think that this year, Provo has become more home to me than the desert. It amazes me how quickly it has become the setting for great memories, the milieu for my friends, and the backdrop for my life.

This I Believe essay in the works?

Cumpleaños.

On Thursday, I finished my nineteenth year of life. 6,940 days/9,986,400 minutes/599,582,288 seconds since my birth.

And right now, as I type this post, I am  19 years, 3 days, 4 hours, 53 minutes, and 55 seconds of age.

The internet knows what's up.

Just so you know...

This is what I look like when I'm bored, slightly frustrated, and stuck in my office for three more hours.

And fooling with poladroid on my break.

I think I'm going to open the windows.

Hey, Make Up Your Mind.

I want to post something, but I don't feel like writing anything. So- this:

There are a few things I've forgotten to tell you...

Remember a while back when I was talking about how I wanted to get to 200 posts? That post about my basil happened to be 200. This is 202.

I bought a guitar for $30 at a yard sale last weekend. Or maybe the weekend before. I can't remember. Anyway, I've been practicing the guitar more lately and I started writing a song the other day. Hello, Open-Mic. Now I'll actually have two whole songs to play on the guitar.

P.S. I named it Ginsberg.

I've started a project involving way too many picture frames, gold and silver paint, and chalkboards. It'll be up in my living room once I'm finished, but for now, that explains any gold or silver on my hands when I see you (and getting on my clothes- argh). (And yes, I referenced this in my last poem.)

I've actually started/conceptualized a lot of crazy design projects. Most of them are only in my head, but you will see them once they are finished (via pictures if not in person).

It's vaguely late and my room is an awful mess.

Looking up. (II)

Gold and silver on my hands I peered through the lenses of my eyes

Low on the grass,

Book in the foreground and

A stretch of green blades, all glowing in clarity, just behind

In the periphery (above my lids) the sun breathed gold on my hair
There and then we were,
Lying on the ground, our heads
Touching, our words circling up again, and only while the stars stayed.

My basil sprouted. The whole world is a miracle.

10/6/09

Then when there were sunflowers in the garden
Green beans running up poles and a red plum tree in front of the house
When my hair was dark in the shade
And gleaming in the sun
When I had a swing in a blooming tree 

And when I had a brother, close, to push me on it

My own face used to smile at strangers and
My voice used to sing in supermarkets
But she folded in on herself and sank to the bottoms of my feet
Buried, like seeds, she is starting to grow
Up
To the sun of knowledge

I portend eloquence
I have hurriedly constructed the facade of confidence

But walking down a crowded alley

She turns

my lips

up

And runs a bow over my vocal cords

As I walk by the plums and green beans.

THINGS I HAVE LEARNED THIS YEAR:

(I found this in an old notebook I took to school with me.)
6/15/07
1. Playing the triangle is not for timid people.
2. You actually do need to study chemistry to get good grades.
3. Failing is not at all a joke.
4. Sometimes good people turn rotten; you have to leave them.
5. Sometimes bad people are really good; you just have to let them in.
6. Singing requires breathing.
7. Everyone eats mangoes differently.
8. It REALLY doesn't matter what other people think.
9. Having fun is easy. You just have to keep a smile pasted on all the time.
10. Boyfriends can be toxic.
11. Clinginess can get you somewhere.
12. People say things on the internet that they would never ever say in real life.
13. You don't have to love someone back.
14. True love is reciprocated.
15. Older brothers graduate. It's what they do.
16. The sunshine is good. Clouds are nice, but in the same way that it's nice to be depressed. Being happy is more splendiferousful.

(Some of the grammar sucks, and I'm a bit immature, but at least I had that much down when I was 16.)

Life, I love you.

All is groovy.

Tree Lamps

I am addicted to Moleskines, and yesterday I bought this little red book:

--with the intention of learning to draw, and to draw something new every day in it. I love doodling, and I've always been interested in art, but I'm not a particularly good artist. So, since I'm terribly bored most days this Spring, I decided to pick this up.

At Open-Mic, I drew a tree on the list while I waited for my turn. Later, sitting in the back, I opened my little red book and started drawing a lamp, which turned into this:

I like drawing trees. Also flowers. I like drawing inanimate, manufactured things like lamps and boxes and lightbulbs. The tree lamp was bound to happen. And it turned out cooler than I thought it would. Anyway, this is tree lamp the second:

Cody drew one, too:

And so did Scott:

Note the moths around the tree lamp. And the little bulbs. :)

P.S. We concluded yesterday that Scott is incapable of writing a bad song, and would therefore own us all were we to hold an improv open-mic night.

I love that nearly all the practice rooms are empty during Spring. At any time of day, you can walk down those stairs in the HFAC and find a Steinway grand waiting to be played.

(photo credit: The Piano, directed by Jane Campion)

Things Greta and I like

Soup in bread bowls

Pretty music

Fresh strawberries

Night walks

Cool air

Big trees
Twisty trees
Blooming trees
Uneven sidewalks
Musicals
People who quote books

Libraries

Dandilions

Slow Spring days

Bright nail polish

Irish movies

Looking up.

Today is the first of May.

It's been raining for days now and I

(hoping you will find something on your tongue to tell me)

am hearing you here, in my heart.

On the first night I spent in this room,

I opened the window wide

And looked out for a bright moon

The moon, luminescent and pure

(And I, disoriented and spent from the drive)

Squinted through the black silhouettes of leaves at me

The rain falls still, filling the potholes and seeping beneath the cement.