Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Don't freak out

but tonight I'm kind of happy.

At least, I think this is what happy feels like.

Monday, January 25, 2010

I missed post 700

I have the genius talent for missing big moments. I don't realize them until they pass, and then I dwell. I am an excellent dwell-er.

This weekend I quoted That Thing You Do! on Facebook. A few friends started quoting along with me, and I've since been singing "Mr. Downtown" to myself. At work, which is always awkward.

That Thing You Do! was a milestone for me. It came out in 1996, when I was thirteen. It was the first time I went to a movie with a friend without parental supervision. It was a sign that my parents trusted me. And it was about the time I started realizing that "cute" wasn't just an adjective for babies. Hello, Guy Patterson.

I've been putting all this together in my head, and I realized that I use movies a lot as my mile markers. Here's a few more:

Dead Poets Society. High school. Attention: It's a sign when your teenage daughter watches this movie every day after school. In the dark. But, hey, maybe she'll carpe diem.

Say Anything.
First year of college. "I gave her my heart and she gave me a pen." "If you guys know so much about women, what are you doing at a Gas'n'Sip on a Friday night, with no women anywhere?" ("Choice, man.")

About a Boy. I saw this right after I returned from London the first time. It cemented that experience (and my love for Hugh Grant).

Grosse Pointe Blank. I know it's rated R. I'm not saying you should see it. But it was a defining movie for me moving from undergrad to grad school.

This post serves to name my movie milestones, but it's also a warning: You get me in a room with these movies, and I will quote. I can't help myself.

What are your movie mile markers?

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

eg hates. oh dear.

You know those people who say all you need to do to have a good day is decide to have a good day?

Yeah. I hate them too.

So this morning I woke up thinking, "Today is going to be a good day." It kind of freaked me out. And the day wasn't. Not so much. It was like every other day. But it wasn't as bad as the other days. Somehow everything didn't seem quite so bad. . .

Okay. I still hate them.

. . .

P.S. I know I kind of cheated last night. I really do love you. Other things I love: rain. long emails. short emails. London. chocolate. Diet Coke. unlineated poetry. Raise your hand if any of these things come as a surprise.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

guess what

I love you.

That is all.

Monday, January 18, 2010

enforcing gender stereotypes.

I think after a really long, really boring, really frustrating day, it can be hard to love. But I made a promise, and I'm going to keep it, dammit. (I love the word "dammit," dammit.)

So. What do I love? Well, I'm a girl, so I must love


and kittens.

okay, not so much with the kittens.

but babies. I do love babies. At least, these babies.

All pictures from Flickr, excepting, of course, Samuel and Abby (which I took--take that, world.)

Sunday, January 17, 2010

I love to see the temple

I honestly didn't think this is where I'd be going with these posts, but this is what came to mind this morning, and it's sticking.

This is the temple that's in my hometown, Bountiful, Utah. Lauren was married to Jesse here, and Stephen to Ashton. It's where I did my first baptisms for dead. It's also one of the places I spent a lot of time thinking about my future--although, I did it from the outside, either walking the perimeter or walking the grounds. It's one of those places you just feel drawn to. . . and here "you" is obviously "me".

This is the temple where I live right now, Chicago. It's actually about an hour north of Chicago, but that's okay. It was the first temple to be built in the Midwest after the Saints made the trek to Utah. They left the Midwest in 1846; the Chicago Temple was built in 1985.

If I'm allowed a "favorite" temple, this might be it: London. It's also outside of London, but the grounds are beautiful and peaceful and, again, it's one of the places I've spent a lot of time praying and thinking about my future.

I love the Mt. Timp Temple too. It's identical to the Bountiful Temple, except for the accent coloring. And it's where I received my endowment (because Bountiful was closed and Mt. Timp is closer to Lehi and Provo).

EG fun fact: When I was growing up, one of my favorite movies was The Mountain of the Lord, about the forty years it took to build the Salt Lake Temple. Forty years, people. That's love.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

No More Than Reason: eg loves Much Ado

I know this comes as a shock to exactly none of you, at least not those of you who know me. But this is where this idea started, that I could be happy in my memories, and so this is where I begin.

The first time I saw Much Ado it was on PBS. My dad got me out of bed one night to come watch. I was in love--with the language, the acting, the story. I'm still in love.

That was in the early 90s. Ten years later, in 2002, in London, I was in a Shakespeare class. After a rather sad run through of Antony and Cleopatra, my friend and I decided to read Twelfth Night out loud, the way it was meant to be. (Well, it was meant to be acted out by a large group of male actors, not two 19-year-old girls, but close enough.) By the time our class reached Much Ado about Nothing, we had a full ensemble for our reading. And I got to read Beatrice.

We sat in the commons room of our ground floor flat. I hope I'm remembering this right, because I'm remembering sitting on a fairly wide window sill, my feet on a chair or a table, leaning against my knees and reading Beatrice while Cameron read Benedick, Josh read Claudio, Amber read Hero, and Aislin read the Prince. There were enough people to fill the room, and enough people to fill the parts. It was one of those perfect days. I sometimes desperately wish that I had a picture--there was bright blue thin carpet, and blue armchairs, and that window sill was perhaps the best window sill I've ever had the opportunity to sit on.

I've never seen a production that matches us reading in that room. If I ever have a chance to relive a time of my life, that day just might be it.


Bonus Love: ABBA. I was looking for the trailer for Much Ado, and found this. Please join me in rolling your eyes. Rolling your eyes and dancing like a mad man.

Friday, January 15, 2010

sigh no more, lady

Not what I would usually post. But at some point, I need to quit moaning and move forward--two things I'm not always the best at.

This week was a weird one. I taught a lesson on Sunday that was good, but not great. Monday I hung out with a friend, which was wonderful, and then. And then I crashed. Which I wasn't ready for--usually I can stop the train wreck. But instead I let myself spin out of control, just thinking and overthinking. And then I let myself blog. . .

So the change. After a few days of dwelling on missing where I was three or four years ago, I decided maybe it might be a good idea to say hi to those people and things I loved then.

I have a good life here in Chicago. I'm happy I'm here. I'm really happy that I'm writing poetry, when I'm writing poetry. I do miss all those people and all those things we used to do and talk about--but I forget that they're not gone, they're just a little more spread out.

There's a blogging trend that I kind of like, that I'm going to try copying for a week. It's an "editorgirl loves" kind of feature. Usually this refers to other posts on other blogs, but in this case, it's just me, in my apartment, letting myself remember and this time be happy in remembering.

I'm hoping to start tonight. See you then.

*artwork found on Typcut.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

and we'll watch Christmas TV

I have now listened to "Christmas TV" by Slow Club seventeen times. And I'm thinking of all the Christmas TV I missed this Christmas. I'm pretty sure I passed out during Christmas Vacation, which has never happened before. I didn't watch Garfield or Claymation or Muppets. What was I doing all Christmas?

Maybe this.

I call them Seth Heads. Now whenever I miss my missionary brother, it's like he's right there. Just sometimes he's much smaller.

I may have also stepped in as singer for the awesome Rock Band Narwhal. But there's really no proof of that.

20 times.

Monday, January 11, 2010


maybe if I just type I'll have something to say.

maybe not.

. . .

if I were smart, I'd leave it at that. But I want to talk, dammit. And I'm not going to apologize for that dammit. Or the lack of caps at the beginning of this post.

I'm spending too much time alone. Which is sad and stupid because I have an awesome apartment that begs for a party.

I used to throw wonderful parties.

Where the hell am I? Where the hell are you?

. . .

Once upon a time, a friend wondered where I was. So he put it at the top of the agenda: "Where the hell is Sarah?" It was an inside joke that is now a really important memory.

That friend taught me what it means to be an artist. Those friends taught me.

Dear Friend. I miss being your friend, and I miss being an artist with you. Editorgirl. Sarah.

Sunday, January 10, 2010

twenty ten

Yep. I'm one of those people. Two-thousand-ten just sounds wrong.

If I was one of those people (read: the rest of the world) who made resolutions when the calendar changed to 2010 (your choice of pronunciation), I wouldn't be blogging right now. I would be writing letters. On pretty paper. Possibly thank you letters, but most likely just letters.

But I'm not one of those people. I'm the person who just pulled herself out of a too-hot bath to tell you that I'm not one of those people.

Do you see where I'm going with this?

I just watched the final episode of season two of Chuck, to prepare myself for the awesomeness of season three (which I don't get to watch until tomorrow because I don't have TV, just Hulu). There was this song playing. I found it, iTunes'd it, and have listened to it 7 times according to the counter. I'm heading in for number 8 once I publish this post.

Saturday, January 09, 2010

white night

I keep opening a new post page to write about Christmas. And Christmas this year was awesome--it totally deserves a blog devoted just to it. But I keep hesitating.

Part of it is that everyone who really cares why Christmas was awesome was there. Christmas 2009 will go down in the history books as the year of Seth Heads and Chicago (the band, not the musical) sing-alongs and zipper flowers and the coolest hedgehog ever. It was as close to a perfect Christmas as we could get with Seth in New Zealand--and he made his appearances.

But I'm wondering what purpose this blog is serving now. I started it a long time ago as part of a conversation. But that conversation has moved on in other directions and sometimes I just feel like I'm talking to myself.

Here's what I care about. Poetry, education, my family, my faith, my friends. John Cusack (some priorities never change.)

So what do I do? Do I stay here, editorgirl talking to myself in circles? Or do I look for a new blog and a new name and a new place to be me? I thought by now I would know who that is, but I really don't. I had a 2-in-the-morning moment this week when I realized that I turn 27 in a few months. I never thought I'd be here.

A new blog might be coming. But, for now, it's nice to see you.

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