Merry Christmas!

 

This is what I will fall asleep to tonight.

"Three Words, Eight Letters"

Gossip Girl is over. I am officially out of shows. And sadly, I am not satisfied with the goodbye. I didn't get a romantic scene from Chuck and Blair to watch over and over again. There was only one really great song, and it only lasted for 30 seconds. Gossip Girl, I gotta say, the young Bass with the bow-tie was not enough to make up for the lackluster finale. He should have had a curly-haired sister at least.

But I still love you. On Thursday I wore a headband and my watch-locket from the Empire State Building to honor you. I didn't wake up in time to curl my hair, but I did my best without my own Dorota.

I guess it's time to start my Dawson's Creek marathons again.

waiting

While writing in school, I would sometimes physically feel this rush of inspiration, and I would know exactly what the essay should be. After putting the idea into words, I would look back at what I had just written and be amazed that it had come from me. It was too complete, nearly perfect. I had found a piece of my truth. I guess this is what I am waiting for right now. I want an epiphany to surge through me and leave me with a vision of my future so gleaming that I know it wasn't really from me.

An Epigram

Hearts break for what wasn't there, not for what was.

Sometimes I wish I were a hipster.

I listen to what would be classified as hipster music. The wool sweater that was a hand-me-down from my great aunt Dorothy is one of my favorite things in my closet. I rarely do my hair, opting for the natural look most mornings.

Yet, I am not a hipster. Not in any way really.

On Halloween, my mom took these pictures of the pumpkin I carved. Definitely not up to hipster standards--they were taken with a basic digital camera, not with film or instagram, and my posing is all off.  Not to mention the amateur carving that says very little about socially conscious issues or art.

  

 I know I am getting hipster boots for Christmas though (I picked them out with my mom on Black Friday, and she is wrapping them up).

Everything about this post just further proves that I should move on from my hipster aspirations.

Things I Remembered About Myself

• I am not a morning person.

• I am all for organization, not habit.

• I wore headgear*. How could I forget this about myself? I mean seriously! The other day I had a dim recollection of it, and I had to consciously call back the memory of the hot pink teeth-moving machine. The real travesty is that my mom didn't take a picture to document it. Then I could have a gem like this pic.                                                                                                                                     *I should probably clarify that I only wore it at night, so it was never actually embarrassing. But Still.

• I love celery. I love everything about it.

• I was once obsessed with Twilight. You should really see The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn Part 2. It is everything you could ever want from a movie.

New Job Theme Song

Tomorrow is my first day of work. Guess it's time to grow up, which means getting out of bed before noon.

Wish me luck!

Oh, and I will probably sing this in my head all day for encouragement.

I used to close my eyes to what stirred under my bed
Now they're open wide to the monsters in my head
Instead of claws they whisper lies, sinking fear in quiet steps
So I will fight in the light 'til I give my final breath 

P.S. Their cover of "Mr. Brightside" is gorgeous.

Update

Well I made my decision.

I accepted the job in Salt Lake.

I am excited about it, but I can't say I am happy about it. Yet. I hope that's really the case. That one day I will wake up and realize how ecstatic I am about this life I never pined after, but got nonetheless. I have an inkling that that's not how these things work though. So I will claw and pray my way to happiness, and hope that it won't take too long. Because I am completely freaked out that I made the wrong choice.

This song sounds how I feel right now.

The Test

I was on the verge of graduating, and I thought everything was falling into place. As I walked through the doors to my psych tech interview, a clear vision of my future ran through my head. Work a year, have an amazing Summer, and then off to a grad program somewhere on the east coast. The interview seemed to go well; they called me back to take a personality proficiency test.

I failed that test. Imagine that. Failing a personality test. It's heavy and extremely disconcerting. But I didn't feel any of it. I walked out of that hospital feeling exhilarated. There had to be a reason that I didn't pass the test. It had to have been a divine fluke.

So I left thinking something great would happen. And I had a glorious, lazy Summer, but no concrete direction. Nothing so utterly fantastic came my way to give a reason for me not to have gotten that job.

And then my funds ran low, and it was time to set up shop in my childhood bedroom. And I wasn't hearing back on anything. And I wasn't finding anything that I really wanted to do, which just made everything worse. Reading F. Scott Fitzgerald didn't help either. I see so much of myself in the idealistic, sentimental characters of his stories--I got scared that I was ruining myself like them. That I would wake up empty.

Then I got a call about a job. I had sent my resume in so long ago that I hadn't even remembered which one it was until they gave me the full position summary. It seemed like a good job--a little too much math and science--but something with potential. They said they would call me back the next day. They didn't.

Then a different job came up in Provo. The interview didn't seem to go that great, but they called back the same day and offered me the job. Feeling that I had no other options, I took it. And I felt good about it. Finally something had happened!

An hour later I get a phone call. It's the supervisor from the other position. And I panicked. I am not sure if they were actually offering me the job because they just said they wanted me to come in for a few hours to see what the job was like, but I just answered that I had accepted another position. And I don't know if that was stupid or not.

Who cries over having two job offers in this economy?

Clearly, I am not overly excited about either position, but I need to make an investment in my future. And I feel so strung out in polar opposite directions.

friends+great job for grad school applications+time to try to find a creative position with a magazine or another job that I could fully embrace+getting to serve people=Provo=only part time+not that much room to grow

decent job from the start+opportunities to move up in the company+better hours+chance to move somewhere different+better job if I want to skip grad school and enter the world of buisness=Salt Lake City=not very exciting or stimulating+will feel really bad quitting if something else better comes along

I just don't know if either of these jobs are part of why I failed that personality test. I don't know if it even really matters. Maybe I am just supposed to choose and handle what comes. Is it too late with the other job? Where am I supposed to belong? What should be my biggest priority?

I just don't know...maybe this is all just part of the real test.

Remember when...

Remember when I tried to make "Nuclear Mushroom Cloud"* into the best expletive/excited phrase ever? Needless to say that one didn't really catch on.

*To be said in a nerdy, almost obnoxious, 1950's kind of voice.

Today's Obsession: Songs from TV Shows

I have an extreme weakness for television programs connected to music. And as my list of favorite songs from TV shows indicates, I love songs tinged with melancholy. Is it weird that sad songs make me so happy? Maybe. But I think that sad songs are full of hope--they wouldn't be so sad if love wasn't real or pain couldn't be overcome. Forlorn tunes connect people in a deeply personal way; it shows we're not alone in what we are feeling. So indulge me as I share some of the songs I still play on repeat.

 

#5 "All I Needed" The Naked Brothers Band

Don't let their name fool you. These boys are geniuses. Alex Wolff wrote this at age 12. Doesn't that blow your mind a little bit? That's why I am proud to admit that I watched The Naked Brothers Band, a show about young friends with a band.

 

#4 "Video Games" by Lana Del Rey

When I first heard this song on Gossip Girl, I was instantly smitten. The raw honesty of her voice and the story was perfect for a scene in which Chuck Bass surrenders his heart to Blair Waldorf, and for once, asks nothing in return. I think the heart of this song is about being honest with yourself, which I find remarkable and beautiful.

 

#3 "I Still Love You" by Alexz Johnson

There was once a time when I could not get enough of the Canadian Instant Star. And the music was [still is] a major part of the obsession. The show was about a girl who found fame on a talent show and featured songs that were written in connection to the storyline. It was really hard for me to decide which song I liked best, but in the end this one won. I cried when my brother deleted the episode in which this song was reprised from the DVR. Mostly because I was in love with the love story. So thank you, Tommy and Jude, for giving me lyrics like: I know rocks turn to sand and hearts can change hands and you're not to blame when the sky fills with rain.

 

#2 "Signs" by Bloc Party

Here is another perfect song from Gossip Girl. It affects me every single time, but despite the melancholy, I can't wait to hear it again. It is also the perfect song to listen to when you need a good cry. It's another song that is connected with the love story of Chuck and Blair. The song played in the background of a scene where all Chuck does is give Blair an anguished look; it is all he can muster when he realizes he's an orphan and alone. [To be read with a straight face if at all possible. It's a teen soap--it's supposed to be over-the-top.] Her embrace is so tender; it makes the song that much more meaningful for me. (I know I have too much affinity for Chuck and Blair, but there are only 7 episodes left, so I am going to treasure our fake friendship for just a little bit longer.)

 

#1 "You'll Ask For Me" by Tyler Hilton

So I didn't actually watch One Tree Hill when this song was on, but it still came from the show, and I love it. I had this song on a CD in my truck, and I am pretty sure I played it constantly for at least 4 months. And that's not an exaggeration. I think this song is pure and simple genius. I haven't decided if I want to be singing it or have someone to sing it to me, but in the meantime I am going to play it on repeat.

I realize that I didn't explain myself very well, but in all honesty, this list was just for me. These songs tell so much about the Avrielle of right now. And I want to remember. I need to remember the struggles and hopes of this time of the great unknown. Because really it is very exciting thinking that I am free to do anything and that I will never have this freedom again. Sometimes I just need to push away the fear and remind myself of all that can be ahead.

I also think these songs prove I need to find my wounded man. It will either cure me of the obsession or give me my epic love.

Post Script

To summarize my last post, I am not a genius or Helen of Troy. And that's quite all right.

On Make-up

Recently, I went to lunch with my sister and was hit with a realization I still don't know how to deal with. She just started her freshman year at BYU, so we were talking about school and studying. Somehow, I brought up my procrastination. A large portion of my procrastination is a result of my self-handicapping. Self-handicapping is a psychological theory that explains how people save their self-esteem by attributing results to external factors, not internal ability. I am one of the biggest culprits. My procrastination allowed me to say "I did great on that test for just looking over my notes 20 minutes before" or "I must be a really great writer because I only spent a few hours on that." My imperfection and non-4.0-gpa was never a reflection of my own true ability or intelligence, which I guess I value more than my study ethic (Although I have great work ethic--all the group projects I saved are proof. And yes, group work is VERY different than studying).

Getting back to the epiphany, while I briefly explained this to my sister, in the back of my mind I instantly connected it to the physical side of beauty. As I stared at my pasta, I realized I may self-handicap myself every single day. My lack of make-up and effortless hair might be a form of this. It allows me to see myself as not truly inferior because I am not actually trying. When I see girls that are beautiful, I am okay with not being on the same level because I know they spent a long time on their looks and I didn't. Now I am really hesitant to believe that my natural look is a form of self-handicapping. I have always just considered it a style choice and personal preference. But now I don't know.

That little nagging thought has me thinking that I should try harder. I haven't changed anything, but on Saturday when someone asked who I was and if I was in high school at my dad's company party, it made me think that make-up might make me look my age. And it might give me the confidence to go for the higher professional positions I know I could handle, but that my resume doesn't prove that I could.

I don't know what this musing really means, but I know that it was important. It's like the thought was just knocking at the door of my head-space. I guess I might be ready to be realistic about reality and what people--men in particular--tend to expect.

Let's be real though. I will never wear very much make-up. It's just not me. I will probably be better about washing my face every day though.

"I am a solitary because I know things and must hint at things which other people do not know, and usually do not even want to know. Loneliness does not come from having no people about one, but from being unable to communicate the things that seem important to oneself, or from holding certain views which others find inadmissible."
                     --Carl Jung

Gifts from my Dad

My dad often tells me that I am well on my way to becoming a late-bloomer. It's something that seems to run in the family [all of his siblings were 25 or older when they got married and many lived at home for quite some time], so he probably shouldn't expect otherwise. It's almost a family tradition. But I am not sure it's a label I want to combine with my tendency to be a wallflower. But the other night my dad spent half an hour showing me some of his favorite songs from the '60s, and if being a late-bloomer and still living at home means I get introduced to stuff like this, I can live with it.

Today's Obsession: Teen Mom

Teen Mom

While this may seem like a far cry from Les Miserables, I can honestly say that both stories have changed my life; this is rare for me--it takes a lot for something to change my mind and actions. So indulge me in my love for Teen Mom because I will miss it terribly. (The last season of the original series ended this month).

My fan status shouldn't really come as a surprise. They graduated from high school around the same time as me. The drama completely sucks you in. And amidst all the craziness are adorable babies.

Leah, Amber, Sophia, Farrah, Caitlyn, Bentley, & Maci

  You're probably still wondering why I loved the show so much because it's basically the same formula as every other reality [or as I like to say, documentary] show.

Part of it is because of the connections I made while watching the show. My brother, sister, and I would always watch it together. We would burst out laughing at the stupidity or hilarious moments. I still find it so funny that Amber's boyfriend Gary wanted to have a romantic dinner with her, so he picked up meat loaf from The Cracker Barrel. There is no question that I am closer to my siblings because of this show--especially because not very many people watched it, so they were really the only ones who shared this obsession.

But it's more than that. I think it's the honesty. I cried almost every episode. That was the power of the storytelling and their openness. I am still amazed that they were willing to let people they didn't even know into their lives like that. I am barely even honest with myself.

Tyler, who is one of the most incredible men I have ever seen--he and his fiancee, Caitlyn, chose adoption for their daughter and have remained together in a healthy, loving relationship--shared something that was unimaginable. His dad, who has been in and out of prison for 20 years, texted him once and said something to the effect of "I care about because you are my son, and that's instinct, but I love coke more than anything or anyone." This was an unreal thing for me to hear. But Tyler knew it was the truth, and he is dealing with that and living his life and making sure he isn't his father. If I choose to go into counseling, I will encounter heartbreaking relationships like this one. I feel more empathy. I think I am being naive, but I feel like I could be good at counseling teen moms if that was something I pursued because this show is basically a case study.

I felt compelled to watch because I knew their stories and couldn't help but care. I could ramble on about all the things I love about Teen Mom and all the moments that taught me something valuable, but I think I am going to leave it at this: Be there for your children--in whatever capacity is best for them--no matter what. And don't be selfish (especially if you have a strange obsession with Farrah Fawcett--you know who you are Deborah).

So goodbye Teen Mom. I wish you had left me with more closure, but I guess that would go against what I loved most about you--your realness.

If you are in need of a good cry or laugh check out Teen Mom on MTV.

This needs to be me.

via Porter Hovey

Les Miserables

After reading Victor Hugo's truly epic Les Miserables, I can say that I am no longer an idealistic Marxist. Hugo cured me of this former obsession. The differences between Jean Valjean and the Thenardiers reminded me of the importance of individuals taking ownership of their own lives and goodness--something that is only possible in the final stages of Marxism if every member of society is nearly perfect and selfless. I can't be that unrealistic anymore. People have to be the ones that bring humanity into society. A government compelling people to help their fellow citizens creates a facade of light that will ultimately crumble on itself.

In the words of Victor Hugo, "By good distribution, we must understand not equal distribution, but equitable distribution. The highest equality is equity....Their [Communists'] distribution kills production. Equal partition abolishes emulation. And consequently labor. It is a distribution made by the butcher, who kills what he divides....To kill wealth is not to distribute it" (Les Miserables, p. 840-841).

One of man's greatest God-given rights is freedom. This is the key to finding true greatness in one's character. I now believe that people best take care of themselves and others when it is by their own accord, not due to the demands of a government, even one they created and support. Instead of searching for a perfect political model, I am going to focus on being a better person. I truly believe our actions and love hold the power to liberate our world from suffering, ignorance, and hopelessness.

The other news is that I can now name my son Marx, and I won't be lying when I tell people it's not after the brilliant Karl Marx.

My Platform

I don't know if it's my old beanie baby collection, old school projects looming in the closet, or just being back that makes living in my childhood room feel like I failed. I am not talking about a massive, the world is ending kind of failure, just a little set-back. Like I failed a quiz, not the whole semester.

I have no idea what I want to do with my life.

Anthropologist. Model. Writer. Gymnast. Pediatrician (specializing in dwarfism). Psychologist. Historic costume curator. All these things I wanted to be growing up just don't seem to fit anymore. And that's part of why I have started this blog. Maybe if I write about it, I can gain some insight into my slightly murky post-graduate life. And it gives me something to do in the meantime.

So here's to finding my muse and place in the world--whether that be a career, man, or words.

so....

here goes nothing.

Seriously, this will probably amount to nothing.

But I am going to do it anyway.


'Cause that's the kind of girl I am (want to be).