Playing On Repeat

Brandon Flowers "Between Me and You"

All my life I've been told/Follow your dreams/The trail went cold

Bleachers "Wake Me"

Chairlift "Met Before"

The Airborne Toxic Event "The Fall of Rome"

Brandon Flowers "Never Get You Right"

Basically I've been listening to this album nonstop. I'm obsessed with these lyrics.

They'll never get you right/I've been watching you all night

The people passing by/Should tremble at your sight

A Fine Frenzy "Think of You"

Usually, I sing this song when I'm heading back to my house after Sunday dinner with the parents.

Is it weird that I think I keep playing these songs over and over again because they somehow take me back to Dawson's Creek?

What Can I Be

Skip to the 5 1/2 minute mark of this video and watch Seth Meyers totally miss Kristen Stewart's point by making an obvious comment about himself.

It's what she says about how she never would have become an actor if she hadn't started young that's full of truth and wisdom. The one true dream killer is puberty.

Before those terrifyingly formidable middle school years, you are told you can be anything you want to be and you dream big. Then after one glorious Summer at the top of your young game, all the praise and validation is cut-off. You begin to hear how you don't measure up. How you won't ever measure up.

In 5th grade, I pictured my life as a Saved by the Bell episode. I would be a nice cheerleader, with an awesome, diverse friend group. I'd then go on to the Ivy League and probably become an astronaut or anthropologist. I clung to this dream in middle school, but abandoned it all together in high school.

Each year as you have to face yourself while getting a glimpse of reality, it's hard to keep faith in yourself. Kristen Stewart nails this on the head with her comments. As a kid, bravery is second nature because the entire world is a new discovery. You're used to trying new things. As a teenager, you are experiencing failure, discouragement, acne, and newfound freedom all at once. It becomes harder to believe in your own talent. Awkwardness becomes your air and suffocates your confidence.

This is the natural course of things. It's good and bad, and that's okay. You learn a lot during these years and even after, when looking back. We're not all meant to live out our childhood dreams, but it definitely would have helped me if I had jumped into a career path when I thought I was a beautiful genius at 10. How do I get back that confidence? I guess by just jumping in. But into what is the bigger question.

Favorites

I love hearing about people's random, pointless preferences. I don't know what people's favorite colors or ice cream flavors really mean, but it feels important. Why do we even pick the thing in the first place? I really couldn't tell you why I prefer Raisinettes over any other candy. Sure, I can list reasons, but it's really just because I like them. Simple as that.

I'm pretty open-minded about people's favorites, except when it comes down to 2 things. I just can't wrap my head around why people are so gung-ho about them!

Number One: GMAIL

Seriously, I need someone to write me an essay about why the world loves GMAIL. I started using it when I needed a more professional email address, and I still don't like it. Hotmail is so much prettier and easier to use. (Yes, I know this Blogspot functions off of a GMAIL account. It's what I'm stuck with because I'm basically illiterate when it comes to technology.)

Number Two: Filming Concerts

Okay, so I know this isn't really a "favorite." But I know some girl somewhere has at least thought to herself "...this is the best thing I have ever filmed...they're my favorite..." while fan-girling over the hot guy in a band. Why don't people just enjoy the moment and dance to the music? The bright, shiny screens ruin the atmosphere. Plus, the acoustics and recordings are so bad, no one ever wants to listen to it again. It makes absolutely no sense to me. It's amazing how music can create a community in a gross club--live in it people!

At 25

This is the first time in my life that I didn't want to be a year older. I still can't think about the number 25. It freaks and stresses me out to no end.

This picture was taken right after my parents sang a duet version of "Happy Birthday" just so I could make an official wish. Fingers crossed it comes true this year!

I now have 4 pairs of jelly sandals (plus a broken pair I can't quite part with), and it brings me unceasing joy. P.S. This Avett Brother's song is the best reference to 90s footwear ever.

A shiny new credit card now sits in my wallet. Building a credit history was a grown up decision, but was only a side benefit of wanting to spend my savings on an international trip and not pay exorbitant foreign transaction fees. I'm counting it as a win.

Lately, I've been thinking that I should become a mademoiselle librarian or archivist.

Going to concerts by myself is no longer a "feat." If I want to hear something live, I'm going to go either way.

Random people have started to set me up on blind dates. This confuses me because none of the guys I actually know have asked me out. I'll probably write more on this later.

I have tried persimmons and Sweetos.

I've lost a lot of my flexibility--I can't do the middle splits that well anymore--but I can still do back-handsprings and a respectable number of push-ups.

I'm working on learning to say no and do what's best for me. It's really hard for me to not feel overwhelming guilt when I let people down in any way. It's not because I want them to be pleased with me; it's just that I feel bad that they have to deal with extra or feel anything negative. I've realized that I would do anything if I had the excuse of doing it for my husband or family, but I can't make the commitment to move or switch careers or make any real changes just for me. And that's not right or fair, especially because I have no idea what my future timeframes look like. I'm continually trying to convince myself that I can create my own life.

I think art is the fastest way to change people.

This year next year I plan to read the Feminine Mystique to refine my arguments against the movement.

Seriously! I can't believe I'm reaching the mid-twenties mark. 

Some Words

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HIGGINS. Would the world ever have been made if its maker had been afraid of making trouble? Making life means making trouble. There's only one way of escaping trouble; and that's killing things. Cowards, you notice, are always shrieking to have troublesome people killed.

I watched Pygmalion late one night on Hulu and couldn't get over the genius of George Bernard Shaw. I picked this picture because there's a man who isn't afraid of a making a mess or a fashion statement.

General Conference

This last weekend was The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints' semi-annual General Conference. It is a chance for members of my church to hear from our living prophet and better understand the Lord's counsel. With so many social issues that bleed into religious life, these conferences can provide some clarity. In a world growing in darkness and festering in cruelty, it is also a boon to my optimism.

I read this scripture a few weeks before General Conference and found it to be right on time.

"Behold, I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves: be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves." (Matthew 10:16)

It's beautiful and powerful imagery. Never in the history of the world have the disciples of Christ had more outlets to spread the message. We have to be stronger than the opposition in order for this to work to its full advantage.

I have to strengthen my faith and standards. I cannot waver. I have to use my intelligence.

In my brief studies of world religions, I've never found a church that makes as much logical sense as the LDS faith. While we don't have all of the answers, we are promised that one day we will. We are also encouraged to seek answers now. The mysteries of God aren't hidden to man or reserved for the few. God's precepts are absolutely necessary for wisdom--they are eternal and transcendent.

I like the juxtaposition of the serpents and the doves. Peace infused with a bit of bite. The truth can be uncomfortable, but is often less-so with a kind delivery. I also like the idea that we we will come in unassuming but that a lot will be accomplished despite the perceived frailty. It's easier to bet on a winner if you have the truth of the matter, and I know that Christ's church is thriving on the earth today. Good people are doing good, wise things. I'm striving to share my part.

Some Words

"Can't you possibly be just a little bit glad that we are alive, and that all the year that's coming we can be together and work and love and get some peace for all the things we've paid so much for learning. Stop looking for solace: there isn't any..."
                      --Zelda Sayre Fitzgerald

The End-All

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"I fell in love with her courage, her sincerity and her flaming self-respect and it's these things I'd believe in even if the whole world indulged in wild suspicions that she wasn't all that she should be....I love her and that's the beginning and end of everything." --F. Scott Fitzgerald

I've always been intrigued by the idea of someone's only redeeming trait being love. It came to me while reading Wuthering Heights. Heathcliff and Cathy--him more than her--are only admirable because of their intense, and I believe, pure love. Despite the greatness of their love, it spoils their lives and hurts those around them. I think the power of love is hard for humans to handle. It makes them feel invincible, but it's not enough to save them from themselves and the demons they let in.

I just finished a biography on the life and marriage of Zelda and F. Scott Fitzgerald by Kendall Taylor that got me thinking abut this again. It's called Sometimes Madness is Wisdom: Zelda and Scott Fitzgerald: A Marriage, and I highly recommend it. Through reading his novels and short stories, I have felt similar to the Fitzgeralds. I want grandeur and adventure and acceptance. I see myself in both of them after learning more about their lives. Zelda was a great dancer and worked to get to a professional level in her late twenties. I wish I could afford to train in dance or gymnastics in this same way. She also saw the world in a magnificent light with a quirky sense of things; something I think I also foster in my own quiet way. I think Scott and I have similar views on the privileged rich. They get to be reckless and eccentric with fewer consequences. I've just never encountered someone that lit me up like they did each other or ignited the desire to let everything go and conquer the world. That I feel I need a partner to do this is the Scott in me--nervous and lacking courage to be confident.

"I am so outrageously clever that I believe I could be a whole world to myself--if I didn't like living in daddy's better." --Zelda Fitzgerald.

If you have any intentions of reading Tender is the Night and don't want the ending spoiled, stop reading this post. There will be major spoilers. The ending killed me. Dick Diver is a psychiatrist who fell in love with and married one of his schizophrenic patients, Nicole. The book chronicles their marriage and life in Europe. It's Scott's most autobiographical novel. At the end of the book Nicole learns to separate her identity from Dick and end her dependence upon him. She divorces Dick for another man. The doctor had finally cured his patient--not with his treatment but with his distance--and lost his life in the process. He'd stood by his wife for so long, and she was so willing to walk away and leave him alone to fight his own demons. It seemed so unfair to me. She ends up living a more fulfilling life, while the doctor flounders back in America and doesn't even keep in contact with his children.

It wasn't until I read Taylor's book that I understood the emotional depth of this novel. I think it's one of the single greatest signs of his love for Zelda. He borrowed greatly from their experience with mental illness and Zelda's own words--which kept her from using their experiences in her own creative work and was probably not the best thing a husband could do--but the ending shows his true hope. He wanted her to be cured, despite what he recognized as near impossible. I think Fitzgerald was acknowledging his role in their downfall, but wanting a different ending. While Zelda was eventually institutionalized for her illness, Scott still did all he could for her without completely destroying himself. A heavy drinker, he'd already ruined his chances for a long, happy life, but he felt that being her sole caregiver would be an even earlier demise. They needed each other though. It wasn't a one-sided help-meet. Their correspondence is touching toward the end of his life. I can't imagine seeing the woman who had been your muse drift into an incomprehensible shell of her old self. How helpless he must have felt. And although Zelda had delusions, she was very astute to her condition and reality. How frustrated and helpless she must also have felt. I can't even tell you how much I learned about love from their story.

“And in the end, we were all just humans...drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness.” --F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

I believe the Fitzgeralds decided on their love throughout their entire lives. It didn't just swallow them up and take them for prisoners during the happy days as newlyweds, never to escape again. They continually chose each other despite the flaws they saw in the other and themselves. Their rise and subsequent fall had to have intricately bounded them together forever. Love isn't enough to save us, but I think it's a catalyst. For good and bad. Ultimately we have to save ourselves--a great love story isn't enough. 

Staunch Characters

I am now obsessed with the Beale family of Grey Gardens.

You need to watch this cult-classic documentary from the 1970s! I was blown away. Here's the basic run-down: Big Edith and Little Edie lived a privileged life as rich beauties in their younger years, but later found themselves in squalor and poverty in their East Hampton mansion. You get the sense that these women are immensely educated and created a unique, empowering paradigm. Little Edie even had a brief run as a cabaret dancer when she was in her 60s. [Late-bloomers around the world applaud.] I was especially struck by the scene I posted above. Don't you love the way she speaks? The diction and word choice are superb.

Am I a staunch woman?

Not yet. I can't even bring myself to call myself a woman. I'm still a girl...occasionally a lady.

The other day I had this daydream of me at 101 showing my posterity pictures of my life and memories in the form of grandmotherly trinkets. They were so impressed by the personality I'd become and the things I'd done. And I could feel my future thoughts as that woman. You silly kids. I didn't come into my own until I was triple your age. Until I'd sparred with life and learned to love. Learned to let myself be loved.

My personality profile is INFP. The nickname for this type is often "the idealist" or "the dreamer." Sure this means I have high ideals, but it also means I'm willing to work to attain what I feel is possible and to help others reach their potential too. One of the online tests lists fictional and real people that could have the same personality type. Guess who was on my fictional character list?

E.T.

I'm basically an alien. What's stauncher than an extraterrestrial? There's hope for me yet.

"The last I saw her she was dancing all alone"

The Little Things

I slightly burned my microwave popcorn last week, and it got me thinking about how the seemingly simple things are actually really difficult to get right. Take making toast. There's 2 ingredients and only one appliance with a max of 3 buttons, but it's tough to master the perfect golden brown. And vending machines. So simple, but often stubborn in their job. There's got to be something to this.

Oh, hi there.

I'm starting to feel just a little bit stuck. It's crept in slowly and is slowly overtaking my ambition. I don't know how to start things anymore. Like this post. It's rough going.

There's nothing really wrong, things just don't feel quite as good as they used to be. The other night I was thinking that it's ludicrous that I'm not always ecstatic about my life. Because come on, man-buns are a thing! And somehow I still have two packets of Pumpkin Pie Pop-tarts left.

Awhile back, I wrote about being afraid of being in the same place in a year...well I traced back and that was in 2013. Not much progress. To be fair, time is a nasty whirlwind that doesn't ever seem to abide by it's own rules, but maybe it's time for me to take stock of Av.

I found this picture the other night. I'm just a tiny afterthought in the corner frame, but I love who I was in that moment. It was taken at a Christmas party my best friend and I threw in 2011. (I can't even deal with that right now!) It'd be nice if our pictures were like Mr. Potter's; then I would know what had captured my excitement and imagination in that moment.  It's been a long time since I've been that hopeful. The mistletoe held promise not fear that night. It seemed that time and future were in my command. Even though the mirror in that house was a mega fat mirror (going home for Christmas that year and looking in a normal mirror was really freaky, but I digress), I still felt really good about my body. My grades were falling into place with minimal homework. The door seemed wide-opened for anything or anyone.

Now most days my door is closed.

I know how hard it is pick the locks I place and tear down the barriers I create, so I've stopped myself. But now what?

Distractions. I think that's what I've been surviving on since BYU. My job was still new. Salt Lake was still fresh. Everything was either being figured out or so full of possibility that I was endlessly distracted by all the impending intrigue.

And then I made nothing happen. The distractions amounted to nothing real. Nothing I could hang my hat on at the end of this often cliche 20-something life I get to enjoy.

I'm going to find a ballet class to attend. And read more literature and scriptures. And force myself to be creative again. Because right now I don't have the spark needed to plan big enough to satisfy that  girl, clad in vintage shoes, hosting a Christmas party.

Working up my courage to write something real...but in the meantime...

"Lonely people have enthusiasms which cannot always be explained. When something strikes them as funny, the intensity and length of their laughter mirrors the depth of their loneliness, and they are capable of laughing like hyenas. When something touches their emotions, it runs through them like Paul Revere, awakening feelings that gather into great armies."
                                 -- Mark Helprin, Winter's Tale

This line gets a little cheesy (much like the rest of the novel, unfortunately), but I agree with the sentiment.

I'm still laughing at an episode of The Middle from 2012. The youngest son Brick becomes obsessed with a book about the making of the movie adaptation of Love Story. He doesn't realize it was originally a book and has no intentions of ever seeing the movie. Comedic genius!

This Instagram from Mindy Kaling is also golden. Classic Justin Bobby reference. I would love to work on her writing staff.

And one more for good measure.

Today's Obsession: Songs with Bus References

Growing up, I didn't ride the school bus to elementary school. That could be why I find buses idyllic modes of transportation. They are third on my list of most romantic public transit options, just below planes and taxis. It really is strange how much songs with buses in the storyline affect me. The imagery is heightened to the extreme.

When I got Sounds of the Sixties for Christmas as a preteen, "Bus Stop" by The Hollies quickly became one of my all time favorite songs.

Someday my name and hers are going to be the same.

It's so tender and sweet, with a hint of something menacing underneath. I still like it.

The next song added to my repertoire doesn't exactly reference a bus, but I sang the song to myself while riding the buses on a family vacation to San Francisco because I like the line about the early morning subway train. This is the Hallmark Movie of the group: over-the-top, but I can't help but love and genuinely enjoy it.

Last month while I was visiting San Francisco again, I kept trying to figure out why I like this theme so much. I still really don't know. It might have to do with the idea of love at first sight. For no reason at all, I'm beginning to believe in it more.

The moment we forgot we were just good friends,

I moved my arm, her face went red again.

One more bus home, another silent weekend.

Baby, remember on the bus when my hand was on your knee

...

When you love somebody and bite your tongue all you get is a mouth full of blood.

I also recommend looking up the Live on KEXP version of this song. The folk adds a whole new depth.

At 24

They keep promoting me at work (sort of), and I think it's having the opposite affect of what they want. It's making me resent the metaphorical Man beyond my wildest Marxist dreams. It's opening my eyes up to the pointlessness of business and management and money. I only half hope this is a phase.

I haven't been on a date since 2012…did I just admit that on the internet?

I'm fairly certain that 95% of the population, especially my peers, will never understand my pop culture references. I'd be so much funnier if people watched the same shows as me.

I want to learn to cook without using recipes. And stop eating desserts and Pop-Tarts for dinner so often.

I like to scope out apartments in San Francisco and Portland on Craigslist.

Initially skeptical, I've come to really enjoy Korean dramas.

Church basketball has fostered my self-assurance more than anything else these past few months--and I'm no baller.

My parents are becoming more like my friends than my parents. It's been a good thing.

For the past few weeks, I've had more interest in going back to school. I'm considering mediation, psychology, or community education again.

I'm hunting for a signature leather jacket, preferably with a hood.

My best friend and I watched this movie twice in a row. Barefoot is adorable, has a semi-feral child, and is a must-see.

Most days, I still feel 17.

"You can't judge a book by it's cover." "No, but you can tell how much it's gonna cost."

On Sunday, I gave my first talk in the singles ward, and I think it's hilarious how much it expanded people's opinions of me.

It wasn't my best talk ever. I thought it was rather ordinary, could have used more spunk and storytelling.

But right after sacrament meeting, the bishop's wife came up to me and said something to the effect of, "That was great! You know you dress so fashionably, and I didn't know, but then you opened your mouth and these words came out. And you're the total package. You really are."

It was one of the strangest compliments I've ever gotten because growing up I was always known as the smart one. I don't think I've ever been seen the other way around--I didn't think people would be surprised that I'm intelligent.

Then tonight at FHE, one guy in my ward came up and said that he'd always thought I was very reserved, until he heard me speak. I get the reserved and shy part, especially because I haven't really made friends beyond my roommates and neighbors in this ward, but I don't understand why speaking in church had enough of an effect that he said something about it to me. I love people.

Parasite

Lately, I've been voraciously searching articles, movies, books, songs, and conversation for something I can't quite put my finger on. I find myself up way too late clicking on one more blog or song hoping I'll stumble on whatever it is I need to hear. I know it's not quite advice or a pep talk, and I know it's not just a story that feels like mine. It's like I'm constantly searching for something specific that will be life shifting in some way, but I have no idea what it is. The Way Way Back and The Secret Life of Walter Mitty come close. Keaton Henson and a few friends have gotten within striking distance, but no dice. Lately, I've been thinking that whatever I'm wanting or needing is going to come from me. I think a creation from my own mind will stifle the fear or doubt or whatever is living in my bones and making me so hungry. I resolve to start writing more.

Two Types of Crushes

In my opinion, there are really only two types of crushes. Celebrity Crushes and Classic School-Girl Crushes. The only thing that separates these two categories is the true intent behind the lust and obsession. In Celebrity Crushes, you just enjoy staring at them and daydreaming about them--deep down you know it would never work, so you don't actually want it to happen. The Classic School-Girl runs much deeper; in this type there is real expectation and real devastation when the crush doesn't stem into a real relationship. The stalking and staring and fantasizing are manifested identically on the outside, but it's the underlying desire and commitment that makes the difference.

I've had Celebrity Crushes on my friends and acquaintances. I don't want them to make a move or start liking me because I don't actually like them. I just find their aura charming and fun. Adorable is the word that comes up most frequently. I get all I want out of them just by knowing that they exist.

I've had one enduring Classic School-Girl Crush on a celebrity.

Shaun White.

Crushes are often unexplainable. They sort of just spring on you, and only then can you analyze all the little things that create the magic. This is definitely the case for Shaun White.

If we'd been in high school together, he is the guy that I would have spotted in the hall for no particular reason, and then kept seeing everywhere because I couldn't help myself, even though he's not really what I'd say is my type. I'd find him charming in class and probably exaggerate his intelligence after one insightful comment in English Lit. I'd stay up late and feverishly peruse all my yearbooks for pictures of him, and swear that I saw his appeal even in seventh grade.

When I first learned about Shaun White's existence, it was probably on a Celebrity Crush level, but the fact that I didn't grow out of it at 18 is further indication that it's actually a Classic School-Girl Crush.

I have this deep sense that we would get each other. I think our humor would compliment each others'. And honestly, I don't feel like the snowboarding and skateboarding is a big influence on my crush anymore. It's obviously a plus, but if he was the kind of guy who kept boarding after high school, that would more than fulfill my dreams.

I feel very loyal to Shaun White, which is very key in any of my friendships and a sure sign of any of my full-blown School-Girl Crushes. I support him no matter what. I'm always cheering for you Mr. White! That doesn't mean I condone everything--we definitely need something to argue about--because I haven't quite let go of the Breakfast Club daydream where we come together and truly fall in love after being unreasonably detained, probably on a plane.

To further illustrate my seriousness, I had made a promise to never write anything about Shaun White on the internet, just in case we meet one day. It'd be much easier to convince him I'm not a fangirl if this post had never been written, but oh well. I'll remember this when I'm finally ready for closure. I'm sure my embarrassment [if it ever comes, but it probably won't because I didn't gush] will one day help to incinerate any last shreds of hope.

Tales from Personality Science

I started to get nervous walking up the stairs to my first night of Personality Science: The Art of Face Reading. Because I really had no idea who was going to be there. Who else would not only know about the class but would sign up for it? It was me, an older single woman, a feminine young man, and a solitary married man probably in his mid-thirties. We sat around a small table in a Spanish classroom in West High and took in the wisdom of Sharon Crandall. She's not exactly what I was expecting. In my head I saw a trim, ex-government official with a stern expression. But that's not really what I got. Crandall has studied the applied science of personology developed by Edward Vincent Jones and later by his former student Robert Whitesides. After majoring in psychology, you would think that I would have been prepared for a non-science discipline, but I was too optimistic and wanted hard facts. Although Personality Science only stems from correlations and observations, I feel like I got a lot out of the class.

What I like about Personality Science is that there is a belief that you can change your genetically given traits and that there are no bad traits, you just have to learn to channel your traits for your benefit. It's humanistic, which I tend to really love. The class involved a lot of staring at each other and our teacher, but it wasn't really that awkward. Instead of making me too vulnerable, it was kind of liberating to have someone explain their view of me in front of other people I had just met. Crandall's assessment of me was fairly accurate. This is what she saw in the proportions of my facial features:

High Forward Balance, which means that I am innately more self-conscious and often dwell on future events.

Administrative, meaning that I am a leader and delegator. She told me I should be better at my job when I mentioned that I was a manager and didn't feel like I had fully assumed the role. Apparently the skills are innately in me, but another trait is holding me back. I haven't figured out if this is true or not.

I have structural appreciation and know how things look and work best.

I lean towards being skeptical, which of course I was skeptical of at first.

I'm very high in tenacity.

High on self-reliance.

Medium-high emotionality and on the first week she said I have expressive eyes.

Resolute in my decisions.

I have a sense of adventure.

I'm selective in who I'm friends with and harder to approach.

Innate confidence instead of learned confidence, which means I take action in whatever way I feel is right and learn from my own mistakes and gain fears after failures.

I'm in the middle of the idealistic and realistic trait.

I'm concise, thrifty, and efficient with time, words, and money.

I think fairly sequentially, so I don't always jump to conclusions.

I'm more wide tolerant, which means it takes me longer to feel the need to react emotionally.

I'm about 2/3 analytical in my thinking.

I have a middle score in being taciturn and choosy with who I divulge my secrets.

The one mood swing she did point out was on the acquisitive trait. In personality science, a swing means that you may feel differently about the same thing at different times or in different situations. It's not about moody, teenage angst. My swing refers to a need to own and collect things and then in another mood to give things away.

I scored high on two of the three ESP traits, and may have some of the third which is intuition, but she couldn't get a great feel (literally, she was touching my head at Denny's). But I am very strong on telepathy and fairly high in psychic. She didn't really go into these much, but I think it indicates that I'm good at reading people and understanding their feelings and thoughts.

The only trait I didn't agree with was PPA: Pride in Personal Appearance. I feel like if I was truly strong on this trait I would not only be a very different person, but I would not be a very happy person. Maybe I learned other traits to balance out this one? I don't know.

She got all of that after staring at me and touching my head for two minutes. I'm pretty impressed with her commitment and belief in face reading.

There's one other thing I learned from my two day crash course in Personality Science: That women don't really change with age. After the class last Tuesday, the other woman in the class and I met Crandall at Denny's to further discuss our traits and look at pictures of people. Come to find out, this woman in the class is 54, never married, and in love with her best friend. She took the class as another way to analyze why they aren't together and if they should be! And she flat-out told me this! While my motivation for taking the class was purely intellectual interest and entertainment value, I can understand where she's coming from, and I don't want to be her in 30 years. She took up most of the instructor's time showing pictures of her friend, but I was so fascinated, I didn't care. By the end, my heart went out to this woman. Apparently her friend has told her that she has three out of the four things he must have in a wife, and the one thing she doesn't have is the physical attraction. At their age, things are on the decline; there isn't much she can do. And I feel awful about it. Why is it so hard for women to fall for nice, available men? All I can say is that I hope I'm married with children in the next ten years; maybe I should have picked up Sharon Crandall's book, Compatible? or Combatable?.

What does it mean??

Lately, most of my dreams have been set in the same place. It's a structurally beautiful, spacious communal house, yet it feels rather cold. The story lines vary drastically, most I don't even remember, but they are all centered in this tiny world. It's starting to get eerie because I recognize the microcosm so well. Usually I'm part of a huge group, consisting mostly of the people I see the most, congregated in a great hall in the middle of the building. There are towering archways of granite that make a promenade on each floor of the multileveled forum. It's equal parts entranceway and hiding place. The tone is similar to the reoccurring dreams I used to have about fighting terrorists in a post-WWIII era, but there hasn't been any fighting or strategizing in these recent dreams, everything just seems drab. I'm not sure how literal I should take it, but after looking up symbols in online dream dictionaries, I think it could have something to do with figuring out how to accept that I'm an actual adult. It could also be telling me that I need to let more people in and not be afraid. The house and threshold might also indicate that I need to reconcile some of my own beliefs in order to progress in the future. The apocalyptic undertone might denote that major changes are occurring in my life or emotional state. What does it mean? What is coming at me?