Interesting discussion in class today. . ..

We had an interesting discussion in my humanities class today. We were reading the poem Song of the Soul in Union With God by San Juan de la Cruz. This poem is written about God, yet the way he describes the feelings of being united...one with God...is...in an erotic way. The poem is very much about love and if you did not know it was about God, you would think it was a poem written about a lover.
"Oh cautery so smooth! Oh so desired pain! Oh gentle hand! Oh touch most delicate, which eternal life endueth and doth all debts unchain! ....How amorous and mild the thoughts you give my breast, where secretly in solitude you dwell: by your sweet breath beguil'd, in grace and glory best, how delicate you do love compel!"
The way it speaks of a cautery so smooth. A burning wound...that is smooth. . .In other translations it says oh tender cautery. The tender burning....the opposition there. The pleasure and pain mixed...
From this poem, we went on to look at the statue, Ecstasy of St Theresa by Bernini:

We talked about how this sculpture is a representation of one of St Theresa's spiritual visions--when she was in union with God. The statue shows her with her head thrown back, and the angel, lifting her robes....very erotic elements used to describe this very spiritual experience. Our teacher related these moments of being in union with God it to being in love. How when you feel it so deeply, you try everything to describe how you feel: you'll write poetry, write songs...maybe you try to represent it with a work of art...yet all words, all representations fall short. Everything is inadequate. Nothing can describe the feeling... . .We discussed how since these spiritual moments are ineffable, the authors fell back on the one thing that is as close to these experiences of pain and pleasure and ineffable moments of feeling...erotic love. . . I just found it interesting that for experiences so unexplainable, we fall back on eroticism. But then again...how can you describe even that? The moment of passion .. . I suppose it is more carnal, more physical. It is easier described, easier imagined and depicted. . . .just found it so interesting. . ..
I don't know if I articulated that well at all. . .but I tried. I had a moment of ah-ha in class. It just made sense and intrigued me for a moment. Thought I'd write it down. . . .

New Glasses

I ordered some new glasses. They're big. I'm excited to wear them. Also. It snowed here. I really love snow in the wither rather than rain. Rain in the winter just seems so mean. It's cold, and wet and uncomfortable. It's not like a summer rain where you can run out in it and love the big ones that land right on your part. The winter rain is mean, and I never want to go out in it. But snow. Snow in the winter is so nice. It's soft and happy. It's bright and fluffy. Just so much nicer than rain. Rain makes everyone grumpy. Snow just makes things sleepy and kids happy. It gives a blanket to all the trees and cars on the street. They all just take naps. With their big fluffy snow blankets. It's so happy to me. It almost makes me want to lay out in the snow for hours and get a perfect snow blanket. Then I remember things like hypothermia. . ..and I go back inside and take a hot bath. So thats why I like snow more than rain.

I also love Home Alone.
And I think my favorite Beatles song right now is: Cry Baby Cry. It's pretty.
Derek wants to know more about Brian Epstein. So...I'm on the hunt for a book about him since I only know a little bit about him. I like to be well versed in the Beatles.

I want to curl my hair. I might not have time.

How to Get Money From Your Writing Without Getting Published!

Step One: find a rich friend or neighbor
Step Two: Don't get too close.
Step Three: Get close enough so you know what is very important to them. Possibly a who
Step Four: Devise a plan to steal this person or thing
Step Five: Carry out plan. Steal.
Step Six: Tie the person up or hid the thing very well but don't lead on that you have it. When they come to you for consolation, give them a hug tell them you're sure it'll turn up.
Step Seven: Write a ransom note.
Step Eight: Make sure it's not in your writing. Type it or cut out letters from magazines and glue them to a page. That is popular. Make sure the letter demands as much money as you want/need.
Step Nine: Mail the letter to the rich friend or neighbor.
Step Ten: They pay you and you give the person or thing back. Make sure anonymously so they don't know it was you so you can still be friends.
Step Eleven: When they ask you how you got all that money, tell them a lie. You won the lottery. ..or a grandparent died. Make it believable and non-traceable.

And thats how you do it folks.

insane.

I like to write in my blog. . . .and have the words be so tiny that I can't see them. I can just see little gray. . . dots. . .moving across the screen as I use my fingers to type. It's my favorite. And then when I'm done I make it big again and see how many spelling errors and such I had. Then giggle. Thats how I do it.

I don't think I really have much to say.

Rachel and I are going to make a music video for our friend for Christmas. So I'm excited to start that. I love to make videos. I usually drag people into them that don't really want to be a part. . .but it's funny. And then I feel like I'm 7 again and trying to force the boys to play house. You're the dad! Do it! But they just want to play cars. No. boring. I'm a girl. Play house.

I was reading this article online for my ASL class. I made the words really big so it was a full screen page. So it was big. And then i got a text. S o I looked down at my phone. .. and the letters looked so tiny in comparison. It was so adorable I audibly said "awww" Oops. It was just too cute. The tiny letters. So cute. Tiny things are so cute. Miniature. Adorable. Kittens.

I like typing on this keyboard right now. The clicks are amazing. They feel cool. And sound great. I feel. . .awesome. And the nails that are long. Feel very. . .like I'm an important secretary working for Lex Luthor or . Or Jameson.

fingers typing on the home keys. never miss a beat. i can type all day space bar with my right thumb hit the right letters with the right fingers. right as in correct not as in left from right. the numbers stream at the top and i rarely use them i hit backspace with my right middle finger. probably because it is the longest finger. insane.

My confession

I would just like everyone to know (I guess by everyone I mean the 2 people who read this...) that. . .I am actually the ugliest woman alive. I've been hiding it all these years. I'm sorry I lied. I just can't hold it in anymore. It's such a hard thing to hide. But. . . Here is the real me.... I hope you can still accept me.

All of the guilt and fears of being rejected are too much....

Goodbye cruel world.

Okay. I didn't really do it. I just went in the oven a got a nice tan. And coincidently I came out not too bad. Pretty? It's in the eye of the beholder. But look! I'm cured! But being in the oven so long made me lose all color. I'll accept it.


That was my deepest darkest secret. I guess I don't have it anymore though. So. Thats good. Now I'm just color-less. Oh well. I have to write a ten page paper. I've lost my mind.

monday.

Sometimes I'm Garfield and I hate Mondays but I LOVE lasagna. Today. . .I don't hate Monday...I'm just sick of it. Like I literally just feel sick. I slept through my humanities. The first class I have slept through this semester. I always feel so bad when I sleep through classes because I don't want to make the teacher feel like he's boring. He's not boring. I just felt terrible. Thats all. Even though I did bring a sock full of rice to school to heat up and lay across my stomach. I felt like I was in high school. I feel like I did a lot of things like that in high school. Bring random things that are weird to bring but are beneficial to me so I didn't care if people thought it was weird.. ..because I wanted it there. Like a bowl of cereal or a lawn chair. Today it was a sock of rice.

When I walk on campus, I eaves drop. On everyone. Around me. But I think I've gotten to a point where I'm such an amazing eaves dropper that I pick up on everyone's conversation even when i don't want to. And I end up hearing the stupidest conversations and I end up thinking those people are stupid.
"So I was like Cosmo! Cosmo! And he came down to my row. And I gave him a hug. Oh and then I kissed him on his cougar face and I he was like ohhhh.. .and pretended to faint. It was so cool."
"It was so sweet. There was an actual mosh pit at an EFY dance!"
And then when I hear these conversations. . .I start to wonder what I talk about with my friends when I'm around other people, and if they are just as annoyed with me. It happens with how people dress too. Some people dress so obnoxiously. Like they're trying really really hard. Like straining to fit into some category or look like a specific something or someone. I can't get over how I feel when I see girls' hair ridiculously ratted on the top of their head making a dome. Like they have 2 heads. Thinking. . .they spent time on that. Why? And here I am walking around in Adidas snap pants and the same sweater I wear everyday of my life. I wonder if that's annoying to people. And the fact that I never brush my hair. ....At least I don't brush it the wrong way.

I think I'm just extra observant when I feel sick. Like my body won't focus on itself and all of my senses are heightened and all I can think about is every little thing around me. Like how that girl's top lip goes way too far over her bottom lip. Or the conversation 2 nerds are having behind me trying to study for their accounting class. Or how unnecessary all of that lip gloss is to my right. It's like a mirror... so shiny and sticky. Bad idea. I try to be as un-annoying as possible. Which is a 180 since high school. But I probably still am sometimes. And I guess I don't try all that hard other times. I guess just right now. Sitting shaking my left leg and staring into my computer screen. Although there is a sock full of rice on the desk. .. right next to my keyboard. I wonder if that's obnoxious. . .

A boring blog.

I feel like I don't want to write a blog unless I have a story to write. Because I feel like just my normal writing is boring.
Thanksgiving is soon. I'm going to Vernal, Utah. I'm going to visit my Aunt Jane. I'm named after her. Jane is my middle name, not first.
jane be jane.

I feel like I have nothing good to offer this blog.
I played Monopoly on Friday. And it ended when Liz, who only had 8 dollars left so I called her a single mom working at Denny's, she landed on Rob's property with a hotel which would cost her $750 which she didn't have. She was 642 dollars short. So she started yelling "run away train!" and moving her piece around the board a thousand times really fast knocking over all houses and hotels. I guess that means she won. All that mattered was that I owned Kentucky. It had 2 houses. They were probably double wides.

We watched a movie today in Sign Language called "Through Deaf Eyes". Just a little documentary put on by PBS about Deaf people. It was so good though and so sweet. It talked about the little kids having to be sent away to the Deaf schools for a week at a time and their parents not explaining why they had to leave them. It was so sad. These little four year old kids crying because they didn't understand. I cried. It was so sad. I think most anything little kids to makes me cry. They're just so precious. I hate that any of them have to grow up and deal with hard things in the real world. I wish they could stay in pretend world forever.
I live in pretend world.
We eat fluorescent mashed potatoes and have insult contests and food fights.

byu operator.

My new favorite thing is to hold Ctrl and then scroll on a page and make the words really tiny. Favorite.

The Walk by: Imogen Heap

Inside-out, upside-down,
Twisting beside myself.
Stop that now,
'Cause you and I were never meant to me.
I think you'd better leave.
It's not safe in here.
I feel a weakness coming on.

Alright then, (alright then.)
I could keep your number for a rainy day.
That's where this ends.
No mistakes no misbehaving.
I was doing so well.
Could we just be friends?
I feel a weakness coming on.

It's not meant to be like this.
Not what I planned at all.
I don't want to feel like this.
Yeah.
No it's not meant to be like this.
Not what I planned at all.
I don't want to feel like this.
So that makes it all your fault.

Inside-out, upside-down,
Twisting beside myself.
Stop that now.
You're as close as it gets
Without touching me.
Oh now don't make it harder
Than it already is.
I feel a weakness coming on.

Big trouble losing control.
Primary resistance at a critical low.
on the double gotta get a hold.
Point of no return one second to go.

No response on any level,
Red-alert this vessel's under siege.
Total overload all systems down they've got control.
There's no way out.
We are surrounded.
Give in, give in and relish every minute of it.

Freeze or make it forever.
I feel a weakness coming on.

It’s not meant to be like this,
Not what I planned at all.
I don’t want to feel like this.
Yeah.
No it’s not meant to be like this,
It's just what I don't need.
Why make me feel like this?
It's definitely all your fault.

Husband List.

A few weeks ago I made a list of things I want in a husband. Ha. So apparently I'm 14 again and make lists about my future husband. But I thought. ..Why not. I'll put it on the blahg.
p.s. its really long

Things I Need in a Husband (the title)
Thinks I'm funny
Has a strong testimony in the gospel
Doesn't feel better than everyone
Appreciates and acknowledges my talents
Excited to "show me off"
Not judgmental
Open minded
Positive
Thinks I'm the most beautiful girl in the world
Honest
Knows when to say "I'm sorry"
Good sense of humor
Can laugh at life
Not tone deaf
Doesn't walk on his toes
Appreciates music
Appreciates opinions that are different than his own
Mature
Good oral hygiene
Compliments me
Gets along well with my friends and family
Worthy of the temple
Exciting
Not embarrassed of me
Appreciates a good book
Values my opinion
Loves to hug and kiss and cuddle
Understanding
Can talk through problems when they arise - not hot tempered
Loves talking to me and we never run out of things to talk about
and if we do, its okay to just sit
Smells nice
Loves me
I love him
Loves kids
Knowledgeable in the gospel
Looks presentable
Fun to be around
Makes me feel important and loved
I'm not afraid to talk about anything with him
He can let certain things pass without comment - knows how to pick his battles
Thoughtful of others and of me
Includes me in decisions, activities and conversations
Speaks highly of me
Doesn't put others down
Loves to smile
Thinks I'm beautiful with or without make up
Sings the hymns at church
Loyal to me and to the gospel
Puts the Lord first
Wants to help me around the house or in personal things
Inspires me to be and do better
Constantly concerned for my happiness
We can laugh together
Does manly things (fixes things, sports, cars, politics)
Doesn't think I'm fat
Will rub my feet and back without me asking

That's just the list so far. .. . haha. I don't think it's too much to ask. . ..

lazy.

I'm putting off everything. Even writing a new post. I keep clicking that little thing that says "new post" then I just let the screen sit. Empty. White. And...I find something else to do. Right now. .. writing in my real journal. Not this online thing. Blaaaaahg.

I have one more hour at work. I should research. I have my note cards. I have all the websites open that I need. They're just sitting there. I seem to do that a lot. I put things in front of me that I should do....and they just sit. And I just stare. Like I did just now for a few minutes when I didn't know what else to type. Then i typed that.

I feel like I can't make myself do things right now. I have to feel that urge. That push into it. I have to think in my brain, "ohhhh that sounds good." Then I'll do it. But sometimes I let it sit for too long. And I sit and stare for too long. Then it gets dark outside. And it feels so late. And I have done nothing. Zero things. I have stared. And then I feel sick to my stomach and panicky that I have done nothing.
I think since reading Perks, I use the word panicky more. Before I didn't know what to call that feeling. I just always called it "the feeling" all growing up. I made that phrase up because I could never describe it completely, but it happened constantly. So that way my family understood why I was crying in the hallway. My brothers used to make fun of me for getting "the feeling." And my parents would lock me out of their room because I tried to sleep with them too often. Even though it didn't help. ..

But the point is- -I'm lazy the past few days, and that's not always a good thing.

Also, I have a headache. I guess that's not the point of the above statements...but it is another point I'd like to make that is a point all on it's own. Headache. Point.

I'm not good at tennis.
I want to be better at writing.

I am also sleepy.
And I put crumpled newspapers in Rachel's bed tonight while she was gone. . ..a huge mountain of them. And covered them with her comforter. Eric had the genius idea. And it was genius. And I filmed Eric in Rachel's dress pretending to be Rachel coming home from work and discovering the mess. So I had that playing on my computer with all the lights off in the room for when Rachel came home from work. I think that was a success. Everyone loves a success story.

I wonder if people like reading long blog entries though....Probably not....

picture points

This page lay out is much much prettier.
I want to put pictures on here.


Point #1 I love to feel like a little kid. All th e time. I like to tug on peoples sleeves to get their attention and say things like "That's funny" when someone says "poop."


Point #2 I do this a lot. And it freaks Rachel out. But I think its SO FUNNY. It looks like I'm missing all of my toes but one. I tell Rachel it happened in the war. But she just makes barf noises and walks out of the room.


Point #3 This is what life makes me do. And feel. This is real Natalie. On the rocks. Annoyed with my hand dealt.

procrastination

My name is Procrastination. I know so many things I should be doing. So many things to be done. But right now I feel so comfortable sitting here not doing them. Having them brew in my mind. I know you're up there. Don't worry. I know the things I should do. Research gastric bypass. Research deaf babies. Write that marriage paper. Study for Doctrine and Covenants for the test tomorrow. Study for the Humanities test on Friday morning. So many things. Things Things Things.

This is boring for me. Writing this BLOG. blahhhhh-g
I really dont like that word. It werids me out.

I just want to write something really really great. That people can read a hundred times and never get bored of it and think "huh..." every time. Thats all I want. Goodness.

killing time. and birds.

Funny how I can seem so uninteresting and mediocre until I say something like "When I hear the word deceptacon I only think of Le Tigre. . .not Trasnformers" I guess you're still only cool if you listen to queercore.

Talking to yourself is normal. That's what Rob told me. And also the boy sitting next to me in this computer lab. But that's okay. I talk to myself constantly when I'm alone.

I want to write something. But I have so many things to do. 2 tests to study for. 2 research papers to be researching.

I want to live in a house on a beach or in the woods or something. Something very full of nature. And I want BIG windows. and I want to just write. Be inspired and write. Write allll day and allll night. But I don't want any killers. I want to be safe in my house and now have to worry about scary faces popping up in my big windows when lightning flashes. Although. . .I guess that would give me something great to write about. The killer in My Window. It would be a reflective story. But also a horror. And Stephen King would be afraid. So would Alfred.

i really don't like myself.

Waiting for Liz to get to my house to walk to church together. My church starts in one minute. She. . .is on her way?
The internet bores me. Once you've looked at all of the regular things. . .there's not much more to look at. To look for. I already googled myself.

My playlist right now includes: Brandi Carlile, Ingrid Michaelson, Gregory and the Hawk, and Bess Rogers. Adorable girls singing to me. My dream come true.

One day I want to be an adorable girl on a stage.

I curled my hair. I rarely wear necklaces. I love diamond earrings. I wear a bracelet from Brazil. My house is hot. Jane is adorable. My clothes look like a bum's clothes. Thats okay. Sometimes I love looking like a bum.

Liz is here

I don't think I'll ever have enough patience to write a whole book.

She closed the door behind her and walked over to her bed. The voices carried into her room from the kitchen. They won't mind she's gone. She crawled on top of her covers and curled up on her side next to her stuffed tiger. She pulled the animal closer and looked into his glass eyes. She knew he cared. "It's one of those lonely days," she whispered to him. "Those days where everything you do or say just makes you feel empty," she could feel her eyes collecting tears but she knew he wouldn't mind. Her eyes were now glass like his. "It was the kind of empty that fills all of you. Your whole body is full of something that isn't there. I know. It doesn't make sense...Nothing makes sense," her tiger understood when things didn't make sense. She swallowed the spit that had thickened and inched closer to the wall. "I sat around my friends and laughed with them. I did. It was fun. I thought that would fill me. Maybe I was just trying to replace the empty. Trying for something that doesn't feel so bad," She paused and a tear rolled down the side of her face. She stroked the tiger's head because she knew he understood. "But everything just made me feel the empty more. I even turned on songs that usually make me happy. You know the ones...but instead they made me feel other things and the hole kept getting bigger. Every song just pointed out the things I hate to feel. The only thing that makes sense is to cry," more tears fell. She didn't hold back, "I just want to cry and get all of the empty out. But doesn't that seems wrong? Getting things out to not feel empty? Shouldn't it be the opposite?" The tigers eyes were full of confined wisdom. The answers to her questions. She wished he could tell her what he knew. She held the tiger tight and let her tears fall on his head. His glass eyes kept staring forward even with his face so close to her chest. She finally felt a little pang of happiness. The fact that she could cry and he would let her. He didn't need to ask what was wrong and he didn't look worried or annoyed that she was crying. He was just there and understood. And that was enough.
She cried out all of the empty until her sharp breaths between the tears lulled her to sleep. She never let go of that tiger and his eyes never moved.

I have no brain.

She sat her parents down on the bar stools in the kitchen and swallowed hard thinking about what she was about to tell them. Her mother linked her wrinkled fingers together and laid them in her lap. Her father folded his arms across his chest and with a grunt said, “Alright. Out with it.”

She tilted her head and peered over her glasses at her dad. “Okay,” she began. “Um…Mom. Dad. I don’t know how this happened, but it’s happened and now…I guess I have to deal with it. I just…want your support and love through all of this…”

“It’s okay honey. Whatever it is, we love you,” Her mother assured.

“Okay…” She closed her eyes and felt her face grow hot. The acids in her stomach were burning holes with each breath. One thousand ulcers. She swallowed the lump in her throat looked down at her feet and whispered, “I’m pregnant.”

“You’re what!?” Her father bellowed. “Well how did this happen?!” He rose to his feet and his face was now turning a dark shade of purple.

“I don’t know. It just…happened!” She whined.

“Thinks like this don’t just happen.” Her father said in a mocking tone with air quotes.

Liz felt anger rising. She came to her parents for support and for help and they’re reacting just as she thought they would. Her stomach was now hot with anger. She didn’t know what to say anymore. “It happened in the Bible!” She yelled, pointing her finger at them. “Let’s not forget! To a lady I like to call Mary. If it’s true in the Bible it can be true today! That’s what you all told me when I was growing up!” Liz was now throwing her hands up in the air with each sentence and turned her back on them to try and calm down.

“Liz! You’re being irrational!” Her mother shrieked.

“Am I mother? Am I?” Liz wheeled around on her heel to face them again. She curled her index finger and put it in her mothers face. “I have but one hook, beware!”

And with that, Liz stomped out of the kitchen and down the stairs to her bedroom leaving her parents bewildered in the kitchen.

boring.

The temperature of my apartment depends on how my roommate is feeling. She's hot? 60 degrees. Cold? 90. She always goes for extremes. Just like Billy Joel. Except I wish she wouldn't be so much like Billy Joel, although I do love him, I just get so cold sometimes. And then hot sometimes. And I don't think she cares. Actually if we complain when it's on 60 in the winter time. . .she gets mad at us for complaining. It's a big weird circle that I don't want to be a part of.

I have 2 research papers I should be doing. And also I have to read Dante's Inferno today. By 12. Not the whole whole thing. . .but the parts that are in my book. But it's still quite a lot. Sometimes I feel really motivated to do work. And then. It leaves.

This post is boring. I'm boring.

Unfinished.

We plopped down on the couch behind the wood stained coffee table. I landed in the crack between the cushions and sunk lower but at least my feet could still reach the table. We sat mirroring each other, our legs crossing at the ankles. The living room was spotless. I stared straight ahead into the 14 inch screen TV and looked at our warped reflection.
"When I get old I think I'm just going to sit in the silence a lot. And when I say old, I mean always."
He meant for it to be funny but I didn't even laugh. I just became aware of the silence and felt it. It was so quiet. Painfully. I strained my ears to hear any sound at all, but I couldn't. It was like when you sit in a basement and darkness wraps around your eyes and you open them as wide as you can while you hold your hand in front of your face, but you can only see darkness. Eventually you can't even tell if your eyes are open anymore. I couldn't even hear myself breathing, only the silence. It was thick like molasses and poured into my ears. My thoughts seemed to scream in contrast to the vastly empty room. The room stretched for miles and my thoughts kept getting louder while my ears were being filled. I could feel the silence laying heavily on top of me.
"I get panicky when I sit in silence for too long." I spat the words out fast. I wanted words. I wanted noise to fill the room. My voice didn't even bounce off the wall in front of me. But it seemed so far away. The words fell breathlessly out my mouth and instantly sank into the carpet.
He turned his head lazily to face me, "Are you panicky now?"
I just stared into his sad eyes. My face felt so still. I wondered if my eyes looked sad.
"No," I lied.
He turned away. More silence. I could feel my stomach uncomfortably shifting beneath my skin. It seemed to boil and simmer in intervals.
"I don't think I ever saw my parents hug."
"Hug?" My ears were so full of silence, I couldn't hear his words.
"Yeah. Their whole marriage, I never saw them hug."
There was a long pause. Or what seemed long. It might have only been a few seconds but I didn't know what to say. It wasn't an uncomfortable pause. In fact, I doubt that he wanted me to say anything at all. Our chests rose and fell like a wave. Mine would rise just as his was falling and they would work together like that until we were the ocean in the middle of the living room.
"That's no good," was the best thing I could come up with. Because that's exactly what I thought. I looked over at him but his eyes were glazed over. He couldn't see me. I don't know if he could see anything. I watched him for a moment. The corners of his mouth pointed slightly downward and his eyes seemed to match. I wondered what he was thinking. Then i wondered if he was wondering what I was thinking and that if he was, we would almost be thinking the exact same thing and then maybe our chest movements would match. But I don't think he was. He was lost. My thoughts were yelling from the inside, banging against my forehead. Thoughts I didn't want to think. Thoughts that only come when silence fills my ears and time seems to stop. In a bad way. My stomach boiled again and I could feel my brow scrunch slightly into a worry. I could still hear nothing but the screaming behind my cranium.
He broke the silence and for a moment, my worry. "Do you ever just sit for a while and suddenly your arms stop feeling like arms and they start feeling like weights?"
The words fell out of his mouth and onto my arms. They detached at the shoulders and fell to my side. I started to doubt that I would ever to be able to move them again. They weren't my arms anymore. My face worried more and my stomach flopped.
"Yeah," was all I could say. His words were making my arms heavy. And my words weren't making enough noise to penetrate the thick layer of silence.
"That's usually right before I fall asleep." Neither were his.
Mindlessly I said, "And then you start to doubt that you'll ever be able to move them again..." My mind wouldn't allow me to hear his words. I couldn't even hear mine. I just spoke.
"I think I'm about to fall asleep."
I didn't say anything. My mouth joined my arms in the detachment from my body. My stomach tried to join but just felt hot instead.
I thought of my legs. They looked so big. I thought of how much work would be needed to change my body. I thought of all the bad things I have done and how I'm not sure if they will ever leave. I thought of my family. I thought of all the people in my life. My thoughts were so fast and so loud. I could see the whole room all at once. My eyes took all of it, yet none of it in. I could see so much, but still couldn't see anything at all. My thoughts didn't make any sense anymore. I looked over at the still life next to me. He breathed slowly while my breath quickened. I wondered if he could hear my short quick breaths and feel my heart pounding like I could. I didn't know why the silence would make me so worried. Boiling my stomach.
"I have to write a paper," I said out of panic disguised as sudden realization.
He slowly rotated his head my way and blinked a long blink. His lips didn't move. I doubted his existence.
"It's due tomorrow. Gosh I don't know why I always procrastinate things." I started to move off the couch. I wanted to scrape the silence from my ears. I stood up and adjusted my pants and pulled my shirt down over the top of my jeans. I wiggled my feet into the sandles I wore over to the house and started hurriedly picking up all of my things off the coffee table. Keys - pocket. Chapstick - pocket. Cell phone - I'll hold this. I looked around the room and noticed he was starting to get to his feet. The movement in the room felt like sound but the panic wasn't fading. It was rising. I needed to breathe.
"Yeah I guess you better go write your paper," he said as he put his hands on his knees to steady himself while he stood up.
I smiled and turned toward the door. He took two steps with his long legs and made it to the door before me and open it. He took his hand off the nob and put his arms out indicating that he wanted a hug. I stole a nervous glance out of the door and into the stair well but moved in for the hug. It was brief.
"Bye, " I puttered.
"Good luck on your paper."
"Thanks." He closed the door and I moved toward the stairs. I paused on the first step to breathe. I could hear cars grumbling down the street and chatter from the parking lot. Cool air filled my lungs and my ears were liberated with the harassment of sound. The faint remembrance of panic throbbed in my ears but I breathed through it. I took my mind somewhere else. I took it to an Andrew Bird song I had stuck in my head. I let each step down the stairs be my beat. I walked through my door and headed for my room where I instantly turned on my iTunes. Not to anything specific. Just noise. Words and music that would drown out my own thoughts. I lay on my bed and let the images of the songs dance through my head. I lived another life and closed my eyes. Sleep swallowed me whole and I was complete.

Voting Day

Today is voting day in Utah. And I guess we're supposed to be voting on "vouchers." Something that has to do with schools. . .Referendum. . . .I really do not understand anything anyone is saying. When i hear the word "voucher" - all I can think is a coupon. A coupon that I have because the rollercoaster broke down while I was riding on it so, with this coupon, I can go to any food stand in the park and get a free hot dog!
I think I'm all for that. . .
Free hot dogs.
But. . I don't think thats what it's about. Although I wish it was. If thats what we voted on, that would be amazing.
Vote yes for free hot dogs!

I'm really not into politics and things like that. It just makes people argue. They call it debating. But its really just arguing. Which I am not into .. . I'll listen to these so called "debates" and then try to figure out how I feel about it, but I usually just think. . ."oh, you both have really good points. I say yes to both."

I wish I could just vote for everyone.

Rilo Kiley

It's finally cold enough to listen to Rilo Kiley again. I feel like I can listen to her and enjoy her the most when it's cold outside. Her music is too warm to listen to when the sun is beating down making me feel like I'm on the Twilight Zone episode "The Midnight Sun."

I think that music has a season. Some music is warm, some is cold. Rilo Kiley is warm music. it keeps you warm when it's cold out. Sweatshirt music. Thats why people don't listen to Christmas music until it gets cold outside. It's too warm before that. It just makes sense.

Lets think of all the different types of music:
1. Rainy music that falls with the rain outside.
2. Warm music that wraps its notes around you when you're cold.
3. Cool music that is a gust of ice cold when you're in The Midnight Sun and your forehead is sweating.
4. Music that cries with you. (these songs usually fall under the warm music category)
5. Second wind music. The music that gives you the idea to drive to Mexico at 3am.

I'm sure there are a thousand more. .. . But the point is, It's finally cool enough for Rilo. Good old Jenny. I listened to her all morning. I forgot how much I love imitating her voice. Forming mine to hers. Sometimes I can sound spot on. (Or at least in my head I do) I really love listening to music when I can mimic the voices and sing along like it's me. It makes me feel alive.

My First Thoughts

So this is for my thoughts. Thoughts. What are thoughts? Thoughts are things that pop into your brain and then you think them. Thats what I would write if I wrote the dictionary. Maybe one day I'll write a dictionary full of what I think things mean. But then if anyone ever used it. .. they wouldn't be very smart anymore.

Thoughts (rhymes with lots) n : things that pop into your brain and then you think them
-From the Dictionary of Natalie's brain

I think thats a genius idea the more I think about it, actually. Dictionary of Natalie's brain. Maybe then people wouldn't be as confused when I say things. Because they would have read my dictionary and when I say things like, "You look like a hundred dollars" they would know from the entry:

A Hundred Dollars (sound it out) adj: when something is really really great. a phrase I stole from the book Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close which is a book that is a hundred dollars and everyone should read it.

Genius. Maybe thats what this "blog" will be for. (I'm not sure why blog is in quotes. Maybe because it's a hilarious internet term that didn't used to be a real word)

Blog (rhymes with flog) n: A silly internet word that means a place where you write down things. On the internet. It just recently became a real word. Which is silly to me.

Hilarious.
I think the most often viewed websites of mine are : Dictionary.com, gmail.com, and facebook.com.
I think you can tell a lot about a person by the top 3 most often viewed webistes of theirs. So this tells me that I am. .. .anxious to know what words mean and their synonyms, I like to talk to people and send emails, and I really love pictures of myself and want other people to love them too.

I think I hate this thing called a blog. I feel silly.
Typing things I think.
Just typing.
But I think it's good because I want to write more. Maybe I'll write more if I have this. . .this. .. "blog". haha. That word makes me feel like Jaba the Hut is coming out of my mouth.

Jaba the Hut (guy from Star Wars) adj: When something is big and gross and slug-like. Also, every time I say or hear the words "jaba the hut" I instantly want to say, "Pizza the Hut ate himself today. .. "

I'm good at keeping a dictionary. A glossary of terms.
I'll force my high school English students to read my Dictionary. Test them on fake words. I think that would be hilarious. Start a breed of humans who speak like me and confuse the rest of the world. Genius. Genius idea.

Genius (jean-yus) n, adj, v...anything: Anytime something sounds smart, fun, like a good idea or just pleasing in anyway...this word may be used. An exclamation of something I like.

I have to go off to my ASL class in (60-33...math...27) in 27 minutes. We're going to watch a movie. I think about a deaf boy. I really love learning about Deaf people and their culture and everything about them. I wish I was better at signing, I can understand it moderately well...I just wish I could sign fast and fluent. I'm slow and sticky when I sign. I also love movies.