Just for you, Elfie.

Little Miss Muffet
Sat on a tuffet
Eating her curds and whey
Along came a spider
Who sat down beside her
And frightened Miss Muffet away


I saw this picture and thought of you, Heather.
Even I would be afraid of this spider.

Can I have a consensus?

Bahahaha!

This is so true.
Right?

I feel like we ladies tend to jump ahead of ourselves.
Not that I think it is detrimental to me and my relationships.
I will probably do this till the day I'm married.
Because it's fun.

Thoughts?
Arguments?
(Joey? I know you don't like this.)

Happiness is a Warm Gun. False. Sorry, Beatles.

Basically, this is what I had for dinner.
Mmmm...tortillas with Nutella and bananas.
{Oh, don't try this with regular tortillas. They have to be uncooked when you buy them.}
Most nights I try to be healthy.
But other nights (aka tonight) I indulge.
And I like to think that I'm happier for it.
Speaking for happier, I read something awesome today.

"Money matters, but less than we think and not in the way we think.
Family is important.
So are friends.

Envy is toxic.
So is excessive thinking.
Beaches are optional.
Trust is not.
Neither is gratitude...
Ultimately, happiness is relationships and trustworthiness.
Trust is a prerequisite for happiness.
Trust not only of your government, of institutions, but trust of neighbors.
Several studies, in fact, have found that trust--more than income or even health--is the biggest factor in determining happiness."

~Eric Weiner, The Geography of Bliss: One Grump's Search for the Happiest Place on the Planet

I really like that.
I want to be someone people can trust.
I like trusting people.
Which is why I've never made my blog private.
It's also why I forget to lock the door.
{Don't worry, my roommate is a door locking nazi and makes up for this.}

I would argue, however, that having a Nutelleria on your street would rival the whole trust=happiness thing.

My Current Fascination

Nothing makes me happier than a man in boots.
'Specially if there are fancy socks underneath.

Quote of the Week

Roommate: "Wait, Anne Frank died in the Holocaust?! I thought she was still alive! How did she publish her book then?"

...

Life is Swell

Today I spent the day in bed.
You know, sick stuff.

And yet I still feel as if I could write that book.
Because I have 14,000 things to be happy about.

Life is beautiful.
School is fabulous.
I got a lovely job.
I have amazing friends
{I mean, my mom has to scratch my back when I'm throwing up. But Jessica? What a gal.}
I have two wonderful parents.
I have 3 amazing brothers.
I have a pile of books by my bed.
I have everything I'll ever need.




Besides a baby.
I still want a baby.
One that looks like this:

{ignore my creepy overly excited face that one}

or this:

My Favorite Kind of Stories

I love the fantastic.

Do you know what I mean?

The inbetween.
The stories that leave you with chills running up your spine.
Not scary stories.
Not horror stories.
But the ones that are a bit spooky.
The ones where the line is blurred between reality and fantasy.
Where you can't quite tell if what is happening is supposed to be real or pretend.

I once took a lovely class on Fantastic Literature where we read the likes of Edgar Allan Poe, Oscar Wilde, E.T.A. Hoffman, and Villiers de I'Isles Adams.
We mainly read older books, because the Fantastic is more a genre that had it's glory day in the 1800s.
I all but thought it had died.
Or that in the days of Prozac and psychiatrists that there were no more tortured souls to write my favorite kinds of stories.

But the other day I got a book from the library full of short stories by Neil Gaiman.
{Not that he is tortured, but simply that he has that bit of madness that knows how to weave a tale.}
I can't even begin to tell you how much I love Neil Gaiman.
I think he is my favorite author.
Have you seen Stardust?
He wrote the book.
That one is definitely a faerie tale.
But some of the stories in Smoke and Mirrors are not.
They are of the fantastic genre.

I was reading one last night before bed
{foolishly thinking that because they were short stories, I could stop at one. Right? Wrong.}
and it was deliciously spooky.
I was left with the delightful feeling that made me nervous to turn off the light, for then I should have to return to my bed in the dark.
And who knows what would be under there.

I am 21 years old.
I know that there is nothing under my bed but boxes of winter clothes.
But I was still afraid.

And a story that could disrupt my reality and proper way of thinking?
Now that is a story written by a genius.
And most definitely a story that I love.

Stories by Neil Gaiman that I recommend:
Chivalry {not fantastic, but lovely all the same.}
Nicholas Was... {Mom, don't read this one. You won't like it.}
The Price {possibly the best one, because it has my favorite kind of cat.}
Don't Ask Jack The White Road

I would have been more excited if it was Superman, but you take what you can get.

This is Hurley.
{Or Jorge Garcia. Whatevs.}

Once, meaning on my way home to Florida this Christmas, I sat next to him.
Not on the plane.
But at the Chicago O'Hare Airport.

I forgot to tell you, because I find Christmas a bit more exciting.
But I wanted to let you know.
In case you liked Lost or something.
Because my mom does.
She was super excited.

Maybe, if I'm lucky, on my way back to Utah I'll sit next to Matt Smith.
The commercials on BBC are telling me that he is in America.
And he's wearing a Stetson.
Because Stetsons are cool.

Quoteables

If someone breaks your heart, just punch them in the face.
Oh sure, it seems obvious now, but you'd be surprised at how many people don't think of it when it's relevant.
Seriously, just punch them in the face and go get some ice cream.

~Chuck Klosterman

via Design Crush and weheartit

I've got a case of the giggles

Guys.
I think I've watched this 10 times today.
"Hide your kids, hide your wives, hide your husbands too, because I hear they're coming after everybody."

Happy New Year!

I hope it's the best one yet!