Choices

Almost blew my month's utilities on
these bad boys. Luckily I had a dinner
to run away to.

I have been really, REALLY antsy lately. Antsy for change, antsy for a challenge, antsy to get up and leave, to kiss someone, to buy big ticket items, to travel, to graduate, etc! It's just that season. My prayers lately have been almost frenetic; Heavenly Father has been getting an earful, lemme tell ya. "What do you think of me having a crush on _____? What should I work on right now? What comes next? How does a curatorial assistant job in California sound to you? Can you set that up? Am I doing enough in DC or do you want me to delve further? Are you still ok with me taking a year to finish this blasted degree? Will you bless me with charity? How am I doing? What else you got for me??"

Have you ever been in a similar state of mind? It might be a singles thing. Friends move in and out of my city and my life at record pace, literally: in my 320 member ward, there is usually a hundred person turnover each year. 100 out, 100 in. Lots of goodbye-I'll-never-forget-you's, followed by plenty of Nice-to-meet-you-what's-your-story's. I navigate never-ending rounds of engagements, grad school acceptances, sicknesses, birthdays, break-ups, promotions, and a million other occasions jostling the journeys of my friends at all times. Right about now is when I usually change jobs myself, or start a new semester, or move or do something crazy (kissing a guy in front of his whole football team last year, anybody??). I got absolutely NOTHING this July. I think that's the biggest thing that's got me on edge. At least it's summer and I can jet off to New York or the watering hole or a national festival and blow off some steam when necessary.

So what do you do with this mood? Certainly not make big decisions, but definitely start researching potentials. And go running a LOT. And stay away from the Nordstrom shoe rack.

This mood has caused me to revamp my habits, to create a better here and now. I have taken a hard look at my emotional and physical health the last month, with some interesting findings. You may have noticed some additions to my blogroll: I've started following a few health and fitness blogs for motivation and I have been working on building a better me. I know I feel better and have better organization and motivation when I go to sleep early--like WAY early, before 10-- and wake up early. I know I've got a massive sweet tooth and I am learning, SLOWLY, to keep it under control (Thank heavens for summer produce! Blueberries, sweet corn, and bell peppers, you are the loves of my life!) I find I am still, as always, rather reserved in large social settings, but I love finding people with big stories to listen to, and such people, and my besties out here, enrich my life and I am so thankful for them.

I was telling a good friend tonight that one of the greatest things DC has taught me is how to identify and maintain my own personal work-life balance. I know how much stress I can take without turning into a sad/cranky zombie. I know that if I am feeling a little depressed, it takes me around 4 days to get out of it, and that's ok, I WILL get out of it. I just have to cut back on a few extracurriculars (except service!) and watch the sugar intake. I don't feel the need to rush myself out of lulls anymore, and that in and of itself creates LESS lulls. I know I am a natural planner, and as I take a leading role in organizing my weekends with friends, I have a funner time (who wouldn't, with the gems I associate with out here, really?)

Is anyone still listening to my ramblings? The point is, I'm doing it. Living life, and living it as large as such a barely-anybody-mid-20s-girl can. I'm not good at everything, and sometimes it drives me NUTS that I'm in such a gypsy state of mind, but I'm working it out. Merci, mon pere celeste.

[No Title]

Into Haiku now.

This blog's too narcissistic.

Post-Impressionists!

Georges Seurat, father of pointillism, Le Cirque 1891

Paul Cezanne, father of modern art depending on who you ask,  Le golfe de Marseille vu de L'Estaque, 1878-9

Henri Matisse, father of fauvism, Luxe, Calme et Volupté, 1904

Paul Gauguin, father of a load of illegitimate children, such a pig, but a big name in art history. A Belle Angele, 1889

Vincent van Gogh, father of Expressionism and  1,000,000,000  Starry Night copies by first graders, including myself back in the day.  L'église d'Auvers-sur-Oise, vue du chevet, 1890

All pictures from the 

Musee d'Orsay collection.

I've seen them live! Meep.

A fine DC evening

Tonight is the Third of July. The city's excitement for tomorrow's celebration is palpable, has been since Friday. Oh, wait, that's the coma-inducing humidity. Or maybe it's both.

Today I spent the whole morning in bed enjoying the AC and pounding down 200 pages of Dan Brown's The Lost Symbol (that's right, I broke the snobbish Washingtonian code of not acknowledging that book's existence. I make up for it by noting with distaste its manifold mistakes. I tell ya, I laughed right out loud when they started talking about the CIA "descending" into the King Street Metro... which is in fact above ground. And how about when the characters gasp in awe at Robert Langdon's revelation that the painting on the Capitol Rotunda is called "The Apotheosis of Washington"? Every intern and tourist in the WORLD could tell you that!)

I went to church today, listened to a lot of America-monies, came home, bolted down a wee bit of food, then looked outside my window with my impatient roommate as the thunder BOOMED and the rain came down in a sudden, swift sheet. It lasted about 25 minutes... right into 6:30, when we were supposed to be leaving. I donned my rainboots and rainjacket, enlisted the aid of a big umbrella and blankie, and together Kelly and I set off into the ocean that was 21st Street to meet up with our ward friends. Together we had all planned to drive into the city and find a good spot on the West Lawn of the Capitol in order to watch the dress rehearsal of tomorrow's grand Fourth of July concert. The dress rehersal is a Washington secret event that you must attend at least once to be a native. You go sit amidst a haughty upperclass picnicking crowd, watch Josh Groban or Natasha Bedingfield squint out at some unknown director behind the stagelights who asks them to "Stand here, look there, now sing it again." You have a great time and realize how awesome (and awesomely entertaining) your nation is.

Unfortunately, the rainstorms that preceeded our drive today also wreaked havoc on the Hill. We drove by crowds streaming AWAY from the Mall (bad sign), then we drove by a massive tree branch half on top of a misfigured red Yaris, half in the right lane of Independence Ave. (Another bad sign).

Undeterred, perhaps emboldened by the discovery of an impossibly good parking spot right next to the Library of Congress, we unloaded our gear and marched down towards the Hill on the offchance that something would change. Shepharded down to the lawn by cool and detatched Capitol police, we arrived alongside the stage to see the reason so many people had been leaving: part of the outdoor stage had collapsed in the storm and the show had indeed been cancelled. Other parts of the lawn also showed recent scars. We decided to make merry in the cool evening air on the lawn next to the Botanical Garden, a ways off from the stage. We sat across from a crumpled metal detector station (the winds had tipped over some HUGE concrete pylons! What a storm!) Police stood, bored, everywhere.

We played games we learned from EFY, nibbled snickerdoodles, and amused the tourists (I think there were 20 of us?). We listened as they fired canons (at least the military is undeterred by storms), we watched a glorious sunset, and we packed up as low clouds rolled in with accompanying thunder, forty-five minutes after we had settled down. As we departed, Josh Groban (or perhaps a recording of Josh Groban) began to sing, filling the entire top half of the mall with his glorious, mellifluous sound.

I came home to even MORE friends who were sitting around an open ice cream carton. We discussed timely events such as the last SYTYCD episode and the act of hugging. Tomorrow I'm renting a bike, going to breakfast and a parade and probably much more. It'll be great. But tonight... tonight was grand. What a good day to be here, in this beautiful spot of land. Today I remembered I live in the heart of my nation.

26

Here's a list of fabulous things accomplished by people during their 25th year of life:

Orson Welles co-scripted, directed, and starred in Citizen Kane.

Charles Lindbergh became the first person to fly alone across the Atlantic, thus winning a $25,000 prize.

Fayette, N.Y. farmhand Joseph Smith founded the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints after translating the Book of Mormon from golden tablets revealed to him by the angel Moroni.

Physician Roger Bannister broke the four minute mile. As he collapsed unconscious into the arms of his trainer, the loudspeaker announced, "The time was three..." The uproar of the fans drowned out the rest of the announcement.

Natalie Wood earned her third Oscar nomination.

Charles Chaplin appeared in his 35th film.

I, Lindsey Ann, earned approximately $14,000, opened two bakeries, took out my endowments in the LDS Las Vegas temple, did research at FBI headquarters, fell in love with Ethiopian art, traveled to New York City 3x, rode a blue bike along the Outer Banks, saw Brad Paisley in concert, and loved my friends and family.

Ashley and I on the NYC Subway

Blue bike on Bonito Road... I think my face accurately expresses how I felt about being alive at that moment.

Marissa, Brad, and I, rockin out

Miracles occur. These three besties making it down to Vegas for my endowment was one of them.

Example of the type of contemporary Ethiopian art that lights my fire! by Wosene Kosrof 

Me and Amanda, my boss at Crumbs.
She also had never opened a store before, I think we did a pretty good job!! 

More besties

Notable accomplishments by people age 26:

Albert Einstein published five major research papers in a German physics journal, fundamentally changing man's view of the universe and leading to such inventions as television and the atomic bomb.

Benjamin Franklin published the first edition of Poor Richard's Almanac, which was to play a large role in molding the diverse American character.

College dropout Steve Wozniak co-founded Apple Computer.

Eli Whitney invented the cotton gin, revolutionizing the economies of the United States and Britain.

British ethologist Jane Goodall set up camp in the Gombe Stream Chimpanzee Reserve on Lake Tanganyika and began studying the lives of chimpanzees.

Napoleon Bonaparte conquered Italy.

... My journey for similar glory starts tomorrow. I'm turning 26.

Some ideas for how to change the world in a year:

- Continue to get more education

- Be financially self-reliant and thus be prepared to aid others

- Deepen my relationship with Jesus Christ and invite others to get to know him, too

- Marry up and start making wicked smart, funny, beautiful babies

- Pass my French certification

- Stop running the tap while I brush my teeth

- Laugh til I cry with choice friends
- Get a new stamp  in my passport

- Be in the right time at the right place for somebody

Dad Day

At my cousin’s family ward in New Jersey this morning, I found myself envying the part-to-play that belongs to little kids on Father’s Day. You elbow your way to the front of the stand in sacrament meeting so you can wave to him, add your own warbley strain to the off-key chorus of “My Daddy is My Favorite Pal,” and then during Primary, you color a cut-out tie that your Dad will sport proudly for twenty minutes (or, if you are MY DAD, twenty years. Every Father’s day his now-giant paper tie makes its annual appearance in the Buffalo Ward, filling his 26, 24, 22, 20, and 17-year-old kids’ hearts with pride. I love you for that, Dad).

I envied the kids today because Father’s Day gets harder as you get older, as you learn to love your Dad for new, grown-up things. He became your friend somewhere in between your last year in college and your first grown-up paycheck. You realized that he is just a regular guy who faces both his own troubles and those of his wife and kids. He meets these trials with a smile on his face that is sometimes pretended, but most times summoned up from the bottom of his loyal, brave, faithful, family-man heart. It’s hard work, being a grown-up dad. Thanks for all your hard work, my Dad. (Which work is easier, now that it’s all over: keeping 5 adult kids on track or waking up at 3 am to feed and lull 5 babies to sleep for about 10 years straight?  I’m curious.)

So what do you do on Father’s Day when a paper tie ceases to convey the fullness of your affection for him and the role he plays in your life? Some people resort to silk ties, some people to a new set of tools. I’ve tried these  gifts in the past, only to see Dad’s interest in them fade from his face almost as quickly as he opens the gift bag* (my Dad’s ridiculously honest face hides absolutely NONE of his emotions, for better or worse). I’ve gotten closer to the mark for a few years with books for presents. Those are more up my Dad’s alley, mostly they because they represent ideas, idols, or goals to set. That right there is speaking my Dad’s language.

But if you choose the wrong book, heaven help you. You might as well have given him that “One Free Chore” coupon you gave him when you were 10 that you obnoxiously refused to honor three months after its bestowal.

(In case you’re wondering, siblings, in terms of the types of books you are thinking of buying for him, David McCullough is less than Mitch Albom is less than C. S. Lewis is less than Eugene England.)

Ok he's not exactly smiling at this MOMENT, but this was that night.
There's Grandpa, Wee, Dad, and the Metropolitan's sweet water fountain entry.

I’m trying to think of when my Daddy’s face has lit up the brightest and clearest. That’s what I want to bring to him this and every Father’s Day. The last time I saw that look on his face was when we took HIS Dad with us and as a family explored the new Cosmopolitan casino. Dad the architect loves to expound upon the different tricks the designers build into the walls and floors of a multi-million dollar building, loves asking us to think twice about how they managed to put an entire restaurant atop a small, curving pole or made a water fountain of ice (I still can’t figure it out, but it’s rad).

Ice water fountain. What? How?? I don't know. But I touched it. Solid ice.

Sweet Dad smile! Cheesy rest of us smile.

Before that night, I saw him happiest when we took pictures together at the temple after I took out my endowments, right after Marcus came home from his mission. I sure am grateful for a father who loves his eternal family and values them above all else. The benefits I have received from that devotion I am sure are untold and innumerable.

So. How to bring that smile back when 4/6ths of “his people” live in states other than his? Dad, this is what I’d like to tell you today: the only thing I can do that I think makes you smile is live my life with daring, cunning, faith, and love. I’m three semesters away from my Master’s, I live in a beautiful and challenging city, and I plan on skipping back to the West the second I’m done. I love our church, I love and worry about our family every day, and I take extremely frugal but fabulous vacations like you’ve taught me, so that I make good memories but don’t go bankrupt in the process. Most days I credit you with the part of me that is driven to succeed, to question things, to be devoted wholeheartedly to those I love. For those qualities and many more instilled in me by you and by our beautiful, graceful mother, I thank you. Happy Father’s Day, Eric. I’m doing my best out here, thanks for all your support. I love you.

Happy Father’s Day to everyone who has ever been a father, who wants to be a father someday, or who today feels their heart well up with gratitude for their own father or the father of their children.

* Talking to my Dad tonight I was informed that my sister did in fact give him a tie this year, about which he remarked, "Well, you do always gotta have these things!"

Thank you

I have some fantabulous, amazing friends who have decided for some unwarranted reason to build me up lately. Seriously, you guys make me feel DANG good and I'm 100% positive I don't deserve you but I'm remaining insanely grateful for my good fortune. Whether we're connecting through Duck Beach mania, a three-day long text message conversation, a four hour So You Think You Can Dance marathon, or skyping til way past my bedtime, I'm feeling good, and feeling lucky, because I have you for a friend. Thank YOU.

Miss curator-in-training takes on So You Think You Can Dance

The TV show that makes me regress into a squeally 16-year-old is BAAAAAAAAACK!!!!!!!!!

YAYAYAYAYAYAY!

Say what you will about the annoying judges and the built-in bias of the partner system, EVERY SINGLE SEASON of So You Think You Can Dance rolls out unbelievably beautiful choreography and insanely talented dancers. I LOVE LOVE LOVE to watch it and critique. (Thank you Breann, my high school best friend and national champion BYU Cougarette, for teaching me how to watch dance like a dancer. I now notice when someone doesn't extend all the way through their hands and feet, I can estimate the amount of control a dancer has in his or her spine,  and most importantly, I can and will fall in love with any dancer who tries and succeeds with a smile.)

The glory of the show lies in such ambitious dancers. They've been doing this since diapers, but they still have to grow into the dance genres they don't know (and let's be real: sometimes they downright suck. The Quickstep? Who even DOES that anymore?). They gripe, grind, sometimes break, but best of all, they come out swinging and we watchers reap the rewards. And the choreographers, the nation's BEST choreographers, roll out the most imaginative routines you can imagine, week after week. Addiction. A gleeful prison break. Zombies. Happy feet.

As someone who is glued to her tv set during this show's summer run, I feel knowledgeable enough to compile a break-down post for you nay-sayers and on-the-fencers. Here's some of last year's greatest hits:

Robert and Kathryn do a truly unique twist on West Side Story (It won't let me embed, sorry!) Watch for when she uses his tie to flip him around- SWEET!

Still makes me cry: This dance tells the story of a guy taking care of his sick mom. Set to Coldplay's "Fix You." Robert is a fox.

Lauren was the winner last year, and this was my favorite of her dances. Keep in mind, she is NOT a hip-hip dancer, but you would never know from this video!!! Her uh, tumbleweed flips--- didn't know those were possible!!!!

I can never say enough about Twitch Boss- He is my celebrity husband. I want to make sweet sweet hip-hop magic with him all day long. I got to meet him in 2008 after the So You Think You Can Dance tour came through Salt Lake, and I bear hugged him and stammered out, "Twitch... I love you!" No lie. BEST. NIGHT. EVER! He should have won his year. He is by far the most talented and all-around likable performer the show has ever seen. Don't believe me?

WATCH:





SO.

D@*%.

LOVABLE.

I could go on. and on. and on. When I get started youtubing SYTYCD clips, it turns into a two hour event.

The show always inspires me to download new music (its music selection is famous for being both quirky and in tune with the Billboards). The show gives a mark of distinction to any choreographer it asks to submit routines. Many of the show's numbers have earned their creators Emmys (My favorite choreographers: Desmond Richardson, Wade Robson, Tabitha and Napolean, Shane Sparks, and Sonya Tayeh. "These Arms of Mine" is about soulmates who can't find each other and yet can feel them in their arms. Tear!) 

I'll leave you with my all-time favorite dance, both soulful and sick (Dancer slang for "unbelievably on point"). I have watched it probably 100 times and can picture it perfectly in my head whenever this song comes on the radio. Chelsea and Mark (Season 4) were tasked with dancing out true 21st-century heartache, depicting the way love dies when a partner gets cold and selfish. As the judges later remarked, theirs is an epic performance because they both exhibited the emotion of this story in their eyes as well as their movements: Chelsea the miserable wife and Mark the workaholic. Choreographed by my favorite husband-and-wife hip-hop duo, Tabitha and Napolean, here's the iconic Bleeding Love, which came out right at the hey-day of Leona Lewis' popularity:

I tivo the show each week, so if you're in Arlington and you feel the need to be a fan, as you should, come on down!

The rip-off of being a girl?

This is a slightly dicey topic, and I don't mean it to be, I would just like to solicit a few people's thoughts and suggestions. Lately I've been kind of bummed out by how unfair being a girl in this day and age, and, honestly, in this church, can be.


Please note- I am more often than not delighted with my life; the sweet caliber of dreams I have in store for my future and the wonderful caliber of friends and family I have at present keep me always filled with hope, always pressing onward.

BUT

when I see ex's and guyfriends who have the ability to just... DATE, as much as they want, when they want,

when I talk to my married girlfriends and see that they are genuinely frustrated with the way they've been told all their lives to get education and to excel, and now face seemingly endless hours alone with a small baby and a tv,

when I continue to feel like I'm just floating, with 1,000 possibilities for my future where I'd rather have just one or two or ten max,

I start to ask questions. Not despairing questions, just questions.

HOW TO DEAL should be the title of this post. Because dealing with STUFF is one of the most superb gifts of God, I swear. "Everyone has stuff," I've found myself saying over and over again this past month. How to deal with stuff with grace, wisdom, faith, and-- heaven help me-- a sense of humor, is so important to each individual person I know, and to the billions I don't know.

My answers to such questions have been jolting, half-answers, but maybe they're meant to be that way, as this is all a part of growing up and getting wise:

"For there is much which lieth in futurity" says the Savior to the first prophet of this dispensation while he sat in Liberty Jail. (D & C 123:15)

"Who knoweth whether thou art come to the kingdom for such a time as this?" Mordecai muses to a pensive Esther as she considers whether or not to risk her life for the sake of her people. (Esther 4:14)

"Let us lay aside every weight..., and let us run with patience the race that is set before us, Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith" cheers Paul to the Hebrews who were unsure of their place (and pace) in the march onward as new Christians. (Hebrews 12: 1-2)

I sat in on a stake conference broadcast in New York City this morning. Do you know what M. Russell Ballard told me? To cultivate gratitude first, hope second. One can change any situation by finding the implicit blessings to be thankful for within it. He cited a wealthy friend who in one night saw his entire factory, the source of his and many of his extended family members' livelihoods, burn the the ground. He knelt down and, weeping, thanked God for the safety of his whole family.

With gratitude comes a clearer vision of blessings we want in the future, things to hope for. I hope for a future where I learn to be unselfish, where I teach people about art and Jesus Christ, where I am married to someone who will "return my love abundantly," and where I become a mother of challenging, but beautiful, little people with incredible spirits.

Wait, what was I whining about again?

:)

Yarn Bombing: The Feminine Graffiti

I'm in love with this story. One of the knitting gangs is even called "Knitta Please." I know one of my professors at GW is really watching the craft movement closely for her research, which makes me think this phenomenon is not going to fade away. What do you think? Is it art????

Here's a happily-orchestrated video of one of the knit-artists bombing the Bull on Wall Street, worth a watch:

Pollyanna Eyes

Lately, I have been trying out small ways to better my life (as much as I hate to admit it, I've even been browsing those cutesy "500 ways to brighten your day" blogs). As you may well know from reading THIS blog, I am an idealist, and as such, I have the bad habit of forgoing daily enjoyment for the sake of worrying about how I can better the world in the future.

Recently, my delightfully wise BFF told me she makes her decisions based on the criteria, "Will this make me happy?" and that was like a revelation to me. "You can DO that??? But... what about Ethiopian orphans? Washington politicos and their lack of touch with reality? The absence of basic art appreciation in America? What about my family???"

All in good time, my pretties. All in good time.

The following are the effective tricks I've been trying out to just get happy! Daily! I dare you to try one out. Or send me a new challenge I can try.

- Talk a stranger every day (Going two weeks strong with this and I'm likin it, and my neighbors and a few cashiers all now like me)


- Eat something green daily

-Take note of what your face looks like when you're home alone. Try to brighten that up by keeping your face how it looks after you say "Cheese Whiz"

- Make up impossible stories inspired by real life (I'm currently envisioning an epic battle between the DC and the VA squirrel populations. The dark and swarthy black squirrel who presides over my backyard is the hero)

- Find a good recipe, go grocery shopping only for its ingredients, bake, and give to friends

- Volunteer to babysit for married friends for free

- Enjoy quality time with a wee one, get down to their level (literally... try being 2 feet tall again. Gives you more empathy.)

- Start a savings account and add something, anything, to it bi-weekly

- Make your bed (this small act of orderliness totally makes a difference in my chi! And this coming from a girl who NEVER, EVER made her bed before age 18)

- Recite a positive mantra to yourself in the morning (it feels corny, but I go with the Young Women's theme. If that fails, I also have a Valentine's Day card I reread,

You really deserve the best! You are so beautiful, wise, and intelligent. Steadfast, true to yourself, hard working, COOL, INTERESTING :), lovely, and courageous- truly a great and wonderful person! I love you more than you know!

Sisters are so useful)

- Be honest today. With yourself, with God, with others


- Drink lemonade instead of water


-Use superglue to hold together your favorite shoes and REFUSE to stop wearing them (this one did not come from anyone else's list... it was inspired by my beloved Payless-Steve-Madden-Knock-Off-Silver-Ballet-Flats, age 7)


-Like Pollyanna, find something to be glad about

Not quite career advice, but perhaps a sign that I'm headed in the right direction

This just in: This world-famous newlywed earned a degree in art history. If she can do it, I can do it. 

Lullaby

I can't sleep tonight, although the video above is helping. Today has been the first (and hopefully only) day of my life made absolutely fabulous by the death of another human being. Say it with me now, "OSAMA'S A GONER!!!!" Did anyone else get teary-eyed watching the people celebrate into the night at Ground Zero?

It's my little brother Marcus' 22nd birthday. I made strawberry-oat muffins at 10:30 pm this evening to commemorate his life. I ate them with relish (figuratively, not literally- ew) at 10:31pm to keep the party going. I miss siblings. It's one of the hardest things about the East Coast.

I miss art. I miss learning about art right now. One of the walls in my room is stripped bare in preparation for an art project, because I need something to fill the creative void. I've got some good ideas a'brewin.

I have great roommates. Whether they are trusting me with their real thoughts on life, love, and family, driving me places, bringing me home Cafe Rio, or unwittingly setting a good example to me by unobtrusively serving and loving the people around them (I SEE YOU THREE!), they make life out here a lot more bearable.

And with that, I close my lullaby post- it doesn't mean much in the long run, but it's bringing a little softness to the end of my day.