I awoke to a crime scene on the front sidewalk. The chalk outline of a person lay on the sidewalk, and blood spatters came closer to the door. The caution tape strung in the rosebushes looked strangely familiar. The wind whipped at my pajama's and the dark moonless sky threatened rain. What could have possibly happened while I slept? Oh that's right. Morp answer. :)

favorite quotes of the minute

"I want to pick peaches off a cherry tree so just be gentle with me"

"If a kiss could be seen I think it would look like a violet"

". . . you're human, you can't even fly . . . I did not reach the stars as they said, but at least my feet left the ground"

"for beautiful eyes seek for the good in people, for soft lips speak words of wisdom, for a slim figure feed the hungry. People, more than things need to be loved."

"Observe the passing of the hours, not of the cars"

"If growing up means it would be, beneath my dignity to climb a tree, I won't grow up, won't grow up, never ever grow up, not me!"

3rd term is over!

From the minute the the last bell rang on Friday I have been celebrating end of term. I really need to sleep off this weekend at some point . . . but I don't really think that is going to happen. I hiked the Y, ate omlettes, watched soccer in the freezing cold weather, watched "She's the Man", tried on ugly dresses, and got marshmallows and seran wrap everywhere. Woke up and played drums at 9 am, went skiing on ice, watched the beginning of the BYU game, sat in the Orem Rec. Center sauna, went to DI, tried on more ugly dresses, made popcorn and watched the mormon pride and prej, came home and mopped the floor. Whoop. Hey, did I have homework?

Bucket list No. 5

Move to Denmark and see if I like living as a socialist.

I'm pretty sure I wouldn't mind the architecture . . .
Or the scenery . . .
Or the history.

Lying in my cozy bed I could hear the house creaking in the frigid wind. The snow; I knew, was blowing across the frozen ground, whistling through the tree's. Downstairs the dishes clanked, and the glow of the hall light lit the crack beneath my door. Notes filled the air . . . "let's fall in love now, why shouldn't we fall in love now, we've the time for it while we are young, let's fall in love!". My parents were laughing, and I drifted off to sleep humming their tune.

In a ghetto part of downtown Rochester we drove past the flickering neon lights of the clubs, the cracked sidewalks of out of business gas stations, and the orange glow of cigarettes on the lips of hushed men. Feeling lost, and a little out of place we finally found the cafe, closed for the day, but open for the night. The air was warm and wet, the cicadas celebrated the breeze. Slipping in the back way the notes instantly filled the space. The group was small, but they knew the rhythm, as did the couples lindy-hopping across the small creaky wood floor, caught up in their own romances. We bought lemonade and took a back table. The laughing pairs spun and twirled, the tune instinctively dictating their movements.

The white haired, delicate looking couple swayed at the edge of the stage. A little girl with long blonde hair bounced under the lights, was swooped up by an older boy, and giggled as she flew through the air held safe in his arms. Beanbags hidden in the shadows were mostly empty, the air boiled with the excitement of the crowd filling the floor. I danced. Inadequately. The rhythm that fills my soul doesn't translate to the movement of my feet. The boys were braver, emboldened by the music, perhaps relaxed by the easy smiles. The jazz enchanted. The music of the people, filled with the sorrows and triumphs of Americans. It shakes off the everyday dust of life and turns it into something magical. Magic, that fills the hearts and souls of anyone really listening, and sweeps them off their feet wrapped in layers of universal pulse.