"Houston, We have a Beautiful Spanish Speaking Native American."

So, Ashley, or as I like to call her, A**ley. Left back in October.

I miss her.

But I've been terrible at writing her. As I warned her that I might be. SO on top of actually writing her a letter, purchasing the clothing she asked me to purchase, and sending her our USPS Messenger, I am about to do something some would call a tribute, to a love affair so passionate not even Romeo and Juliet could top it.

The love affair between Ashley Case and Adam Lazzara, and his music.

So I have challenged myself to compile a note to Ashley from me using at least one line from every Taking Back Sunday song that ever existed, possibly even pre-Adam TBS.

And so here we go:

Dear Hna Case,

Have you seen the girl with my heart on her sweater? Sorry that I couldn't make you stay. Placing pieces on the floor, of all the things that we loved before. Maybe it wasn't good enough, but I gave you all I could. So go on, go and take on the world. You're going to be a star someday. Do you remember the time when you and I were fine? You're such a sucker for a sweet talker but we won't stand for hazy eyes anymore.

If we go down, we go down together, best friends means you've got this silly way of keeping me on the edge of my seat. And you know I’m not one for complaining, but I love the way you’d roll excuses off the tip of your tongue. It's times like these, where silence means everything.

Stop it, come on, you know I can’t help it. I got the mic and you got the mosh pit. Regardless if my pictures they don't line your mirror, regardless, you know that I'll still wait for your call. The TRUTH is you could slit my throat And with my one last gasping breath I'd apologize for bleeding on your shirt.

I’m only complaining to keep myself busy.

I'm sorry it took me so long to come around. Oh, but can’t you, can’t you feel it rolling off your lips.. Go on just say it, You need me like a bad habit. We used to be this dying breed, I've got a bad feeling about this. So, we're talking forever, and you almost feel better but, better's no excuse for tonight.

"Splintered but focused" you're as good as gold. You're built from distractions so brilliantly dull. You said it makes you want to fall in love or be smart enough to keep your distance. You can't decide, you can't decide.

All tired, scream safe haven, let's get this out and on the table... We could live through these letters or forget it all together. See, the months, they don't matter it's the days I can't take. When the hours move to minutes and I'm seconds away.

Passed out in our school clothes so we'd wake up in our Sunday's best. Well I pictured you in blue. But I have to say I'm more partial to the red. Deep, dark, and devastating. And then you said a little more about your dreams, like that was my call.

You're so sensitive. I am, I am a machine. I'm an addict for dramatics, I confuse the two for love, less is more except when it comes to mistakes.

We swing and we sway as this tiny voice in my head starts to sing"You're safe, child, you are safe." It says, "You, oh, you are so cool."

I heard that this is where, where the party is. Are you coming home? (Well, are you coming home?) It gets easier with doses of time. Yeah, we're stubborn and melodramatic. A real class act. You see, I know a few of your favorite things. Reminders, they are not reluctant. So stop me if you've heard this one before.

Would you do it again, again and count backwards from ten? Well you don't know where I've been. The closer that I look is just the further that you get. Already, stubborn skin thickens in attempt to understand.

I keep my grammar well rehearsed. Correct each stutter, every slur. There is no place on God's great Earth, where you can go to hide from me. So go prove to the world, what you already proved. (Cause you ain't workin' for them anymore.)

How long before I'm just before I'm just a memory? You are a Sunday afternoon, with nothing to do. You are Manhattan in June.

All I ever did was look up to you, so I'll put my money where my mouth is... And I put my money where my mouth was, so good enough's as good as it's gonna get. I am a mantle, and you are a painting. Come rest your frame on me. We happened before we knew what was happening.

You quote the good book, when it's convenient. You can't blame a girl for stickin' to what she knows. You're better off believing everything you heard was true. Won't you take your time with me? You told me you ain’t gonna miss it. But If you, you see something then you should say something. (geniune and unprepared.)

Well, we assure you the procedure is safe and routine. So come around again and I'll show you what I mean. cause I don't think that you know what you've been missing.

And I wish you weren't worth the wait cause there's some things I'd like to say to you...

Love, Slie.

Sorry to get all Rascal Flatts on you. But..

I once had a dear friend, we'll call him Tyrone. Because that's his name. Tell me:

"This is the course some take to find love. It's a bitter, brutal, and sometimes unnecessary course but nonetheless, the course. Why? Because it makes the end so much more worth it. You'll never really appreciate the heaven you find in somebody unless you go through hell with everybody else."

And at the time, it was sound advice. But it wasn't applicable. The funny thing is that when he said this to me, I was only a week away from meeting the "one" (Even though, I wouldn't KNOW he was the "one" until a couple of months later.)

I can now FULLY grasp the concept of finding heaven in somebody, and aside from the couple of times I get upset about it, I am GRATEFUL for the hell I went through.

I’m finishing the year out strong, I found that guy everyone knew I needed, but I never thought he existed. The one that makes my heart pound. That makes me laugh. And laughs at my jokes, even when they’re stupid. The one that rubs my feet and sends me cards on our “weekiversaries” The one that cleans my whole house just to be sweet. The one who is patient with my PMS.

I found the one who WANTS to make me happy. and I want to make him happy too.

Open Faced Cubicle: Blessing in Disguise.

SO in August. I had a half-week long getaway in Hotlanta. I left work, excited and relieved to have a break from the building that consumes the majority of the days of my youth.

My trip was awesome, and for once in my life, I wasn't all that thrilled to come back to my real life in Utah.

Sunday night (when I got home) I recieved a text from a co-worker letting me know that we had moved cubicles. I was a little bit upset about this, but not too worried about it.

When I got in on Monday morning I ventured back to my new "pube cube" and when I realized that they stuck me in one of the open faced cubicles on the end, I was a lot more angry about it than what the situation called for. But I brushed it off, and decided to just hate my job instead.

It was the worst thing ever, to feel like you were basically sitting in the hallway. Everyone was rubber necking it when they walked by. I hated it. No seriously, I HATED it.

BUT, that was over four months ago, and my perspective has changed a little.

The first blessing would be my privacy screen. It's a thin black screen that makes it impossible for anyone not sitting in my seat to see what i am doing.

But the most important thing here, are the sights I see. Meaning, the people.

The outfits people choose to wear in a casual dress work enviroment, would BLOW YOUR MIND.

Now, I wouldn't call myself some pretentious fashionista or anything, but I like to think that I am not out to keep the 90's style alive or anything like that.

FIRST: Aladdin pants girl. She's what we in "the biz" like to call mind blowing. she wears these pants like everyday. I don't care who you are. This is not fashion forward. It's fashion backward. It's gross. Esp. when you wear them with tennis shoes.

SECOND: Pretty recently, with the weather getting to be freezing balls and what not, some people wear their coats around the office. Someone has taken it to a whole new level. She walks around the office all day wearing this. You know what? I get it. It's cold. But let's take it down a couple hundred notches eh?

And LAST (for now): There is a particularly effeminate male who's sexual orientation is none of my business and totally irrelevant ("not that there's anything wrong with that..") Anyway, it's not his dress that kills me, it's his walk. it puts Tyra to shame and it would make Miss J Alexander WEEP. He walks like it's for sale and the rent is due TONIGHT.

anyway, this post was a waste of everyone's time. but it's my life.

i found this in my drafts and i lol'd.

this is just a mirco-blog to say:

why can't i grab (mostly scratch when they itch) my own boobs in public? they're mine.

i found my mom's diary..

i found these entries in my mom's diary today and i thought it was really sweet. yeah, i laughed and i most definitely sobbed like a babbling brook. but nevermind that.

Sometime in 1979 (10 years old)

I had a very exciting dream. I had moved uptown 111 C street. Our class decided to go upstairs to the annual Star Wars hunt. Me and another creature called Setrasune dug a hole in this dirt and mad a tent around us and each of us had a gun that we made. we went out to fight. I almost got hit. Setrasune did, he was killed. I went back to the hole and hid with my gun aimed at the opening. I killed several people my gun was used up. A creature named Pentagon shot me. The shot hit and went through my ears. I was weak. Tina, a friend told me to come on we were going to get out of here in an airplane. We snuck out and got in and took off. We crashed in a tall pine tree and were stuck. I was looking for those too and could not find them so I rocked the plane and it fell out and into the water. Me and another girl swam and pulled th eplane to the shore we couldn't see or find Tina after a little while. I seen her swim in. Somebody found us and took us back to the school. The Star Wars thing was still going. I was shot again. Tina grabbed me and said "if you're ever hurt come to me" and we both cried and went home.

Nov. 23 1980 (11 years old)

Every Sunday I listen to the radio on KCPX. They play real good songs. Like Whip It and Cars. They're rock and roll songs. Top 40. My favorite song is We Had Seasons In The Sun. Last night I watched the Bermuda Triangle It was scary. Ships and Airaplanes disappear.

Oct. 28 1981 (12 years old)

We took a tour through the Jordan Temple. It is so pretty. I can't wait till I can get married. I'm going to get married in the Salt lake Temple. Then travel around the world and see all the Temples.

words are hard.

this is so stupied that i even have to poste this. becuz i thot i was an uhdult. and that all of my freinds was uhdults. but apparuntle KNOT! becuz no afence or anything, but nobuddy can SPELL anymore! i can't even baleve it. its like, rilly sad that i have to call everyone out on my stupied blog butt, thats just the way it is i geuss.

it just makes me wunder the qality of educashun that we got in shcool. but THEN i start to wunder if it just plane ignorinace. it could all so have some thing to do with how pritty girls dont think they knead to lern how to spell and stuffe.

i dont no alot of things, but i just think its insain. i mein, hello? spell chek!

it dusnt mein im gunna stope loveing any one, i just think we could lern a little bit by reiding a book once in a wile.

like twilite.

TEEM JACOB!

i’ve fallen. and i don’t WANT to get up.

if i tried to walk to you, it’d take me approximately 25 days. but maybe if i ran, it’d only take 20.

but where did i find you anyway? there’s so many unfortunate events that led me to you. maybe you’re that silly little light at the end of the tunnel i always heard about.

the world is so hate filled, and i’m a little too negative sometimes. but you make everything seem hopeful, and a little easier to deal with.

these are just words. but if i get it just right, they might mean something to you. they might even make you flash that perfect smile of yours.

i laid on my bed today, and watched the sky turn from blue to cloudy and grey. i thought about you, and what role you play in this world. you have so much to offer, and i want help you get to where ever it is that you want to be.

are you the man of my dreams? of course you are. but you’re so much more than that. you have things that i didn’t know i wanted, or could have. you have exceeded my expectations.

so far.

but there is so much of your mind (and body… well.. pretty much all of your body) that i haven’t yet gotten into. but i can’t wait.

there’s something about you that makes me want to be better, and that makes me want to let you in. and i am letting you in. i mean let’s be real here, you ARE in. please, don’t stop. and please continue to be patient with me when i can’t grasp all of the amazing things you say about me. i’ve got some scar tissue that makes it a little difficult for me to believe those types of things. but it won’t hinder me forever. i promise.

i want to make you happy forever. cause you’re the one i’ve been waiting for.

Vlog?

I am just trying this out.

Hear the legend of hot beardy. Also, try to count the that’s what she saids.

Vlog from kynslie coffin on Vimeo.

Gem.

A really ridiculous video I found the other day.
I was really bored driving home from Bear Lake.

Maybe I should look into video blogging? Unlikely, I'm much more clever via digital and hand written words.

That's What She Said.

So, I've decided to compile some That's What She Said's that I have recently encountered (whether on my on endeavor, or that of friends, foes, and strangers.)

"If you're feeling nervous about it, just put a little butter on it."

"Oh, that went in easy."

"Well, that's as far as it'll go."

"If you're not gonna take it in the mouth, you know where it's gonna go."

"Are you through yet? Cause I'm getting tired of holding this."

"I just like to get my fingers in everything."

"I tried to straddle it but it was too big."

"She forgets to swallow, and then she drools."

"Use two hands to double your pleasure, and double your fun."

"Start at the base of the rump, rub your way out, following it to it's natural conclusion."


I'll probably add a part 2. and I am definitely open to submissions.

I miss my mommy. There, I said it.

*there is no particular reason why I am typing this post. but there are some things you should know before you proceed to read (if you dare)

• I am going to be blunt, and honest.
• This is not a pity party, and I in no way want any pity you are willing to give. Sympathy will be accepted, but no pity.
• This doesn’t make me an expert on losing someone close to you, nor does it means I understand EXACTLY what everyone who experiences loss is going through.

(sorry about the picture quality, it’s a picture of a picture. i don’t have scanner.)

Most of you reading this already know, that my mom died 6 years ago.

I have never, and believe I will never experience something that hard ever again. Especially because of how ill equipped i was to handle something like that then. I was FIFTEEN years old. FIFTEEN. I look at 15 year olds in all their “infinite wisdom” and dramatic immature lives, and I know I was exactly like that. How.. how did I make it out alive?

But here I am, I’m what society considers an adult, and what the Utah valley culture considers an old maid. without my mom on this earth with me.

I have a testimony, and a patriarchal blessing that tells me that she is on the other side of the veil, helping me get through this life.  But come on guys, we all know it’s not the same, it’s not the same to be able to just call your mom and complain about how work is stressing you out, and laugh about some ridiculous date you went on. Or to see her and give her a big hug.

Unless I die an early death (which I’m not planning on.) or the second coming comes in my lifetime, I have approximately 60 + years before I will get to see my mom again. That sucks balls.

Don’t get me wrong here, I’m not bitter. It’s just not easy. And don’t get me wrong a second time, I love the family that I do have around, ESPECIALLY my dad, my dad is amazing. But no one can be your mom. Not. a. single. person.

So I can cry and pout about it but it doesn’t change anything. But really what I’ve been trying to get at here, is to tell you about the woman who gave me life.

It isn’t HARD for me to talk about her, it’s just uncomfortable because people act strange when they know you lost your mom and you talk about her.  They really do.

To the people who came into my life after the departure of my mother’s soul: you seriously missed out.

There is so much of her instilled in me, and 99% of it isn’t by choice. I’m okay with that.

Here are some things I share with my mom:

• Disorganized.
• Late, always running late.
• Thick eyebrows
• Dirty mind
• Able to find humor in penis shaped objects.
• Charming
• Accepting of others (including misfits)
• Loud belching
• Always choosing terrible men. (Except sometimes)
• Etc.

My mom , Marnie Elizabeth, was beautiful, and not like she was beautiful when she was young, she was beautiful her whole time on earth. not just on the inside.

I’m not just saying nice things about her because she died. I’d say these things about her if she was alive. I really would.

People were naturally drawn to her, she was so kind and inviting. She was so terribly wonderful at making you feel like everything was going to be okay.

Unfortunately, all of her love and compassion was wasted on several WORTHLESS men, that NEVER ever appreciated what a truly spectacular woman she was. And if I could stab them all in the stomach a few times for that, I probably would. But really, she wouldn’t want me to.

My mom loved to fish, and I HATED it. Until after she died. I am almost positive that when I decided I liked to go fishing a couple of years ago, she was probably making fun of me.

I’m crying right now, so that means this is a good exercise for me, if you are still reading this, thank you for joining me.

In all honesty, I feel so terrible that all of my mom’s friends (and other family) had to lose her. She was irreplaceable, and I want everyone to know that I am doing my best to keep a part of her here on this earth with all the traits I inherited from her.

My mommy, probably wasn’t much like your mommy. But she was (is) a perfect fit for me. And if you’ve ever wondered “Where does she come up with this stuff?”

Well, now you know, it’s in my blood. (thanks to my pa as well.)

I love you mom, (or mother, as my 2 year old self would have said.) I think about you everyday.

-Wumpie.

i'm obscene.

Move over Obama, it’s time for a REAL change.

No, this isn’t a political post in the least bit. It’s a “self-help” post I guess.

Today, my dear friend Ashley, who has been mentioned in the last three of my posts, sent me a link to this woman’s blog:

NieNie Dialogues

To make a long story short, this woman and her husband were involved in a airplane crash in August of last year. Stephanie, suffered especially, physically. she looks like a completely different person, but she doesn’t wallow, she presses forward.

and I think…

What was I doing last August?

Well I was probably doing a lot of things, however, I know that intertwined with the events, boys, and crying over boys, I was moping around about how fat I was, how ugly my hair color was, how big my pores were, how unkempt my eyebrows were, how crooked my teeth were, about the pastiness of my skin. etc etc etc. [run on sentence to the max]

And someone was nearly dying, and being stripped of their outward beauty, not by choice.

Often times, I look back on pictures of myself and think “Look how cute I was, I wish I could have appreciated it then.” And guess what? I’m going to wish that I could appreciate how cute I was now in 3 years time, probably.

I. CAN’T. LIVE. LIKE. THIS.

photo: courtesy of taylor giddens

I am a beautiful girl. YOU are beautiful. The person who is reading this. Man and woman alike. We are beautiful people. Our physical faults are part of us, and some of them we can’t change.

So many of us, can not take a compliment. It was something I had to overcome as well.

If you’re reading this, and you have a difficult time take a compliment, next time someone says something nice about you, just say, “Thank you.” It feels good. Trust me.

Anyway, what I am simply getting at is that I don’t care what boys think, I don’t care what girls think, I don’t care what the media thinks, I don’t care what Tyra Banks and her judging panel thinks, everyone is beautiful to someone, which is reason enough to be beautiful to yourself.

Will you please, please stop insulting and downplaying yourself?  I only speak highly of you now.  I know you're afraid because you doubt your physical appearance.  I know you're afraid because you doubt your impact on my life.  But I have the same fears.  And no, I'm not the boy who says, "She's not the best looking, but she's really cool."

I am done downplaying myself, dear.

Hermana Case & Sister Howe

Ladies and gentlemen,

Behold, the most beautiful sister missionaries [soon to be] that ever lived:

A**ley.

Rachie.

 

I love these girls excuse me, WOMEN, so dearly that I felt the need to publicly display my affection and admiration for them. And also to brag about them.  It will be hard for me to see them go in the coming weeks, but I am so happy about why they are leaving that it’s hard to even think selfish thoughts like, “I wish they’d stay home.”

Truth be told, for a long time, I thought only ugly girls felt like they had to go on missions because they couldn’t get married. Until recently when all of my hot friends decided they were going to serve full-time missions! It is truly inspiring.

 

I guess what I should be doing is giving each of them a big shout out. Individually.

Ashley Marie,

This picture captures the essence of everything we are, we will be, and we love.  This girl, will blow your mind. She’s witty and charming. She has a spirit that draws people to her, including myself. She’s irresistible to men, and many hearts will be broken once she departs. Including my own. But she’s a selfless person and amazing example and everything I want in a friend, and for the second mother of my children (in a non-polygamist way). I love this girl with my entire being, and I already can’t wait for her to get back. Kindred spirits.

 

Rachel Marie,

She’ll probably take my life for putting this picture up. But I think she’s beautiful all the time. I am the only one who looks like a creep. Rachie is the kind of friend I wish every person could have in life and especially through high school. She’s loyal, clever, and inviting. She makes you feel important and is wise beyond her years. She’s the classiest girl that I know, and not in an annoying way, in a classy way. I am so grateful for her example and love and support she’s always given me. I love you Rachael! You are monumental.

 

These two girls are going to be AMAZING, and I know it. I am pretty sure they didn’t get called to the same mission because the world would have exploded, and ya gotta spread out the perfection. I am so excited for the journeys they are both about to embark on.

THANK YOU BOTH FOR BEING SUCH WONDERFUL EXAMPLES AND LIGHTING UP MY LIFE.

FILTHY. but genuinely arousing.

here's the thing, i have about a half hour before the last session of conference. And I realized, I haven't written anything in a long time. This was not premeditated, so if it sucks, I won't be held responsible.

September treats me like crap, we've had a pretty dysfunctional relationship for a long time now. If I could sleep through it's tyranic 30 day reign, I would.

The only good things that happened in September was meeting Saosin. And also this amazing dream I had. about Anthony Green. Also, the release of the Brand New album, Daisy.

I don't want to go into detail with the things that September threw at me this year, but it was pretty disappointing nonetheless. Death, illness, failed trust, miscommunication, etc. etc. etc.

two of my really good friends are about to go on missions, A**ley and Rachael.

I am so proud of them, but that will come later.

Here are some websites I've been liking:
http://thatswhatshimsaid.blogspot.com
http://www.mylifeisaverage.com
http://www.everythingisterrible.com
http://www.twitter.com/kynslie (self promotion of my micro blogging.)



anyway, i have nothing else good to say but that I love my life, family, my friends, and most definitely the gospel.

General Conference has been the medicine pack I needed to heal the zombie wounds that September left.

Pee in The Dark.

Sometimes, for unknown reasons (maybe cause i'm lazy, maybe because i have to go so bad that i forget to turn on the switch, or maybe.. i am more comfortable.) i pee in the dark.
Obviously, this can only be done at night, since there is a window in my bathroom. But sometimes, i find myself sitting on the pot without the lights on. what's really weird about it is that i don't realize that i am pissing in the dark, and this is weird, until i am midway through the pee. but then i just shrug and pray that i have enough toilet paper.
one thing i have noticed about peeing in the dark, is that if i do it, i leave the door open just a crack. this is dangerous. i have roommates. and usually if the light is off, and the door isnt closed, that means the bathroom is vacant. but, the rush of it excites me. i mean, my life is no action movie, this is as close to walking the line as i get.
peeing in the dark.

My life, according to iTunes shuffle.

Monday night at home alone, ultimately led to this.

Opening Credits: rock that body
Your mom finds out she's pregnant with you: pretend, release, the close
Slideshow of her pregnancy: no world for tomorrow
While she's delivering you: your hand in mine
Your first birthday: please, please, please, let me get what i want
You growing up: demons
Your first day of school: slowing down
Meeting your first friend: is this real
Your first day of middle school: a boy brushed red, living in black and white
Meeting your first crush: the next day
Your first kiss: the feel good drag
Fighting with your parents: rise up
Fighting with your friends: babygirl
Breaking up: missing you
Your first day of high school: you got lucky
Your sweet sixteen: on the wing
Your first time having sex: summer tounges
Your 18th birthday: cut me up jenny
Your graduation ceremony: it's cold in the shade, let's move to the sun
Your first day of college: let's go
Your first college party: dear child (i've been dying to reach you)
Meeting your true love: ..off by heart
Getting married: i don't feel very receptive today
Finding out you/your spouse is pregnant: the ghost of st. valentine
Having your first child: hero
Getting old: i can't go on
Your spouse gets sick: wirte your pretentious squalls (off again)
They die: her advice cost us a life
At their funeral: sugar town
You end up in the hospital: the permanent rain
Your death: stationary
Your funeral: the downfall of us all

People's Themes
Yours: disconnect
Your best friend: disintegration
Your first crush: sam malone
Your mom: she loves me so
Your dad: too bright to see too loud to hear
Your sibling(s): don't do me like that
Your worst enemy: lost
Your signifigant other: forget love, i just want you to make sense to me tonight
Your first child: a day late
Your first grandchild: hello, i'm in delaware.

What You Listen To When...
You're happy: it's dangerous business walking out your front door
You're upset: a city called coma pt II
You're angry: heads or tails? real or not
You're depressed: night diving
You're cleaning: this is war
You're working out: at last
You're bored: save me
You're doing homework: the road and the damned
You're eating: sink into me
You're thinking: stop draggin' me around
You're going to sleep: you make my dreams
You're feeling sick: nj legion iced tea
You're going shopping: i'm made of wax, larry. what are you made of?
You're hanging out with your friends: born in the rainy days of may
You're on a date: under control
You're having sex: if it means a lot to you
You're at a party: calm, calm, calm yourself.
You're driving: a call to arms
You're on a plane: the blue note
You're relaxing: sing out
You're on vacation: changing

Random
Your friends think your theme is: blur
Your family thinks your theme is: bookends
Your signifigant other thinks your theme is: carpathia
What reminds your enemy of you: i would do anything
What song makes you sad: antlion
Makes you happy: now generation
Makes you mad: boom boom pow
Gives you energy: never take friendship personal
Makes you tired: turn off the lights, i'm watching back to the future
You love to hate: springtime out the van window
You hate to love: sunburn vs rhinovirus
Makes you think: wedding/funeral
Makes you wonder: 12 hours, 630 miles
What song inspires you: you already know what you are
Motivates you: new again
Makes you feel invincible: on the brink

Even More Random
When you trip: mary jane's last dance
When you fall: the first day of work at the microscope store
When you're trying to look cool: alive
When you have no idea what's going on: she wolf
When you can't figure something out: paperthin hymn
When you're dancing around the house cuz you're home alone: settledown
What you sing in the shower: and i told them i invented times new roman
When you're getting dressed: they move on tracks of never ending light
When you're talking on the phone: calm touching
When you're sneaking out: ball out ($500)
When you get caught sneaking back in: reckoning
When you think about life: wooden soldiers
What actually sums up your life: a protest in lines too thin to read
How people will remember you: the backwards pumpkin song
How you want people to remember you: like knives
The best song out there: this is goodbye
The worst song out there: imma be
Worst song by the best artist: a light in a darkened world
Best song by the worst artist: rochambo
Ending Credits: walking past you

Oww! My Most of Me.

On August 16th 2008, my Great-Grandpa passed away.

On August 16th 2009, my beautiful Great-Grandma joined her husband.

Great-Grandparents are sometimes a distant title to some people. But my greats were HEAVILY involved in my life. I was closer to them than any Grandparents I had.

Watching their health decline over the past 5 years has been devestating. Losing them, hurts too. But it's bittersweet. To know what they're together again, those two highschool sweethearts, makes my heart almost explode with joy. After 365 days, my Grandpa finally got his "sweets" back.

My grandparents, as far as I knew them, were epic. Seriously. Epic. Spiritually. And as a couple. They're everything I hope me and my F.E.C. to be.

When I was in 8th Grade I wrote a biography about my Grandma. About 3 years ago she told me she wanted me to read it at her funeral. So I revised it, and did just that.

Anna Dean Hatch was born October 27th 1924 in Richfield UT to Nelly and William Ward. She grew up with her 3 other siblings, (she had 11 but 8 passed away when they were born.) She always had tons of fun in the neighborhood she grew up in. Her and her family used to take trips together in together in their old Model-A Ford. She got her first job when she was 16 in an ice cream parlor. (where she later serendipitously met my grandpa)

She always said that her number one priority is her family, and the way she talked about us, you could tell that was the truth. She had, 4 kids, 5 grandchildren, and 16 great-grandchildren. She was always willing to help someone in need, in or outside of the family, even me, when I decided I NEEDED chocolate milk at 3 AM. She did it without complaining (obviously, the no-complain policy is something that I didn't pick up on fully.) I am just grateful to have had such a loving grandma.

Her appearance was very very comforting. Every time I saw her I felt safe. Because it always seemed as though, I was going to change, the world was going to change, and everything would always be ever-changing. But Grandma was never going to change, and she would always love you.

She had red curly-poofy hair (that really... never changed. and also served it's purpose as sort of a "lighthouse" for whenever you lost her in a store.) and she had hazel eyes that changed from green to brown (just like mine.) She had small soft hands, and her smell was probably some sort of Avon perfume (she had a passionate love affair with Avon products), but to me it was Grandma's Signature Smell. She was one of the most beautiful women that I knew, even with all her years. Even though, once when I was younger I was sitting in her lap and I bluntly said, "Grandma, I love you but I hate the skin you're in."

There had also been hard times for this remarkable woman, she was just a child during the Great Depression and there was little money and food. She lived to see the loss of her parents, her brother and two sisters, her son Michael, her granddaughter Marnie, her great-grandson Joseph, and her husband Blaine. But in all the hard-times, she never lost faith that she would be with them again someday. Her testimony was more priceless to me than I think even she understood.

My grandpa and grandma were married on February 9, 1946. They shared 62 years together. And as my 13 year old self described in an unrevised copy of this biography, "they went through like a million houses." My grandma always told me that my grandpa was the love of her live, and I hope to find someone that I can be with for eternity, like my grandparents. I know that they're together again now, which is definitely something we can all be happy about.

I had many fun and fond memories with my grandma, as we all did. And I am so grateful for those times, and to have her be a part of our lives and be such a wonderful example to all of us. We’ve all suffered a great loss in her passing. But, to be cliche, we shouldn't cry because it's over, we should smile because it happened, and remember that we'll be with her again someday.

Life remains great.

Celebrity Collage by MyHeritage

MyHeritage: Family tree - Genealogy - Celebrity - Collage - Morph

tissue for your issue.

I have a lot to say. But not a lot of energy to say it.

She only loved two things. The first was her long dark hair. The second, was how easily she could cut it off. And feel nothing.

Fell Short.

Hey, this is who I am.

You'll love me enough to care, but not enough to stay.

I'll be different enough to notice, but not enough to anchor you down.

I'll be pretty enough to catch your eye, but not enough to keep it from wandering.

This is who I've been. Is this who I will be?

Oh, no.

I'll be that one, the one they all come back to, cause they got a midnight craving. They thought they were missing something they took for granted before. But, no, it's the same. I'm still me. I'm just interesting enough to keep on the backburner.

You, you say you're in love with me.
in love with me is not enough.
wtf?
["wtf?" might have ruined the intensity, but shi, what do you want me to say? it's the truth.]

I watched birds peck the shiz out of people's eyes on a big screen today. It reminded me of me.

Men are birds, they pick and rip me apart until I have no eyes and I'm so disoriented I just lay down and give up.

Let it go. They're not all the same.

Oh yeah, so far, they are. And they all make their rounds. The ones from the past, forget how unincredible I was. They have a sweet tooth for my wit, and they get their temporary highs from our banter, and then they bolt like lightning.

Whatev. Ef you guys anyway.

hair is there. awkward.

The other day I was having a delightful colloquy with my dear friend Jenjamin (co-founder of Jenjamins Jammies LLC) about our lives, as we knew them throughout middle school, and beyond.

Puberty, if you will.

It all started with a lovely maturation program in FIFTH GRADE. I remember, we went into the library, and I was given a blessed maturation kit; jam packed with deodorant, pamphlets, pads, and tampons. I was so taken back! I didn't even have pubes yet!! OR BREASTS FOR THAT MATTER! I remember thinking, "Listen lady, spare me the details, I got the picture at 'bleed out of your crotch for a week.'.." But of course I was too shy to say so, and I went ahead and watched some horrendously awkward movie, about hair, blood, and B.O.

Needless to say, my children will be exempt from such awkward programs as this. I will teach them myself. But I'll make it fun. You know, with boob cupcakes, tampon towers, and condom baloons. And rap songs about pubes.

Anyway, don't worry, I think I'm done being gross for now..

So then, came middle school, and for me, my down fall at the time was greasy hair (acne galore and horrific cramps came a little later.) Hair was kind of important. But it was hard to find something that was simple and also GORGEOUS. I remember Brittney, the leader of "Brittney 'n them." tried for all 3 years to start hair trends, and came so close, but fell short. But we all knew what it was that would solve all your adolescent hair woes: a PERM. You'd stare at your lame straight hair in the mirror and imagine all the boys after you, and probably even being asked to star in a hair commercial. And that's when you knew, you need a perm. Most girls had to beg their mom, but I was fortunate enough to have a hair stylist for an aunt, so I did whatever I wanted. The appointment was set, and everything was falling into place. Soon, flawless beauty would be in your grasp. You'd brag to your friends the whole week before about how you were getting a perm and they'd envy you, outwardly, and inwardly. Then you'd wake up, the day of your perm appointment, and you'd go to school, with nothing else on your mind, except the beautiful curls that would soon take residence on your head. And before you knew it, the bell rang and you were on your way to the salon. Perms took a really long time, and as a 12-13 year old, a long time is a lot more than that. The sylist would style it perfect, and you'd feel like a million bucks, wishing you could go to school right then to get a boyfriend and probably some sort of award for most beautiful hair, or something dramatic like that. Then, it happened. You wake up to go to school, and you wet your hair (cause you cant wash it after a perm.) and you can't get it to look anything like it did the night before, or like anything you'd hoped. It's crunchy, frizzy, and flat. And accents your braces. You failed me perm.

Also, there were boys. I had one boyfriend for each year of middle school. BUT, they all only lasted 2 weeks. and we didn't talk. Except on the phone, but not face to face.

Usually, they'd have a friend ask, or they'd call you themselves. Either way, there was always an appointed messenger for your relationship. They usually dealt with any communication that happened during school hours.

Anyway, so they'd call you up, write you a note, or send a friend to you and say, "will you go out with me?" Now, we were ages 11-13. We did not go "out" anywhere. That just meant "Wanna be my girlfriend but we dont actually talk or kiss or hold hands?" and depending on that boys place on the "disgust-o-meter" you'd say yes or no. And when you'd had your fun, and you were ready to end it, you'd call on your messenger to send the bad news. If you were lucky, there was a dance at the time of your courtship, and you had someone to dance with.

My favorite dances, were the 6th grade dances. Because they were held during the day, at the end of the day. They'd block off the common area and play a mix tape that consisted mostly of SmashMouth. Whether or not the song was fast or slow, we were forced to dance the same. And we couldn't say no to anyone, or we'd get a ticket (a ticket was a piece of paper that threw you in *time out* for I think the entire day, correct me if you went to EMS and that's wrong.) It was a pretty harsh punishment, so you didn't say no. How we danced was as follows: The boy would come up to you. You'd walk out onto the dance floor, and depending on how gross you thought they were, you'd dance as close as one foot apart.. or as far as ten feet. There was no touching, you'd stand across from eachother and step side to side, in sync of course. And you usually didn't talk to one another you'd probably be having a conversation with one of your friends, or staring at the ceiling.

This is what the 3rd grade version of me would have called "torcher"

There's more to come...

legendary.

Max Bemis wrote me a song, and here it is, in all it's wonderful glory.
For those of you who do not know, Max is the singer for Say Anything, consequently one of my favorite bands ever.

I asked him initially to write me a love song, and then later that day found out he had recently gotten married. I felt bad (and sort of awkward), but he handled it with class and wrote me a song from the perspective of the guy I will someday be with.

Sponsored by the letter, "F".

Where's the effin' Cure when I need them?
ROBERT SMITH!!

Dear Polo,
I thought I secretly loved you. I don't though.
Love,
Me

Dear New,
That was good. Bad, but it was good.
Love,
Me

Dear Connection,
You're fun. I think I like you.
Love,
Me

Dear Smart,
You're the one who has a piece of my heart.
Love,
Me

Dear Source,
Pre-Thanks for Breakfast tomorrow.
Love,
Me

Dear Dirt,
I hate you. You're ugly on the inside.
-Me.

Dear Dreams,
I wish we were married. Music me.
Love,
Me

Dear Self,
Tone down the road rage and get a little more sleep. It'll help the anger.
Love,
Me

stop naming things!

I had this BRIGHT idea to do this.

I thought, if my life, thus far, had a greatest hits album, what would the song titles be?

So, I've compiled a track listing, of song names I made up (not in chronological order).

The Album Would be called

KYNSLIE: The Glory Years

SIDE A:
1) My Best Man Friend Has a Nice Beard
2) Beta Fish Fights Make Jen's Mom Cry
3) I Really Hope the Shirt I Gave You Spontaneously Combusts While You're Wearing It
4) Back Together PT. 78
5) I Hate Her
6) I Used To Hate Her Cause of A Boy, Now We're Friends.
7) Shows Are My Life
8) Make Out With Everyone In Sight
9) I'm 15 and I Know EVERYTHING!
10) I'm 21 and I Don't Know ANYTHING!


SIDE B:
1) Boyzz Are HOT
2) Boyzz Suck
3) Perpetual Missionary Lover
4) Meh
5) You're Fat Now AND a Liar, What Do You Have to Offer?
6) Bear [Bare] Lake Summers
7) Moun'ains
8) Roundhouse LoveKicked
9) Nobody Gets Me, Cut Me
10) Harry And Sally

Dedicated to The Proud Mama of Nanie Boo Boo

Rachie did this, and I told her I'd post some of mine. Just some Entries from the old diary.

*I WILL NOT BE CORRECTING ANY SPELLING ERRORS*
March 4, 1996
Dear Dairy, (yeah. dairy.)
There is this boy in my class his name is Dexter, he has a crush on Brittney and me, We both hate him. He's a real jerk, Sometimes he'll even follow us around. I'm telling you, he's a real jerk.

No Date but sometime in 96
Dear Dairy,
Today I got my card pulled to five min. at school and for no reason! you oghut to now teachers are meen!

May 20 1997
Dear Jornal, (I stopped writing to a dairy because it felt too juvenile.)
This year I have the nicest teacher. Kynsla is what he calls me. Here is a song I wrong for you it's called Havery The Wonder Hamster. NOT! Sorry, I forgot it. Guess what schools out soon. I'm so happy that it is. I get to sit by a girl. But I don't like her because she is spoiled and she lies. But I get to sit by Tara & Megan. THey call them selfs Meara & Teagan. But I don't mind. I think people who think they have a lot of friends don't and people who think they don't do. Bye!

October 1997
Dear Journal,
I'm back again! Well school's back in and I go to a new school. Ephraim Elm. It's a great school. Also, I have a boy teacher his name is Mr. B. He's way cool. I don't have a crush on any boys yet. Darnet! You probably know I'm in the fourth grade now. I have a lot of friends. My best friend is Amber. She lives right by me. Oh! And our old nieghbors moved but before they did they found a baby racoon and kept it for a pet. Well one of our kittens are but still have one named Meno. Amber has one to. It's named Sunshine. Oh my mom is going to have a baby boy soon. I'll tell you more when it's born. I cut my hair way short. Also I'm going to be Dead Miss American for Halloween. Were moving too. I'm smarter also see 12 X 12 = 144. Pretty cool huh. Zues has chewed a hole in his cage so we had to hook him to a chain. and me and amber made a huanted house. It's kind of a hut too. My dad's neihbors Kisha and Jade are mean we call them names. Thats all I can think of today bye bye!

No Date But Sometime in 97
Dear Journal,
I live in Manti now and I hate it. My mom put in me a stupid timeout just because I hit my dum little brother. I think I'll move to Australia.


February 15, 1999
Dear Journal,
I think I am in love, no wait, I AM in love. It's Craig. I can't help it, he so cute and he's so funny. I can't hardly stand it! Well if it wasn't for that snob Megan, he would already be mine. But next year in middle school he will be mine. He doesn't go to Manti Elementary with me, it sucks too. Brittney might try to get him but I'll kick her butt! Because he's mine.
Bye!

December 18 1999
Hi! Long time no see. I'm in middle school it's fun. Alyssa is over right now. I'm at straight A's. We had a dance yesterday 7 boys asked me to dance. We can't say no or we will get a ticket.
The boys were: Kelly, Richard, Wendell, Derek, James, Tyler, Niel. Wendell called me a little while ago and asked me out. I FLIPPED I didn't know what to say so I said, "I don't know I'll tell you on monday." I hope he still wants to. And I hope my mom doesn't find out.

August 1, 2000
Dear Diary,
It's has almost been a year since I last wrote. Well I said yes to Wendell but we broke up two weeks later. I'm obsessed with *Nsync. I have 150 pics of them. Me, Kellie, and Alisa went to the concert, I almost had a heart attack. Can you believe I'll be in 7th gr. More boys, better grade, and night dances!
Bye bye bye!

I feel like the I'm exploiting the little girl who wrote these things, and she'd hate me for it. But you know what? I hated the me that wrote these, she was a douche.

What's mine is ours.

Dear Kynslie,

Not sure what this new habit of staying up late is all about, but we're not so much into it.

Please try to get to bed at a decent hour, at least during the week days.

The bags that have taken up residency below are less than flattering.

We don't get heavy and start to sting because we just feel like it. We're trying to tell you something. So listen to us, YOU NEED SLEEP.

It's time for bed now, so stop blogging, and rest your head.

See you in the morning, groggy in the mirror.

Forever Yours Until The Depature of Your Soul,

Your Beloved Eyes

Lay-Off the Blog Sauce.

Two blogs in one day? Why yes, sorta. [After Midnight]

Basically, I wanted to say 3 things.

Lips are weird and cool.

I wish more people understood me, and agreed with me, musically.

and last.. I love these lyrics of the song I already posted in like 40 different places. These lyrics get me. Ok?

If I had one wish, it'd be for you and all your friends who didn't like me
If I had one wish, it'd be that we'd had danced more at that apocryphal wedding
If I sound angry, I'm sorry, this body can only cry for so long
And if you want to blame me, then go on
I'm smiling now 'cause I'm smarter than you think


I'm smarter than you
I'm smarter than you think

Well I apologize for not telling you that my halo was cut from paper
sliced from the fibers that made up all the parts that we were together
and even though i miss you, I'm thankful it's obvious that this one was futile
so puts your hands together and clap for
the painful choice you've made 'cause it's right

(I found out)
You're smarter than me
(The hard way this time)
You're smarter than I thought
(You were right)
You're smarter than me
(This was all wrong)
I'm smarter than I thought

that's just the way it is.

Max Bemis is the best thing that's ever happened to Eisley.

I'm just saying.

PROOF:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OCqLkzKpPDI

let's get deep.

Dear Intensity,

Where do you go when it gets dark? Is there room for me there?

You're on foreign soil. Living someone else's life. Which was never a bad thing. Not ever.

You know that.

Rules, are rules, and they are meant to be broken right? Wrong. Not these rules. But if you and I ever.. it would be like this.

I'd be there, sitting across from you, in a room with two couches.

Your beautiful six string would rest on your knee, and your hands would feel at home. Caressing and brushing the strings.

We would be the same as we always were, sarcasm floating around the air stifling the oxygen. We'd breathe it in, and smile.

I would look down at the floor while you tuned, not saying anything.

And then you'd play.

You'd play the most magnificant song I'd ever heard. And you'd sing. The words you'd written about me, for me, and only me. I was finally worth it to someone. To take the time.

It would be the best 5 minutes of melody I'd experienced in years. You know me oh so well.

Then we'd spend the next little while, lounging around. I'd probably be on my back with my legs up, and you'd lay on the couch. We'd listen to records of all the classics, Zeppelin, Petty, James Taylor.. etc. And then we'd listen to CD's of our favorites, discussing them further in depth.

Sometimes, we would sit in silence, saying everything by saying nothing. Soaking it all in.

You always said that face to face, we'd be epic. And you're as right as rain. Whatever that means really.

Love always,
Indie

My Very Own Secret.

Everyone says i'm COOL.

And now that you're gone,
I believe them. :)

7-Eleven, Oh thank heaven.. Or should I?

"Kynslie, What's your biggest fear?"

Being involved in a gun-point robbery, while I'm getting a slurpee at sev.

"Seriously?"

Yeah.

"Oh.."


People, this is real. 7-Eleven's are robbed on a weekly basis. I think it's safe to say, a DAILY basis if we're counting 7-Eleven's every where.
You'd think, if I was that scared of them, I'd stay away. But it's my Romeo and Juliet style love affair with Slurpees [COKE SLURPEES]

Not to brag, but I am probably the most alert person you'll ever meet, when I am outside of my comfort zone. I always look over my shoulder when I'm walking out to my car, especially at night. I check in my backseat, get in, and lock the doors immediately. I try not to linger too long standing outside of my car, in case there's a rapist hiding under there. (That really happened in the middle of the day in SLC, so don't even.)

The second I step foot in an 7-Eleven I look around for potential criminals. The prejudice in me targets the dirtiest people, obviously. I try to get in and get out fast, and play it cool. Sometimes, there's a guy lingering by the beer wearing a trenchcoat, this makes me not want to go in. I might wait in my car till he leaves. Or just go somewhere else, and try again. Another thing I check when I pull up is how tough the clerk(s) looks. If it's a woman, who's not burly, I'll keep an eye on that, I don't want to, and I won't be the hero, not to save one 7-Eleven. I move swiftly, and I don't linger, I'll go somewhere else if I want candy. (Unless I'm with someone, I make sure I'm always moving around the store.) After all is said and done, I enjoy my delicious slurpee, and the obstacle I had to overcome to get it. But I think I am the one who ends up looking like I am about to rob the place.

You can laugh all you want but I'll bet you $500 my dad would be glad that I am not oblivious to my surroundings.

Next stop: One can of pepper spray.

A rant, if you will.

I was sitting here in my Sunday's Best, or my underwear, let your imagination decide.

And something came over me, this overwhelming sense of a need to RANT about a certain band that I hate so much.

**side note, real fast, apparently the Gunnison Prison has really lovely hold music. I appreciate it.**

SECONDHAND SERENADE IS THE WORST BAND THAT I CAN THINK OF RIGHT NOW.

[cause there's a lot of sucky bands out there, and I don't want to toss them aside.]

Here's a list of clues that have led me to such a harsh conclusion.

-Their lyrics are weak and useless.

[i.e. TONIGHT WILL BE THE NIGHT THAT I WILL FAR FOR YOU. give me a break, my 15 year old cousin is more clever than that.]

-Their fans are less than credible, as far as music taste goes. [i.e. Valley girls and sweet bros.]

-The singer is a whiney little beeotch.

-They get airtime on 97.1 ZHT.

-They're too pathetic to sing about anything but some douche girl who is probably really digging the attention from this loser excuse for a musician.

-Their music is flawed and unoriginal.

-Chris Carrabba called, he wants his sound back. [cause yeah, he did this about 10 years ago]

-The singer spikes his hair like it's 1998.

I hate this band so much. SOOO much. Or this guy, another thing, what a douche for having a band name but being a solo artist, plus the bandname SUCKS. It's probably one of the worst band names I've ever heard in my life.

But I guess bands like this exist to keep the masses away from all the good bands that I like. So keep on keeping on douche, and douche minions.

Words are words, and you'd never see it coming.

We choose our words carefully.
We love hidden meanings, and subliminal messages.
Straight-forwardness does us no good.
We can make you think it was your idea all along.
We can make you think it was your fault all along.
We always get what we're after.
We have to move swiftly, because sometimes people catch on.
We'll chip away, undetected, until it's acheveived.
You'll always want more, cause we'll never give enough.
We can make you fall, hard, fast, and sometimes, we'll let you hit the ground.
We'll charm your pants off... literally.

Who are we?

(the answer is not any certain gender.)

Do you know Lionel?

"This is gonna be awkward, and it's gonna hurt my crotch."

That's what she said.

We rolled up 2 hours early with high hopes and a deck of cards. Before heading to the line, we took pictures by a gnome on a wall. We were amongst the first ten in line. The sun was hot, too hot for springtime. We plopped on the ground with excited hearts and began the waiting process...

I went and bought some water at a taco stand, I saw a potential bum wearing an all white suit with grass stains at the ankles. He smiled at me. I looked in the windows of some of the stores on 2nd South and some people in Good Times getting tatoos or getting inked, if you will. And a woman next door meeting with architects discussing the plans of her soon-to-be McMansion. I get back, we drink our waters and then Ashley and I head back to my car and walk over to the bus stop to urinate. We almost got hit by tracks. Fun.

6:00PM hits, it's time to go in, we're already sweaty suddenly the line splits and we are no longer the first. We are mad. We get molested. We are in the second row. We are mad again. But then, we have optimism, that's when the sweet bro's showed up. And we still had optimism. Until I get beaten by the sweet bro's, Al gets crushed, and a fatty strikes Ash in the throat. I was the first to go, in my head, while Envy on The Coast is playing, I look up at the freaky singer and think, "You're not worth this, peace out." And I slip out the back, but I didn't actually slip, I stuck to all the sweaty bodies until I started throwing bows. THEN they got out of my way. I go find my place off to the side as I usually do, Anberlin starts playing, I was enjoying myself, and then a sweaty fat kid emerged from the crowd. Shouting and driping and flailing his arms. I stared at him. He looked back at me, then continued on with his soggy enthusiam. All of the sudden texts started shooting into my phone from everyone who got seperated, "Where are you?" "Where are you?" "Where are you?" Consequently, I was tired of the cigarette smoke, the over-moshed sweaty super fan, and the creepy kid wearing cargo shorts looking at me like he's hungry. So I bailed. I find Al standing on a table in the back of the room, so I got on the table with her, soon after, Ashley shows up and got on the table with us. This turned out to be a really good spot. Candis, still hadn't turned up, but I knew that she stayed up there and rode it out. She'd die for Anberlin really, not that they are the types to expect that, but she would. In between sets, I watched everyone trip on the same step, in the same place, over and over. I glanced over to see a couple being obscence on and inoperative aracde game. I threw up in my mouth. Suddenly, a DRUNK girl is looming in the doorway of the bathroom across the room, she throws herself against the wall and starts dancing like a stripper who's ready to make the big bucks. Her babysitter/friend is trying to keep her under control, when suddenly the little lush takes a tumble, a pretty hard one. Her babysitter/friend goes down with her. I am both stunned, and amused. What is it about being a drunken fool that appeals to people? Get back to me on that. Then we saw a dead girl. That's right, dead. Or passed out. But I like to pick the path of most dramatic. So, dead girl. We spend the rest of the night table dancing and forgetting that we wanted to dismember the sweet bros. TBS ended with MakeDamnSure, we made it count. Then we wait on an unkempt couch hoping to catch a glimpse, of anyone of the rockers that we love so. Were standing by the merch table when suddenly Ashley latches onto my arm and is trembling, I looked up and there he is in all his microphone swinging glory, Adam Lazzara. She tries to call for him, but all that comes out is a mere whisper "Hey...." So sad. So we left and headed for Denny's where Allie and I ate french toast and Ashley puked in the bathroom. Hot.

Eventful. Not ideal, but worth it for sure.

It's my Birthday, and I'll do what the F I want.

I've been wanting to do this for awhile. Publicly.. for attention.

In 8th Grade, I was in Mrs. Highams english class, which consisted of only 2 boys, the rest were girls. Every once in awhile Mrs. Higham would tell us we were to free write for 5 minutes (or some amount of time.) straight without stopping. It didn't have to flow, we had to keep going. I always loved this, and celebrated internally as the rest of the class moaned and groaned.

So, seven years later, here I am. And I am about to free write my A off. So ladies and gents, hold onto your skirts and dongs.

10 Minutes
So I guess this is me freewriting again. I always told myself I would do this all the time but I never did, until now. It's probably going to take me just a minute to get warmed up but I willl keep trying. Right now, as of RIGHT THIS SECOND I am sitting on my bed staring at a wall that I should decorate. I've lived here for a year and I havent done much as far as interior decorating goes. But I dont think I would be very good at it. I care too much about what other people think, because sometimes I feel like I am more like a man, and have no taste. Who knows really. This townehome isnt the aves, and quite frankly, I am just a regular girl. Like all the rest. Before you know it, my hair will be poofy and I will be saying "Good Del" and meaning it. lets be honest, I already do that. When I was little I had an imaginary friend named Bochie. this may seem strange to you but I loved Bochie more than I've ever loved any man to this day. He was amazing, he didn't have a face, but he lived in the city that was in my walls. when I was falling asleep I would talk to him. Sometimes I would create other people to come play, but I had to face the facts, they weren't Bochie, he was one of a kind. I wonder what he's up to these days.. Being a little kid ruled. The only thing I hated was getting in trouble. I remember getting soap in my mouth a lot, but I don't really remember what I said to get the soap there. Which is weird, but maybe that's the whole point of the soap. TOUCHE! Mission accomplished. "Don't fall in love with me. I'm not worth loving" He said. He said that to me. It's been on my mind. What a ridiculoous thing to say, I mean, I guess I am that kind of girl who needs a warning label, because I am stupid, but whatever. I won't then, thanks for the warning kid. Life is so ridiculous, but you know what else is ridiculous? Effing Disney movies, I don't care for them at all. Except last year, I watched Cinderella so I could point out the "That's What She Said." Moments, and I have to tell you, there was more than I expected. You should try it sometime, with any Disney movie really. I also want everyone to know that "That's what she said" did not come from The Office. I am not sure WHERE it came from but it was on Waynes World, "Are you through yet because I'm getting tired of holding this?" It's perfect really, really, perfect. I am out of things to say, this didn't turn out as well as I'd hoped but maybe when I think of something more clever to begin with I will start a new one of these, usually I have a lot of things on my mind, but I shut down when I feel pressured. That's ridiculous as well, because it's self inflicted pressure. Entirely self inflicted. I have less than a minute left.. so

Done.

Interview With A Valley Girl.

I'm no Ann Rice. But I'll do my best.

So, here I am. In Utah, surrounded by Utah girls. You know the type? The no personality, blonde, sometimes brunette, "I KNOW! RIGHT?!" Spilling out of their mouth constantly, poofy hair, obsessed with clothes and marriage, and they like totally love shopping it's their fave ever thing to do ever.

I thought to myself, I should get better aquainted with one of these chicks, that way maybe I won't be so like totally harsh on them. Saaad!!!

I met a BREATHTAKING young woman by the name of AshLyn Kelsi, she was like so darling.

Fortunately for me, upon explaining to her what interview meant, she agreed to let me do so. And also, fortunately for me, she LOVED to tell me about herself. So I started out with some simple questions.

ME: "AK, is it okay if I call you AK?"

AK: "OH MY HECK! Yes, That's totally the coolest ever relly.."

ME: "Sweet, So then AK, let's get to know the REAL you--the rel you i mean. What is your favorite color?"

AK: "Haha, Umm... Well I like, really like like pink. Pink is like way cute for suresies."

ME: "Cuuute. ME TOO! OH EM GEE!"

AK: "I KNOW RIGHT?! Haha"

ME: "Where do you like to shop ?"

AK: "Well like mostly just hollister, if I am like not wanting to spend a lot of money, and sometimes... don't tell I go into Aero cause they sometimes like have way good dels. but not like good dels like hollister where like you pay 30 bucks only for like a way cuute cuter shirt. ya know? But like most of the time I spend all my time at Abercrombie, i like relly like the atmosphere, like ya know?"

ME: "I so know. I belong in Abercrombie. SO what are your hobbies, what is AK all about really?"

AK: "Like I relly like to go to the gym. But i like to get way cute before I go. cuz you never know what super hotties might be liftin. I dont relly like to werk out or anything sweaty gross like that but like yeah. Oh and I totally like to set like at my friends and watch one tree hill. one tree hill is like seriously SUCH a good show. I like to do har. like way cute harstyles are my total fave. im relly good at doing har. I know like the best ways to tease it to get like a good amount of poof. cause like poofy har is like seriously cute. All my best friends tell me so. I like to talk to boys. boys are way like fun. SHOPPING! OH MY HECK I couldnt live without shopping."

ME: "You're seriously way orig. Serious. But anyway, what kind of car do you drive?"

AK: "I drive a 06 VW BEetle. It's yellow. Oh my heck it is so cute. it is such a cute car. Its a convertable. in the summer i love to put the top down and listen to 97.1 ZHT and wait fer my fave ever song by Secondhand Serenade who PS is the most amazing band ever."

ME: "SO, I guess they're your fave band ever, who else do you listen to?"

AK: " Well, I like like dashboard confessional, and like BSB is totally gonna make a come back. a lot of times i will listen to like taylor swift when i have a breakup or a new bf cause she soooo tells it like it is. but like yeah i just like whats on the radio but sometimes when i am way mad i listen to way heavy stuff like all american rejects but i just like people to know that there's more to me than like poofy cute hair and a nice tan, like i can get angry too ya know?"

ME: "Oh yeah, totally. Last Question, Tell me about your goals in life.."

AK: "Like I guess to get married before I turn 19, be a mom, go to har school. maybe har school. i dont know but like... yeah. OH and get that way hot top thats at abercrombie before next weekend. Oh and can I just say something ..one more thing?"

ME: "Go ahead."

AK: "I LOVE YOU CHEER GIRLS you guys are like soooo awesome and cute! you are seriously like the best. you make fill way good when im like way sad. So yeah. oh and i love my ward! except the girls with ugly har."

ME: "Thanks cutie."

AK: "I know, right?"

I'm a human, and I have preferences.

The reason it's taken me longer than a month or two.. to post anything worthwhile is because I am not machine, or as witty as I like to come across.

Here's my thought for right now, art and expression is driven primarly by love and romance, the good and bad ends of it.

So, I thought I'd take a ride on the artsy train for a little bit and talk about my personal dream guy, dreamBOAT, if you will.

The one I am waiting for, if you want to take it that far.

I will someday fall in love.

But not with Gerard Butler.

With a man, sorry ladies, I play for one team, and that one team is: Team Dong.

This man will be handsome, I'll notice him at first glance, and he'll notice me, but not in the way I noticed him, it will take him a minute to realize I'm beautiful. We'll probably meet at a show. Is he a musician? It doesn't matter, though that would be a plus, cause that means he's creative.

He won't wear skinny jeans, or v-neck shirts. His hair will be perfect, but not like a girl, like a man, a sexy rugged man.

He'll have a beard, but not a beard that you could hide things in, like the beard in the picture seen above. perfect. PERFECT.

I think I've touched on aesthetics enough for now.

My love, will be epic. He'll be deep but not in a typical romantic kind of way. He'll have the ability to make my heart pound with his words, whether they're tender, or raw. He'll be able to stare into my eyes and I'll feel like he's peering into my soul. At first this will make me anxious, but in time, it will bring me peace.

Beautiful girls with no substance will not apease him in any way, shape, or form. He'll love me because I have something that no one else did, something that makes him shake.

Our love-filled alliance will not be the kind that dwells on faults but the kind that makes you want to fix your own, just because you love the other, with a fire that could never burn out.

It will work, it will be glorious, and it will come.

On your face.

When we're married.

promulgation.

Just so everyone is clear on this,
"Your Mom" jokes were cool like ...6 years ago.

Not anymore.
So give it up.

Sure, I posed. I needed the money.

This is simply a compilation of thoughts, since I don't feel I take advantage of the privilege of having a blog nearly enough. Some of them might not make sense, and may offend you, but consider yourself warned.

• A word of advice to women out there. It is NOT acceptable for a boy to make you cry. Yeah maybe you overexaggerate the situation cause you were blessed with unreasonable amounts of estrogen. But if he says something hurtful to you or about you, dump his A. Seriously. You'll find better.

• The ball to penis ratio was unreasonable.

• Weird people are bothersome. Not like the kind of weird people who are cool and intriguing but the people who think that being poor means you can only afford to wear clothes that are EXTREMELY out of date. I'm pretty poor myself, but it's called a clearance rack. Look into it. Pre-teens are especially weird, sometimes I stare at them and think of my greasy haired braces days and feel SO sorry for them that it's almost painful to look. But once I get over my pity for them, I go back to wanting to throw something blunt at their head. Just because you have hair growing in weird places doesn't mean you have to take it out on everyone else, freaks.

• I love beards. I really do, I'm toying with the idea of making it a prerequisite for my EC. Must grow a full sexy beard. Speaking of beards, today is my first Sunday of redemption, I must prove to hot beardie that I am not an idiot. Wish me luck, cause I'm nervous.

• I am less than 4 months away from getting a well deserved roundhouse kick to the face., or a hug, a hug will do. I'm so excited for Timothy to come home. I could scream! Eeek.

• Being happy is a really strange feeling when you went through months of being conditionally happy. But it's totally a good feeling. It makes everything seem a little bit more funny too. Even the stuff that should normally be depressing, like these days if fall down my stairs and my blood starts to pool on the kitchen tile, i might have a really good laugh about it. Instead of being concerned that I have a huge head wound that should definitely get looked at.

• Shoot, I just realized that the above scenario really could happen. I should be more cautious.

• She's dancin with the cream... I love that there's so many different forms of crazy. There's crazy people that kill people, and then there's crazy people that do this - dance on Melrose with Josh Kalis' DC shoes on

• I love you Max Bemis.

• If you got tattoos above your vagina, you're a dirty girl.

Wangs and Dongs.

Dear Male Gender (discluding my father),

I hate you today, possibly for the remainder of the week too.

Love Always,
Kynslie.

It's me, Margaret.

At age 12, I recieved a "gift" from mother nature.

Mother nature, I should punch you in ribs for that. You totally deserve it.

(This gift is the reason I don't feel guilty littering from time to time. )

The thing about this gift is that there's lots to it. Lots of unpleasant things. It's not, bam I bleed for 5-7 days, and then it's over. Bloody brings his uninvited friends, Crampy, Bloaty, Moody, HeadAchey, and if we're lucky, Fatiguey.

And here we sit, as women who are forced into a menstrual cycle without permission. And if we even say, "I am on my period." Men have the audacity to tell us, "TOO MUCH INFORMATION!! Stop talking about it!!" as if we OWE it to them to keep our mouths shut about it, or it's painful for them to HEAR about it. Well my male friends. you GET to hear about it; I bleed out of my blessed crotch for FIVE to SEVEN days. I have the option to either A) Shove a cotton torpedo up there to prevent a mess or B) Tape a small mattress-like apparatus to the lining of my underwear, much like a diaper. or C) Worst case scenario, if the bleeding is really extreme, an actual diaper. As I listed before there are many other symptoms that come along with this unsought infirmity.

But, it doesn't end there. The reason that we have this cycle is so that we are able to reproduce. And word on the street is that child bearing and child birth, is even more FUN and EXCITING! So I've got that to look forward to.. And this is to be continued when I get to that chapter in life.
Period.

Realm of Trend.

So, it's been a real long while since i've written anything.

My last post was borderline ridiculous. No, i take that back, it definitely crossed the border into ridiculous, without a passport at that. But it was chuckle worthy (for myself) nonetheless.

I've been putting a lot of thought into what i should make my next blog about. I've toyed with several ideas but they all seemed a bit too blatantly negative, targeted at one assemblage of idiots. (Maybe next time.)

So, with that I said, I decided to talk a little about about what my life would currently be like if it were ideal for me (which it isn't, it's tolerable, but not ideal).

I would live in the avenues of Salt Lake City. It would be incredibly trendy and indie oriented, my life. I would dream of moving to New York City one day, but deep down, know I fit in best in the salty city. I would have a small one bedroom house furnished with priceless possesions i found at various garage sales and antique stores around the valley, and of course, IKEA. (Cause i'm euro-trendy like that.) I would have a huge bookshelf filled with books I would have every intent to read, but honestly never end up reading them. I would have lots of abstract art clinging to my walls. Plus, a giant poster of Audrey Hepburn, cause Hepburn is the new Monroe. And I knew that cause I keep up with those sort of things.

I would start my morning off in my yellow kitchen with some toast. I would shower and throw my hair in a messy bun, without blow drying. i would put on my skinny jeans, and some sort of vintage Lennon tee. Then I would feed my cat, Lux and my bird, Jimmy Page, and water my plants before I left. i would grab my ipod, and my scarf. As I approached the door I would stare at my shoes, trying to decide whether i should where my hemp woven slip ons, or my chuck taylors. Ultimately I would choose the slip ons cause i didnt feel like bothering with the trouble of laces.

I would prance down the steps and think how i need to mow my lawn, but how i was putting it off because since i decided to go green, i only used a push mower. I would stuff my headphones in my ear and put my ipod on shuffle, something like Ingrid Michaelson, or The Smiths would start playing.

I would spend the day on foot, at the farmers market for groceries, grabbing a bite to eat at a vegan cafe. I may or may not slip in and out of some book stores and antique stores trying to find that perfect something that would finally satisfy me, without any luck of course. After a few hours I would head home and start making a fresh salad with some of the vegetables from my garden.

Then, my boyfriend, his name would be something like Mason or Avery. He would come over with some friends and play his accoustic and talk to us about how music has never been the same since Hendrix left the scene. I would stare at him and think about how hot he was. With his elegantly dishelved hair, and he suit coat over his faded tee.

After everyone left he would give me a private show of his latest melodical concotion. And i would fall a little more in love with him for a moment. He would then tell me the reason he liked me so much was because I was so different and non-coformist. Before he left at around 1:00 AM he would so graciously take the recycling out for me and tell me that i needed to come to his open mic night the following week. And since he looked so good, and i was tired, i would agree, even though i hated that sort of thing, it had become just a little too swank to play the guitar, and i was over it.

Then i would kiss him goodnight, and head for my bedroom where my cat would be waiting for me. I would brush my teeth, wash my face, and throw on an old t shirt. (i wouldn't wear pants to bed. cause i don't do that now, and that's my favorite ritual, in fact, to be brutally honest, when i get home from work, i remove my pants as soon as possible. its like stress relief.)

I would fall asleep and dream of trendy things, and smile in my sleep cause i was so utterly satisfied with my trendy lifestyle.

Brad is such a stinker.

My boyfriend (fiance now i guess, tee hee) Brad, you might know him, his last name is Pitt, he's been in a couple movies. Anyway, he's so silly! He took me to the golden globes with him and he suprised me with a BIG FAT ROCK in the limo! that's why i am so excited in my pic. I couldn't believe it, he was like, "Kynslie, i'm not getting any younger, even though i'm aging beautifully, i'm tired of the whole 'let's adopt 8 thousand kids' thing with Angelina, and I'm ready to be with you for the rest of my life." and i was so excited cause for some reason he's been keeping me a secret. he told me not to tell anyone yet, but like i could hold it in. anyways. i can't wait to start my new life with him.

p.s. sorry my dress is immodest, Brad's stylist insisted that's the only way for me to one up his ex lovers. so i sold out my beliefs for a night.