One wearing flip flops in the snow:
Stupid.
Redunk-a-dunk
Stupid
(aka: what are you thinking? And if you slip and fall on your fanny, break your favorite pair of SUMMER footwear, bruise your pride and develop a case of frostbite on your manicured toes . . .don't curse the ice, nor me [for giving a tiny chuckle] nor anyone on the weather team of News Channel 2, look at your feet, they're bare and it's 30 degrees outside. You chose it . . .now I guess is the time to think about the mistake ; after you're flat on your bum in the ice and slush)

So I've heard people say that you learn something new everyday, and thus far in my life I 've found this fact to be true. For example: today I learned that I only have 21 days until I go home, home, home!!! I am at high risk for not being able to wait. I'm so excited and relieved to be going home so soon and the cherry on top is that'll be Christmas when I get there. And I'll be having a party, so I can see all my lovely friends and make sure they still have all their fingers, toes, brain cells (hopefully a few more of those have been put to use through the college experience) and basically are doing as well as they tell me they are. And I can sit on my couch with my broho and I can sleep in my bed and I can play with the cutest baby in the whole entire universe.
It's cold and there's snow on my mountain. It's so festive looking, like she's putting on her lacey white party dress. The effect is even more striking because it's cloudy today, so the mountain looks different, more beautiful and more mysterious. Which, let's just be honest, we all love an element of mystery in our lives. Maybe a little something we can't really explain but are trying too, or maybe we don't even want to try and explain it. If we put it into actual words, then the magic will be broken. It's like the feeling that I get when I see a lit-up Christmas tree at night, or a room full of candles (ps I always have to double check on my dictionary widget to see if I'm spelling 'candle' correctly . . .I always second guess it, thinking that maybe today the rules of spelling and grammar have changed and you spell 'candle' 'candel'. Thus far, this has never been the case). The feeling is centered in your heart and (oddly enough) your stomach. It's a wonderful feeling, the feeling of a holiday, anticipation and joy. I hope you've felt it too.

Happy Post-Thanksgiving and happy beginning of the Christmas Season! I'm going to do a cliche and tired thing that happens every year around this time. In just a moment I will go on and on about how I can't believe that November is almost over, that Thanksgiving has come and gone and that now it's legal to wear red and green, attend a party whose invitation states: 'dress festively' and most importantly, listen to Christmas music all day every day (without being scolded for overlooking an important and underappreciated holiday). So here we go. It's all gone by so quickly as a whole and yet so slowly as parts (I've only been here at the Y for about 3 months and yet it feels like years since I've slept in my bed, sat on my couch to watch a flick with my Brother Bear Jeff, seen my nephew do his fishy face, gone to Allaus for reasonably priced gelato, or sewn for hours with my mom in her drawing room). Where has the year gotten itself? Where did 2007 go?
Well part of it was devoted to Thanksgiving. And I honored the tradition that makes that holiday tick every year for me: I watched the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade (affectionately known as the Macy's Day parade). I don't know but I love, love, love that parade. I didn't get to listen to it (I was at Erin's gym and you have to have a radio to listen to the tv) and I had to do the opposite of what Thanksgiving festivities are centered on (I worked out . . .antithesis of eating obscene, yet glorious amounts of turkey, stuffing, pie and the whipped cream that goes on top of the pie). And I missed the Broadway clips part . . .but by dingy I got to see Tom the Turkey and the M&M float and the whole gang. Happy Holidays to me!! I even got the sense of the playful, witty, yet staged banter of Al and Matt, via closed captioning. The only thing that was really missing was the BC Clark anniversary sale jingle (note the festive use of the word 'jingle') Apparently there is no BC Clark's here, it's an exclusively Okie thing . . .well they sure would get tons of business here, especially since they have a sale right before Christmas, which is a popular time of year to get engaged/married here (because it is between semesters and won't distract you from you educational goals . . .right)
Erin and I went to Uncle Harry and Aunt Lori's place for dinner. It was lovely. Thank goodness for male relatives. They don't have issues if you hug them . Which I did. Alot. I was starved for male contact, and Brian and Brett were kind enough to hug me several times throughout the evening. I'll just throw this in here to go with the holiday: I'm so grateful for my family and I'm thankful for hugs and Cox's honey on fresh bread.
I love this time of year so much, the smells (poppy seed bread, mint chocolate everythng, Christmas potpouri, cinnamon rolls, evergreens and the crisp winter air) the sounds (Amy, Kenny, Bing, Kenny, James, Josh, Linda, Mormon Tabernacle Choir, Forgotten Carols, Cathy, Tasha etc . . .all my dear Christmas album friends) and sights (the trees, lights, candles, party clothes, manger scenes, smiling kids, red, green and silver.) And I can't ignore what else this season brings, that fills me with delight: the ushering in of one of the most wonderful times of the year (the other is in about July). And that is the free-for-all feeding frenzy of good movies that come out November and December. This weekend I saw two such films, Enchanted ( oh so funny and cheesey and precious. Every girl who has ever watched a Disney princess movie, wished life were a musical or just liked to look at Patrick Dempsey ought to go see this unabashed family film/chick flick. I couldn't stop laughing . . .it parodies what it's based on without being stupid or too overt about it) along with Lars and the Real Girl (I actually have no words for it . . .but I can try with a few adjectives: dear, sweet, tender, adorable, heart wrenching, precious, the preciousness and fills you with the fire of life and the wish to act like they do. Bravo to the whole cast, the writers and basically anyone who had anythig to do with the production of this film. I laughed, I cried and as soon as the movie was over I wanted to watch it again and at random times things would remind me of scenes from it and send a warm feeling through my heart.)
Oh and it's only 25 days until I come home!!!

Some days are days of icky, irrational ticked-off-ness and general melancholy. A state that the Man in the Chair would call: blue. Those days make you feel like your life is going the opposite direction of what you want and what you want exactly alludes you. You are an un-pleaseable and unhappy creature on days like this, where you feel resentment towards everyone, you rediscover how much the overuse of the lacey cami/undershirt bothers you (oh wait . . .that's everyday . . .people, they're undershirts, as in they go under things, as in don't wear them like a regular shirt, because the shape does nothing for you, except pull and awkwardly in not attractive lace. Don't get me wrong, I love lace . . .just not the ugly hanging off those shirts) and you wish it would rain to match the storm that rages inside you. And you feel like everyone is fulfilling their dreams, while you feel stuck in a huge mud hole, called your existance and you second guess yourself on every little move you make and you become mad with envy. You despise and are insanely jealous of the day, of the world, because everyone in it seems to be together, no one but you is alone.

Today is not an example of such a day.

It is the kind of day that you glorify being part of creation, and everything beautiful and good comes to you and happens to you and everything lovely and perfect is put in your way because you deserve it. The world is magnificent for you. And every song you hear is the perfect song for the moment and your hair looks good (even if it was touch-and-go this morning) and you wear turquoise for you to see and you don't care if anyone notices because it's fun to have a secret, a pretty little secret in the form of a pile of bangles. All the people in your life are more than you could ever hope for or want, and you love, love, love them and you remember what endears them to you. There's nothing special about this day, except that it is a day . . .and you get one more of them. It's the whole "because the world is round it turns me on . . ." there doesn't need to be a reason, it just is. There's something lovely in having a reading room to yourself, looking out the window to a mountain, listening to the Beatles and writing.

Oh and I'm leaving Provo for the night.

The facts are these: there are things in my life that keep it all rolling along, keep the sanity of Caitlin Cotten in tact, keeps the MEOW at bay and breaks the monotony that can be the endless round of physical science studying and health lecture readings.
One would be watching TV via Mac Jacobs (from whom I am writing this). Who thought of it? I could hug them, kiss them on the cheek and then take them to Legends for onion rings, a burger and some Creamery chocolate milk (oh the sweet abrogia of the Gods . . .here at BYU). Especially ABC, those folks really planned with the college student (more specifically me) in mind. Every Tuesday we watch Bachelor (which I do for a giggle) and every Thursday (which could possibly be my favorite night of the week) we watch Pushing Daisies. I actually have no words. . . except: PRECIOUSNESS!!! Everything about it is precious and clever and witty and darling and perfect. I love it so much. Ned (the main guy, who can bring things back to life with his touch) is the very definition of adorable, and so is Chuck (the girl he brought back to life) and Ned's sidekick and Olive and everyone!! I love all the characters. And the costuming and the setting and the writing . . . .oh my goodness. This last week I could hardly stand how fun and wonderful it was. My perfect show . . .basically the antithesis of House, except they are both loved by me and they both make me think about what's going on and what is going to happen next? And here's another thing that would endear anyone to Pushing Daisies, the reader for the Harry Potter books also narrates the show. So there, a dear friend every Potter fan knows and loves.
Next thing would be gym time (oh the rowing machine turns jenky MEOW into holy wow!), then Target/grocery shopping time (it's so sad that the cracker aisle sends someone into a frenzy of solitary and singular joy) and then new magazines. It's a well known fact that I (like all the women in my immediate family) am a graphiholic and can't get me enough of the magazine racks at Target . . .and don't even get me started on Barns and Noble . . .I almost have a siezure from the dancing plethora of beautiful new reading material of it. Oh and packages, packages are the bits of home that I long for all the time. I love the postman, I love the US postal service and I love me a flat rate box that says: 'Caitlin Cotten, this is a container stuffed with all the joy, happiness, bliss and being taken care of you can fit, for one constant and consistant low price.' And of course this dear little secret note . . .which will be written on more now, because I understand how to go about life . . . whereas I wasn't entirely sure of it before.

So here it is and here we are and it's October and the first midterms are beginning and my place of bed and bread is in an uproar. Do you want mayhem? We've mayhem. Do you want foolishness? We've that in spades (right . . .it's spades not hearts or clubs?). These are the words that cause this upheaval in our otherwise peaceful existance: an American Heritage test. That's all I've to say about that . . .honestly.

A while ago I went to a (an?) Hari Krishna festival at this beautiful temple on a hill in the middle of . . . well just before a little place of dwelling known as Salem Utah, right by a llama farm. The place had an aura of insence and curry and fire. There were two parrot-like birds who claimed residency in the downstairs of the temple and the grey and red one would let out a high-pitched squeak every 15.56 seconds (which reminded me of the ringtone teachers supposably can't hear . . .my goal is to always be able to hear that ringtone) causing Erin to declare it a banshee bird. Did that parrot even know what it was doing? I hope it doesn't realize it's a banshee bird. We took our shoes off and stepped on the cool tile floor and for a second it was serene and peaceful and then you looked up at the pandemonium that unfolded before your eyes in the form of the gift shop: stuffed clean full of people, candle sticks, statuettes of elephants, tiny tables, tshirts, bangles (on sale . . .5 for $2!), post cards and of course racks and racks and racks of wearables. The beautiful saturated colors of saris blurred past your eyes as people climbed over each other to grab their favorite pattern and preferred size. We ventured in and I wondered it they put things in such close quarters to make you feel a small smidgen of what a real market day might feel (minus the outside, the dust, the beggars, the dancing plethora of language and humanity and basically the fact that it wasn't India). I bought a white tunic (which probably won't surprise anyone since I have a strange affinity/fetish for white shirting) that crosses in the front and ties. . .the best thing is is that I didn't have to search through the kabillions of racks for it . . .it just sat there on outer pole of one of the men's shirts rack patiently awaiting a Ginger girl to take it home. When something speaks to you in this maner I am a firm believer that you must head the call, because who knows what will happen to you or what you will make happen in that perfect perchase? Perhaps those things would occur without it . . .but isn't so much more fun to have the perchase as not (but this is only if YOU LOVE it . . .no one else can hear it for you . . .unless you faintly hear it and then they amplify the article's cries for you. This is why it is wise to shop with someone you trust.) We watched a pageant and then burned Ravanna in effigy all the while dancing and singing our joy at his demise. So there you go . . .a confirmation of something that I've always known in my heart: Gingers can be Indian too (or anything else they want to be for that matter)

Once upon a time there was a girl named Caitlin who loved her school very much and whose favorite color in the world was blue. Everyday she would arise and say: 'I love my school and I love blue . . .but . . .' But indeed. Caitlin adored the mountains and was practically in love with the library (especially the antique-feeling music/dance reading room) she found her suitemates to be charming and her aquaintances in the room just below them to be engaging. She had formed an attachment to the smallish basement piano room and found living with a girl who has perfect pitch to be excessively advantageous. She had developed a taste for morning walks and had even started to be on speaking terms with Blackboard. The total lack of humidity did wonders for her Ginger curls and she was drinking kabillions of gallons of water everyday, which helped with overall health, fortitude, not to mention her skin. She found meeting new people a nercitng (nervous and exciting) experience and daily strived to become better at it. Nothwithstanding all the afore mentioned lovelies there was always a tiny but for Caitlin (in more ways than one). There were things that dumbfounded poor Caitlin about the place she was growing to love so dearly. One was that no matter what time one should go to the library and sit at a computer in the 'No Shh Zone' there would always be an angry baby. Now Caitlin understood the idea that you could say words or chit chat on the phone or sing an aria or cry real salt tears to your heart's content in this 'No Shh Zone' but it never ceased to amaze her that always there would be a displeased baby somewhere nearby. This made her think that the library is not a positive place for babies and could eventually lead to a dislike of places that store books and then to a general mislike of all books, which is probably why today's youth do not read as much as they ought to . . .they were all taken to the 'No Shh Zone' in the Harold B. Lee library as infants and screamed to the top of their tiny lungs, no matter what wiles their internet-surfing parents tried, and now they are scarred towards books, libraries and the 'No Shh Zone'. And because of the tangent the author just indulged in, you, poor reader, will be unable to find out what else Caitlin found dumbfounding . . .for the writer cannot recall what it was for she is still comtemplating angry babies and the illiteracy of America's young people. Not to mention that she needs to read about the scientific method for the nine-hundred eighty-six thousandth time in her ife.

I'm smocking a dress. I ate ribbon cake today under a wrought iron strawberry chandelier. I love Mozart and the Whale. And I finished Harry Potter, which provided a good cry. The world is beautiful, isn't it?

Anticipation

I love the anticipation of starting a new book, knowing that a world of people I'm going to fall in love with and wish in a strange and pathetic way were real. I feel the same way when the overture starts in the theatre and the lights go dim just before a movie starts. Oh the grand and wonderful possibilities of it all, you just might be disappointed but more likely you'll embark on a journey you won't soon forget and end up happy or wistful maybe even heart broken but you will be satisfied like when you are hot and sweaty and finally enter the gelato shop for a small mint and chocolate (mmm refreshing). I thrive on the anticipation of Christmastime and the idea of what might be in my stocking (everyone that really knows me can attest to my savoring of the moment on Christmas morning . . . it takes me forever to open my gifts because I love that tingling feeling of not quite knowing what's in the package right before the gratification of opening it).I had that feeling the first time I looked out the bus window in the Lincoln Tunnel and knew that NYC was just waiting for me on the other side and we were going to be fast and life-long friends. Don't you feel the same way right now? There's a tingling and glowing and shimmering of probablies, maybes and perhaps. How lovely, it's like a sunset or a really well-fitting dress it makes you feel just as good as the two afore mentionedobjects do.