Yesterday I had the strangest sensation. I was sitting in the rehearsal for my cello recital and I was listening along with 12 other cellists and 1 pianist to a beginner play Minuet No. 2 and I was looking at the boy next to me, the girl across the room, the pianist and my teacher and I thought: wow we all look so different, it's amazing how diverse our genetics are. Um. . . hello?! Do you ever just sit and think: fascinating aren't they, those genes, all those dominant and recessive alleles. Yeah, me either. . .well at least not usually. I can't even tell you why that came to mind, I mean it is pretty awe-inspiring that in with just a few variation here and there, the building blocks that make us all relative make us different. Crazy . . .crazier that it came to mind. I'm not even in a science class this semester or anything. Oh well, I'm sure something triggered me to think that . . .jut don't ask me to tell you what.
And today I left my umbrella in the Nelke, don't you just hate leaving things behind? I sure do hope it's still there after class today . . .I like that umbrella very much and an umbrella is an excessively handy thing to have about.
Oh and it is very cloudy today, but I don't mind too much because I am wearing bright aqua tights and my hair is looking especially Gingerific today.

Goodbye March, goodbye sunshine, hello April and hello snow. I spent the weekend in Salt Lake, really Sugar House (if you're thinking: mmm sounds sweet and tasty, you are neither the first nor the last person to have had this thought cross your mind) and it was glorious, phantasmagoric even (but that's a lie, because it was not, in fact ghost-like . . .but ever since I learned that word from Poe's Fall of the House of Usher, I can't help but indulge myself in the incorrect use of it every now and again). But Erin and I did what we do best: talked, looked at magazines, talked, shopped, talked and watched movies oh yes and talked. I love going to visit her because the weekend is completely school-free, dorm-free, roommate whom you've never lived with before this year-free and last but certainly never least and never ever to be underestimated in its power: Provo-free.
This particular weekend was especially magnificent because 1. it was Conference Weekend and 2. we watched a movie I love but never get to see. I basically hate stupid-humor movies, you know stuff that's the redunka-stupid roll your eyes and become excessively frustrated type. But there is one movie that has always warmed my heart that is in this category, I didn't even have to ease myself into liking it (as with A Christmas Story, which I do love now) I liked the first moment I saw it and that movie and I am only slightly embarassed to say is Bubble Boy. I nearly pee every time I watch, I basically can't help myself. It's so redunk, but simultaneously precious and dare I say a bit tender. I'm not even ashamed to say one of the reasons I lalalove this movie is the fact that Jake is Bubble Boy and the way he says: I'd rather spend one minute holding you, instead of a lifetime wishing I could (or something to that effect . . .you get the point) and it's pretty well hysterical. So there you go I am willing to freely admit it: My name is Caitlin and I LOVE BUBBLE BOY!!! And I don't really even want to be rehabilitated, so there.
Oh and there are only 2 more weeks of classes/finals and only 11 more days until my Mommy comes to fetch me, what joy is mine!

Here is something I have learned: people live by rules. I know you think um, duh, the law, school rules etc. But I mean that people live by a strict set of personal rules they make for themselves sans the what other people tell them to do. Oh outside sources influence these rules, but they don't dictate them, I suppose you could call them habits, but I think they go beyond habit. And I'm not talking about morals either, these are the quirky things we make ourselves live by because we think it's what makes a good life or what a pretty life looks like in our heads or because we're all a little bit crazy (as well as racist, which this piece is not,in fact about). . .I'm not judging this process, heck I even do it, I just think it's amusing. So next time someone tells you that they hate rules and think they're dumb, you can just smile at them because 1. that's a rule 2. all people set some kind of boundary for themselves. Let me just tell you about some:
My roommate has a rule that she can't eat the same thing twice in one day. It's nearly an impossibility, so when other people do it she has an issue over it (and she tries to hide it . . .but when you live with someone for almost eight months it gets hard to miss what they're really thinking, but maybe that's just me). Today my other roomie told her to have peanut butter toast, but she can't because she had it for breakfast, I'm pretty sure she physically can't. A rule she lives by.
A girl upstairs hates celebrating her birthday, she says it's fake and she hates getting gifts because she never gets what she wants. She doesn't like the attention, she lives by a rule: to keep the spotlight off of herself.
My darling friend has a strict code of conduct when it comes to color and especially color pairing. No black with brown (this would be The Big No-no) no navy with black (because you'll look like a bruise) no white bottoms (skirts, pants, and dresses) when it is cold/snowy/wintertime. Nothing too psycho or neon paired together, because you'll look obnoxious and heinous (which really is true, isn't it?). This rule is directly related to her dressing rules (if people have no other rules, they most definitely have these, most lists are extensive and have very complex and subtle 'but' clauses and appendices lettered A-Q, these are the most fascinating of all personal codes of conduct to me).
I guess one of mine is that I wear socks to bed when I spend the night at a hotel. I never ever sleep with socks any other time, but I basically have to in a hotel . . .ok if I'm going to be completely candid, sigh, I don't (generally) go barefoot at all in hotels, except (albeit reluctantly) in the shower. But wearing the socks to bed is beyond legit, and not . . .really not, it's not a raional thought, but it's how I feel. So here: I have a fear that I'll be particularly active in the night, make the bottom sheet come loose and then I'll feel the hotel mattress . . .ICKY. There's is just something about that idea that makes me just get the ever-lovin' heebie-jeebies. So there you go, a wierd thing I live by, quite staunchly, I think if none of the above illustrated the point I was trying to get out in the universe, my rule did it.
Oh and I have a set of three precious and perfect little ringlets bouncing directly next to my right ear.

Do you ever see someone and think: wow we'd be a good match. I mean he's typing on your mac book, you have a Mac Jacobs. He's sitting in the HFAC, looking equal parts artsy and studious, hello . . .you too. And he's wearing these well-fitted jeans a really great pale blue shirt with a coral tie and a vest with converse and you are looking equally adorable in your boho dress, leggings and fetish necklace. That happens to you? Yeah . . .I can't imagine anyone being so stalkerish, perhaps you ought to get a hobby, or actually work on that homework you have sitting in front of you.
Oh and I bought yogurt-covered raisins at Wal-Fart yesterday.

Greetings to you on the Monday Morning. I have already misspelled my name Cailtin about 4 times in the past 20 minutes so it's already panning out to be a real winner. Here's the thing that can make an icky day: forgetting to but gum in your backpack
ickier: forgetting your nalgene at the homestead ickiest: forgetting both the gum and the nalgene at the homestead. Now try and beat that, you're parched and you have stinky breath, it's a killer. But never fear, none of the above have happened on this Monday Morning. Except I did forget my 5 fire cinnnamon gum in my desk drawer. I can just see it sitting in there, right next to the huge stack of MAPS, my ELF chapstick and the package of M&Ms Mimoku gave to me of a Saturday. Nevertheless, there is sunshine in my soul today because I ate oatmeal this morning and I remembered to bring nalgene full of cool Britta-filtered water. No sea monkeys for me, thank you very much. My eyelids are very droopy, it is a hard thing to go to sleep and then prematurely wake up and then go back to sleep and then run around all night long trying to get all of the necessaries into your tornado shelter that you think will protect you from an impending earthquake.
Oh and I wore my hair all the way down for the first time ever yesterday and I don't know if it'll ever happen again.

Wednesday, better known as Thursday Eve (oh it's not better known by that title? It's just me that uses that term? It's whateva, just humor me). Thursday is an interesting day, a bit poopy and a bit glorious, there you go. I'm listening to Simon and Garfunkel, there are few men in this world that can sooth the soul quite like these two can and make you think that the '70s was probably the single coolest decade ever. However much they make me think this, I'm not entirely convinced that it is a truth. To be sure, the '70s were very influencial, pretty darn groovy and dare I say it: rockin' but there are so many other times that are equally as inspiring and interesting. Probably minusing the middle ages, ancient Rome/Greece and maybe even the Renaissance and a titch the '80s (but I can't totally hate on them . . .even though there's plenty to hate on . . .come on, I was born in the '80s, hence something good happened during that decade for me). I pretty much am fascinated by every time period and especially the fashions and the cultures and I guess everything but the politics. I can't much sink my teeth into politics, no matter the time.
Ok earlier I was really hot, so I put on my Spring/Summer matching pajamas with the blue stripes. Now I'm cold and it's time for a costume change: flannels with the hippie Russian nesting dolls. Oh dear me.
Oh and I've shaved my legs four times in the passed two weeks . . .let's just pause for a moment here, people.

It's the day after the day of love, as my roommate refers to it. How are we holding up? Are we a bit blue, or perchance a bit green from the unholy amounts of delicious chocolate and not-so-delicious conversation hearts that we've eaten? I personally made cupcakes, chocolate because everyone knows that's the only kind worth eating (especially if you're using a mix . . .)with pink and white heart sprinkles. Basically it's what one might refer to as quote-unquote: festive. Besides the fact that I felt domestic making them, even if it was a mix. I tried to make the frosting do this oh-so appetizing and oh-so chic twirly thing on the top of the cupcake . . .success eluded me for the most part. As did sightings of unattractive stuffed animals . . . partly refreshing and partly disappointing. What's a Valentine's day without cheesey cheap pink polyester playthings? I tell you now: nearly nothing. But here's what I don't love: calling Valentine's Day V-Day. MEOW!!! Not so much, I say, not so much. That's what we might call an uncomfortable word. Unlike James Marsden in 27 Dresses, but there is next to no time to talk about him, although I could go on and on about our date last night. But alack and alas class calls and I must go study Piaget's pre-operational stage of cognitive development.